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@lamentsarchive
love blackens the lamb,
# laments, a visceral examination of a story written by a man who deems his daughter a heretic, the collected study of weighing the belief one can have in a narrator who is both prophet and perjurer ; lamb turned girl turned wolf, or, wolf turned girl turned lamb — laments is a private + dependent muse blog reverently affiliated with westeroslive, as dutifully transcribed by sera. dni if not affiliated.
"callousness thrives in the heart of power, my lady, regardless of the house that wields it," he retorted, his voice carrying a deep-seated conviction. "as for your cousins, it is not their lineage that concerns me but rather their actions. when three men meet a fiery end under suspicious circumstances, one cannot help but question the motives of those in power."
he crossed his arms over his chest, a stance of defiance. "let the other great houses mourn their fallen with dignity and justice, rather than with feigned revelry for a wedding. a funeral, somber and true, would serve as a stark reminder of the consequences of betrayal," steffon stated firmly. he raised an eyebrow, awaiting her response. the wolf may howl and the dragon may roar, but it is the stag that stands firm against the storm, unwavering in its duty.
from the moment of her birth, it was destined that she and her siblings were to be nothing more than an extension of the queen; support to their crowned siblings, a display of power distributed amongst the only other dragon riders in all the seven kingdoms. jaehaera allows herself another sip from her chalice and hums in quiet contemplation. “ i do not believe the circumstanes to be so, what was the word you used, suspicious? ” her shoulders lift in a tired shrug. “ three men met a fiery death for their foolishness and greed. the queen's motive in keeping our dragons safe is as plain as it has always been. “ and we do not mourn traitors. the consequence of betrayal is to be forgotten; if you put aside your honor for your own motivations, do you deserve honor after your death? ” she is not so politically inclined, but there is a streak of red that lives within the heart of all targarayens — her one duty, besides being a woman of devotion and purity, is to remain stalwart beside the crown, honorable or not.
closed starter — with @steelfyre + @laments + @crimsonsbled + ( 0 / 1 )
— “ NO , and don't ask again . ” her eyes flicker quickly over the others form , nose scrunched mildly in disgust ; a single eyebrow raises , as if questioning the audacity one had to have to even approach the lady stag . despite her harsh words , the unsubtle threat that lies at the end of her sentence , the dismissal in her gaze , the lady fury looks bored , dark gaze clouded with apathy , her lips falling into something close to a pout . the bloodlust that heats her blood has lied dormant , tepid , for too long ; she yearns for the anger of the lords and ladies , the betrayal they so easily practice on each other , the violence they are so quick to . “ there has not been enough blood spilt to warrant any dancing , yet . ”
to the stag, the approach of the doe is slow — gentle, if the dear, dead doe were capable of it. jaehaera is prey tonight, as the lady of castamere so often is, watching the stag turn down the hand of a pesky, insistent figure masked in ugly delight. she watches from behind the protection of the majestic stag, crushing a grape between her teeth, swallowing down a bark of laughter. she says, coming to the stag's side, “ i must agree, lady vanora. ” with an arrogance that can only be captured in the color of pale ichor, she spares the figure a cutting look. “ it would be a waste of your energy to consider a bloodless dance, particularly with an insignifcant partner, yes? ”
CLOSED STARTER ✦ jaehaera targaryen ( @laments )
an opportunity was seized , not a drop of hesitation courses through him as he stepped into the open . his whole identity concealed by a mere mask , quite an irony , that something so frail and trivial can silence the hundreds of thousands of disheartening voices in his head . he is compelled to find her , quicker than a breath , more urgent than a heartbeat . it was not only for his duty , what he swore to do , but for ... something that weaved itself to every fiber of his being . he made no effort to put a name on it , its relevance long lost to the peace that overpowered it . ❝ see ? i told you i will always find you . ❞ there is a vibrant kind of novelty in his tone , the evasive glee that is never seen nor associated with one theodore storm . a lightness that is proven nonexistent time and time again , adds to the mystery carried by the false face that conceals his true one . the opportunity seized will not be let go , not even for a second ... for it may be the only one he can ever have .
