Prince of the Westerlands

Secondborn Son of House Lannister - 33 - Hand of the King

[saoirsesronan]

Max Irons behind the scenes for Apollo Magazine, photographed by Aline & Jacqueline Tappia

[coffineds]

Max Irons in Terminal (2018) dir. Vaughn Stein

[flawlessgentlemen]

Max Irons photographed by Nick Thompson for Esquire Singapore (2020)

[loreniilaniister]

oflostargaryen​:

-

Yes, Tristan was quite aware of everything the westerlands prince was saying; every soldier that came to his tent insisted that they were the best soldier in the regiment, demanded their armour looked to before anyone elses and their blade to be sharpened better then anyone else. They wopuld single handedly win the battle and end this skirmish with the River King. They drank themselves around the campfires in the night and yet every day more hosues arrived with men in arms. The lust of battle had not be satisfied over a decade civil war. He’d been taken far from it, but already had been touched by the horrors.

Hand to a King at war. The prince’s words dredge up memories that one Tristan Cassel has tried to push down and forget. It was like it happened to someone else. He’s not who he used to be. But the history that the prince talks about; the age difference of several years doesn’t seem so great now, but he’s a young boy far to adventurous and independent for the likes of the old council. He doesn’t sit still for lessons, the maester is frustrated at him, though a young spare heir is widely curious and asks far to many questions. He remembers the great Lannister lion himself having run into the keep and when he hears that name among the recently named Master of Ships. He’s like a bee to honey and asks far to many questions. 

Aegon II rises to be king, and the Master of Ships becomes Master of Coin and then Hand to the King. The Hand spends more time in the Red Keep and a young boy with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes is slowly growing up. 

The prince speaks and Tristan takes the glass of water but doesn’t drink from it and honestly words are stuck in his throat. What does he say to that? Do those names mean anything? The prince looks at him to speak the truth. He thinks of the maesters who conjured up his Northern history; the way they made him learn it and repeat it. “Um…yes, I mean of course they mean something. They do for everyone. The names of the Targaryen Royal Family. The head of the Greens in the civil war.” The words he’s supposed to say and yeah that glass of water…he brings it to his lips and downs it suddenly needing to fill up the space.

There’s a guilt that he survived when his family is all but extinct. He walks over and put the empty glass onto the table and turns to face the other. He’s backed into a corner because he knows the other and despite the decade thats passed, Loren sees passed the attempt that was made to turn golden locks brown and to dirty up the features of pale valerian skin. 

“The part of your accomplishment that you forgot to list was getting to ride through the red keep on your back. I use to beg my brother to do it, and he wouldn’t. It used to make me so mad. But no matter how many times I asked, you always did.” He gave a defeated chuckle. It was a good memory and for a moment he reveled in it. But reality set in. “This is bad. You can’t say anything to anyone.”

.

   Loren watched and listened as the younger man tried to pass of the mentioned names before he took a drink from the water. The Lannister Prince knowing with each passing second he had the boy right were he wanted him, and that this was in fact who he expected it to be. And when he starts to speak again, he confirmed the very thoughts that had been passing through his mind. This was in fact Prince Alesander Targaryen, one of the surviving children of King Aegon II Targaryen. Loren’s first instinct when the boy confirmed his identy was to wrap his arms around him and pulled the Targaryen Prince into a hug. Aegon and Loren had been close until he grew too obsessive with his vices, and drawn to far into the madness brought on by his injuries, and the war. To see his son still alive, and well, and more importantly strong and healthy it relieved Loren quite a bit. When he pulled away, and heard the Prince asking him not to say anything and that this was bad, Loren could not help but scoff. 

“This is great. I fail to see how this is bad at all. You can finally drop this sad, little northerner act. It’s beneath you.” It seemed as if only a weeks ago Loren had to pretend to be something he wasn’t to survive the attack on King’s Landing, and then his walk through the Reach. “You are a Prince of House Targaryen, you should be able to live the life you were meant to, not whatever this is. The war is over, this act should be over with it.” 

