oberon deyes

“A man who has been through bitter experiences and travelled far enjoys even his sufferings after a time”

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death comes to feast || adela&oberon

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adela-quintana:

She had come to the scene, the chaos that was becoming the world both frightened and excited her. Never had she had such a playground where she hadn’t had part of the control, never, since before this life had she felt such a hopelessness. Despite her slight and half-hearted efforts to refrain from feeling like she was playing god, the cruel and sadistic question still plagued her thoughts. If she ever got killed, would she be able to bring herself back. When you cut her, she bled, when she grew hungry, she starved, this she had known since the young childhood of this body. But in all these situations, after all the shit she pulled, she still remained breathing, almost invincible. The sensation wasn’t odd considering her age and her larger-than-life disposition, but it was there none the less.

Her eyes glazed over the gore-y scene. Her eyes lingering as she bit her lower lip in a smirk that could send chills down someones spine, almost a childlike glee at the new and for once thought out mystery. She looked up, her eyes filled with excitement at what her curiosity led her to. “I would say me, for you do not know that I myself did not put up this barrier.” she said as she slowly squatted down, tracing the dead lips of one of the men, his glazed over and almost white eyes captivating her. 

“Which is why I haven’t said otherwise either,” he easily replied and smiled with amusement at the interest the young woman showed towards the corpses. Would it be so deep if she had indeed put up the scene? He would think whoever did it, wished to prove a point or make a statement, and such things are more easily appreciated from affar. The girl was surely far from being just a regular villager, but he doubted she was the author of the slaughter. 

“If it’s yours,” he pondered, still not convinced, but excited about the possible exchange of ideas. “What is it for? To delimit your home? To confine us?” 

Perhaps that was it and he truly was the one on the wrong side. His thoughts brought up his family, and shivers went down his spine at the risk of keeping his wife and son exposed to danger. But they couldn’t just leave. His eyes looked at the girl and the dead body she was so carefully examining. 

“Are you a healer, or something alike?” 

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death comes to feast || adela&oberon

πρόμοιρος (promoiros) before the destined term, i.e. untimely, of death, of persons, doomed to untimely death | for inspiration, listen here                                                                                                   They are not even far into the woods. In the very space where civilization turns wild, the crossroads between here and there, a line of bodies are laid along the main roads. Duty brings Oberon here; curiosity brings Adela ( @adela-quintana ). The pair run across each other in the wake of nearly a dozen corpses, each splayed with arms wide and each facing north. Neither have any idea what such a sign could mean, but they seem to mark a barrier — a barrier for what, they could not say.

Unconsciously, Oberon tightened the grip on his sheathed sword as he stared at the bodies displayed along the road. His lips thinned and he softly shook his head, not understanding what was doing such a thing. The point of it was clear, it was a limit. That left the Free Folk out of the question. On the other side, Holden would never command something alike. The Argos were capable, but to do such a thing was far from wise, and that family could be many things, except foolish. His mind kept narrowing the options, though his eyes began to examine the surroundings. His only company was a young woman wandering on the other side of the hideous line. The habit of smiling at adversity made his grim expression soften into a clever smirk. 

“Which do you think is the wrong side?” he reflected out loud, attently looking at her. 

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@faithfullyyours-prisca

“And with your knife, you remove its scales,” he explained Titus, his blade quickly going from tail to gill, cleaning the skin of the big fish they’d caught moments earlier. “See?” He then handed the dark knife to his son and stood by his side, watching him do as he had just been instructed. With his hands on his hips, he sighed and looked around, contemplating his new temporary home. Two small tents he and Titus had built up, a big fire to keep the family warm and fed, and a small place to make some weapons and for tanning some pieces of leather. All this next to a stream of crystal clear water. It was plenty for him to feel comfortable and for Titus. But it wasn’t what he had promised Prisca. 

He gave another glance at the boy, gave an approving smile and walked towards the bigger tent as soon as he heard her moving. “There she is, the queen of the wild lands. How did her majesty sleep?”

[gameofthronesdaily]

Jaime Lannister in Game of Thrones 6.07 “The Broken Man“ (x)

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celinereece:

“Oh, damn it!” Celine hissed, jerking away from the potion as it sparked and started filling the room with thick, jewel-colored smoke. That was what she got for working with a self-proclaimed potioneer’s herbs rather than wasting her own. She threw a nasty look at the snake curled protectively around itself in the corner of the room, and it ( he, last week when he’d groped her shoulders in the market ) shrank back further on itself ( himself ). 

