True To The Mark

Laenah Sarsfield, 25, Lady, archer, regent. Loyal to House Lannister. Ties with Dorne and House Westerling. She’s a thunderstorm wrapped in beautiful flesh, looking to be felt and understood in a world that loves sunny days.

[wordsnquotes]

So, here you are too foreign for home too foreign for here. Never enough for both.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo, “Questions for Ada” (via wordsnquotes)

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B A S T I A N :

The journey had been longer than Bastian intended, mostly for the sake of remaining out of sight of too many prying eyes. And it was quite the draw in to notice a dwarf traveling, especially on his way to Casterly Rock. Bastian had made an effort to avoid unwanted attention and only stayed at an inn only because he knew he could trust the innkeeper to keep his mouth shut. Their next stop had been Sarsfield, a place Bastian had been familiar with. Back when his father was Lord of the Vale, he was brought along on some of the journeys on the River Road toward Casterly Rock, making a short stop at Sarsfield to meet with the lord and lady of the house. At the time, Bastian was there to learn more of the politics and to aid in his father’s council, but most of the time, his father would ignore him or undercut any input he offered– and later take credit for his son’s ideas.

But now, Bastian was Lord of the Vale, he made good efforts to maintain the alliances his father negotiated, and one of those was with the houses on The Rock. Though his visit to Sarsfield was more than just to keep alliances; for years, he had made efforts to stay in touch with the young Lady of the household, Laenah Sarsfield. They would write once a year, but Bastian figured it would be rude not to at least visit while he was passing through. She was a friend, or he liked to consider her a friend, so he felt it necessary to catch up in person.

So he arrived with his small band of guards, the group intentionally small and full of his best men to keep himself well guarded but also discreet. He left the Eyrie in good hands, having little to no worry about leaving for a few days. And it would only be another day until he got to The Rock. Now, he was worried about finding Lady Sarsfield. After being welcomed by the servants of the house, Bastian had taken a moment to wander the grounds. He had a few ideas of where the girl could be, and made his way outside to seek her out.

As soon as he spotted her, Bastian smiled and gave a small bow of his head. “Lady Sarsfield. It has been a while. I hope you have been well since we last wrote?”

Laenah was not blind to the fact that to many Sarsfield was simply a stop along the way rather than the destination. They were a relatively small house whose one claim to fame was their archers. Her mother’s House was the one that held more prestige, even if all that reminded people that she was part Wyl other than the way she looked had been slowly worn away until she was simply another lady of the Westerlands. Still, she refused to believe that her House had nothing to offer when they had a stellar history of being loyal and true friends to any who showed them a kindness and in recent years that hadn’t only extended to the Lannisters. When her father had been in his better years he had been something of an entertainer - offering up their home to any who passed it on the River Road on their journey to or from Casterly Rock. Now however, fewer and fewer came through their gates when she didn’t want to risk any chance of word getting out that her father was a recluse and make her House prime for being attacked.

The grounds were often her sanctuary when she had to try to find some way of baring the weight of responsibility that came with having to lead a House while at the same time give no impression that it was her doing the work. There was something about the quiet of them that calmed her and they gave her a rare feeling of peace. Footsteps approached her and she wholly expected it to be a servant but instead it was someone she considered a friend. Smiling warmly, she took a few steps closer to the man.

A warm smile is on her features as she welcomes him, remembering that where her mother might have embraced someone of such closeness it was not how things were done here. “Lord Arryn, what a pleasant surprise. It has been a while indeed but I hope that you know that you can still address me as Laenah.” Lives could get busy and she knew just how difficult it was to see others without gossip running amok but she did always wish that the two of them lived in closer proximity when she always found his company so refreshing. 

Her smile dims slightly before she recovers it when she knows that she cannot be as honest with him as she might have liked in order to keep up the pretence that all was well at Sarsfield. “I have been well for the most part, nothing I can truly complain of. And yourself? How is the Eyrie, and your siblings?”