[sweetirons]

[loreniilaniister]

oflostargaryen​:

It was, of course, the prince of the westerland’s right to talk down to a tradesman, a blacksmith no less. He was royalty and by apeparances, the young blacksmith was, as many of the low classes were, illiterate and unwise to the world around them. That had been the hardest lesson to lesson to learn; not the bleeding of his hands as they came use to swinging a hammer or the blacksmith constantly telling what piss poor job he had been doing. No, it was learning to bite his toungue, keep his head down and the North was far easier to do it. Northmen had a more homely feel to the people, not anything like that of the south

Tristan, the blacksmith, was apprently educated in the ways of battle and that the one to come might not achieve the victory and it would take many days to unseat the River King. He nodded in understanding, “I have been corrected and I will choose my words better next time.” Attempting to sound grateful as he looked around the tent as instructed to find a space for the spare blade. “I was taught well and I think you’ll find there’s something to say of Northern workmanship.” He placed the blade down in its spot and he had a feeling it would be sitting there for a while. 

Turning back towards the prince, he seemed to finish his letter and he stood there a moment. It seemed he was beeing appraised by the prince. He was surprised by the question. “If you’re questioning my skills based on my age, I’m quite old enough.” He countered, offering up the information next. “I’ve celebrated twenty-six namedays.”

.

   Waving a hand when he mentioned being corrected, “Please think nothing of it, there are a great many lords and knights out there who think this will be over faster than it really will be. I was Hand to a King at war, I know wars are not some one night love affair that leaves you wanting more, they are more like a bitchy wife you wish to be rid of that you can never seem to shake off.” They had just ended a war, and yet it seemed the River King had not lost his taste for it. After the first fall of King’s Landing and Loren did what he had to to escape the Dragon Queen, that was when he had finally lost his appetite for war, not that he would not fight, but he did not wish to actively seek it anymore. When he mentioned that he was twenty-six, that would have put him at the perfect age to be the boy they had sent away. He didn’t know where he was sent, very few did, the heirs were safer that way. Rising from his desk, he moved to a small side table, pouring two glasses of water. Before waking over to the younger man and offering him one. 

“Never let anyone question your skills because of your age. I was made Master of Ships by King Viserys when I was younger than you, I had only seen twenty namedays. Queen Alicent Hightower asked me to be Master of Coin for the soon to be King Aegon II when I was but twenty-two, and then merely two years later, I a man just past my twenty-fourth nameday was asked by my friend King Aegon II to be his Hand. If I could achieve all that before my thirtieth nameday, then I think you could be good with a forge by your twenty-sixth.” His eyes looking over the other’s face each time he said a different name. “Do any of those people mean anything to you. Speak plainly, we’re alone here, and if my guards can hear, I know them to be loyal men.” 

[loreniilaniister]

oflostargaryen​:

Tag: @loreniilaniister​

With each day, more houses and their soldiers were showing up in force and preparing for the coming battle. The blacksmith forge was constantly going; Tristan was not the only one, but they all had their work cut out for them. He had come down from the North as House Stark had come. He had sharpening blades and fixing armor for what seemed an endless stream that seemed to keep on coming. Every soldier that came insisted that their blade needed to be seen to first and most of it when in one ear and out the other.

Some of the soliders of House Lannister had also ended up with the Northern blacksmith. But so far none of them had returned to collect their things and he was running out of room. He didn’t generally make house calls and he still had too much to do to make sure every soldier was ready when the time came. However, even he had to admit a chance of scenary wouldn’t hurt even for a little bit.

He’d collected only a few blades and now took them to the part of the camp where the Lannister soldiers had set up. Asking around and find the rightful owner of each blade was a lot taskier then he thought. Finally the lot lessened and he was left with one and told to see the lannister prince. His first thought was to leave the blade and go, but professionalism made him stay. At the tent, there was another soldier who asked what business he had he explained it and he was allowed inside.

Stepping in, he offered a curteousy bow, “Your highness,” He said politely and what you would expect of someone of lowborn status to do. “I’ve returned your blade, it’s ready for the battle to come.”