Celine shoved open the windows of the small cabin, magenta smoke spilling out into the square. She rolled her eyes at the alarmed looks she received, folding her arms over the window ledge. “Something caught your eye, sweetheart?” she snapped at the nearest passer-by, feeling testy.

He smirked at the sound and tone of that voice, not sure if she had already seen him, and not sure where it was coming from. Just like the old times. The trail of smoke and its scent led him easily.  

“Can’t blame them, really,” Oberon said, once he was close enough to the window frame, as he leaned against the wall, hiding from the cruel sunlight. “I’ve been told this city’s had enough experiences with witches.” There was no such thing as enough, he thought, as he innocently took a peek over her shoulder, to see what had gone wrong. He spotted what it looked like a snake, and frowned, curious, at the creature brooding in the corner. “Friend of yours?” 

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sommersofkindness:

He recognized the voice immediately, even if the face accompanying it had aged in the years Oberon Deyes spent away from the Keep. Pierce had once admired the older knight for his battle skills and renowned strategy; it was not easy to see him behind bars this time, but he stepped closer to the cell. If he couldn’t guarantee the man’s freedom, at least he could give some answers.

“I would call it a revolution, Master Deyes.” He said with a solemn nod. They weren’t simply rebelling, they strived for a larger change in the kingdom. “But yes, I’ll be happy to answer your questions.” He paused. “I’m sorry that we’re meeting this way, it’s to ensure that things will be done right this time.”

“Ah, look at that,” he said with a clever smile, as he looked at the knight with even more interest. “A revolution.” 

Most of the other houses had uprisen against the rule of the Vitello family. Instead of doing it while the tyrant still lived --- Zion was his friend, but Oberon had never approved of his many foul policies ---, or while his son reigned with his brute heart instead of a cold head --- he loved Antony and respected him as if he were of his own blood, but once again, Oberon did not approve ---, they decided to attack while the fairest of the Vitellos ruled. 

Deyes shook his head in disappointment and sighed. The wonders he could have achieved as Master of Coin for Holden Vitello. Oh, well. He’d have to see how to get out of this one, and what comes next. 

“What’s the plan, then? Kill us all? Judge the dead King? Or perhaps hang all the royals? Please, excuse my tone. I hope you understand my position here.” 

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medeasmagic:

“Whoever told you that waters from a well have magical properties or any curing properties, sadly made a fool out of you.”

He looked around, wondering if she was talking to someone else, yet he was the only one sitting by the water. “Well,” he said, giving her his charming smile. “It cures my thirst.” 

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the hand that feeds || prisca&oberon

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faithfullyyours-prisca:

Prisca didn’t think the guard would ever bend. After pleading with him, swearing up and down of her friendship with Leanne–the woman did care for her while Oberon was gone, after all–he finally let her out, but kept her son in her chambers as insurance. She wouldn’t try anything–she’d be a fool too now, with the guards and the wildlings. She’d end up dead before they made it a foot past the dungeons, and she knew it.

She managed to wipe the tears from her eyes and face, but her eyes were swollen; she did her best to control her fear in front of her son, but sometimes, it was just too hard. Titus, the wonderful little boy that he was, didn’t quite understand the danger, but the fear of losing his father was all-too real.

Back erect as a post, she walked through the dungeons, surprised to see so many familiar faces locked below. Her heart seized when she saw him, immediately rushing to him to take his hands, holding onto them for dear life. “Oh, my love,” she whispered, kissing his hands over and over, the guilt and fear roiling in her stomach. “No, they have not harmed me. I would be better if you were by my side, I–” Her voice caught in her throat. No. The time for crying was when she was back in her chambers; no doubt, the guard would not give her much time with Oberon. “No, Titus is back in our rooms. He’s safe–scared, but safe. There is a guard posted on his door.” She pulled back a hand to reach into the cell, gripping the back of his neck. “I managed to convince the guards that we are a friend of House Pemberley,” she replied, her nails digging into his neck. “I knew they would let me see you eventually, but I had to see you now, make sue you were alright. Are you alright? Are they feeding you?” She was trying very hard not to look around at the conditions her husband was living in. “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish you’d stayed gone,” she said, a laugh cracking her words as tears lapped at her eyes. “At least you’d be safe, far from here.”

