Never chained

Lady Meera of House Umber Aunt and advisor to the Lord of Last Hearth

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is there anything you feel guilty about right now?

“No” the lady states with a certainty of cast-iron. “I have learned to do only that which will not bring me neither regret nor guilt, and to keep in mind that the means will always justify the end”.

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oh-lady-death:

“And it’s easier to fool a man when women are better at lies than they are,” Arleena added with a smile. “My mother used to tell me that men were horrible at lying because they couldn’t look at a woman in the eyes while doing it,” she thanked a servant that came to offer lemon and chocolate cakes. ”In our case, well, since we are little girls we learn that art, from stealing a delicious pie from the kitchen to sneaking around with someone our Lord Father wouldn’t approve of.” Arleena remembered the many times when her father asked her what had she been doing all day, and she would reply with a soft “Knitting lessons, my lord” while staring into his cold blue eyes. 

“Nice to meet you, Lady Umber,” the Lady of Blackhaven seemed surprised to find our from where the lady came from. “It’s so rare to find someone from the north in these lands. Forgive my if my words offend you but I often hear that people from the North don’t do well in the South. Most people say it has to do with the heat”. 

The words from the other lady brought a small smile to her lips. She could relate to what she spoke of and she certainly did agree with what she expressed. Lies and the fine art of manipulation were oftentimes a deadlier weapon than any man’s sword. “Well, there are more ways for us to become indispensable than just by bearing children, after all. Words have power, regardless of them being true or false” Meera added before taking another sip from her drink. It was a pleasant surprise to find a woman after her own heart in such remote lands, so far away from her homeland.

“Worry not, my lady. It takes more to offend me. But I can assure you us Northerners are not so frail as to be defeated by warm weather” the Umber lady replied with a brief smile. “I know not the reason, but it must be the same why Southerners rarely thrive in the North. We must be much too foreign for each other and our respective lands”.

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Words were another sword for the man who wielded them well

Brent Weeks, (The Way of Shadows)

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boltcn:

‘ Torrhen’s lover.’  She admitted, silently and to herself. The word sounded so strange when said aloud. ❝  I too consider you a sister but even between blood there is strife. Bitter is the war between brothers, yes but could you fathom what either of us might do with an army at our disposal? Let us be truthful with one another. You didn’t know and even if you did, what were you to say …  No? I wouldn’t. The blame, should there be need to issue any I couldn’t pin on you, Meera. ❞ We think we have the power to pick and choose, that we’re different even from most women. Why? Because the men in our lives listen to us, heed our council but when you strip the notion of all it’s pretty words, what is left but a choice between ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Was that ever free will to begin with?

❝ I can’t recall how old I was but I vivdly remember accidentally pricking my finger against a thorn bush and the next day willingly hurdling my self against it so that I would have something to tell my father that was more important than whatever Mya or Benjen had to say. I would refuse to eat for days at a time, so my mother would have to feed me herself. I  hid most of Barbrey’s toys underneath my bed ― I didn’t even play with them, I just didn’t want her to have them. Do you know understand what I am trying to tell you, Meera? I don’t share. I have never been able to. It has always been all or nothing with me. ❞  For a passing moment Gilliane smiled, a secret that was never truly a secret. ❝ He loves me, he has his whole life and I wager he always will ―  but  there is no one I love more than my myself and my own pride. Not even Torrhen. You and Torrhen will wed but I am to marry soon too, as you are aware. We are all playing the part we must and after all when has love ever been a good reason for decades of planning to go to shit?  But smile, Meera. I think we will all get what we want once this is all over. I hope now that I’ve answered your questions,  you will stay and enjoy wine with me because I have missed you a great deal but If you value my friendship then I trust you won’t wish to touch this topic ever again. ❞