.

   Loren had truthfully forgotten he had sent a sword to be sharpened, it was more of a test to see how well the blacksmiths they were going to have lingering about were. Might as well also make them be worth what they were being paid, and find work for them to do. In addition they also need to make sure the Smith was appeased by having his blacksmith children stay hard at work. When he was asked if he wanted the blacksmith with his sword to enter the tent, Loren nodded, he could have some fun with the man, see just how well he was with a hammer, and if he had wits to match it. Loren did not look up from the papers he was working on when the blacksmith first entered though from his voice he sounded like a young lad, perhaps the blacksmith’s apprentice. A small grin on his face as he heard the last remark. 

“The battle to come, more like the battles to come. Unless the River King himself dies in this upcoming battle, then I doubt this war will end in one battle, though I also doubt it’ll last ten years like the Dance we just ended. As for the blade you can put it anywhere you see space for it, that’s one of my spares you see, I was more interested in seeing what Northern craftsmanship is like than actually needing a sharpened blade.” Finishing the sentence he was writing, he returned his quill to it’s holder, it was a peacock feather, a gift from his wife, he used it only when he was writing letters to her. Though when his eyes turned upwards, finally falling upon the other in his tent, he couldn’t help but furrow them at just how familiar the boy looked. He’d be the right age, and he had heard nothing of them being found. And the boy did look like extraordinarily like Aegon did at what he could presume was the same age. His eyes scanning over him once again. 

“How old are you, boy?” 

[loreniilaniister]

gcuienveres​:​

.

it had been two days since the events of the myrish masquerade; most of the entourage had been housed in the fortress of the gates of the moon; sat firmly beneath the giant’s lance. the night had ended much later than she had expected it to; only creeping back into her own chambers at the crack of dawn, expecting to be able to slip on a chemise and sleep away the memories of the night. instead she had found the king of the westerlands sat in an armchair by a hearth; displeased with finding her chambers empty so many hours previously. since then, the woman had been staying quieter than usual, spending the last two days in her chamber mainly thinking over the secret that had been given to her during the festivities; she felt confident in her choice of making the right decision, faithful and trusting that she would be safe regardless of the outcome; she could only trust.

she knew how to play the part; to slip on her house colours, ensure she looked presentable enough for any scenario that she could ever find herself in, remain poised and elegant; regardless of how high or low her mood may have been. “it is about time i got an invitation to lunch with the prince lannister; you have been busy as of recently, have you not? your pageboys did mention it to me.” she spoke, raising an eyebrow in his direction at the scattered sheets of paper all over his desk in the room that would be his working room. “you’re planning something?” she asked, her tone genuinely curious. “at least you did not end up on the floor, loren.” she spoke, her tone seeming irritable; though there was a slight smile playing on her lips. “tyrin has not seemed to hear of that yet, do avoid slipping in your speech. he is already disappointed.”

   .

   Loren made a mocking gasping noise, before shaking his head and tut tutting sound. “Does my sister actually need an invitation to dine with me? Have I become so high and noble? Surely not me, I am but merely Prince Loren Lannister, Hand of the King to King Tyrin.” Grinning at his sister, as he lead her to the table that had been prepared for them. “You are more than welcome to barge into my chambers whenever you’d like sweet sister. I promise I won’t get offended no matter the time or day you chose to do it.” When she asked about the papers and what had been keeping him busy, his grin turned to a smile, before he gave his sister a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean sweet sister. Me be up to something? It’s simply unheard of.” Picking up one of the papers he brought it over to Gwen to show her. They were mainly rough sketches but they could be seen as what they were intended rough drawings of boats. 

“I want to rebuild our sea power. The Greyjoys had left our waters defenseless, I want to change that by rebuilding the Lannister fleet. We’ll have to if we wish to keep with the other royals of the south. Especially with our vulnerable that will leave our coastline, and Fair Isle will be helpless if we can never get to it to help protect it.” Loren hated feeling defenseless, and he especially hated the thought of his home being defenseless. “I am far too pretty though to ever find myself on the floor sister, besides my outfit that night was too nice to risk getting dirty.” Sitting across from her when she mentioned their brother being disappointed. “He always it seems, bare it no mind, it’ll pass, and he shall find something else to be disappointed by. Besides why care about his disappointment so long as I am pleased.” 

