Jason Lannister

[leilathesongbird]

Better nights

Starter with @jason-lannister2005

The music swelled, filling the golden hall with a triumphant melody, but Leila barely heard it over the dull roar of conversation. Laughter and the clinking of goblets rang in her ears as lords and ladies twirled across the polished floor, their silks flashing like jewels in the candlelight. The scent of spiced wine and roasted meat was thick in the air, but it all made her stomach twist in nerves rather than hunger.

She pressed herself against the cool stone of a gilded column, fingers twisting the lace of her sleeves. Her gown was beautiful—pale gold, embroidered with lace white flowers—but it felt stifling under the weight of so many eyes. She wasn’t meant for this. Not like her sisters.

Leila searched the hall for her mother first, hoping to find her seated somewhere. But she was nowhere in sight. Her sisters, too, were absent—perhaps swept into the dance, perhaps deep in conversation with some charming lord or their betrotheds. A flicker of unease crawled up her spine. She had never liked being alone at these events.

She retreated further, slipping behind a carved wooden screen that separated the main hall from a smaller alcove lined with golden lion banners. The music was muffled here, the chatter more distant. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to think. She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her hands together, willing herself to be invisible.

But before she could force herself to disappear, she noticed she was not alone; her father was here too. Whether he'd been here first or had followed her, she did not know but there was no point in worrying about her blessings.

“Hello papa, would you like to hide with me for a while?” she asked hopefully.

[jason-lannister2005]

Jason had put on the banquet. This was an occurrence at Casterly Rock if you must. Lords and Ladies from the Westerlands would come to the splendor multiple times. Especially if Lords and Ladies from across the realm were to grace its halls. The place was lively throughout the day and into the night. This offered him the perfect opportunity to slip into a private part of the Hall.

He had made sure his daughters were taken care of, Johanna had already went off for the night, Jason stayed in the background, calculating the moves of everyone within it. His instincts sharp as ever as his eyes darted all over the room. Looking for anomalies or signs of worry from his daughters, or anyone for that matter he would have to quell. He didn’t trust Lords intentions or many people at all.

His instinct for this, allowed him to see a sign of his daughter, Leila, having issues. Once he saw her slip into the secret alcove, he went there after her. Partially because he wanted to check on her but also to get away from it himself. His other daughters were well off, Leila was more like him at her age, reserved and preferred quiet spaces. 

“More than anything in the world My Little Cub.” He spoke back with a smile, a genuine one. A newer smile he has shown when around his family. One not masked by anything. He was getting used to it, he had hoped they’d done the same. “I remember doing the same thing at your age Honey.”

[the-fair-lady-of-fair-isle]

𓃭 RED AS LANNISPORT WINE 𓃭

(Starter with @jason-lannister2005)

The cellars of Casterly Rock had always been suffocating. The air sat thick and stagnant, weighted with the scent of old oak and richer, darker things: spilled wine, damp stone, secrets pressed so deeply into the walls they might as well have been mortar.

Tyshara had never liked it down here. But tonight, it was a means to an end. She ran her fingers along the dust-covered bottles, scanning their labels with a connoisseur’s ease. She wanted something bold, something with body, something worthy of the moment. Lannisport red, aged to perfection. She plucked it from its resting place, cradling the bottle to her chest with a grin.

Rodrik would love this. She would love watching him love it.

Humming under her breath, Tyshara let the fantasy unfurl. She’d slip back up the stairs, soft-footed as a shadow, and wind her way through the halls to his door. She would rap lightly—once, twice—and he would open it at once, as if he had been waiting for her. Because of course he had.

Then she would be in his arms. She could almost feel it already! The warmth of him, the steady press of his hands at her waist, the familiar weight of his lips against her temple. They were betrothed now. No more stolen moments in darkened corridors, no more hushed voices whispering of love and longing.

Tyshara could wait.

Despite the hunger gnawing at her heart, she would wait, because Rodrik was worth waiting for.