Lady Bolton needed not lecture her about the bad blood that often existed between siblings. Gilliane herself had been married to Lady Umber’s half-brother, she ought to know Meera was no stranger to the sort of rotten bitterness and conflicts that existed between those that called each other ‘family’. A light scoff escaped her lips as her friend spoke, so sure of what Meera would have chosen had she known the situation between Torrhen and her dear friend. “I would have said no” she interjected, maintaining the lady’s steady gaze with as much aplomb “No man is worth a betrayal of friendship”. The Umber lady held in higher esteem the relationship she had with Gilliane, giving more value to it than she did to a potential marriage to Torrhen. Becoming Lord Karstark’s wife was for the mere convenience of maintaining the life and role she currently had, as her ally was hardly offering more than what was already within her grasp. But had the roles between the two women been reversed it was evident Lady Bolton would have chosen differently.

“I understand perfectly, Gilliane. There is no need for you to be condescending, not to me” the lady replied after Lady Bolton spoke of her past and her greed-tinged actions. Meera had ridden to the Dreadfort as a courtesy to her friend, nothing else, certainly not to receive veiled threats for bringing forth the name of Torrhen in regards to the love affair that had joined the two of them for Gods know how long. “Very well. Let us never discuss this again” she agreed with a smile, gracefully nodding her head. She cared only about the topic for Gilliane’s sake, but if the lady wished to simply bury it all to never be dug up again, Meera had nothing against it. “I would appreciate some wine after the ride, thank you” she added, easily moving past what just been discussed as if those words had not even been exchanged between them.

[musebasket-blog]

Put a rumor you heard about my muse in my ask and they'll confirm or deny it.

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torrhenxkarstark:

He could read the disappointment on her face. Her annoyance at the example he gave and the expectations they had for one another. In his eyes love and loyalty often coincided. The only woman that had ever been loyal to him also loved him. To an extent Torrhen believed that even the loyalty held by his own blood had the potential to run dry. The ambitions of his siblings almost as great as his own. The loyalty he held for the allied houses was strong, but had potential to bend and break as tensions rose. In the end all Torrhen cared about was himself. In a world such as their’s it was important to remember that. Wealth and titles came with privilege but also provided danger and suspicion. The servants beneath his roof were held to high expectations but they never held the paranoia of their spouse poisoning their cup, or a brother aiming his knife at their bare backs. 

“Perhaps she was a fool. A fool for marrying into the wrong house. I’d like to believe if she married a Stark loyalist we’d all be done for.” He began. Though the desire to discuss his wife was not ideal for Torrhen. His dark gaze on the other, studying the manner in which she spoke. “Do you worry I’ll betray you, Meera?” He questioned. “Do you think this will fall apart like ashes through your grasp?”

Torrhen’s next words made it quite evident that his tale of that failed marriage did not belong to mere anonymous strangers. It was the story of his late wife and himself. Even if he had been one participant of that doomed union, that did not mean she would in any way follow the footsteps of the Manderly girl. “Then we can both rest easy that neiter of us is marrying into the wrong house” she stated simply, dismissing with mild indifference the topic of his previous marriage. Umber and Karstark we already allies, none debating with notions of alligning with the Starks. The union of both houses could only aid to strengthen an already tight bond.

Upon hearing his questions an eyebrow arched slightly, keeping her hazel eyes locked on the Karstark lord. Then a pretty smile graced her lips. Such a gesture could only be deemed pretty by those that did not know her true nature well enough. Those that did could perhaps understand it was pretty in the same way some dangerous things could be described as such. Did she think this could fall apart? Of course, as all things were always at risk of collapsing. This particular situation was no different to how she approached everything else. A blunt and truthful response was what she gave him: “Not by my doing”.  

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oh-lady-death:

“Because that’s the shit that feed them before they can stand in both feet,” she smirked. “That a woman’s only dream is to have a wealthy husband and his children until she dies, only to be replaced by another and so on, They can’t think on anything else unless it’s wine or women, or both,” she smiled. “I actually believe that men wouldn’t last a minute on this earth if all women dissapeared one day. They should be gratefull for their mothers that carried them in their bellies for nine months. They usually forget that if it wasn’t for a woman, they wouldn’ be here in the first place,” she looked at the council member. “Isn’t that right, Aeron?” the old man just looked away.

