FLORAL LIONESS

your eyes half- thrush half-angel and your drowsy lips where float flowers of kiss and there is the sweet shy pirouette your hair and then your dancesong soul. rarely-beloved a single star is uttered,and i think of you KYRA LANNISTER hear me roar

[lcttlelion-blog]

littlest-stormlord:

Renly looked up, taking in the awe-inspiring view of the dragon’s skulls overlooking the hall. They were imposing, to be sure. As a member of the court and the small council, they mostly reminded him of the risks being a member of the court posed. “I know the royal family still cherishes them dearly. Many who see them are terrified of them. Is that not true for you, Lady Kyra?” 

“And are you enjoying the capital, my lady? And the feast?” he said smiling and sipping his wine. The girl seemed to be avoiding the press of people enjoying the festivities. She seemed quiet, if kind. Lannister or not, the type of shy, quiet, kindness Renly saw in the young girl was a liability in King’s Landing. He knew the pack of lions would protect her.

            Many things terrified her, more than she could count, fear would often be struck in the core of her very soul. At night, she could wait in a perilous state, body covered in a sheen of sweat, heart pounding thunderously in her chest, mind retelling the same images over and over again. Ancient beasts did not terrify her, she admired them, yearned for them, the living scared her more than stone dragons did. Mortal men could inflict emotional wounds, which would pain her more, “They do not frighten me, my lord.”

For many moons, Kyra had begged her parents to allow her to come to the capital, she felt as though she were finally ready. Arriving, she had been desperate to cling to cling to her father’s arm and never let go. However, it had not been as daunting as she feared, “There are many things that I have yet to see, but thus far it has been enjoyable.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

yronwoodlord:

“We have our own cold blooded creatures in Dorne. They do not spit fire, mind you but they are impressive in their own right. I’m not sure they write songs about them here, though? Have you heard of the Red Viper, my lady?” he asked, interested to know how extensive the girl’s knowledge on Dorne and its inhabitants was. He had been treated to the same trite about his homeland too many times by occupants of the southern regions of Westeros and it seemed for all that they were enthralled by the exotic nature of the sand dunes of Dorne the same interest didn’t extend to the country’s figure heads. 

Following Prince Doran’s death the country had been left in a state of confusion and defiance was spreading like wildfire and try as she might Princess Arianne was not immune to it. These were uncertain times for Dorne what with one half of the Martell clan seeking vengeance and the other half divided. It certainly had a lot of people talking yet at court it seemed no one knew or more accurately cared about the situation. And as for Oberyn Martell well he could not quite imagine a bard wriing a song relating his tastes for poison but such was the lot of bards, they were cursed to write pretty words for pretty ladies to dance to and the truth was often too ugly to warrant a song.

              From memory, she tugged images from books, imagining all the different creatures in their habitats. The Red Viper, it was not one which she knew well, but there was a partial part of her brain which recalled it being mentioned. Coming up with little knowledge, her features shone with confusion, gaze tilting on the man, “Red Viper? I cannot say that I can recall anything of it. Would you care to tell me more?” Knowledge was a powerful tool, that was what strong minded folk would say. Kyra held no interest in the political games which other’s played, but she did not wish to be out witted, not anymore. The little lion did not wish to be ignorant to the other kingdoms around her, she would pry information from others like blood from a stone. 

[lcttlelion-blog]

littletyrell:

Margaery’s interactions with the youngest Lannister girl had been brief, but she seemed already to be very different from her elder sisters. There was nothing calm and peaceful about Joanna and Shiera, nor did they exude the same timidity that Kyra possessed. Being a member of Princess Rhaena’s retinue might’ve been a bit easier, were the youngest Lannister to replace the twins. A gentle laugh escaped Margaery at Kyra’s words. “Lady Kyra, are you so swift to humble yourself, even before the skulls of these ancient beasts? I do not think they can hear the flattery you pay to them.”

“And what of you, my lady? Which do you prefer? I shan’t be offended in the least if you are not in agreement – and I swear to keep it a secret, between you and I…” her golden glance flickered to the monstrous skull, and she added with a soft giggle: “and Balerion, of course, will honor you with his silence.”