Tonight had gone better than she dared hope. Her father had spoken Rodrik’s name without sneering. Her mother had nodded, if not warmly, then at least without outright disapproval. Her sisters had all but swooned over him, and Rodrik had been magnificent. He had charmed them all without effort, his laughter weaving through the hall like music.

He’s staying in Casterly Rock.

The thought made her light-headed. They hadn’t sent him to some distant tower or the guest wing by the stables. No, they had given him a place of honor. A good sign. A sign that perhaps her parents weren’t as immovable as she feared.

She turned, triumphant—

And walked straight into her father.

Jason was a lion in every sense of the word, broad and golden and impossible to ignore, even in the darkness. He stood unmoving, filling the narrow space between the racks, his presence pressing against her like the weight of the rock itself.

Tyshara sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around the bottle as she instinctively hid it behind her back.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A rare and terrible thing.

A droplet of water dripped somewhere in the depths of the cellar. A rat scuttled in the shadows. Tyshara was a girl again, caught sneaking lemon cakes from the kitchens.

Except she wasn’t. Not anymore.

“The weather has been lovely,” she said. The words rang hollow, but she pressed on. “I had trouble sleeping. Thought I’d take a walk. You know how it is.”

Her grip on the bottle tightened. What was worse: stealing her father’s wine or dropping it at his feet?

“Or perhaps you don’t,” she added, her voice steadier now. “You always did sleep soundly.”

Jason said nothing. He only watched her, in the same way he watched his enemies across the battlefield. Measuring. Weighing. Already two steps ahead of whatever move she thought to make. The silence stretched, long and unbearable, until Tyshara wanted to tear into it with her teeth.

“I suppose we should be grateful,” she mused, “that everything went so well tonight. A momentous occasion, wouldn’t you say? Rodrik is a good match.”

Nothing.

Her pulse thrummed against her throat, but her expression remained smooth.

“You seemed pleased with him.” A pause. A careful breath. “Mother too. That means a great deal to me, you know. That you welcomed him.”

Still nothing.

Too similar, the two of them. Always had been. Always would be.

And now, standing in the dim light of the cellar, they were nothing more than two caged lions, staring each other down, waiting for the first flash of teeth.

[jason-lannister2005]

The same cellar that was repulsing, they told a story. Withstanding the test of time. Thousands of Lannisters since their First Men lineage have traveled these halls. Long gone were those days from the Lannisters of Old. Now it was the New Age of Casterly Rock. Spilled wine however was the closest Casterly Rock had ever come to falling to an enemy. No successful invasion deep into the Westerlands has happened in the history of the Lannisters' rule. As Kings or Lords of the Rock. 

Jason had stood in the Halls, figuring that after the dinner with Rodrik and Tyshara they would want to do some extra things. After all, she was his daughter and he was their age once. It took a special kind of person to go through bounds for them. He would know a thing or two about that, considering his own past relationships. Though never acted on it, the security of the Westerlands meant more to him. Especially with the untimely passing of his own Father.

What was love compared to a duty that he held to a higher standard? It was nothing to the Lion, until a few months ago. Consumed by the idea of securing his legacy and his family’s position he forgot all about being an actual Father. In his quest for a male heir, he had lost the true meaning of being a Father. Sure he was there for major events in the girl’s life, but he only realized in the past months that’s not the entirety of being a Father. 

Fathers of the realm often prided themselves on their Sons, but what of their daughters? Jason had several of them, yet he didn’t see himself as any other Lord. He saw himself as better.

Something that came with being a Father is understanding there would be other men that capture the attention of their daughters. His daughters, his Cubs. Such a man tonight would be Rodrik Farman. Of the Fair Isles. An important banner of the Lannisters, one of good standing as well. It had been the first night he didn’t have to receive Guest Right. Also didn’t have to receive a superior look from Jason. Could it be a changing heart of the Golden Lion?

Jason heard the footsteps, he didn’t sleep much if at all. Something he had developed since being a Lord that no medicine or Maester could cure. Exacerbated by his desire to grow a better bond with his daughters, losing sleep was worth it.

He let her speak her mind, speak what she wanted to, all the while reading her emotions and her thoughts. She was his blood, he knew a thing or two. His battle experience was able to tell him when things were looking off. Listening to her words twice while looking at her.