to be seen is to be recognized, but to be found is to be known. jaehaera is seen by many and known by few — so few that on nights like this, when identity is hidden and stolen away by the masks of politics and regality, she is wont to say that she is known by no one. in a field of strangers, who finds you first? jaehaera's eye sweeps over the face of the mask before her, a quiet knowing inhumed within the confines of her chest; dearest fox, come to bite the ankles of the doe. she buries herself in the mirth of his voice, letting herself be covered by the mystery as a child is covered with a blanket. jaehaera lowers her cup and tilts her lips to the side. “ and, i am left at your mercy, ” she responds with the slightest of a bowed head. “ most handsome tiger, what can i do but wait for you? ”
forehead furrow at other's response, no issue in admitting that would resolve all problems ⸺ still, rhaeys knows his kind - sometimes feels the need to harm them too. " sadly, a lady's beauty is quite the curse, as one can see. " hand beckons servant to fill their drinks and smiles gracefully as they scurry away. " but it is always enjoyable to see them fight back - so much fire within noble daughters, you must have experience. "
jaehaera's laugh is humorless, but yet, she entertains him. she barely bothers with a glance at the servant, but she cradles her refilled cup close to her chest and asks, “ is it? ” her gaze turns to the side toward him. “ enjoyable? ... in my experience, the act of fighting back has been rather dull. ” she takes a dull, slow sip from her chalice and leans further back into her seat.
Chloë Sevigny hair details
closed starter . @aphrcdisiacs @primadonnaes @steelfyre @laments @shebambi @oftroje
delicate fingers hold deathly grip on golden goblet , same shade of gold as lioness mask ; identity and displeased features both poorly concealed. she feels the shift of the chair next to hers , someone had taken a seat. a sigh is surpressed , for lady joanna would rather be anywhere else than yet another one of the queen's festivities. goblet is raised towards the other as lips tug upwards , a courteous smile that does not reach judging , observant azure eyes. " here's to our beloved queen. she takes such good care of her guests , does she not ? "
to her brother's wife, jaehaera gives as most genuine a smile that she can muster. her own chalice is near - empty, though it feels as if she hasn't sipped on it since the beginning of the night. she clicks her tongue against her teeth and responds, “ my aunt and cousins are lovers of the grandiose, it would fall terribly short of them to provide anything less for us. ” it would almost sound rehearsed, but the doe blinks innocently enough before raising her chalice and taking a sip from it. “ are you enjoying the festivities, sister? ”
alysane shifted in her seat , adjusting and finding a position where she felt comfortable . frustrated , she let out a sigh , straightening her back against the seat . " the costumes are so beautiful , don't think ? " the tyrell rose turned to the other with a sweet smile to mask her discomfort . " i hope everyone is able to breathe in theirs , at least . " because she could barely . " — that is second priority , at this point , i think . "
𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 : @oftroje , @unscng + [ accepting 0 / 2 replies ]
“ such is the price to pay for a bout of beauty. ” seated beside lady alysane, jaehaera matches her adoring smile, half - comfortable in the disguise ( a kind word for it, but jaehaera's identity is far from sealed away ) on her person. she folds her hands over her lap and says, “ but it seems everyone has paid most appropriately. i think the queen will be most pleased. ”
deep byzantium - hued vision takes in the scene playing out in front of him ⸺ some eternal bachelor nobleman trying to seduce a higher born daughter from a different region, failing miserably at his mission. " that's not how one does it, " dragon - child murmurs into his glass of arbor red. " got any advice for the poor fellow ? "
𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝙽𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳 . . . 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 ( four / 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 ) 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌.
ever the visage of pure aristocracy, jaehaera is a languid creature draped across a chaise, cradling a drink. she swirls it in hand, watching the smallest of whirlpools appear only to fade in an instant. “ my only advice would be to leave her alone, ” she muses without looking up. “ must a lady always be bothered? ”
𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 ୨୧ 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌 capped at three
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 ⸻ flecks of gold scattered on skin caught the flickering flames , casting an illusion of grandeur onto the mask’s host . though , the 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 is grand in its way , it is tucked away during this masquerade , save for the eyes of old valyria . they scan the crowd , and though the presence of immediate family lacked , kusa revels in the anonimity ; a rare moment of honesty . lips quirk , bringing back his mind into the present , towards company in front . “ forgive me , my liege , but will you do me the honor of being my partner for the first dance ? ”
she's no dancer, or really, no good at parties at all; her finest excuse is the most obvious one, that she was a sickly girl and an unfortuante woman — her vision is not what it was, or she's feeling faint, or the maesters ordered her a night of rest. a myriad of excuses flicker before her eyes, but she is caught in the grandeur of the sun, basking in the warmth and glory of the gold. a smile appears on her lips and jaehaera targaryen curtsies, as a lady is meant to do, while she gathers her thoughts, tearing her gaze away from the thing that can blind her again. “ i am honored, my liege, but i fear i am no good dancer, ” she says. “ it's quite an embarrassment, and i'll save you from it. my sisters, though, have the grace of swans and the sea, shall i fetch them for your first dance? ”
ballroom ; night of the masquerade : open starter - capping at ( 0 / 4 )
a sleek, dark green doublet embroidered with intricate gold patterns shimmered in the dim candlelight of the ballroom. the mask was made of smooth, dark brown leather, and one might think it was molded to fit his face perfectly. intricate patterns were etched into the surface, creating the illusion of fur with delicate swirls and lines. a small, pointed snout jutted out from the mask, giving it a lifelike quality that added to the mystique of his disguise. black trousers, tailored to perfection, emphasized a tall and imposing figure as he prowled through the crowd with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
not caring for who was in earshot, steffon let out a dry chuckle, his sarcasm evident in his voice. "how fitting that the targaryens would throw a masquerade as a distraction, right after their dragons roasted three men," he remarked, his tone laced with disdain.