            Deception was a skill many were trained to, sweet honey disguising their rotten cores, she had not mastered such manipulation. Emotions weighed heavily on her features, anchoring themselves onto her eyes and lips, letting the world know her innermost thoughts. It was rare to see her face painted with a smile, particularly around certain members of her family. With a tint of her cheeks, Kyra bowed her head, feeling almost chided by Lady Margaery’s words...but then it was so very easy for her to feel chided by another, “You are right of course, Lady Margaery.”

Attraction towards the Targaryen’s was expected, that is what everyone concluded. In truth, the only one to have ever caught her eye was Raymund Baratheon. Visits from the stag always caused a flush to her skin, Kyra delighting in the knowledge that her brother’s friendship meant an inevitable return, “Many of my cousins are those of whom we speak. I care for them dearly, but I confess that I find the beasts to be more revered.” 

[anneboleyns]

[poetryandthesea]

Sometimes your words are so kind and your mind so pure, I am afraid that the world might break your wings.

// the nature of unprotected beauty j.d.m. (via octaviablakewrites)

[lcttlelion-blog]

melaralannister:

Caged.

That was how Melara Lannister felt like throughout the entire day; first the funeral, now the feast, both of them celebrating the two most important things - death and life, descent and ascend, fall and rise. So many words to describe the simplest of all things, yet it was the people, the human race that complicated it. Painted faces, masks of flash and bone, distorted smiles and backstabbing thoughts. No one could be trusted, so no one was trusted, and more died of politicking and too much knowledge than they did of drinking and whoring. Gods did not exists, but to everyone she was the most religious woman out there, a mask of piety and proper behaviour.

If only they knew, she laughed with herself in the darkness of her thoughts. If only they knew of their perfect queen and her brother, the bastardy of the king’s children with her, or so she liked to believe. She never really talked to any of Cersei’s children to see if there were a little bit of Jamie in them, or were they truly half Lannister and half Targaryen, but she had had her doubts.

Melara stood int he corner of the room, her thoughts an unstoppable force as she clutched her cup, sipping on the sweetly wine and enjoying the taste. She was no longer the one for joy and dancing, not when Jamie had hurt her so much with his indecency with his sister. Oh, how ignorance was a bliss, and how she burned for it, for her memory to be wiped clean of the betrayal. She sighed, a bitter sound leaving her lips as she stood there, alone, unaware of a person pushing their way towards her.

          For several hours, the figures of her parents had been miss-able in the crowds. At first, a rise of panic had ascended in her throat, threatening with a forceful grip. But somehow, quite remarkable, she had waded through the harsh waters and found herself able to float.  One day could not offer assurance of an entire life, but it inched her closer the confidence she yearned to harness. Much changed she was, since coming out from the shell of her siblings. As the hour grew late, Kyra did begin to wonder after her mother, as she had come to hold a dependency from the company of both mother and father. Her eyes grazed the crowd, looking for her lady mother’s soft features. 

A furrowed brow, the inescapable pass of judgement, surprise. Never had she seen her mother callous, or heard a tone so bitter. Concern immediately fell over her, feet carrying her forward, arm reaching out to grasp tenderly, doe-eyes glancing up with worry. “Lady mother, what is it?” she gasped, worry clouding her gaze. Her heart thrummed erratically in her chest, desperate to fix her mother, to wipe away all darkness and sorrow. The shadows of the room shielded the state of the duo, protect them from judgemental eyes. “Please mama, has someone upset you?”

[lcttlelion-blog]

cerseixtargaryen:

There was not enough wine in the galaxy to satisfy Cersei’s current need. The queen was all but happy with the way the things began to unravel - Ned Stark was a fool, like all the others before him and undoubtedly after him, but if she got closer to his niece, he could be a controllable fool. She doubted it, though. The Starks were a daft family, always holed up in their precious black castle in the North, proclaiming themselves Kings in the North. As if there were any such title, she thought with a scoff. At this point, Cersei wondered if Rhaegar was a fool, too, to establish someone so unprepared, so savage and inexperienced to manage the kingdom ( but then again no one but her was even remotely adept for any kingdom-governing job. if only they would stop being so sexist and let a powerful woman rule ).