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@corcnis

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poemsforpersephone:

l.s. | FIVE STEPS TO FREEDOM © 2016 

STEP ONE:   embrace your flaws. you can’t survive this life without them and you wouldn’t want to. they make you human. STEP TWO: breathe the ocean air with iron lungs.   hoard oxygen like gold, to fill your hollow bones. STEP THREE: the sky is a ladder leading up to the heavens. find a constellation and map it with your fingertips pressed into creases of starlight. STEP FOUR: look back at the path you have taken. it is ragged with ditches and dead leaves but you walked it all the same. STEP FIVE: all your life you’ve restrained your galaxy bright eyes. now let them loose. you don’t need to be Atlas: this world isn’t your burden to bear.

[laenahs-archive]

“ i won’t let them break me down to dust ”

           The quiet strength behind the words was what truly caught her attention and there was something that lay in the soft determination of them that struck a chord within her. Laenah did not doubt that this woman had steel within her, mixed in with the care and concern that she seemed able to show the world without any hesitation despite the binds that the position of Lady put upon her to act a certain way. The sincerity that was embedded in her words and actions was something that almost caused some sort of envy within the brunette when she still found herself battling with who she was supposed to be, who she was and who she wanted to be. Her genuine fondness towards the other woman and something close to admiration meant that the negative feelings aren’t allowed to stay to take root and fester, instead she offers a small but soft smile.

          It was hard to know exactly what to say when it had thrown her own emotions into a reflective chaos as she was forced to realise that she had slowly been letting herself get more and more won down. She wasn’t the ocean that she longed to be but the rocks that made its bed, constantly having their rough edges worn away and away and away until there was nothing left of them. Perhaps she needed to embrace her friend’s mentality and instead of allowing herself to be worn down by other’s little corrections and the alterations that they seemed to demand that she made in order to have a place among them, she needed to stand firm and strong in herself. 

        The decision was one that she had faltered on for years, the only thing keeping her caged still being her father’s absence and her wanting to draw as little attention as possible to her House with any actions that may be deemed worthy of gossip. So her soft, genteel and carefully crafted exterior remained in tact even if she had taken to being more and more reckless with the use of her spare time. Hunting and target practise were hardly hobbies fit for a lady and yet it felt like a step too far - one sacrifice too many - for her to even contemplate giving up the things that brought her such joy. Any hopes of marriage that she might have had were placed low on her priorities, set aside until things settled out but in the meantime Laenah knew she couldn’t give up everything and leave herself hollow and fading.

         For all she had allowed herself to lapse into a contemplative silence she knew that some form of answer was required and she wanted it to be one of gentle support when the words did eventually leave her lips. ”With that resolve I am almost certain that they would never be successful.” There were no doubts in her mind that Nymeria was more than headstrong and steady in herself to easily be a match for any who made the mistake of challenging her and a part of her could only hope that one day she would be able to embody such qualities more openly than she already did.

Drabble starters can be found here (x) if you would like one

[mushi-and-junior]

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mushi-and-junior:

seven heavenly virtues: PATIENCE [5/7]

(n.) the capacity to accept or tolerate inconvenience or suffering with dignity

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My mind is the ever-going ocean, with dark shades of teal. 

Lacking in light, but a craving to be bright.

Laenah Sarsfield Aesthetic 3/?

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N Y M E R I A :

there is a hesitance in lady sarsfield that nymeria can find something kindred in. so many nobles are so secure within their gilded cage–so self-assured that what has always been will always be. nymeria lives on the fringe and feels ( sometimes ) too close to the inconsistence of life–its uncertainty. with so many well-rehearsed smiles disguising genuine fear, nymeria can hardly stomach another insincere curtsy. more than that, it is the smalltalk and hollow oaths of justice that produce the telltale flaring of a blackwood lady’s nostrils. there are so few expressions one can get away with when displeased at court.

the blackwoods might have been a house of the riverlands, but they would always carry the blood of the first men, just as the houses of the north did. there was a strange, vestigial sort of homecoming in returning to the home of her ancestors and, yet, it only served to make her feel more out of place. she had long romanticized the drifts of snow and the soft pads of direwolf feet as they imprinted tracks, chasing harts through the wood. it was beautiful, to be true, just as she had imagined it would be, but it was not home. she was out of place among the true northerners as she was those noble houses of the riverlands, those of the crownlands, and dorne. there was, as she had always known deep down, no magical place to cure that strange emptiness. perhaps it was a hunger felt by all men.