as if a mask or a costume could ever hide the cursed visage of the stone - eyed lady of castamere. her approach to the lord baratheon is slow, quiet enough that the doe is forgotten in the bask of louder, more beautiful creatures; why focus on a deer when one is in the company of a dragon? a direwolf? she comes up from behind, draped in fabrics that seem to mold onto her frame, the hair of fire and blood falling down her back like fine silk. she gives the fox the most minute tilt of the head and allows a curve to take her lips. “ do you truly believe us all so callous? ” she inquires, nursing a chalice of wine against her breast. “ or, is it just my cousins you speak so poorly of? ” jaehaera takes a somber sip and sighs, pretending to find issue with her dress. “ what would the other great houses do, my liege, if their celebrations were interrupted by traitors? no parties, i presume — no, perhaps a funeral to honor the treason. it sounds ... awfully winsome. ”
nowhere else within the confines of the red keep could offer irem the same solace that the sept of baelor provided . irem was not inherently devout , often time she even questioned the existence of the divine and yet there she was, bowing her head in prayer as she lit candles , seeking guidance and protection . was she to pray to the mother ? the maiden ? she didn't care as long as someone heeded her prayer . irem noticed someone else has entered the sept, slowly lifting her head . " the great sept of baelor , " she hummed . " they tower over us , " the princess looked up to the statues of the seven . " — as if a reminder that they hold so much power over us , " she added as she lit the last of her candles . " would you like to light one as well ? "
𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 : great sept of baelor . . . accepting [ 0 / 4 ] replies
it is a strange sort of comfort that can be found in the sept; the kind that's laced with a sliver of thorny discontent, buried beneath layers and layers of soft cloths meant to shield one from the cold. to be in the presence of the gods is to be sat at their feet to await their mercy — the gentle stroke of their hand against the jaw while bracing for the coming punishment. jaehaera lingers, as she always does, by the entrance for a moment before walking in, hands clasped before her waist, piety in her stride. she gives the princess a smile, as waxing as the waning moon, and lowers herself to her knees. “ i would, thank you. ” often, she prays to the crone for guidance; sometimes to the mother when her siblings are far and her dreams haunt her; and to the stranger, at times, to taste death on her tongue. she looks at irem out of the corner of her eye. “ i hope your worries here are few, ” she says softly. “ and that prayer will bring you peace. ”
open starter.
it was unsettling to say the least, as if a dark cloud had spread on top of the red keep following tragedy. youngest greyjoy had only ever seen a dragon from a far, her imagination running wild, envisioning winged beast sinking its teeth into flesh, torching it to ash, unable to stop from placing herself into victim's families' shoes -- what if it had been one of her loved ones and she was expected to carry on? " isn't it quite disrespectful? " sharra speaks out loud at last to nearby companion. " people died, gruesomely, and we are supposed to carry on as if nothing has happened. "
jaehaera sniffs smally, as she is so wont to do, and gently rubs her nose. “ absolutely dreadful, ” she hums, seemingly in agreement, but she shrugs a shoulder then and lowers her hand, clasping her fingers over her lap. “ my dear sister's celebration cut short by the death of a treasonous few — a day meant to be celebrated forever tainted with the death of one of our beloved beasts. ” she nods. “ i DO agree, lady greyjoy. there was a gruesome death. ”
closed starter , @steelfyre - @oftroje - @laments - @sepulchcrs !
mother was particularly overbearing that day . normally she could handle it but with all that had happened over the past few days she sought peace and quiet . perhaps she was imagining the woman's voice in her head , calling after her so much so that her feet moved quicker pulling her further and further into the unfamiliar halls and corridors of the red keep . gentle eyes searched for a face , any face , that might provide her with a shred of direction . " pardon , but would you perhaps know of a place one might find some ... solitude ? " she inquiered , somewhat out of breath as she didn't really take note of who exactly she was speaking with ⸻ raising the small leather bond book and holding it to her chest as if that would steady that breathing .
