honed and ready

well-behaved women rarely make history.

[ladyaltheda]

boltcn:

ONCE THE WOMAN REVEALED HERSELF, Gilliane brows went soft. She knew very little of the woman, other than the few things they had shared with one another in casual conversation. It seemed Lord Cerwyn’s twin sister was a mystery. Still she was pleasant, very much in spite of how kind she seemed to be. Gilliane dismounted her own horse and put away the thought dying today as she found it hard to believe Altheda would stray too far from her home - alone or from the riding men of her household. 

❝  I don’t know of how much use I can be, but I can attempt to offer more than a prayer.  ❞  Hunting made Gilliane rather educated things beyond taking a part a simple knot but she held a small smile of amusement anyway.  Upon becoming closer to the fair haired lady, she displayed a work of leather bounded to a knife. It’s blade was thin and dull and was more likely to put thing together than to cut them apart but that is exactly what made it so useful. ❝  You place it within a space of the knot and just pull.  ❞ 

Altheda knew that, eventually, she’d be able to get the knot apart -- after all, she had been the one to tie it in the first place -- but was still appreciative of the help. When Altheda caught first glimpse of the blade, however, a quick phase of fear must have crossed her features. Despite her sojourn throughout the North, Altheda was still wary of the eastern houses. A Bolton with a blade, even a dull one, was someone best to keep both eyes on. Still, Altheda accepted with a quick “thank you” and a smile. Just as Gilliane had predicted, the knot loosened and fell apart in her hands.

“You’ve saved me quite a bit of trouble, my lady,” Altheda said, delicately extending the knife back to Gilliane, then gently stroking her mare’s neck with her eyes still on the Bolton lady. “I’m quite lucky you stumbled across us, truly. I don’t often see anyone in this bit of the woods.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but she issued it like one. The subtext, she hoped, was obvious: what brings you here?

[aidan-redfort-blog]

The air felt suffocating within the castle walls. He couldn’t fathom why, only that perhaps the memories of his father began to flood his thoughts and like a poison., the grief began to set in. He had hardly received a chance to say goodbye to the late lord Redfort as their last conversation with one another had cut short due to his father’s withering condition. Neither had said ‘I love you,’ for the words were not needed. Instead they looked upon one another and smiled, and his father said, ‘You are a man now so be it. And keep her around.’ Keep her around. Without hearing her name he knew his father spoke of his healer, Jana, the woman Aidan had somehow fallen madly in love with. 

Such thoughts plagued him as he’d wandered through the castle halls, enough to make his lungs constrict and the air knock out of him. He grasped the castle walls for support as he breathed in deeply, releasing it once he found himself deep within the courtyard just behind the castle. It took was like a maze, almost, with many twists and turns, he found himself standing before another that he had not expected to find.  “Oh you’ll have to excuse me, I needed a bit of fresh air. I didn’t think anyone else was here.” The commander apologized quickly, though he didn’t leave. 

[ladyaltheda]

The voice came as a bit of a surprise, though a pleasant one. Altheda had expected the first voice she’d heard since she’d exited to the courtyard to be one of reprimand -- what purpose do you have out here? -- followed by a quick escort to the generous guest chambers. But she too, like this man, had needed a bit of fresh air.

“No, please, there’s room here enough for the two of us, my lord.” She offered a smile, then lowered her gaze. “You’ll have to forgive me. I do hope you don’t take my presence out here as ingratitude for your family’s hospitality. It’s very generous to allow me and my lady mother the night’s stay.”

[ladyaltheda]

nailaofnowhere:

Her cheek dimpled when Altheda didn’t shake her hand. Despite the failed gesture, Na’ila couldn’t help but find it kind that she’d at least tried. Many – most – ladies might have turned up their nose, or even demanded Na’ila give them a proper greeting by standing up and kissing the ground they walked on. Yet, Altheda had even lowered herself to that of the tavern wenches by leaving the name of her house unspoken. 

Almost like they were equals. 

Na’ila propped her chin in her hand once she was released, pursing her lips at such a question. Each time it arose, she’d spin some version of the truth that would keep the eyes of the Dornish off her trail. The last thing she needed was for them to come sniffing around – not after a year of peace, and something akin to prosperity there in the tavern. 

“Do I not look like I am from the north?” She quipped, humor clear in her tone as her worries subsided again. She’d play it off, again telling something close to her past…but never just quite. “I thought I fit in here. Hm… I am from the Stormlands. But my mother was Dornish, so my name is very southern.”  