lady sarsfield did not exude this sentiment by any means and yet nymeria sensed something kindred despite it. their tentative smiles returned one another and she couldn’t help but be comforted by the quiet camaraderie of it, closing her eyes with a smile to feel the cool air on her skin as she let out her warm breath with a soft exhale. “it’s beautiful here. and yes, the company has not been poor by any stretch of the means, but–” there was something different to look upon the grieving faces of those whose loved ones had turned to ash in lieu of corpses; there was no comforting sufficient in the fall out of a tragedy so mysterious it transcended reason. her exhale was weak. “–it is hard to be indoors with everyone. hard to breathe, somehow.”

she smiled at the lady’s introduction, always curious about the regions of westeros that were beyond the murky borders of the riverlands. “you are correct. it is a pleasure to meet you, lady sarsfield. i have always been curious about the geography of your region. all of those mountains must be as beautiful as they are sure to be treacherous.” any incline or rough terrain could spell death for the livelihood of a horse. they were well defended in that regard, but surely there must be a great beauty in them too.

“they’re rather enigmatic i think.” she said, keening her head to the side in gentle scrutiny. “i’m not sure they hear much of our prayers, but they certainly seem to listen. they’ve seen so much, it’s a shame they care to share any of it at all.” sometimes, particularly in her childhood, it made her angry–what were the use of gods who did nothing but watch? but there was a certain comfort in knowing that the same trees that looked upon her with dead eyes had once seen her young lord father in such casual indifference. “i’ve never known if prayer did a damn thing for anyone, but at least it helps one focus their thoughts.” maybe that was the purpose alone.

Honesty and sincerity were something that she always found lacking in many of her peers, even in herself. They were all too skilled and practised in saying what was polite or what people wanted to hear in order to preserve the uneasy peace that had be struck and Laenah often grew weary of not only hearing honeyed, hollow words but using them herself at times. Except the woman before her seemed to go against the trend and that only prompted her to match it with something genuine of her own, as she always wanted to but rarely got the chance to. “I can only agree with you.” A soft smile follows her words before she elaborates more on what she found most remarkable about it all. “Still, it says rather a lot about everyone that things are still relatively pleasant in the face of such tragedy.”

For all she had lived in The Westerlands all of her life there had always been times where she had not felt at home there. Perhaps it was because of her Dornish blood or perhaps because there were times that she barely felt at home in her own skin. Still, whatever her misgivings and longing for a home there was no denying that there was still a certain pride in being able to say that she was born and raised in such a place when she could easily acknowledge and extol its many values. “It is rather beautiful yes, though of course we do not quite match up to the mountains of The Vale. The coastline is also something worth seeing, in fact I would say that all of it is worth seeing if only just the once.”

Politeness would have meant her simply expressing that Nymeria should make the journey when she thought that every place was worth seeing if only once when she possessed some of her mother’s wandering soul. Except she felt more warmly towards the other woman than simple politeness, even if it was so soon into the conversation. “I have been lucky enough to have seen much of it and would be more than happy to be something of a guide for you should you ever desire to travel south. I have always been likewise intrigued by your home although I did see glimpses of it on the journey here.”

Talk of the Gods always left her feeling unsure when she had never truly made up her mind about them. Her mother had believed strongly enough for the both of them while her father seemed to acknowledge them more out of duty than anything else, with Laenah falling somewhere between the two of them. “We will always pale in comparison to what they know and I doubt they will ever  be anything but a mystery to us. Perhaps it it better, I think it would take something away should from life we be privy to such knowledge.”

There’s a little pause before she decides to carry on. “I suppose it is more the thought behind the prayers that is what truly counts. I believe you can tell a lot about a person from what they choose to ask the Gods for.” Prayers were still made but she had always known that they were unlikely to be answered but she never stopped simply because she had always subscribed to the idea that if you do not ask you do not get.

[dailywomen]

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dailywomen:

Requested: Edits of Aiysha Hart

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B R Y N :

Was it shame that spurred him on. Perhaps, he always carried shame within him. His words always dripped with it. Shame over who he was, who his fore-bearers had been. Shame over he knew he was destined to become. Shame made him bitter, bitter and enraged. Shame made him irrational, and shame made him self rightous. Shame, Drink and Bryn had never been a good mix. 