He grabbed her hands tightly, listening to her voice and watching her as she kissed his hands. Prisca had the wonderful ability of keeping herself together no matter what, yet he knew what she hid so skillfully inside her core. Oberon felt the need to explain why he had taken such a rash decision, but he knew it was near useless right now. He closed his eyes and nodded, caressing her hands with his fingers. “It’s all fine, I’ve been in worse places,” he recalled with a faint smile, perhaps trying to cheer up the both of them.

He was not scared at all, but rather more than angry at the whole situation. He knew they couldn’t keep the Deyes locked forever, particularly since Oberon could prove himself useful as he had done many times before. He was aware he had had no chance to prove it, but he was quite sure he only needed to speak to the head of that damned Alliance of schemers and make some sort of deal for his release. Even in a dark cell, even when his chances and opportunities crumbled down as the monarchy did, he was already thinking of ways to keep himself and his family afloat.

“Stayed gone,” he repeated, slightly unbelieving, though still managed to soften his expression and pull his lips with a playful, clever smile. He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Listen, listen, listen... Even in this dirty cell, I’m safer here and now.” He looked into her bright blue eyes as he spoke, growing more worried about her than about himself. “There’s no reason for them to harm us,” he continued almost in a whisper, not wanting to be heard by anyone else near them. He caressed her cheek, gently, before grabbing her hand once more. “I’ll be out of here soon, and we’ll have time for us again.”

[nikethestatue]

[n-barnes]

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sommersofkindness:

The Lion’s Keep was successfully taken over by the free folk, with the equally shocking betrayal from important allies of the crown. Considering that Pierce had also broken his oath to do what he believed was right, he figured that they shared the same goals, tired of the Vitellos tyranny. For the others, there would be trials.

As a knight standing with the wildling court, he was one of many to escort noblemen to the dungeons. He’d just locked down his last prisoner when the sound of his name made him turn his head. “Yes?”

Oh, then he had gotten the name right. Instead of being part of the shielding wall of faceless knights serving their lords without question, this one was apparently eager to follow his own initiative. The young knight was on the other side of the bars, was he not? 

Oberon lazily rested his arms on the rusty cell and, as he smiled, he glanced at the man with a hint of interest. “I have a couple of questions, but I’ve found rather... Difficult, to approach the leaders of this---” He looked around at the many familiar faces kept inside the other cells, before gazing at the knight again. “How would call this? A revolt? Rebellion? A revolution?”

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the hand that feeds || prisca&oberon

@faithfullyyours-prisca

The sound of steps coming near made shivers run down his spine. He rushed to the door of the cell, against the fear of seeing Leanne coming back after reconsidering their talk. He dreaded the influence of the others upon her thoughts. Oberon knew she was strong, yet... Oh... Prisca’s beautiful face. He let out a mouthful of air, releasing most of his worries with it, and his shoulders falling in relief at the sight of her. The man stretched out his arms, to take his wife’s soft hands. He quickly glanced at the Pemberley knight escorting her, before staring into Prisca’s blue eyes. “How are you? Have they harmed you? Is Titus with y-- How did you get out?” He tripped on his own words, a slight wave of anger lurking behind his eyes. 

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children’s games || annie&oberon

@anniepemberley

He had already measured the little room, but then tried to avoid wasting whatever possible amusement he could find there, as he wasn’t sure for how long he was supposed to be locked in there. He had been trapped in cages many times, yet this was surprisingly the largest one. Oberon wasn’t sure of the severity of this imprisonment. He trusted Leanne’s judgment, yet she surrounded herself of the most curious personalities of the realm --- and Lord Balor among them. Amazing ! --- and a vague sense of uncertainty forced him to doubt the extent of her leadership. 

As if summoned by his meditations, he saw the aforementioned woman. He smirked, welcoming, lazily resting his elbows on the bars of the cell. “Ah, Lady Leanne, have you come to inspect the accommodations?” He regarded her as the knight opened the gate to let her in, and he quietly chuckled, still not turning around to face her. “Of all the things I imagined us doing together, meeting in a cell was never one of them. Quite interesting, isn’t it?” 