She did not enjoy the feast. The funeral was a lot more tolerable, a lot more pleasant and satisfying, given how she was the one behind his demise, after all. But, alas, appearances were everything, and she was a Lannsiter, after all, so she occasionally wiped at her cheeks, as if to shyly remove the non-existent tears. Peasants were fools, ready to believe anything and everything, but the rest of the court was not far behind in stupidity. Yes, Cersei adored the funeral. Seeing the man with stone-painted yes upon the bier made her heart sing with victory, but the same victory was now quenched after her husband’s speech.

Imbecile.

Ned Stark was not worthy of the title, no one was, but she congratulated the family with a polite smile, before retreating to her seat.  She allowed her bored gaze to wander around the room, when she noticed an individual stalking their way towards her. “Oh, come now. Stop ridiculously lingering in the shadows. Sit. Pour us both a glass. I am quite desirous of some company.”

           The fanfare of the evening had taken it’s toll, eliciting a short, quickly caught yawn. It was not becoming for her to be seen weary, unprepared for the events of court-life. From the despair which painted faces, to the exuberance of the evening, it was difficult for her to keep up, as inexperienced as was. Having found that sitting in a corner did nothing to entice a second wave of energy, Kyra had began to drift around the hall, humming softly to herself. A gentle sway in her body, bottom lip caught between her teeth, sober mind keeping her somewhat alert, despite her tiredness. Curving around the bodies which clung together, some whispering in corners, locked together, others with flaming rage in their eyes. So many emotions all imbued with sour wine, leaving little conscious, sane thought to spare. 

Paying very little intention to her surroundings, surprise struck her features when she glanced up. Despite being bound by blood, Kyra did not know much of her aunt, beyond the tales shared from her brothers. There was always something softer in the way her father spoke of her. Bashfully she smiled, shifting to collect the jug, before settling in the angled chair. “Very well, my queen,” Kyra agreed, grasping both goblets. Having had very little practice of pouring wine for others, she filled it to a level which seemed acceptable. 

Offering the goblet to her aunt, Kyra held her own, although she did not eagerly take a sip - her intake of wine was not frequent, as she would rather not lose her wits. “How have you found the day, your majesty?”

[lcttlelion-blog]

alynnabaratheon:

Alynna turned swiftly to face the owner of the voice that had shaken her out of the fascinating hold the great skull had on her. Golden locks are what she sees of the lady first and clear green eyes that remind her of the leaves of the lemon tree in the gardens of Storm’s End. Even without the crimson and gold touches to the woman’s dress Alynna can guess who faces her. A Lannister. And so the deer and the lioness meet. She is surprised at just how soft spoken her companion is for all she knows of the Lannister women are what her uncle has told her and he has painted a rather intimidating picture of Queen Cersei. She’s nothing like her. No coldness there. She feels herself smiling back less at the sentiment expressed than simply for the fact that she has a good feeling about this woman, she already quite likes her. “As much as I admire them I do not believe I would have liked to see them in their prime. They must have elicited so much fear, enough to be hunted and killed. I would have hated to see a dragon die.” She would have hated to see the decay of such magnificent creatures is what she means and she hopes she won’t have to explain further, that her words will suffice to convey meaning. 

          Age had turned fire made flesh to stone, glittering scales no longer holding the same lustre that they once held. Sadly, she agreed with the lady. Watching a dragon die would have been horrible, and they called the men who had slain them brave. Perhaps they were craven. Her fingers drifted, allowing the contours of stone to push against her flesh, as though power still clung to the fierce features. They belonged only in dreams now, there was no place in the world for dragons. “They were given mighty names, for the dread which they forced others to feel. Even the harshest creature can still be beautiful, and the fairest as unforgiving as poison.” Clearing her throat, Kyra could not staunch the warmth from bundling around her cheeks, “I apologise, I am going away with my thoughts. I’m Lady Kyra Lannister.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

littletyrell:

“They are other-worldly, aren’t they?” As Margaery stood beside the younger girl, she peered at the monstrous skulls with keen interest. She pointed to the skull of Balerion the Dread, and commented: “can you imagine what it would have been like, to have your world suddenly cast into shadow under the wing of such a creature? Able to swallow aurochs whole, and burn fields of soldiers in one fell swoop…”  she stared at the huge skull a moment longer, and then turned to her companion with a friendly smile. “While we may dream of dragons returning, I think I might prefer our dragons made man,” she confided, with a nod to the high table occupied by the royal family. 