“How many small folk do you think perished whilst the Lords and Ladies feasted at this tourney? How many small folk starved in Kings landing? What of your own people, My Lady, how long ago do you think someone last died on your lands, a day? An hour? A moment? How much thought have you afforded any of them? How much thought will they be expected to afford you? Flippancy and death, I am afraid, cannot exist without each other. They are both too common. So we have a choice to make, lest we spend our whole lives mourning. We can ignore the poor and respect the rich, or we can maintain flippancy to all. I chose the later.” 

He sighed, the rant seeming to have sobered him up. He felt as if cold water had been poured over him. “Do not mistake me, My Lady. I do not feel joy in the face of death. But I feel exhausted, and frustrated. It seems all I come across is death. Messengers come to tell me to celebrate, or to mourn, or to forget. Every day a new death is accompanied by a new emotion, an emotion which is almost always dictated by my ‘betters’. Is it so wrong of me to wish to stop caring for death at all?” 

As the stranger spoke she let silence fall upon herself, not even lifting her drink in cae it might break it. While it seemed as though they had started off on something of a wrong foot, she could not deny that something in the way he spoke moved her when it all seemed so genuine. It was interesting to hear such an honest view on it all when she was always surrounded by others of her own station or guards or soldiers who tended not to speak out of turn. 

But for all her interest and sympathy for what he was saying, she could not allow him to place her alongside those who revelled in the tourneys and other events and neglected their commonfolk when she was now the one overseeing every aspect of their lands and making as many changes as possible. “I understand that the apparent inequality of it all angers you so but you mis-characterise me if you paint me as yet another lady who does not care about her people and enjoys the high life while they suffer.” There’s a little pause as she weighs his words up once more, affording them the proper consideration before she replies. “Perhaps there is a choice and everyone is entitled to make their own but I will always choose to respect both.”

Laenah frowns slightly, the expression only just crinkling her brow, but it is neither own of disapproval nor disagreement. Instead it is far closer to some sort of empathy when she had spent many an hour herself trying to reconcile herself with the thought that eventualy they would all be lost to the world. “Death is inescapable, that much is certain, and we all must do what we can to come to terms with its inevitability.” The next words come out firmer when she has grown tired of others trying to coach her emotions and firmly believes that it is the one thing no one else should control but themselves. “I do not think anyone can truly tell you how to feel so if you wish to stop caring I will not be the one to tell you otherwise.”

[sproutaesthetics]

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sproutaesthetics:

seven deadly sins | ENVY / INVIDIA

[musepirationsarchive]

I want to be like a bird. I want to spread the wings I was born with, but are tied to my body because people are afraid to fly. I want to float on my own breeze; fight it if it gets too wild and urges me back to where I started. I want to conquer the invincible and reach a destination that wasn’t just handed to me, wrapped up in a paper box: a pretty promise, pretty hollow. I want to long shamelessly and love fiercely. I want to fall down and get back up again, make mistakes that arouse ‘I told you so’s’, because who really knows unless you try? I want to grow into my dreams without being told they’re unrealistic or larger than life. For life is large enough to accommodate any dream imaginable. And you know why?“, she asked, her eyes burning with a flare of hope foreign to him. “Why?”, he asked. “Because the only difference between a dream and reality, is one step. Find the courage to take it, and you will be the one navigating towards the future you want for yourself; not the one they want for you.”

messy thoughts written down on crumbled paper, hoping to make sense of a life that isn’t supposed to be figured out. at least, not yet. (via musepirationsarchive)

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B R Y N :

He had not expected the woman to speak up. Perhaps he had been pushing for a fight, hoping to lure another man’s sword out of it’s sheath. It would not have been the first time. Some man drank to oblivion, Bryn preferred to fight, untill the shock of events were drowned by the ache of his muscles. He had hoped to find another in the inn who felt the same. Somehow he doubted this lady would draw swords with him, at least not in such a public setting, although if he played his cards right he may get a rise out of one of her companions.