It was exactly this kind of talk that should have earned Arleena a slap if her father had been alive. Her mother would have gasped in surprise by her daughter’s words and probably approved of them in private, but both weren’t here to do that.They were long gone and the Lady of Blackhaven could say and express her opinions freely “You’re not from around here, are you, my lady?” she asked while thanking a servant that brought her a goblet of wine. “Being so close to the Dornish Border I’m used to see dornishmen merchants and by your complexion I can say you’re not from there. The Kingdom of the Trident, maybe?” she took a sip of her wine. 

Meera’s lips curved into a knowing smile, agreeing with most of what the lady spoke. A woman after her own heart, it would appear. “Well, I cannot say it is entirely a negative thing that believe such things. It is easier to fool a man who only believes lies” she added, slightly raising her glass in direction of the old man, Aeron. He seemed to be exactly the type of man she had grown to despise, very much alike to those witless men who never thought much of her and did not see her rise to her current position. Now they bowed to her followed her command as if she was the true Lady of Last Hearth, which in many ways, she was.

“No, I am not. I am from the North” she responded, pride present in her voice regarding the land from which she hailed. “I am Lady Meera of House Umber”. Her introduction was followed by a graceful nod, a polite gesture for the other woman “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Dondarrion”.

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@nailaofnowhere

Manipulation was a fine art that the Umber lady had endeavored to master. Every person was different, every method distinct in order to pull their strings correctly. Sometimes all it took was the ability to say the right words at the right time, as was the case with her nephew. Sometimes it required a few honeyed smiles and the graceful touch of her hand upon a shoulder, as it happened with clueless lords who thought of her as a flower and not the serpent that coiled under it. And sometimes the simple possession of certain knowledge was enough, as was the case with Na’ila. In particular situations like this, the Umber lady did not bother to conceal the means by which she wished to get what she wanted: Sometimes manipulation could be straightfoward manipulation in the form of blackmail.

“I do not appreciate to be kept waiting” were the words with which she welcomed her guest, if that could even be deemed a proper welcome. It was later than their usual time to meet, and she would have left had it not been for the promise of useful information. Meera turned to face the girl, a severe look in her eyes. “You better have a good reason for it”.

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oh-lady-death:

It wasn’t a special occation like her name day, but Arleena decided that it would be good to host a small tournament to lift her people’s spirits. They had been worried about the constant talk of war and she didn’t like to see them life this, women holding their children close to their breasts, men suspecting of every other traveler that passed by, friends turned into foes. It will do no good for Blackhaven in general, so she proposed a small festival to cheer the people up and distract them, and so far it had worked like magic. 

The Lady of Blackhaven smiled when she saw children laughing and playing around the stalls with sweets and pastries. The people that encountred in her way bowed their heads in respect for their lady and Arleena anwered with a wave. “We sent word to other houses, my lady,” said one of the elders that was part of the council. “Perhaps with luck you will find your future husband” he smiled and she glared at him. “Not now, Aeron,” the lady growled and walked towards a group of men that were shooting arrows to different targets. “Well done!” she smiled while clapping, enjoying the festivities and trying to ignore the old man’s comment. 

Meera Umber rarely found herself so far south. She would avoid it if it were possible but she kept in mind that allinces had to be made even in such remote southron realms now that winter was coming. The North was feeling its icy teeth already, provisions becoming short, even more so when her homeland was more divided than most would be comfortable to admit. Such division meant some houses chose to accept or decline trade depending on the Northern faction one belonged to: House Stark loyalists, or the opposition led by the tirumvirate of Karstark, Umber and Bolton. 