          Words painted a magnificent image, Lady Margaery giving light to a bold, fantastical thought that was based on legend and myth. She wondered if the Targaryens would have been quite so successful, if not for their dragons. “It is a sight that would curdle the blood of many, my lady. But I expect that the creatures would be far more graceful than I,” she smiled, allowing for light conversation. The gift of eloquent words was lost on her, she did not have the same skill as Margaery - but she hoped to learn. “There are many who would agree with you.” A thought to her sisters, did they too covet the crown? So many lions surrounded the dragons, perhaps it was time for another house to bright more light. 

[lcttlelion-blog]

littlest-stormlord:

“They are quite remarkable, aren’t they? Every time I am in this room, I’m awestruck. No matter how many dozens of times that is. Is it your first time in the capital, my lady?” Renly said kindly, turning to smile at her. She was young, seemed a bit overwhelmed by the feast and the high energy. Renly was somewhat out of breath, having spent the last half hour or so dancing with highborn lady after highborn lady. No fewer than six people had asked him when he was getting married, and he wanted to hide. 

He had retreated the side of the hall, water in hand for once instead of wine, and decided to catch his breath. He did not know what time it was, but it seemed late if the fuzziness in his head from too much wine was anything to go by. The girl admiring the dragon skulls seemed kind, quiet, and would probably not expect him to play any political games. Which was good, because he was drunk and did not want to play any.

“I am Lord Renly Baratheon, my lady. Pleased to meet you,” he said, and bowed slightly in greating.

          Kindness was cherished, nestled within her, recalled many moons later. When all seemed dire, she would recall the moments when someone had been kind to her, providing something more than turmoil and despair. Curved against the corners of her lips, a soft smile, gentle as her nature, “It is an encouragement to hear that they are still cherished, despite them being so many times before.” A soft sigh, a sip of her wine, a dazed expression on her features. She wanted to paint the dragons with flaming fire, their emerald scales glittering against the dark sky, a magnificent image of power and splendour. “Whilst I know that many years ago I must have travelled here, it is not something which I can recall. This is my first time experiencing the capital.” 

Offering a polite nod at his greeting, Kyra internally plucked his name from the family trees which she had studied at length, with her uncle. “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Renly. I am Lady Kyra of House Lannister.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

yronwoodlord:

Cletus had found an alcove in some secluded corner of the room and once he’d been done eating his fill he hadn’t done much beside watching as the other guests danced, laughed and were engrossed in joyful conversations. It was not like him to stand on the sidelines during a celebration of any kind, when he was not at the center he found a way to make his own entertainment one way or another but today he was not in the mood for partying. Events earlier had simply drained him of his usual joviality and he was only truly looking forward to one thing. A dance. If it had not been for the promise he had made Joanna he might have already excused himself but she had not yet come to find him and he was determined she be the one to call upon him this time. He would not go to her, not even if that meant standing like a fool in his corner of the room until the feast was over.

From where he stood he could see one of her sisters seated, it was the youngest and the kindest of the two, Kyra. Fortunately she wasn’t seated next to Joanna’s twin and although she looked slightly uncomfortable he was sure she did not miss the presence of her sister and welcomed instead the company of other attendees. He’d seen the way Shiera would speak to her, words dripping venom and laced with open hostility. No matter how much affection he held for Joanna Lannister he was certain he’d never come to feel so much as friendship for that serpent she called sister. Lady Kyra on the other hand he had found to be agreeable although they had barely gotten to know one another. The girl was so discreet, so tentative in the way she approached others and so unlike either of her siblings, when she spoke it was with caution and as if she was bracing herself for rejection with each word. It reminded him of Quentyn in a way and for that he wanted to try to befriend her.

He resolved to take a seat next to her despite the nagging voice in his mind telling him Joanna might take offence to seeing him so friendly with her sister. It didn’t matter what she thought, not in this instance. One thing he was not prepared to share in with the lioness was her cruelty. He had no reason to torture the girl even more than she already was. “The dragon skulls are the only thing they have that we do not in Dorne. When it comes to celebrations none can equal those of Sunspear, the capitol can put its best efforts forward but they are merely second best I’m afraid to say.” He replied as he sat down, grinning smugly. Dorne’s beauty was in his eyes unparalleled and if the company in King’s Landing was adequate the scenery was nowhere near as enthralling as the sands of Dorne. He took a pitcher of wine and poured two cups, one for him and another for Kyra. “But the liquor is just as good here, I must admit. It would have been a great help to us all in the Sept. To help us suffer the stench for one.”