“I hope none would feel joy, such a feeling would be inhuman point out to be the one who feels joy and I will show you the perpetrator.” Did he feel shame for his words. Not at all, he had said what he said, and would no doubt say worse in the future, but they would be easier to stand by with his sword in his hand, his blood pumping.

He placed his purse on the counter, waving for the bar maid to pour two more drinks. One for him and one for the lady. A deal was a deal. “Humor, however, I find completely natural. I have fought with death by my side for a long time. I am sure I am not the only one who considers him an old friend. It would be dour, to allow such a long friendship to stand with no humour between us.” The grin he had worn since arriving at the inn slowest dropped away. “They have not mourned any of my dead, so excuse me if I do not mourn theirs.”

Reading people was not an art that she had perfected but she liked to believe that she was above average at discerning what people truly meant or actually wanted. After all, she had enough experience masking her own thoughts and censoring her own words to be able to recognise such a thing in someone else. Except the man that she had found herself in the company of seemed to be doing no such thing, he was speaking freely and while she could not be certain, Laenah suspected that he had every intention to provoke some sort of reaction from her or even her men. 

There was a stubbornness in her that matched and rivalled the fire that came with her Dornish blood. Despite his inflammatory words, there was a silent refusal from the brunette to take the bait and so she replied levelly. “I would not deny humour among friends. I’m sure Death makes quite the partner for you.”

Dark eyes fall to the tankard that’s placed in front of her and she steels herself for the taste when Dornish wine was always her preferred choice. Still a genuine and cordial “Thank you.” is given to the stranger, even if his next words prompt a sterner response from her. “All dead deserve to be honoured and I am only sorry that yours were not afforded the remembrance that they deserve but I do not think that it allows you to be so flippant about any loss of life.”

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T Y T O S :

A servant had been sent to fetch him; sent running at a breakneck speed throughout the entirety of the castle charged with finding and fetching the young lion. He was a quiet man when he wished; when he had important business to pour over and things that demanded his personal attention such as the running of his household and the re-stabilization of their position in this world he could be very quiet. Tytos’ silence was an unnerving absence of sound making servants at times who dared to interrupt it quake with fear unsure if the silence that greeted them was one that would be cut by commendation or condemnation for their interrupting his silence. Yet the servant that had brought him the news that Laenah Sarsfield was here and loitering in one of his hallways they were surprised at his response. It was neither commendation or condemnation but a question they were unable to answer.

“I feel it is I who should make an apology to you seeing how my father is unfortunately indisposed” The lannister prince with sharp blue eyes said as if it were as natural for him as a breath was to offer an apology to anyone. It was indeed sincere it was. Tytos did not believe in letting their vassal lords remain idle or unprotected. The people made a kingdom and those set up in the world as lords were in charge of the people - business that was beneficial for both was necessary for the survival of all of them. Without people to govern who would be lord of anything - what man would be a king if their was nothing to claim dominion over? Yet his rush to be here was to set eyes on her. She wore the britches well and she was twice as beautiful as before though Tytos would not voice such a personal opinion that he as not in the right to have. He would save the heart melting flattery for later.

“It is no inconvenience. The tourney was a disaster on many fronts but you are not here to talk about certain wins and losses. The seven kingdoms are left reeling from an attack that seemingly came from nowhere. You would not have come all this way to simply just catch up with an old friend. I would hope you’d know well enough by now, Lady Sarsfield to promptly state your case for showing up unannounced. One would suppose it is very important for you to break protocol” He stated with an edge of seriousness though it was required. Certain rules were meant to be followed; others not. Such as her dress. He appreciated her wearing those britches making the rebellious choice to wear them here where his mother would have a near heart attack if she were to catch her own daughters in such garb. Tytos wished to see a world that was far bolder in their choice of style but wishes and dreams were all that they were. Plans needed to be made and put to action this day. “What is this matter of great importance,  my lady? I will do what I can to provide assistance whatever it may be and for the time being and the duration of your stay I will assure you are quite properly taken care of”

The Prince of Casterly Rock was someone she had heard much about - mostly thanks to Lady Westerling’s gushing over either his golden good looks or supposed gallantry - but had very little dealings with. It was almost odd to have been in such relative proximity to someone and have had many rumours reach her ears and yet know so little truth about them. Curiosity meant that there was no denying that she would be paying close attention to him during their exchange, ready to decide for herself whether Tytos Lannister lived up to the words others said about them or exceeded them. As it was, she currently could not fault nor deny  Lady Westerling’s assertions about either his his handsomeness nor his manners when despite the formality of it all she felt more at ease in his presence than she would have if faced with the King himself, knowing that she would have no doubt felt under scrutiny whether she was or not.