Blackhaven was foreign for her and not much to her liking, but the lady could expertly hide her distate and instead clapped and cheered for the tournament as if she were truly enjoying it. The Lady of Blackhaven was close by, enough so that the Umber lady could easily hear the exchange she had with an elderly man. Meera regarded her as a potential ally and she was the sole reason why the Northerner had agreed to come to this place to begin with. “Why do men always assume our sole interest is to find a husband? There is more a lady in our position can do” she mentioned, lifting her glass of wine to her lips. “Pardon, my lady. I happened to hear what he said” Meera added, offering a slight smile.

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STARTER CALL

So, I’d love to get some plots going for Meera. I have some potential connections for my girl in her connections page, so in case anything interests you or matches with a connection you’d like for your charrie, let me know. Or you know, you can like this thing and I’ll message you so we can plot stuff :) 

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desmond-umber:

meeraumber:

The rage had not fully been tamed, it never was with Desmond. That anger within was a constant, a fire that was always lit. But Meera never truly sought to tame his wrath, only to direct it towards the right direction. At present it did seem like that goal was achieved and her nephew’s mind was set on tearing down the very house she wished to see crumble into nothingness. “And I have never doubted your ability to do what is best for our house” she spoke back as her hand rested upon the lord’s shoulder. Because that was what he always was meant to believe, that whatever action she persuaded him to take was to maintain the honor and worth of House Umber.

The lady’s sweet smile only grew as her nephew spoke, that special honeyed smile of hers drawn with venom upon her lips. “Fret not, Desmond. I shall, and I will not fail” Meera responded with confidence both in her voice and every little aspect of her demeanor. It was a sound plan, as her nephew said, and such a plan would never fail when conducted by someone such as her.

They were a team, they always had been. Such they were children, Desmond has always gravitated towards his aunt as if she may be some sort of shield against his father. She would press a cloth to his wounds, touch his shoulder when the wound stung or burned under the pastes they needed to apply. She was strong for the both of them, much stronger than he knew he would ever be. A life without her…Desmond could not imagine it. Her marriage might tear this away, this system that they had built in Last Hearth above Harald’s rotting corpses. What would become of Last Hearth when she was gone? Still, he smiled, relishing Meera’s touch as her fingers handed upon his shoulder blade. There was comfort in it, comfort he knew he would miss. “And I yours.” The Lord stated softly, feeling the anger die down within his chest. 

Meera’s smile was all too familiar to the Lord, and he smiled too, knowing that whatever she put her mind to, she would not fail. “You have not failed me once, Meera, I am assured you will not fail at this.” Anything that they did together, greatness would follow. Last Hearth was in the right hands with the two of them around…the worry growing within his stomach now came from the desire to keep Meera by his side. For Desmond greatest fear was being alone. 

END.

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What would you name your children?

“Truth be told, I have never wasted time thinking about it” the lady answers with a light shrug, a simple motion she manages to make graceful in spite of the air of nonchalance. “I would not name my children after anyone of my family, so I suppose I ought to be creative when the time comes and select names not used in House Umber”.

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torrhenxkarstark:

While she wasn’t wrong, he considered any woman annoyed with him a brewing storm. A temper only so tame until it shook the castle. Gilliane was that way. One moment calm, the next a hurricane. He often felt that Meera was much of the same. Which made it more difficult than the lord originally imagined. “In my experience loyalty can mean a plethora of things.” Typically love. Plenty of people were romantics. Wanting more than just an alliance. That was why he was careful in his decision. A woman he knew wouldn’t love him–for he’d never love her. Not as anything more than a friend. If friends could even love one another. If he could love anything at all. “I once knew of a man that promised his wife loyalty. But whenever he bed another she cried until he grew sick of it. When he asked her why she told him that loyalty did not include loving someone that wasn’t her. For his loyalty was meant to be his heart, mind, and body. Needless to say it didn’t work out between them. Much like Jeyne and I they were never meant for one another. Two different forces that desired very different things.”