          Little more than a stranger, just another new face looking at her, speaking with her. He would not have been located in a crowd, every courtier fresh to her eyes, as she held little understanding of who anyone was, or what position that could claim to hold. They received the same level of courteousness, the polite mannerisms of a sweet girl never abandoning her, despite the atmosphere of the place. It felt like a new world, where things which she would never dream of in Casterly Rock, almost seemed possible. Taking the offered goblet, Kyra took a short sip of her wine, allowing the rich taste to sweep over tongue. Wine was not a favourable choice, but if the occasion called for it, the young lady would drink it without a grimace. 

“Dragon skulls in Dorne, it would make for an interesting song,” she mused, settling back against the spine of her chair. In the presence of an acquaintance, relaxation was not a possibility. But there was no need for her to sit rigid, revealing her lack of comfort. Too many concerns flooded her, worries that sprouted from a childhood of endless torment. So many barriers to push past, shells to be broken, internal battles to be won. Still a woman growing, Kyra wondered if she would ever feel at home in her skin. “It is not a bitter wine, for which I am most grateful. I do not find enjoyment in the sourness.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

alynnabaratheon:

The throne room is as wonderful a sight as Alynna expected it to be. When she took the time to picture King’s Landing she expected lavish and beauty and what she has seen of the city so far does not disappoint but the Red Keep is the height of beauty in her eyes. Oddly enough her eyes have found a point of focus on the great dragon skulls displayed in the room. Carcasses have no right to look so impressive, she thinks and yet she cannot tear her eyes off. Dragons are immensely powerful creatures after all and the symbol of a dynasty and besides those skulls are still infinitely less intimidating than the crowned dragons roaming about the room. She reaches out to touch one of the skulls while no one is watching only to stop fingers suspended mid air as she hears footsteps approaching. Her cheeks are tainted a faint pink as she turns towards the intruder. “Beautiful creatures, are they not?” She commented, motioning to the skulls besides her.

          An old-age beauty could be found in the stone skulls which lined the gallery of the throne room, a masterful grace that could only be produced from the beautiful beasts which had once soared through the skies. Perhaps it was her uncle who promoted her fascination of dragons, since he too had a certain fondness for them. Despite how fear inducing they appeared, Kyra knew that she shuddered more under the scornful glance of her sisters, than she ever would at a stone dragon. She envied their strength, but pitied the way in which they died out. There was something quite sad about it. Therefore, when another voiced a similar admiration for the creatures, Kyra could feel herself smile at the sable haired maiden. “Well indeed, my lady. They are incredibly beautiful. It’s quite remarkable to think that they once flew above where we now stand.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

ruthlesslioness:

Joanna was pleased that her sister chose to remain with her. At this point, she wasn’t really picky of who kept her company. Besides, she didn’t really hate her sister; she did not really hate anyone, not yet at least. She nodded at her words before a smirk stole her lips. “Death leaves a bitter aftertaste, no matter whose is it. Your company is as good as anyone else’s from the family.”

         Family was a beautiful concept, entire empires had been built upon the idea. Uncle Tyrion always preached about his love of family, Kyra wanted to believe that it was no enough to steady the words of her sisters, but it had not been enough before. But she did not wish to linger on the horrid thoughts. How lonely her life had been growing up, desperate for a connection that the twins possessed. “Well I am glad to hear it, Joanna,” Kyra smiled, keeping her tone light. Quivering of her voice no longer overruled the words she was attempting to speak, “Is your life much changed from living here in the capital?”

[lcttlelion-blog]

ruthlesslioness:

It would have been an understatement to say that Joanna was a tad bit surprised by her sister’s posture and words. The meek Kyra appeared to have grown a back bone and the older Lannister did not really know how she felt about that; whether she was glad that her sister was finally turning into a Lannister or slightly annoyed that it took her so long. “Did I ever speak kindly to anyone, sister?” Joanna asked, it was more of a retort than a question, her eyebrow arching. “But, I will call a truce for the day, if it will persuade you to keep me company.” She reluctantly added.