A soft almost smile touches her features as she hears the sincerity behind the no doubt practised words with formalities always seeming so important to everyone. Despite having adopted them herself, Laenah found most of them to be a waste of time unless something genuine was behind them. Shaking her head slightly, she’s quick to reclaim the blame and take some ownership for her rash decision making and the impulsiveness that had lead her to arriving unannounced. “I believe the blame for that rests on the unexpectedness of my visit but I thank you all the same.” Hands are clasped gently in front of her as smooth words leave her mouth. “No I am not, though I hope I will be believed when I say that I truly had wanted to be there sooner than I was able.” While it probably would have given her foster parents a heart attack to hear that she would have suspended her ladylike reserve that they’d impressed upon her, Laenah had deeply wanted to be able to take part in the archery tournament. There were few things that she wanted to do truly for herself but that had been one of them: a way to prove that she had more value than pretty smiles and looks that caught eyes simply because they resembled her mother’s so much.

With a nod of her head, she speaks with a level tone and what she hopes is something close to an assured grace that she isn’t sure that she truly possesses. “It is. I truly did not think it could way any longer after what I saw at Winterfell.” The memory of the deaths had yet to leave her, the tragedy of them lingering with her even after returning home. She might have been a girl familiar with the certainty and inevitability of death but she would never be able to accept such senseless murders or allow herself to be untouched by them. They had moved her greatly and forced her to realise that they were all at risk. Laenah would not allow her house to be the first to fall because of her father’s inability to face the world. Glancing behind the prince, the corridor looked as though it were empty but she was unwilling to take any chances when what she had to say did House Sarsfield no favours if word got out. “I wonder if there’s perhaps somewhere quieter, more private to discuss it?” Realising that her words could be taken as her perhaps having a flair for the dramatic rather than simply being cautious, she cannot help but add more. “I do not mean to be so secretive or evasive about it but I think that once I begin to explain myself you will see the necessity of it.” It was not a role she would have thought she could have entrusted to herself, measured and acting more like the head of a house than just the now unnecessary daughter when there was a new heir. Allowing some of the spark that came with her Dornish blood to flicker into her eyes, she tilted her head towards the window that had captured her attention so with a wry smile curling onto her lips as she did. “I had hoped to be rather inconspicuous but I feel as though my fondness of the view had only drawn more attention.”

[laenahs-archive]

R O O K :

        SOLES ROCKING ON ROUNDED STONES, and the creak of brittle branches draws him from the wargen womb of his mind’s eye. A sharp stab touches his temple — the spike of immersion drawing out — and the pale vastness of height is replaced by the rich shadow only known beneath a weirwood canopy. Rook takes in a sharp breath, and colour floods his otherwise alabaster eyes. The lift of incisive winds is gone, and what bleeds between his fingers is frozen loam. And there’s a woman, her hair as abyssal as a starless night or a still pool, and he’s wrapped in a chrysalis of frost.

Rook hears his leathers crinkle as he moves, spindles of glass snapping with the motion. He dusts away snow from long lengths of black hair, and steps out of reach of clinging boughs. A sluice of light floods the planes of his face, accentuating the deep scar that fractures his lineaments in two. “It would take more to disturb me than anything you’re hiding under that cloak,” he answers, adjusting warn and fitted bracers as he takes measured steps toward her. “What brings a southern soul so deep into the GODSWOOD?” 

While there were many things that she had seen in her life, what she had seen this man doing was something she thought only existed in stories, tall tales or whispered half truths and legends that her mother had told before bed. Magic of any sort had always left her wanting to know more at the same time as being sufficiently wary of the power it could hold - as proven by the murders that they had all witnessed. As such, Laenah was both intrigued and cautious when the newcomer addressed her but she had long since learnt to cloak such feelings, even if she did feel a sense of marvel for it all.