Not with a stare that his enemies would have received, shortly before they met their end. But one he wasn’t used to giving, or one she was used to receiving from the Lion of the Rock. It was a thoughtful, caring look. One of understanding, a want of understanding. Truly, or what he hoped, a far cry of what his daughter was used to receiving from him.

“If you wanted a wine bottle you could have asked Tyshara…” He spoke, taking one from the rack, giving it to her. This one was a better, richer wine. From the Arbor. Taking the Lannisport from her grasp and setting it in its place. **”Besides, this is a better one. For you and Him.”**

He tilted his head to the side, then straightened it back out. He breathed out.

“I can’t speak for what your Mother thinks but I have come to a realization.” He didn’t bear any teeth or show any claws. He was above all else trying to listen and be understanding. 

There wasn’t a need for claws to be shown or them to dig into each other. Being a few steps helped him see this. “You’re already betrothed and love him, Tyshara. I can’t change who you love, nor would I. If he makes you happy then by all means keep him in your life. Marry him.”

Jason remained calm and collected. No sign of pressure or weight upon him despite the circumstances. “I had a love like that once. I won’t stop you from having it.”

[jason-lannister2005]

It was a peace offering, the wine. A material one he had bought in deliberation of the aforementioned event. Him actually loving someone other than himself.

It only recently hit the Lion, it was his duty to rule AND to be a Father. Not just to rule. It should be secondary to the welfare and happiness of his children. It was time for that switch to be implemented. As quick as possible.

Even in the event this was an intimate conversation between; he still chose his words carefully. Listened to her words just the same. Years of body language, ruling, and his ability to mask his true feelings and intentions behind a mask is what made the Lion such a dangerous player in the Kingdoms. No one knew what he was thinking in court, or at home for the longest of time. Because he was never there fully.

He still read her, much like a book, one of the books he would read to Tyshara when she was little. About the history of House Lannister, he was proud of their legacy, the lineage that came before him. He exemplified what it meant to be a Lannister. Strong, Courageous and Tactical. His old habits of courtship would die hard, but his children only saw him with the armor on, the mask as well to seal away Jason from destruction. 

For now, he wore no armor, or mask while here. That’s what Tyshara was trying to shake, to see if it was still there. It was not.

Jason allowed the hit of Rodrik softening him go hit, he didn’t react, he didn’t do this for him, he did it for her, for a Father-daughter bond that needed to be mended. 

“As long as he has your heart and means well by it then that’s all I could hope for, I know how painful it was for me to forsake who I love for other people.” He meant this both to his children and his unreachable love. “I see the looks you two give eachother, that means he reciprocates your feelings you have for him.”

Jason would have liked to say that he should know what would happen if Rodrik were to do something drastic, but that was for another time. Not this one.

He knew first hand what that look was because he held it with a woman before. The Woman held it back for him as well. No one knew but the two because they never could be together. The Gods weren’t gracious enough to be as such, Lords weren’t either.

“Who it was… the prettiest woman I had laid eyes upon in my life, other than you and your sisters, she has held my heart since I was a squire, many moons ago when I was at Ashemark during my teenage years. I had even named her my Queen of love and beauty sometimes… in secret.  Leonella Marbrand…”

He spoke finally able to let his past self come to life.

[the-fair-lady-of-fair-isle]

𓃭 RED AS LANNISPORT WINE 𓃭

(Starter with @jason-lannister2005)

The cellars of Casterly Rock had always been suffocating. The air sat thick and stagnant, weighted with the scent of old oak and richer, darker things: spilled wine, damp stone, secrets pressed so deeply into the walls they might as well have been mortar.

Tyshara had never liked it down here. But tonight, it was a means to an end. She ran her fingers along the dust-covered bottles, scanning their labels with a connoisseur’s ease. She wanted something bold, something with body, something worthy of the moment. Lannisport red, aged to perfection. She plucked it from its resting place, cradling the bottle to her chest with a grin.

Rodrik would love this. She would love watching him love it.