He cleared his throat, approaching the other. She puzzled him to an extent. If she was asking him to always choose house Umber over Bolton, that would be difficult. Though he liked to think that once she married him she would be a Karstark, and one of his only concerns would continue to be solely is his own house. But marriages were never so simplistic. “My only concern is house Karstark. When we wed you will be apart of that house–and house Umber an extension of it. Therefore you will have my loyalty.” In everything but my heart. “For I find little enjoyment in quarreling marriages. My first was turbulent enough to never do so again. We are to be an alliance after all.” He rose a midnight brow. “Are allies not loyal to one another?” 

Torrhen’s response sounded an awful lot like an excuse of sorts, when the two of them could have so easily agreed on what was the loyalty that bound House Umber and House Karstark together. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but the unity of our houses has existed long enough for both of us to be able to grasp what the loyalty to the other entails and what it does not”. Meera was not entirely sure if his little tale of a husband and wife was supposed to be a slight to her in some way. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke because it did feel like that. It felt like he was taking her for a fool that would cry for his love and his undivided devotion to her bed and her bed alone. He thought himself to me more desirable than he truly was, and her to be more needed of a man’s affection than she could ever be. “Then that woman was a fool, for what she truly wished was fidelity, not loyalty” she concluded.

When we wed you will be apart of that house–and house Umber an extension of it. The lady gave a nod as those words left her betrothed’s lips. That was the only thing she wished to hear. After all, they were indeed on the same page when it came to matters of their loyalty once they were wed. “Very well. That is all I wanted to know” the spoke, slightly more pleased with this particular turn in their conversation. “Indeed they are” the Umber lady agreed, satisfied with the reply Lord Karstark had given.

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@boltcn:

Gilliane couldn’t contain the small smile of discomfort brought upon by the other’s words, the situation they had somehow settled into. Even when the news were feed to her with titters, the thought not once crossed her. If Meera knew or not, it made no true difference for her. When the sun settled they were both just two women who fended for what was their’s. Meera said yes, but the choice had never been hers to make.  It was neither sympathy or empathy that she felt for her. She simply just understood.

❝ I have an inclination , yes. However, If I prove to be right then I’d only be left more puzzled than I had been moment before. ❞ Meera for a time was her only source of comfort, they had been friends, closer than friends. The relationship, she missed with Mya and was never afforded with Barbrey. Even then, there were cards she held close and to her chest. Not once had Gilliane spoken to Meera of her indiscretions and so she couldn’t comprehend why Meera thought they would begin today. Husband or not, betrothed or not.

Even from such a reply it was so easy to detect the unwillingness Lady Bolton had to speak of the matter. It was something that needed to be addressed, if only because of the deep respect Meera had for her friend. “Gilliane, you are like a sister to me” the lady of House Umber began. In every way Gilliane Bolton was more family to her than Jaeneth, Talia or Rosaline ever were to her. Or those strangers her father’s first wife had given to the late Gareth Umber. “If it was anyone else who was Torrhen’s lover it would be of no importance to me. But it is you. I would like to believe no man would ever bring discord between you and me, but what I believe and what is might not be the same”.

It could all potentially lead to a conflict of interests, which was exactly what Meera hoped to avoid. House Umber, House Bolton and House Karstark had all been close allies for many years, a strong trinity in the North that was bound by loyalty and trust. Love and passion could threaten their strong unity. “I am only here to gain reaffirmation of that, to be reassured by you that such belief is not incorrect. I merely wish to ensure that my marriage to a man you have been involved with, a man you might even love, will not detract from the bond there is between us two”.

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desmond-umber:

Sometimes it seemed that when he was this angry that he may never come out of his rage. It was always there, festering beneath the surface. If he stopped to wonder how he’d gotten this way; how he had tried for so long to be anything but his father, but had now become the very thing he hated, Desmond knew it would have something to do with his sister’s death. And perhaps his mother’s too. They had both died at their own hands, wanting to get away from the men that attempted to control them, the unforgivable darkness that laid beneath. Sadness that did claw its way under their skin, taking hold of them, taking them away from Desmond. He blamed their sickness of the mind, it was what their maester had called it. Sickness of the mind, he wondered, did he have the very same thing? 