Nothing more, nothing less. No mention of her time in Dorne, nor the horrible fate she’d bestowed upon a boy who was most likely too drunk to be civil, or the journey she’d taken to escape it all.

“Your name is very nice as well! Altheda. It is very proper… maybe not a name for a lady who drinks in an old tavern. But I will not tell.”

It might have been spoken like a joke, but Altheda was reminded that many had said she also didn’t look like she belonged in the North. She had her mother’s southron hair, an unfamiliar glint of gold against the Northern snow. If it weren’t for the comfort she felt in the icy air or water, she might have felt like she didn’t belong either. She did have ties here though, even if they were for weather and for family. 

Altheda’s interest was captured not by Dorne, but by the Stormlands -- and it showed in stilled hands and arched brows. In Dorne, the sun always shone and it was warm year-round. Yuck. But the Stormlands... There was an area of intrigue. The wars that had plagued the land after the failed conquest of the Targaryen’s seemed to hold more and more significance to her everyday, a lesson it would be best for her Northern houses to study too.

But just as suddenly, the attention was back on herself yet she couldn’t resist a chuckle. Her name sounded very formal indeed, coming out of Na’ila’s mouth. “Your discretion is so appreciated,” she jested, then lifted the horn to her lips again, then stopped. 

“Would you... would you mind telling me a story of the Stormlands?” She set the horn down again, lowering her eyes to the last lingering sip of wine. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, truly. I-- Well, I’ve never been so far south."

[ladyaltheda]

What do you think of your brother being lord now?

"Though my father will be surely missed, my brother will do a fine job at the helm of our household. He’s had the perfect role model and teacher.”

[ladyaltheda]

rxgnas:

The voice that filled her ears was soft. An unusual thing for someone who grew accustomed to the rough nature of the isles. Where everyone’s voice reminded her of gravel or dry leaves. A gruffness to them that she expected to stretch to the north. Where she often heard rumors of grittiness. Though she heard the same with the Trident, and found it quite the opposite during the infant prince’s coronation. But it may have been her attachment to the Isles that desensitized her to everything. Where the north should have felt rugged in comparison to the Arbor, her former home, it no longer did. There was something almost beautiful about the sleet and snow.

Ragna’s gaze fell on the woman beside her. Surprised by the kindness that she appeared to show. She supposed it was only expected. They were hosting royalty, even if it wasn’t the grand royalty that hailed from more southern kingdoms. It was still strange to be addressed as a queen. 

“I don’t worship the Drowned God, much to everyone’s displeasure.” She replied, a soft smirk tugging at pink lips. “Only the seven, but there is little of their influence this far north.” It wasn’t as if she prayed to them either as of late. Religion the furthest topic from her mind. “But I’d enjoy the company. Your family is very kind for hosting us. Especially with everything that has happened recently.”

Altheda supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised -- not all wives abandoned their gods in favor of their husband’s, even if her own mother had. Ragna was from the Reach, somewhere sunny and south, some high house that Altheda couldn’t quite remember... Roxton, Rhysling, Redwyne? 

“Of course, your grace,” Altheda replied. Perhaps this is exactly the role her brother hoped she’d play: gentle companion. It was a part Altheda had been trained to play, perhaps even bred to play, but also enjoyed. “And please, it’s no burden, truly. It’s quite nice to have company in times such as these.”  It wasn’t often she entertained visitors, especially female visitors. One could have another sort of conversation with a guest who didn’t come with a sword strapped to their back or an axe still tightly clutched in a fist.

“You’re wrong, though, about the seven’s influence north.” Altheda’s lips twitched upwards into a puckish smile, her tone lifted into something a bit more airy. "My father had a terribly small sept built upon his betrothal, though since my mother’s pledged her allegiance to the old gods, it’s fallen into disrepair. Though I’ve heard rumors it’s used for more illicit purposes now.”

[ladyaltheda]

What do you wish for?

“A bit of iced milk and honey with a blanket spread out by the White Knife, perhaps also a book of poetry I could read until the sun sets? Though, if we’re speaking more seriously, I’d wish for good health to my lord brother, calm over the North, and safety for those I care for.”

[ladyaltheda]

Would you give up everything for Rodrik?

She’d thought about it – of course she had. Daydreams of them slipping out of her bed chambers hand-in-hand, disappearing into the trees, starting over somewhere warm… It could be so easy, especially with a skilled swordsman by her side. Every passing day in her country grew more dangerous, her position more precarious, the odds that there could be a simple solution grew smaller each passing moment.