Humming under her breath, Tyshara let the fantasy unfurl. She’d slip back up the stairs, soft-footed as a shadow, and wind her way through the halls to his door. She would rap lightly—once, twice—and he would open it at once, as if he had been waiting for her. Because of course he had.

Then she would be in his arms. She could almost feel it already! The warmth of him, the steady press of his hands at her waist, the familiar weight of his lips against her temple. They were betrothed now. No more stolen moments in darkened corridors, no more hushed voices whispering of love and longing.

Tyshara could wait.

Despite the hunger gnawing at her heart, she would wait, because Rodrik was worth waiting for.

Tonight had gone better than she dared hope. Her father had spoken Rodrik’s name without sneering. Her mother had nodded, if not warmly, then at least without outright disapproval. Her sisters had all but swooned over him, and Rodrik had been magnificent. He had charmed them all without effort, his laughter weaving through the hall like music.

He’s staying in Casterly Rock.

The thought made her light-headed. They hadn’t sent him to some distant tower or the guest wing by the stables. No, they had given him a place of honor. A good sign. A sign that perhaps her parents weren’t as immovable as she feared.

She turned, triumphant—

And walked straight into her father.

Jason was a lion in every sense of the word, broad and golden and impossible to ignore, even in the darkness. He stood unmoving, filling the narrow space between the racks, his presence pressing against her like the weight of the rock itself.

Tyshara sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around the bottle as she instinctively hid it behind her back.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A rare and terrible thing.

A droplet of water dripped somewhere in the depths of the cellar. A rat scuttled in the shadows. Tyshara was a girl again, caught sneaking lemon cakes from the kitchens.

Except she wasn’t. Not anymore.

“The weather has been lovely,” she said. The words rang hollow, but she pressed on. “I had trouble sleeping. Thought I’d take a walk. You know how it is.”

Her grip on the bottle tightened. What was worse: stealing her father’s wine or dropping it at his feet?

“Or perhaps you don’t,” she added, her voice steadier now. “You always did sleep soundly.”

Jason said nothing. He only watched her, in the same way he watched his enemies across the battlefield. Measuring. Weighing. Already two steps ahead of whatever move she thought to make. The silence stretched, long and unbearable, until Tyshara wanted to tear into it with her teeth.

“I suppose we should be grateful,” she mused, “that everything went so well tonight. A momentous occasion, wouldn’t you say? Rodrik is a good match.”

Nothing.

Her pulse thrummed against her throat, but her expression remained smooth.

“You seemed pleased with him.” A pause. A careful breath. “Mother too. That means a great deal to me, you know. That you welcomed him.”

Still nothing.

Too similar, the two of them. Always had been. Always would be.

And now, standing in the dim light of the cellar, they were nothing more than two caged lions, staring each other down, waiting for the first flash of teeth.

[jason-lannister2005]

The same cellar that was repulsing, they told a story. Withstanding the test of time. Thousands of Lannisters since their First Men lineage have traveled these halls. Long gone were those days from the Lannisters of Old. Now it was the New Age of Casterly Rock. Spilled wine however was the closest Casterly Rock had ever come to falling to an enemy. No successful invasion deep into the Westerlands has happened in the history of the Lannisters' rule. As Kings or Lords of the Rock. 

Jason had stood in the Halls, figuring that after the dinner with Rodrik and Tyshara they would want to do some extra things. After all, she was his daughter and he was their age once. It took a special kind of person to go through bounds for them. He would know a thing or two about that, considering his own past relationships. Though never acted on it, the security of the Westerlands meant more to him. Especially with the untimely passing of his own Father.

What was love compared to a duty that he held to a higher standard? It was nothing to the Lion, until a few months ago. Consumed by the idea of securing his legacy and his family’s position he forgot all about being an actual Father. In his quest for a male heir, he had lost the true meaning of being a Father. Sure he was there for major events in the girl’s life, but he only realized in the past months that’s not the entirety of being a Father. 

Fathers of the realm often prided themselves on their Sons, but what of their daughters? Jason had several of them, yet he didn’t see himself as any other Lord. He saw himself as better.