With his hands clenched to fists, Desmond paced, rage curdling deep within his chest as he turned to face his aunt. “Yes..yes exactly.” He found himself nodding along with her words, eyes glazed over from anger yet he could hear her, his aunt, his adviser, a woman he could trust. She had been the one person who would not leave him, for she wanted what he had. But then her ambitions had only grew…truthfully he should have known this would happen. One day Meera would marry, in the back of his mind he had always known but refused to believe it. And then what would become of him? Without Meera, what would he be? This question only increased Desmond’s anger. “Your plan is sound, Meera, I have never doubted your ability to scheme.” The Lord smirked now, ignoring the nagging feeling of loneliness pounding against his ribcage. She would always be his aunt. She would forever be his dear Meera, whether he was married to Torrhen or not. “We will invite Lord Forrester to Last Hearth by raven and discuss trade for the impending winter. I will suddenly become rather…well, busy and you must entertain our guest. And I’m sure you will find many ways to entertain, Dear Meera.”

The rage had not fully been tamed, it never was with Desmond. That anger within was a constant, a fire that was always lit. But Meera never truly sought to tame his wrath, only to direct it towards the right direction. At present it did seem like that goal was achieved and her nephew’s mind was set on tearing down the very house she wished to see crumble into nothingness. “And I have never doubted your ability to do what is best for our house” she spoke back as her hand rested upon the lord’s shoulder. Because that was what he always was meant to believe, that whatever action she persuaded him to take was to maintain the honor and worth of House Umber.

The lady’s sweet smile only grew as her nephew spoke, that special honeyed smile of hers drawn with venom upon her lips. “Fret not, Desmond. I shall, and I will not fail” Meera responded with confidence both in her voice and every little aspect of her demeanor. It was a sound plan, as her nephew said, and such a plan would never fail when conducted by someone such as her.

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@dcyne:

❝ Many things. ❞ He added sharply. His gaze lingering in hers eyes for a second too long. The slight pursing of her lips was enough to make him say no more on the matter. Simply left smiling with insignificant satifaction. Once he collected his thoughts, he spoke once more, shaping his lips in another fashion.  ❝ I am Ser Criston Dayne. Lord of Starfall. ❞  How ugly the words sounded coming from his own mouth, rolling with all the pomp absent from him and his body. Somehow it was better than travelling with company.

❝ Does the Lady have a name, she wished to share ? ❞

“All good things, I hope” she responded with a knowing smile, a graceful gesture not at all ignorant of the fact that the North had more beasts of winter than soft snowflakes, most of which wore skirts rather than be the ones bearing swords. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser Dayne” the lady gave a slight bow of her head, hazel eyes finding his again when she introduced herself “I am Lady Meera of House Umber”.

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What’s the bravest thing you ever did?

“I like to think there is bravery in standing up to men who think they are the ones who are in control of the lives of the women around them” the lady mentions, thinking back of every instance in which she had to keep her chin up and a steady gaze in front of men who thought they had a say in her fate. “My father. My brothers. My half-brother, Harald. He was the worst of them all”. That name tastes like vinegar in her mouth and she wants to curse at his grave just by thinking of him. “Words were enough most of the times to sway each of them, but I had to raise a dagger at Harald once. He dared hit me like hit his wives, his children, his lovers. I pressed the dagger to his throat and vowed to slit it if he ever laid a hand on me again. He looked puzzled and hated that bewildered look in his eye, like not enough people ever fought him back when he became vicious and aggressive. Harald never touched me again and I never used that dagger on him, regardless of how much I wished he would give me the slightest excuse to cut his throat wide open”.