[loreniilaniister]

   Loren had wanted to seek out his youngest sister to check in with her after the events of the masquerade. The Lannister Prince had been expected it to be a fun affair, not end with fire, and their near death experiance. Despite what he had said and done as the event was unfolding, he was glad that she was ok. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had been wounded or worse. Though he did not want his mind to linger on such things, no he was curious about something else he had noted about his sister and her interactions at the little get together organized by the Myrish. 

Loren had one of the pages at the Gates of the Moon escort his sister to the chambers that had been set up for him, wanting to have lunch with her. He arranged for a simple meal of salmon with lemongrass and dates. Smiling when Guinevere arrived, he moved to put his arms on her’s, kissing her cheek. “Sister, you look radiant. Come sit, the food has already been laid out for us.” Tell me how has your day been? How are you feeling?” Smiling, “The other night was certainly chaotic enough for the both of us no?” 

@gcuienveres​

[loreniilaniister]

ofthedunes​:

.

in truth, ryon blackmont found himself growing silently exasperated with each passing comment the lannister prince found himself speaking; he knew much of the differences in their cultures, though ryon simply could not bring himself to fully respect a man who would so openly claim to dismiss the thoughts and opinions of women so brazenly. perhaps this was merely the man’s nature; take it or leave it. “well, prince lannister, you may want to avoid finding yourself in the close company of the dornish women then.” his comment was one of humour. lest you find yourself less of a man soon after.

nymeria’s landing was a significant shift for the varying cultures of dorne, and the dornish man was still in the process of adapting to the divisive natures of men beyond the dunes of dorne. it did not come from a place of superiority; ryon himself was no gentleman; he did not treat women with the same delicate chivalry the other men of westeros did - they were his equals, in all ways - this was only exemplified in his recent public blow up with the one he must call sister. “we listen to their thoughts as we listen to the thoughts of men; they will know if we disagree, just as men do. what the outside world views as excessive respect, is merely normality.”

 “i believe the houses wyls, ullers and fowlers wish to draw up a stake in the shipment.” he spoke, swirling the red wine in his cup - much sweeter than the traditional bitter taste his tongue was accustomed to.“house lannister would compensate my losses in exchange for details regarding the shipments to begin with; as no other merchant is willing to disclose such details that are already so hard to come by.” such trade agreements are already so new to dorne … with no information leaking out regarding its moves that the martells did not wish to share. 

“besides, why is it that one house should have complete control of this shipment and only share what suits them to be known?” 

   Loren liked to play with people he did work with. How better try to see if they were worth working with if they could not keep their cool at a dinner table. If they were quick to anger, then they couldn’t be trusted. They would only end up ruining the deal, and dragging you down with them. Aegon had had a quick temper, and he was a drunk. After Rook’s Rest he had also been hard to look at he was so ugly. Loren imagined that if he had lived then he would be stuck running Westeros as Hand to an incapable King. The Blackmont Lord managed to impress Loren. He joked, and remained calm after his rather boorish remarks. If he had said such things in front of his own wife, Loren would have been smacked across the face. 

“On the contrary, I think I would rather enjoy being in the close company of a Dornish woman.” Raising an eyebrow, and then smirking. “Or a Dornish man.” Loren was not one to speak so casually of his dalliances with men, but he wanted to show that he trusted the Dornish lord....especially considering what they were engaging in could lead to war with the Martells if they fucked anything up. “You’ll actually find my views on women are much closer to Dorne’s than to the rest of Westeros’. My greatest confident is my wife, there is nothing I know that she does not. Her advice has made me a better man, a better husband, and a better Hand.” 