Something that came with being a Father is understanding there would be other men that capture the attention of their daughters. His daughters, his Cubs. Such a man tonight would be Rodrik Farman. Of the Fair Isles. An important banner of the Lannisters, one of good standing as well. It had been the first night he didn’t have to receive Guest Right. Also didn’t have to receive a superior look from Jason. Could it be a changing heart of the Golden Lion?

Jason heard the footsteps, he didn’t sleep much if at all. Something he had developed since being a Lord that no medicine or Maester could cure. Exacerbated by his desire to grow a better bond with his daughters, losing sleep was worth it.

He let her speak her mind, speak what she wanted to, all the while reading her emotions and her thoughts. She was his blood, he knew a thing or two. His battle experience was able to tell him when things were looking off. Listening to her words twice while looking at her.

Not with a stare that his enemies would have received, shortly before they met their end. But one he wasn’t used to giving, or one she was used to receiving from the Lion of the Rock. It was a thoughtful, caring look. One of understanding, a want of understanding. Truly, or what he hoped, a far cry of what his daughter was used to receiving from him.

“If you wanted a wine bottle you could have asked Tyshara…” He spoke, taking one from the rack, giving it to her. This one was a better, richer wine. From the Arbor. Taking the Lannisport from her grasp and setting it in its place. **”Besides, this is a better one. For you and Him.”**

He tilted his head to the side, then straightened it back out. He breathed out.

“I can’t speak for what your Mother thinks but I have come to a realization.” He didn’t bear any teeth or show any claws. He was above all else trying to listen and be understanding. 

There wasn’t a need for claws to be shown or them to dig into each other. Being a few steps helped him see this. “You’re already betrothed and love him, Tyshara. I can’t change who you love, nor would I. If he makes you happy then by all means keep him in your life. Marry him.”

Jason remained calm and collected. No sign of pressure or weight upon him despite the circumstances. “I had a love like that once. I won’t stop you from having it.”

[cerellelannister2]

Blood is thicker than water, a close starter with: @sebas20051234

    SYBELL, THE WHITE MARE OF LADY CERELLE LANNISTER, RODE AS FAST AS SHE COULD. The Lady Cerelle Lannister then picked up the bridle and pulled on it carefully so that her mare would slow down. Therefore, Sybell immediately began to go slower. Cerelle's big emerald eyes carefully studied all the trees surrounding the area. All the leaves had left their home and fallen to the ground. Then her face slowly turned around with the intention of watching her father, Lord Jason Lannister, and his horse trying to match their pace. After all, her father was really far behind.

    Lady Cerelle then dismounted her mare and settled her feet on the ground. As autumn was leaving them behind and winter was coming closer, the soil was becoming increasingly more slippery. Besides, with more rain, the ground was becoming muddier, which made Cerelle's beautiful and luxurious dresses soiled with the mud. Therefore, unfortunately for Cerelle, she had opted to wear dresses that are far more simple. A far cry from the luxury she was used to.

    "Dad, you are becoming old, and your ability to ride isn't what it used to be," Cerelle announced when Jason finally reached the spot where she was and chuckled.

    The relationship between Lady Cerelle Lannister and her father, Lord Jason Lannister, was, to say the least, a little complicated. However, maybe due to the irony of The Seven, Lady Cerelle seemed to be far more similar to Lord Jason than Lady Johanna Lannister (née Westerling). Besides, both of them preferred the solitude instead of the loud ambient of court. And her father didn't label her as frivolous like Lady Johanna, her mother, used to do constantly.

    However, their contact ever since she left Casterly Rock was very rare. She limited herself to answering his letters from time to time. After all, what did Lady Cerelle have to say that would be truly worthy of her father's attention?

    Cerelle breathed slowly, the cold breeze consuming her lungs completely. Her gaze shifted to the ground; there wasn't a single plant in sight that would be useful for her potions or her stock.

    But would it be better to go back?

    The Lannister carefully turned her full attention to Sybell, her mare, and her fingers untangled the mane. Then, Lady Cerelle carefully put on the burgundy hood of her slick cloak trimmed with fur, hiding her golden strands.