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ALLIES OF THE VITELLOS:

Before participating, please ensure you have read the event.

The hour for judgement has arrived. While at dinner, the lords and ladies of the Vitello family were surprised by the sudden appearance of the free folk. A few knights protect them, but they are of no match for the impending army, and King Holden asks them to lay down their arms in the remaining hope that peace can still be discussed with the free folk. Instead of killing the family, the wildlings take them to the throne room. What do the knights think of the uncertainty that lies before them? What do the lords and ladies believe will become of them all? Gathered together with others that had been present in the Keep, they remain in the throne room to await their fates. Under the threat of death, it is now that the rest of the world learns who they really are.

“We rise up  And we fall down Only to rise again.”

PARA RESPONSE: the sound of chants of rebellion

He smirked to himself when his first impulse almost forced him to grab the food with his hand, instead of using the proper utensil. Oberon glanced quickly at the King, merely out of habit, then back to the Lord near him, who was telling some diverting story about some incident at the market place. His attention weakened when he caught sight of his wife from afar, who seemed to be enjoying herself. Her golden, perfect smile made him grin, before returning his gaze to the funny Lord. He tightened the grip of his fork, as a sudden cold breeze that apparently no one else felt, froze the back of his neck. The Master of Coin automatically lifted his gaze to look at Prisca once again, yet the loud noise of the door opening so brusquely, stole his attention completely. 

At the sight of the Free Folk, Oberon slid a fork into his sleeve, just if needed in case of extreme emergency, as the King gave his knights the wise order of not attacking them. He stood up as everyone else did, and tried to reach for Holden, yet the mass of Lords and Ladies in panic made him loose sight of him and Prisca. He looked around once more, now paying attention at the faces of the invaders, as he uselessly looked for the Hand of the King.  

If the Free Folk wanted the Keep dead, they’d already be dead. What he didn’t quite understand, was what did they truly want. Oberon quickly glanced at the leader of the wildlings as he spoke, and measured him, and through him, his people. As the King of the Free Folk asked for Westedell’s King, he didn’t dare to look at Holden and risk to give his identity away, and instead looking at Prisca as she walked closer. She spoke, and he vaguely listened. “He’s a child,” he answered, still distracted. “The worst that could happen is that if they found him, they’ll take him with them, but they won’t hurt him.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oberon caught sight of the grey dress of his son’s caretaker, and he wished, he hoped Titus was somewhere else. Anywhere else was better than here, with the risk of witnessing a massacre or whatever it was they were planning. Sadly, the boy was there. Deyes saw him as he released the caretaker’s hand to run towards his parents, and Oberon crouched to hold him tight, maybe for a last time.  

[the-apple-is-the-fruit]

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haydenbattaglia:

“Well, fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” he lightly replied, glancing at the young man only briefly before returning his attention to the document he was reading. “I presume they want to scare us, don’t you think?” 

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 thaddeusthornton:

Typhon was careful under the man’s scrutiny, though he couldn’t help a quirked brow of annoyance at the attitude presented … and the OFFER. ( buy ONE pretty lady a few dresses and the court comes gawking with open palms. ) “Oh, there’s no need to remind me of the circumstances, Lord Deyes. I was present at the wedding unlike some. However, correct me if I’m wrong, but there are more pressing matters to attend to, no?” He asked. “Parts of the Keep are still in disrepair and there’s a war coming. Surely the crown would benefit more by my resources pushed to preparing my armies rather than hosting a ball.”

He chuckled and raised an eyebrow at his thinly veiled taunting. It was, apparently, the only newest juicy gossip in court, though Oberon chose not to respond to that and continue with his labor. “A war coming, Lord Thornton?” The Master of Coin tilted his head and looked at the man with well rehearsed interest. “Do you not trust our King with these diplomatic affairs? After everything the kingdom has faced? After all he has had to deal with?” His lower lip twitched as his head gave a brief tilt. “I’m quite sure you’re not the only one fearing the Free Folk,” he said, lowly and carefully, slightly leaning closer to the other, as the delicate subject it was. The man then returned to his usual proud stance and shook his head, dismissing the subject. “Nevertheless, I leave it to your consideration. I wish you a good day, Lord Thornton.” Oberon offered a last smile and bowed his head to the taller man, before continuing his strolling through the gardens.