He listened as the Dornish houses that planned to side with the Blackmonts were listed. Fowlers, Ullers, and Wyls, each on their own strong and formidable, together enough to stand against the Martells. However there was also the problem with the Yornwoods, they had not yet indicated where they would fall. With the Martells they could easily put down this little resistance. “I must admit, Ryon, you only had my curiosity with this little scheme, a fun little distraction for me....but after hearing who else shares these views.....well you have my attention now.” Nodding his head, “Yes, yes we shall compensate, we have the means to cover you all financially.” Another smirk tugged at his face. 

“Especially when those who have complete control of the shipment aren’t even willing to listen to those who make the shipment possible. I completely understand your grievances. Do not worry though, I am here to help however I can, friend.” 

[tyrinlan]

HOUSE LANNISTER  ✕ "Hear Me Roar!“

House Lannister of Casterly Rock is one of the Great Houses of Seven Kingdoms, and the principal house of the westerlands. Their seat is Casterly Rock, though another branch exists in nearby Lannisport. Their sigil is a golden lion on a field of crimson. Their official motto is “Hear Me Roar!” However, their unofficial motto, equally well known, is “A Lannister always pays his debts.“The Warden of the West is a Lannister by tradition. Their gold mines have made the Lannisters the wealthiest of the Great Houses.

[freshmoviequotes]

Terminal (2018)

[periodfantasy]

[loreniilaniister]

ofthedunes​:

@loreniilaniister​

to finally meet the lions of casterly rock, and be able to put a face to the names of those he had been in contact with regularly over the last few months, was a peculiar experience. upon receiving the extended invitation to the vale from the lannisters, the blackmont took a week to discuss plans with his closest advisors as well as other lords on western dorne whom he knew shared similar sentiments to himself regarding the activity of the martells. it had been recieved as a slight to some dornish houses, most notably those who protected the infamous boneway all the way to the kingdom of the storm kings. “… and so for the first time, it seems many in western dorne have grown just as frustrated with the martells as they are with our historic enemies.” 

and now, the man found himself beyond the familiar nature of the red dunes he often saw outside his window; instead finding himself entranced by the beauty of the vale’s mountains. the dinner had been going smoothly, starting with a few rounds of drinks before moving on to the main course; freshly imported seafood, notably lobster and seared scallops, from gulltown - where he had first landed in the vale. “i will admit, prince loren - i was somewhat perplexed by your family’s interest in the doings of your in laws. is your brother’s wife not a tyrell?” he enquired, his tone genuinely curious; after all, he was no stranger to complicated family scenarios. 

   Loren was entertaining the Dornish lord, not because he actually cared about his grievances but because it was amusing to him. This whole little, spout of drama taking place because they were mad the Martells were making treaties with the Tyrell, his good sister was in fact a Tyrell herself though he was not sure if she had any idea about the trade agreements that had apparently taken place. “Yes she is, though what she actually knows about the going ons of her house I have no idea. Besides I’ve never concerned myself with the thoughts of women. I know in.....the rather interesting traditions of Dorne and the Rhoynar, you view women as your equals, but she is an Andal through and through, much like her brothers.” 

Loren brought his drink to his lips, eyes scanning over the Dornish lord who he had been writing back and forth with. Humming a little, “So tell me, this little grievance about the shipment of roses, are any other Dornish lords finding the flowers they recieved wilted? Or is your family the only one that received these wilted roses? I imagine the more families that received a bad shipment, could mean a faster decision regarding House Lannister wanting to compensate your loses.” Loren imagined it was better to be discreet than speak openly, and if the lord did not understand what he meant, well then, this conversation would be over even faster. 

[loreniilaniister]

gcuienveres​:

the lion pride;

@tyrinlan​ & @loreniilaniister 

the woman was the last to enter the chamber, shutting the door behind them firmly with a sharp click before swiftly moving a jewellery adorned hand to unclip her golden curls, letting her mane fall free down the length of her back. “you know, things were going somewhat decently until a certain king decided to arrive fashionably late.” she spoke, glancing in tyrin’s direction as she placed herself down on the scarlet lounge chair. “were you planning on attending this whole time, or only later decided we were worth your time?” she enquired curiously, reaching forward to the fruit bowl to pick up a crisp red apple. 