    Besides, Cerelle enjoyed riding ever since she was little. That was something Jason had taught her. The two of them used to explore the surroundings of Casterly Rock. Especially when Cerelle was little and she wanted to get away from the crowds that decorated the rooms of The Rock.

    Maybe blood was truly thicker than water between Lord Jason and his eldest daughter.

    "Can we keep going?", Cerelle asked.

[jason-lannister2005]

Jason rode a White Stallion. Its trappings donned the colors of the House he was from. A Golden bridle as if the crimson color of the saddle wasn’t enough. Glory was an older horse, not as fast as she once was. But she was dependable. Which allowed for Cerelle’s much younger horse to make a gap but the distance would be where Glory really would show her strength. Which was expected, being Jason’s trusted steed to ride into battle. 

He wasn’t too far behind his daughter, only a few yards (meters) behind. Maybe 50 at most. Jason also opted to wear something more plain. However it still showed off the regal attire of the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. A crimson red tunic with trousers was what he was seen wearing, accompanied by a pair of boots that went knee high. As for extra protection the Lord carried his Qhori blade from his teenage years. A trusty blade that he’s held for a long time, it’s how he became such a feared opponent in melees. 

It had became the rainy months at the Rock and the Westerlands, it’s hilly terrain would most likely be ill suited for travel, bringing it to only 3 ways in and out of Lannisport. There was a fourth way through the Pedric Hills, but that was for only the Lannisters to know. The Lion knew his lands, and those in his Pride.

”I believe it to be the horse My Daughter… She doesn't ride like she used to.” Jason said with a smile, dismounting his stallion to join his daughter. In truth it felt better that she was home, even as Jason was trying to redeem himself.

In truth, even as he said he knew his Pride, he never knew his Family. Something that only recently he came to struggle with. Better late than never he supposed.

In his quest for a male heir, ruling the Westerlands since a young age, Jason truly let his teenage years live long past what they should have. He wasn’t proud of it. Matter of the facts are he was disgraceful for it. Never being able to forgive himself for neglecting his daughters, leading them to think they weren’t worth his attention.

When in reality, Cerelle took after Jason more than she ever did Johanna, one could just look at her hair and realize that. She had the quiet nature, the ability to control a room when in it just by being quiet. Outcasted for sure, if they weren't standing.She took to riding and his hobbies more than the others seemed to do. Her going away also seemed to draw parallels to Jason as well for his time away from the Rock as well.

This presented a perfect opportunity to hopefully reconnect with His Daughter, his blood. As they took to something they both enjoyed doing together since she was little. Many Moons ago. Still a credit to them both.

”We can, We have nowhere to go and no time to meet. We shall go until we stop if you’d like” He confirmed to her, in reality he knew these matters were more important than the Rock. It was bonding with his daughter.

[jason-lannister2005]

Jason Lannister starter

(Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Lord of Casterly Rock, Jason Lannister, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, He/him) Welcome, (Lord Jason ) of (Lannister)! We’re delighted to see (she/he/they) has arrived safely on his journey to King’s Landing. Around the court the thirty-nine year old has been praised as a swordsman, charming and loyal but some have whispered he is also reserved, troubled and unfaithful. Upon his arrival, it is clear that he is looking to redem himself in support of the reign of Westeros' first Ruling-Queen and while the eyes of our court may be fixed on House Targaryen, Queen Rhaenyra, and the future of Westeros, his true allegiance will always be to House Lannister and his banners. (Hadrian, 19, he/him, Pedophila and tough things like that) Jason is the eldest son of his Father so became Lord of Casterly Rock at a young age due to his father's death. He trained with a sword early, being knighted in his eightteenth year after a tournament Normally a quiet Lord he wants to be the best Lord Paramount he can, he doesn't speak until he needs to. Be it for his family or his banners. But he is loyal to those loyal to him Rumor has it that the Lion Lord is an unfaithful, ill Father who is low cunning and distrustful. Which in some cases he was, but now he is looking to mend that stigma and become the Father he never had