“Rodrik would never ask me to give anything up.” He would never allow it. “He’d never ask anything of me.”

[ladyaltheda]

torrhenxkarstark:

It wasn’t as if politics bored him, in fact they had quite the opposite effect. But the lord often found it strenuous to discuss his beliefs with anyone who favored the wolves on the throne. Blind loyalty to what always has been around and never changed. Not that he found himself a worthy candidate for such a position. Perhaps a hand to the king, but never selfless enough to do the actual job. There was also something about the word king that sent even the most rational men into a frenzy. He couldn’t imagine why house Cerwyn would send a daughter to discuss those very matters with a man who would only dismiss any mention of Stark loyalty. 

A frown plagued his lips at the mention of her request. And he found it difficult not to show the irritation in his eyes. Why anyone would want to walk around in the cold and snow was beyond him. Even as a true northern man, Torrhen often preferred the warmth of his castle to the northern winds. Though the view of the grey cliffs and the bay of seals often left him breathless, it was just as beautiful from the view of a window. 

“If you insist, my lady.” Torrhen’s tone cold despite the grin against his lips. An act could only go so far, though he knew better than to let one hitch ruin what he wanted. If he didn’t come out of their meeting today leaving the Cerwyn girl puzzled with where her loyalties lied, then he failed at what he desired to achieve. “Though the winds are harsher here coming off the bay, I wouldn’t recommend we spend too long out in the elements. Lest you wish to return home with frost covered cheeks,”

Altheda countered the ice in the northern lord’s tone with her best attempt at a sunny smile, given the circumstance. Despite his annoyance, he was indulging her. Perhaps it was an unkind trick, but she had reaped its rewards before. Once people allowed themselves to be moved on an issue, no matter how small, it often lead to greater allowances. She realized it was just as likely that her meddling would have the opposite effect, that she’d use all her good grace on silly matters and no leeway would be left when things or more importance cropped up later on. Everything felt like a gamble here.

"Your concern is much appreciated,” she said in complete honesty, though it might have been unwarranted. Altheda had grown quite accustomed to the harsh winds and the icy waters of the North. In truth, she found the cold refreshing, invigorating, freeing. Her winter swimming had almost exclusively been restricted to the White Knife; what she wouldn’t give for just one dive from the Grey Cliffs into the water below... But that would be folly. She was a lady, after all, and one with purpose, however misguided. She’d enjoy what little luxuries her station could afford, even if it was only a walk.

“But as you mention my home, I’m sure news has reached you of my father’s passing. My lord brother has taken his seat at Castle Cerwyn.” She thought best to say little, to gauge Torrhen’s reaction -- if he would have one at all. “The difficulty has only been eased because it has been a peaceful transition.”

[ladyaltheda]

What impression do you try to give when you first meet someone?

"I hope I come across as someone on whom one could thoroughly rely, someone who is kind, generous... but perhaps I’m being selfish now.”

[thesunderwars-rp]

Welcome to Honesty Hour !

Every Monday is honesty hour for the entire duration of the day. Please reblog this if you’d like members to send you questions on or off anon. No hate will be tolerated. Please try to answer everything in your inbox, and have fun.

( The main will typically post this at 12am. EST every Monday )

[ladyaltheda]

all credit to tia at @kinslaycr bc omg i laughed so hard and had to do it

photo description: altheda sipping a smoothie behind a sign reading “house stark is honorable and just monarchs and you know what’s actually destroying the north? this unnecessary conflict!!! / CHANGE MY MIND”

[ladyaltheda]

vipcrarpina:

finally. it was time for another glorious battle and once again, she had an opportunity to show her incredible skills to the world that always dreamed of heroes and sang songs about unknown fighters. yet arpina wasn’t doing anything for praises and glory. no, she had far too much pride to ever wish for something so silly. with a happy smile, she entered the fighting pit, but a black veil concealed the entirety of her face. for the sake of her own safety and wishes, she always refrained from reveling her face to the crowd. 

the spectators greeted her with loud cheering and a round of applause, but she didn’t pay much attention to them. her chocolate eyes were solely focused on her much larger and muscular opponent. compared to him, she look rather skinny and small, yet she felt no fear in her bones. she trusted herself and the long spear in her hand. and for a brief moment no one moved. 