          A truce, how her heart leaped at the idea. It was true that her sister had offered very little kindness to anyone throughout the years, it was sadly comforting. It was almost a relief to know that it was not truly something which she had done, for her sisters appeared bitter and cruel from birth. She welcomed the idea, albeit naively, ready to have time ( even if it was just a day ) to speak more freely with Joanna. Her head nodded in slight agreement, whilst her hands remained locked together, gaze not yet focused on the elder Lannister daughter. 

“I will take your offering, sister. Although, I admit my surprise that you would want me to keep you company.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

          Illuminated by hundreds of candles, the ancient hall appeared far less intimidating.  It had been quite the day for her, since she felt as though she’d spoken to more in a few hours, than she had in her lifetime. Her bravery would never match a fierce warrior, but she had found a comfort in her own skin, which for many years had felt like an ugly mask. Her enthusiasm did not stretch to the dancing, or deep conversation with a cluster of highborn ladies, but she had found a comfortable spot which allowed her to watch the events. 

Her fingers picked at the lemon cakes, taking a visual picture of the setting, so that she might hope to recreate it from memory, painting it with vibrancy and beauty. Her last had been a portrait of Dash, getting that glossy fur and dark doe eyes just right. She missed her lapdog who had been left in Casterly Rock, under the care of her favourite maid. 

Deciding not to wallow, Kyra turned to her companion, offering a warm smile. Conversation did not come easy to her, a lack of charisma in her nature, but she tried. “It is truly a magnificent place, so beautifully built. The dragon skulls are extraordinary, I am bewitched by their magnificence.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

theapplerose:

The feast was growing more lively by the hour. Everyone either had a goblet in their hand or were pulling others to join them in dancing. Leonette watched a group of young ladies crowding in a corner of the room, no doubt waiting for someone of the young men milling about to approach them. She smirked. The sight was reminiscent of her younger days, when she and her cousins would do the same in hopes of being approached by their future husbands. Of course, at that time, her heart was already promised to another and she had never been happier since then.

“The feast has been absolutely lovely thus far. Drastically different from earlier today, do you not agree?” She asked the person seated next to her. 

          Much of her day had been silent observation, gentility rolling over her features, a natural child-like expression, which represented how innocent the lamb looked among such fearsome beasts. Her honey hair was uncharacteristically tied back, not draping over her features as it usually did, offering something of a shield to protect her from the harsh gazes of others. If she were confident, more free, perhaps she would have joined the dancing girls, she had all the skills and grace, but not the exuberance to thrive among them. So she sat, picking at her piece of bread, thinking of Uncle Tyrion’s many lessons. 

Whilst she was aware of the woman sat beside her, she had not introduced conversation, since it did not come naturally to her, but she welcomed the opening. “They have given us a beautiful spread, almost reminiscent of a celebration. But the mood is far kinder here.”

[lcttlelion-blog]

ruthlesslioness:

At the sound of her sister’s voice, Joanna sighed. It was a deep, almost defeated sigh, inhaled moments before she’s decided to turn around to stare at Kyra. She noticed the cold in her sister’s eyes, but she was not surprised. A part of her, albeit a very small one, was aware it was all her own fault, with a little push from Shiera, so she did not complain or arch her eyebrow, something which used to indicate her foul mood and a cruel comeback. Her stare lacked malice this time and she simply shrugged at her question. “You are the only one currently here, darling. If you would wish to leave, then leave. There is no one else coming, of that I am sure of.” Joanna said somewhat sternly, trying to regain whatever sharpness she had had yesterday.

          It’s a rare expression to permeate her features, a look of ire, where she had once worn sadness. It stiffened her posture, stoniness freezing her, as though she were a crafted feature in the gardens. But it was not the case. Despite her love for Joanna, she did not like the woman, who lacked any sense of kindness or decency. Too many nights had been spent, face flush against feather pillows, tears dampening the fabric as her body shook with sobs, a day of torment leaving her devastated. An endless cycle ensued from her little pig nose taunts, up until her sisters leaving for King’s Landing. There may have been no true cruelty to Joanna’s words, but it still left a bad feeling in Kyra’s gut. “Then let it be known that I stand here, uninterested in any pettiness. You may speak kindly, or leave me to my own thoughts.”