   Loren himself had decided to pull off his boots after they’d reached their chambers. The shoes starting to hurt his feet, though he thought they were well worth it considering how well they accented his legs and the doublet he wore them with. Chuckling when his sister began what one could call scolding their brother. “Come now, sweet sister, our poor older brother was always coming to the trial, it just took him such a time to get their because of that walking stick he requires at the moment”

@tyrinlan​

[loreniilaniister]

helenatyrells​:

helena felt her cheeks turn bright pink at his indecorous words. although she was the queen and undoubtedly was of higher rank than her brother-in-law, helena couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and as if loren held all the power in this particular moment. helena crossed her arms in attempt to show loren her level of irritation at him, but really, it was her endeavour to hide herself from her own embarrassment. however, it was easy for her to forget her feelings of embarrassment at the sight of loren’s feet up onto his desk and with a grin smacked across his face. “is this all a joke to you?” she asks; her face stone cold. “no more fun and games, loren.” helena began to pace back and forth in the room, “a part of me knows we can’t tell tyrin; that we must carry this secret to our graves, but the other part of me? my gods, loren. i don’t know if i can look at him again. perhaps we should tell him? oh! i don’t know.”

   Despite all she said, Loren’s smirk didn’t seem to falter from his face. Why should it? He was a Lannister, certainly the best of them. He saw no reason why he should be ashamed of himself. Tyrin was the one who pushed his wife away. Loren loved his brother, but he wasn’t going to feel guilty over doing something that only occurred because of his brother’s making. “It seemed to be all fun and games though, a game your cries out seemed to show you enjoyed quite a bit. Please save us both these frantic fits, Helena, he’ll never know unless we let him know. You know Tyrin, his head is too far up his arse to see what is going on around him.” When she mentioned telling him, Loren chuckled. “If we did that then we’d both die. Probably in horrible ways, not done by his hands but on his orders, and your brothers would go to war over you. Is that something you truly wish to see happen? I doubt it.” Huffing a little, before he smiled. “Take a deep breath, and just follow my lead and all will be ok.” 

[loreniilaniister]

helenatyrells​:

@loreniilaniister​

wearing a skirt which consisted of various shades and layers of red silk, helena walked with such purpose that one could have easily mistaken her for jogging at first glance. however, time was of the essence for her. she needed a moment alone with her brother-in-law something which proved to be a rather difficult task given that the family had been surrounded with more guards given the most recent events. poor loren, she thought. although she did not get along with her husband, she believed loren to be a good man. he did not deserve to endure the ordeal he was forced to experience at the most recent celebrations. it wasn’t until mere minutes ago when helena’s own lady-in-waiting informed her that prince loren had returned to his chambers alone. helena took advantage of this opportunity and manage to find a way to escape her own guards and make her way towards loren’s chambers. when she gets to his doors, she knocks once before letting herself in. she enters into the room, noting one of loren’s servants in the room with him. “leave us.” she states firmly, “i must speak with the prince alone.”

   Loren was going over a few affairs that had arisen in the Westerlands, nothing major enough that he felt the need to bring them before his brother. He would be able to handle them as Hand of the King. That was until his sister-in-law found his way into his chambers....again. Smiling a little, “Queen Helena, so nice to see you.” When she asked his servant in the room to leave them he gave a short nod of his head. “Listen to your Queen, leave us.”  Once they were out of his chamber, he held a finger up to tell Helena to wait before speaking, he wanted to give the servant time to put distance between the them. Once he felt enough time had passed, he kicked his feet up onto his desk, grin growing on his face. “My Queen, have you missed my bed that much, or have I proven myself that much better of a lover than my brother that you are here again already?” It had happened when Helena came to check on him, and his wounds, one moment she was touching at his back, and well the next they found themselves becoming one. He would feel guilty because this was his brother’s queen, but at the same time, his brother was a shit husband. The poor woman needed real intimacy at least once in her life.