but then, she saw him reach up to a sword strapped over his shoulder and pull it free. he unleashed his rage, swinging the sword with every fiber of violence he possessed.  the blade swept through the dust, but she graciously dodged the incoming hit. fighting was just like dancing and she simply swayed her hips to the rhythm of he music ( the rhythm of chanting ). taking a few steps forward, she poked him with the head of the spear. she was only teasing him, leaving just small pink marks on his skin. he didn’t seem pretty impressed by her arrogant behavior and once again he swung his sword from right to left. but she of course ducked and rolled on the ground. without missing a beat, arpina got back on her feet and started to charge at the man. the handsome swordsman was clearly caught off guard when her spear skidded across his calf, cutting deeply. blood spilled on the sandy ground, leaving amber traces. this was only the beginning. 

Altheda squinted into the arena, trying to make sense of the combatants. The large man on the far end, only lightly shielded and glistening as if rubbed with oil, made sense to her. Once she had learned this would be the entertainment, it only made sense that the warriors would be brutes with swords, eager to cut one another to bits. It didn’t seem like that would be anything but horrific, but she supposed that’s what was to happen.

The figure opposite him though, that came as a surprise. His opponent seemed so slight in comparison, the shadow they cast was so much thinner. Beyond their smaller frame, their most notable armor was the veil they had placed over their eyes. This would be a bloodbath. The man on the far side was wrapped with more muscle and had the added benefit of being able to fully see his surroundings. Altheda wasn’t quite sure she was prepared to watch the slaughter, yet her brother was nowhere to be found and she was pinned in place by the scores of other spectators.

But then the figures moved, coming together and pulling apart, again and again. Altheda heard no metal-on-metal clanging, could see no contact, and was not sure how the veiled figure was so far unscathed. She could see every swipe and slash of the fighter’s sword, yet his lithe opponent seemed to move so much faster. Despite her reservations, Altheda began to lean forward, her curiosity overpowering her unease. Then first blood hit the dust, and it had not come from the smaller figure. Altheda instinctively covered her eyes. The crowd’s chanting was interrupted by a peal of deafening cheers, shouted profanities, screaming in a dozen tongues Altheda couldn’t place. But she had to look, had to see, and peered out between her fingers.

[ladyaltheda]

nailaofnowhere:

There were few things she truly understood of the noble ladies in The North. In The Stormlands, she hadn’t seen many of the them – mostly men, drunkenly looking for something to devour for the night. In Dorne, they were treated with the same respects as most men, free to come and go as they pleased. But The North? The fair-colored woman wasn’t the first she’d seen trailed by lumbering men in glowing armor, and certainly she wouldn’t be the last. 

Na’ila’s gaze remained glued on the entourage, up until the moment her new companion lowered her voice. Her eyes snapped back to her face, almost looking like a bewildered animal – startled, eyes wide, lips parted as she tried to find something to say. It all lasted a moment – nothing more than a second – before Na’ila’s cool expression returned and she offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

The only sign of how nervous she actually was. 

“Discomfort? Oh, oh no. I am just fine.” The barmaiden squared her shoulders, planting the other hand that had been lingering at her side firmly on her waist as she tilted her chin up. “I might be as thin as a weed, but I could handle my own if I needed to.” In theory. She’d learned some self defense, but she’d had yet to test it outside of landing a good punch or kick between the legs – had yet to dodge a sword of knife angled the right way. 

Noticing that her boss was distracted by the party of banner men, Na’ila slid into the seat across from the stranger and thrust her hand across the table. A small folk gesture, but she had a feeling the woman wouldn’t care that she hadn’t bowed. “My name is Na’ila. Hopefully you will stop back here on your travel home, hm?”

Altheda wasn’t quite sure what to make of the flicker of the barmaid’s face. Had it been fear? Anger? Had she imagined it entirely? The girl took a larger stance and made light of it all, and Altheda wondered if perhaps she might be projecting. After all, it was she who was in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers... Maybe her own lingering discomfort paired with the wine was corrupting her judgment. She set the horn back on the table at the thought, but allowed herself a light laugh at the girl’s insistence, not in mockery but as evidence she believed her.

Altheda stared at the girl’s -- Na’ila’s -- hand before her for just a moment. It wasn’t often that she extended her hand to a maiden rather than a man and she took this as another indication that the girl was not from the North: the accent, the name, the gesture. Still, Altheda extended her own hand and delicately took Na’ila’s. “Altheda,” she offered in reply, without title or surname. “It’s quite a pleasure to meet you, and would be mine to return.” She took her hand back, without a shake as she was quite unfamiliar with the gesture, and took another small sip of wine.