A soft smile touches her lips, more out of a show of politeness than genuine sentiment. “Well I am glad, I would hate to be an inconvenience.” The question asked of her is a fair one and one that she has an easy answer to when she sees little reason to hide her motives for walking into the Godswood. “Simple curiosity.” Hands smooth out her skirts as she explained further, not wanted it to seem as though she were being evasive and cause offence. “I wanted to see as much as possible before I had to return home,”

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A R E G E L L E :

( ⚔*°*. ) → mornings and evenings had seen an i n f l u x of men calling upon her attention, having been beckoned to the frozen tundra of the northernmost kingdom by call of duty to their liege lady yet parting with a lost heavy upon the heart. the promise of glory to be found had enticed the young lord bolling to accompany her, leaving behind newly wedded wife with a p l e d g e to return with pockets bursting with gold. he had meant to build her a castle, the lord boasted on their travels, and laughter had filled the camp at such an audacious idea, at such youth. fingers shook as stilted letter had been written to the widow, sending f o r m a l words of finality and hefty sum of coin in place of a body, promising revenge and answers. the last of her lords had taken the oath and wished luck in the search for the malefactor of such heinous act, assistance having been sworn to the king and cousin, should the need arise.

    ( blade had been stained with the c r i m s o n of his enemies and aregelle would stand by him once more, to battle with word and steel against those who would see his crown topple before cranium had even molded to fit gaudy symbol. )

    door creaked with a pressure meaning to pry open and experience called for c a u t i o n as her figure twisted at the waist to greet intruder with furrowed brows. “the north is known to be a maze, my lady.” childhood had been spent losing her way between the labyrinths of winterfell with a wooden sword between grasp, daring to breach the s a n c t i t y of the crypts only once before a gust of wind had scared her away. temptation to venture to the land of the dead once more, now a woman grown, danced in the back of her thoughts. tattered quill was given place upon the desk as the storm born ascended from seated position.

    “come. i will show you to the rooms you are seeking. it is l u c k you stumbled upon me and not some knight, indecent after a day of training.” the slightest curve of the lip, dead, dead and cold gaze twinkling momentarily with mischief. “or perhaps it was not luck at all?” 

Her childhood was not something she could truly complain about, nor was her adolescence when she had been far luckier than the majority of Westeros’ population. She might not always have held a fondness for the role that she was required to play in order to secure her stability but there was no denying that she would be in a sorry state had her father lapsed into his hermetic ways without her having the cushion that her privilege provided her. Still, even with nothing to truly complain about the brunette had grown used to relying solely on herself, so much so that there’s almost a sense of betrayal felt that her usually good sense of direction had failed her and left her imposing on a stranger. It’s nothing she shows on her features, instead offering a gracious smile and words that hold the hint of a laugh to lighten the situation. “That gives me some relief - to know that it might only be unused to such a challenge rather than completely lacking.”

Despite all her efforts to memorise all of the endless parchments that Lady Westerling had placed before her containing list upon list of Lords and Ladies, their lands, words and sigils, there had been nothing to tell her what each of those people looked like. It didn’t matter how many hours she had given to he pursuit of such knowledge, it came in little used when faced with a stranger until they made their introductions. And so the woman before her remained a mystery though she would perhaps hazard a guess that she was not Northern but seemed to know the castle well enough if she felt confident enough to offer to be a guide. A grateful smile is sent the way of the other brunette when she doesn’t know how long she might have wandered the halls without guidance. “That would be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

Her lips form a smirk, entertained by the woman’s question that seemed to be loaded with trouble. Indulging her as far as she would dare, Laenah gives a light laugh before answering. “I would say that some poor knight is certainly lucky that his rest was not disturbed.” In truth, she did not know what she would have done if confronted with such a sight. no doubt more embarrassed at the colour that would have flooded her cheeks rather than what she was actually seeing. “I shall count myself lucky for now when there is no guarantee that they would have been as kind as you, even if it would have been a sight to behold I am sure.”

[coulbymcgrath-blog]