it is in the bones to find solitude — some strange side effect of a childhood spent sequestered away from the rest of the brood of dragons. her time spent in the red keep is small, leaving her often at odds, with bouts of uncontrollable awkwardness against the winding walls of the hallways and grounds; yes, it is in her very bones to find solitude, even here where she is considered ( at times, distant ) family; and lady juliet's words are so familiar that they ring in her ears. jaehaera nods once, a polite gesture, nearly half a curtsy with one movement. “ come, ” she says quietly, tilting her head toward a dimly lit hall. “ i know you seek solitude, but worry not, i am barely company at all — you won't even notice i am there. ”
wherever jaehaera targaryen becomes hallowed ground and every word he speaks comes out a prayer . ❝ the stranger will have to go through me first before you . i give you my word , it can only but try . ❞ it brings him to his knees , at the displeasure of the new gods he was made to swear to , and the old ones who turn a blind eye . the jarring dangers of the world hastening to destruction are brought to shame by his ... dedication to the enchanting dragon of castamere . the old gods gaze upon him , the troves of memories , black , silver , and gold , kept beneath the his pure white cloak . the father and the mother fade , the smith and the maiden storm out , the crone awaits , and the warrior lifts its chin with pride . he thinks her celestial , pulling his being to hers . theodore storm remains willing and ... hers . ❝ i see no reason for us to witness the wrath of gods , they spared us mercy . if one of my brothers had not been there , a greater tragedy could have happened . ❞ it was an attempt to pacify her qualms , the gods had made him unable to lie to her . he could tell it painted across his face but as he insists , he tries . a hundred thousand worries scream in his head , rattles his flesh and bone , lulled only by skin ... so even in prayer , the storm dare lashes out , forcing him to swallow secrets . and his heart pounds as he waits for his own undoing , for her to pick him apart ... and for him to help her do so .
the comfort of the gods come with a price steeped in unease. theo gives her his word, the stranger will have to go through him first, and she longs to take the words and put them back from whence they came. there is nobody that takes vows and slights as seriously as the gods that watch over them — the gods that take more than they give. a hand strays toward the eye gone dead as he speaks, a familiar lump of paranoid piety growing in the base of her throat. she blinks at theo and gives him a smile at his promise, she will have to pray later — take him with her to the sept while she pretends the gods care for her words. she says to him, “ you are a man too good, ” and blinks away the water collected on the bottom of her eyelid. of all the people in this world, he is the only one who she'll believe, lie or truth. she will scream and push and cry, but she will bow her head in prayer and tell the gods what her beloved shield has told her. pick him apart like a vulture cleaning a carcass, knowing that he will stay, his heart will still beat — that no matter how many times she picks open the scab, he will continue to let it bleed. jaehaera turns away from him, as if the sight of him is too much to bear. “ so we've both lost a sibling, ” she says. “ you a brother, me a dragon; what greater tragedy is there? ”
“ [ . . . ] one should pay attention to the 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 , when visiting : 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 . ”
" i hope my restless thoughts did not wake you , sister , " the castamere heir turned to the familiar voice . the side of his lip tugged slightly as she turned back to the darkness of black water bay , arms crossed on his chest . he let out a small sigh , hoping to release the built up tension deep down . aerion had tried his best to hide his worries and woes from his younger sister , thinking that he could shield them from the chaos of the world outside the walls of their stronghold-home . " then again , who could sleep with the events that had transpired tonight , " the elder targaryen mumbled , shaking his head . " my troubles are not for you to worry , jaehaera — and i mean this in the most brotherly-way possible . not when most of them include you and our sisters . you lot are the bane of my existence . " he watched jaehaera from the corner of his eyes , watching her expression as he continued with his sentence , hoping to lighten the mood . " are you alright ? go back to bed . it is chilly out here . "
who can sleep with what transpired? three men dead and the keep slumbers; one of their own slaughtered and the fair folk lay atop silk sheets. aerion's words tug at the corner of her lip, bringing about an uneven smile, small in stature but ever - present in the bearing of her brother; as his shoulders are often as heavy as her heart is still. if she were a witch, like in the stories she devoured as both a girl and a woman, she would remove all burdens from him — from all of her siblings. how easy it is to dream of a life where she and her siblings are happy and soft, rotting in the sun with no death or slaughter. “ i long for the cold, ” she says, her smile disappearing. “ and for your ease. your restless thoughts are not thoughts that you deserve, as margaery did not deserve the ... foul events of a day so special. ” jaehaera leans her elbows on the edge and lowers her voice. “ it's treason, is it not? ”