“Do you mind me asking... you’re not from the North, are you? I don’t mean to pry, truly, but your name. It’s so pretty, I’ve never heard one like it before, not here.” 

[ladyaltheda]

rstcnes:

He wondered if the old gods were anything like his. The seven for all its popularity held judgment. Seven gods staring down, waiting for a mistake to be conjured so that repentance would have to be made. He accepted long ago that he would never join his gods. His very existence was a sin. Rodrik would never make up for that sin by praying to them. Often forgetting the lines he should say before they reach his lips. It felt foolish to kneel and ask mythical beings in the sky for help. He would not appease them with marriage or children. And he made a living hurting and killing others. Perhaps he would have faired better in the Isles. Their god promoted drink and salt wives. Violence was desired and playing house was not. He once heard the old gods were cruel. Harsher than the seven, yet just as ironic. They had to be, for choosing a tree with tears of blood as an idol. Maybe they wouldn’t frown upon her the way his gods would. Maybe they would smile knowing a lady had betrayed everything she knew. Or there was the possibility they wouldn’t do anything at all. 

His thoughts consumed him enough that he just noticed how close she was. Enough that he could pick up the scent of her, and let it consume him. Nothing was quite as sweet without being overwhelming. He searched far and wide for something similar. Yet there wasn’t a shop keeper that could mimic it with their endless vials of perfume. Though Rodrik felt a sentiment to that. Knowing that there likely wasn’t another woman in the world that could remind him of her. None that smelled so sweet, with a touch as gentle. 

Despite that gentle touch he flinched when soft fingertips brushed his flesh. Unexpected, it took the breath right from his throat. In the privacy of the Godswood there was no longer the worry that one would find her stroking the fresh scars that painted his face. But Rodrik hadn’t prepared himself for how much he longed for her touch. Or how much he longed for her to graze more than just the scars that plagued his face. 

He reached up and grasped her hand, though quite unsure what to do with it. He found himself intertwining his fingers with her own, bringing their conjoined hands down toward his chest. How long it had been since he grasped her hand in his he could not remember. Too long it seemed. “You notice everything, don’t you?” He quipped. A slight smirk tugging at the edge of chapped lips. He only noticed the sadness in her eyes  since their last meeting. But she had lost a father since then. And while he did not weep when his own father died, he imagined it was more difficult for her to stomach than it was for him. “You bear new scars I cannot see, yet they still bring you pain. I know I’m to blame for some of them, more than I’d like to admit.”

She wondered if she had perhaps moved too quickly, if he still thought them too out in the open, when he flinched at her touch. Though it was true they could potentially be seen here, visitors to the godswood were often afforded generous privacy. Northern men and women took their religion quite seriously and it had it’s pros and cons. On the one hand, she felt quite safe and secluded here with Rodrik. On the other, if they were caught, the gods and their followers would be quicker to condemn than to forgive. But the eyes of the weirwood tree had seen them here before and its wooded lips had never once betrayed them.

Then her hand was in his, pulled to his chest, and any nagging thoughts in her mind fled. On some level, Altheda knew it might be wiser to keep some of her attention outwards, to glance towards the doors and windows occasionally, perhaps to guide them to a more secluded alcove among the trees, but once she could feel his heartbeat, she was anchored in place by the steady rhythm. Though faint while buried under thin, worn furs, the pulse meant he was here, right now, with her.

Altheda hadn’t yet abandoned her inspection, moving her eyes from their intertwined hands back to the new mark on his face. It was small enough she might not have noticed if only he had been a stranger. Rodrik was not a stranger, though he should have been, and Altheda knew every inch, even those she couldn’t see -- the scar on his neck that disappeared beneath his cloak, the burns on his shoulder, the countless other markings of other injuries she’d absently traced before falling asleep.

The indirect mention of her father, the man she had told the guards he was here to honor, caused her to meet his gaze once more. “I hardly knew him,” she admitted, “yet I mourn him. I have struggled to find the words to express the loss I feel but... he was not so old, he was healthy, and now is... gone.” She exhaled, shook her head, looked up to the cloudy sky above. “It’s not pain you bring, it’s what remains when you’ve left.” There was always the moment of vulnerability to admit things Rodrik already knew were true, even when she had so much evidence to believe they were reciprocated. 

"Everything is so uncertain. The fragility in the North, civil war in the Trident, my father... I--” she met Rodrik’s eyes again, absently tightening her grip on the hand she held, “I’d like to be certain you’re safe.”

[ladyaltheda]

blackvvolf:

❛          THAT COULD ALWAYS BE TRUE.        I’m a little envious, I suppose.           ❜       Harald smiled at the woman, feeling little less than impolite.   His trips to Cerwyn castle had been few and far in between but still relished in the relative calmness it offered. 

Altheda couldn’t resist a laugh then. “You’re envious?” she echoed, amused. “I might have suspected you’d be... well, bored here, that you’d prefer a bit more, I don’t know, hustle and bustle.”

[dishonovr]

*    I.   /   OPEN STARTER

WHILE THE DAY STARTED OUT usually warm, the sun soon threaten to set and it appeared Gilliane was not much closer to a hearth, four walls. A safe distance between her and the strange figure, she pondered her choices. As lady she lacked the skills a man might posses for bracing a night in the woods. But as a person of sound mind, she gathered enough sense to know a tent would simply not do with these trial times upon them.Thieves, and all animals aside - It was mother winter she feared. The mountain cats and clansmen alike could have ripped her to shreds but it was the snow that would have swallowed her whole. It seemed the uncertainty of a stranger was the only real option to consider.

❝  I can’t tell if you’re in tears or prayer.  ❞ She shouted and even then she did so softy. Her hand perhaps too tightly wrapped around the reins of her mare.

[ladyaltheda]

“Neither, my lady,” Altheda called back in response, aiming to... someone in the treeline. She stilled her hands at the knot she’d been working to undo, the one she’d tied to hold her own steed to a nearby tree, and turned to face the somehow familiar voice. Staring into the forest, Altheda was able to locate the source of the cry and was shocked to see the lady who had issued it.

“Lady Gilliane.” Altheda dropped the knot, leaving it to dangle. “No,” she laughed, “only trying to undo this knot, though I might be in tears in a moment if it won’t come apart. Perhaps you might offer a prayer, requesting the gods grant me some assistance?”

[bxurbxns-blog]

@ladyaltheda​ // From here.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the snow per say, but rather she didn’t appreciate the beauty of it. Not to the extent that she appreciated the sea. She supposed the two elements weren’t all that different. Beautiful with the potential to be violent–vastly unpredictable. But the sea wasn’t cold when she last swam in it. Her bones rattled despite the infinite amount of layers she seemed to don. The thick furs useless against volatile winds. Ragna would never wish to live in such a place. Where ice covered the seas and made it difficult to sail. Most of the castles inland and surrounded by forests and cliffs. No, it wasn’t a life she would have wanted for herself at all. Even if many thought her fate was a cursed one. 

She knew little of House Cerwyn, or why they had to visit. She learned not ask her husband or his brothers of their intentions. So when her brother in law stopped at the castle she kept her mouth shut. Her thoughts more on the journey home than the Gods wood tree that weeped blood in front of her. She longed for the scent of salt and eyes the shade of the sea gazing at her. Instead of snow and silence. 

But when she hears the footsteps she knows they’re too dainty to be her brother in law. His footfalls always held purpose, he wanted everyone to know he was coming. She wonders if they’re looking to pray or be alone like her. And the sentence leaves her lips before she can stop it. “You’re lonely too.”

[ladyaltheda]

When her brother had taken over lordship of their house, Altheda held half a hope that it would mean she might be more involved in matters of the state. Or, if not involved, at least informed. She realized only now that perhaps she had been overly optimistic yet again. She wasn’t quite sure what it meant that they were entertaining visitors from the Iron Isles, a Greyjoy enclave nonetheless, but Altheda was quick to adapt. She hadn’t yet laid eyes on any of the ironborn, but a maid had tipped her off to the location of their Greyjoy queen. 

Upon entering the Godswood, Altheda didn’t notice Ragna at first -- standing stock-still with hair red enough to pass for weirwood leaves -- and had gotten quite close by the time the lady had spoken, finally alerting Altheda to her presence. 

“Your grace,” Altheda offered to announce her presence, doing her best to mask any surprise with a gentle bow of her head. She wasn’t quite sure how the ironborn preferred to be addressed, but she realized too that Ragna was not even truly ironborn at all. “If you’d rather be alone, please do let me know, but I only thought... well, I don’t know quite how the Drowned God is worshiped, but the river is not far, if you’d feel more comfortable there?”