None So Fierce

Lord Tybolt Crakehall, 32              If you can keep your  h e a d when all about you          Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,               If you can t r u s t yourself when all men doubt you,  But make allowance for their doubting too;                   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it

[markantonys]

[ofcrakehall]

markantonys‌:

walk walk fashion baby

[ofcrakehall]

aniquotes‌:

“People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.”

- Marco, Book #30: The Reunion, pg. 71 (by K.A. Applegate)

[ofcrakehall]

R E N L Y   B A R A T H E O N :

renly had always been an undisputed party-thrower; anything from hedonistic masquerades at storm’s end to the series of elegant banquets he’d hosted while on progress at sixteen, it was no secret that the lord paramount of the stormlands enjoyed a good party now and then. this, however, was not one of them. his dear widowed sister-in-law had spared no expense - she was a lannister after all, and tywin wasn’t here to object anymore - but it was a dreadful bore; stodgy and tasteful all at once, much like cersei herself. yet he had adorned himself in his best finery ( let it never be said that renly wasn’t the most handsomely dressed in any given room ) and retired himself to a night of boredom. then again, his favourite thing to do at these things was smile smugly at loras from across crowded rooms. it was a win anyway. 

just keeping himself from forcing a yawn at the team of minstrels singing about robert’s rebellion, the lord paramount of the stormlands was the first to rise to his feet and applaud the singers - if only just to get them to leave that much sooner. but then they started back up again, and he collapsed into his chair, desperately reaching out for his glass of wine. “ is she singing about the greyjoy rebellion now? ” renly asked boredly of the person sitting next to him, his expression never giving away anything but rapt attention. “ perhaps tywin lannister will rise from his grave just to make this stop. ”

Walking into the lion’s den had not bothered him as much as it perhaps should have despite knowing that he was hardly someone Cersei Lannister wished to see. However, he knew that he was not alone in his distaste for her and so it had been all to easy to seat himself next to someone who he considered an ally on the matter. “I believe so, though they lost my attention almost a dozen songs ago.” Smirk tugged at his lips before he purposely let his gaze darken slightly, never one to miss out on the opportunity to point out his own distaste for the way that things had been handled since Tywin’s death. “If he were to rise I am certain that some minstrels would not be at the top of his list to be dealt with.”

Very few people knew just how much he had grown to dislike talk of the Rebellion, despite how eager he had been to partake in it at only eighteen. It was not something he was in the habit of sharing and so the conversation was artfully steered elsewhere. “What would you have them play instead, Lord Renly?” The question was filled with far more airy curiosity than pointed sharpness, simply wanting to see what would capture the other man’s attention or what tales he deemed worth telling. “Personally I am thankful we have not had to hear The Rains of Castamere yet.” Especially when he was planning on staging something of a similar rebellion that the cautionary tale warned against. Only his would be successful. 

[ofcrakehall]

A R I A N N E   M A R T E L L :

arianne had stolen away from the main celebrations, her ever-curious gaze dragging across the lamp-lit shadows and corners of the red keep; wondering if elia had walked through these very halls - if myriah martell had walked through these very halls when she had been queen of the seven kingdoms. but when the princess of dorne had her way - and she would, she would have her way - perhaps trystane would be a more welcome consort than their aunt and great-grandmother had been. after all, myrcella would be a better monarch than any man would. they had men and scorpions and allies that could ensure she took her rightful place. and since her safe return, it was all arianne could think of anymore: the people she trusted beyond her family could be counted on a single hand, and catching sight of tybolt crakehall standing not far away, she didn’t know what to make of him. she trusted maron more than anyone else outside of dorne - she could put her blind trust in the man, and she was grateful he had rescued her even when uncle oberyn had gone off on his own. 

but it was her father who had mentioned that tybolt crakehall had masterminded the rescue plan: the shortlist of lords prince doran respected was almost too short, but he had spoken highly of the westerlander. but would he back myrcella if it came to it? or would he side with the northerners? her vermillion skirts sashayed around her as she walked towards the man with purpose, a wickedly sweet smile on her lips. arianne had a sinking suspicion it wouldn’t work on him, but it made her feel better nonetheless. “ lord crakehall, ” she began, all easy courtesies. “ i hear you’re the one to thank for planning my rescue. ”

There seemed little point in denying that he was surprised that an invitation to such an event had been extended his way given that he made no secret of his feelings towards his supposed ruling lords. However, he also knew that he would have made an appearance whether or not his name was on the list - after all would he really be turned away when it would cause far too much of a stir? He had never made a habit of running and hiding, not even his father’s death had made him retire or become reclusive. It would certainly take more than a glare from Cersei Lanniser to cow him into submission. Instead he had enjoyed the evening with all the confidence of a man who knew that he was untouchable. As much as the lioness might dislike him, even she knew better than to make the divide in The Westerlands clear as day. Gracious words had been given to her and only moments earlier he had raised his glass to her with a smirk on his lips. 

He had been swept away into a quieter area by his friend for a brief exchange of information, their trade coming to a swift end as the princess approached. Head bowed quickly in respect as Tytos made himself scarce, smooth words flowing easily from his lips. “There is no thanks necessary, your grace.” It was easy for him to appear gracious, as though it had been no trouble to him at all. The repayment for his acts would be called in later. “I only did what anyone else with my position and means should.” Of course, the point was that no one else had been as organised, too busy arguing or chasing their tails but it was not polite to point such things out. Especially when he was certain that the princess was more than capable of coming to that conclusion herself. “I feel it would be remiss of me not to tell you how wonderful you look this evening, princess.”

[markantonys]

[ofcrakehall]

markantonys‌:

- who invited you? lorenzo? who?! - the invitation was extended to my father and included me. - why? why did it include you? - i don’t know. you’d have to ask lorenzo. - lorenzo.

[ofcrakehall]

M I R A   F O R R E S T E R :

To say that the past month had been extensively tumultuous for Mira was a massive understatement, but she finally felt as if things were the way that they were supposed to be. After being rescued off the ship, feeling lost and alone and quite literally trapped, there came a few things to process. The first thing was that she did not want to feel that weak and vulnerable again even though she knew she put herself before Lady Margaery. Everyone else on the ship had been subject to the same fear that plagued her which had only been comforting in a slight angle. The other was that everything had changed between her family, but on the ship, she reveled in knowing that she loved them unconditionally. She did not know the history of Asher’s time in Essos and how he came to be with the Targaryens. She didn’t know the extent of what happened in Ironrath in her absence and what else was hidden from her in those many letters exchanged. There were many things she might not ever know, but she came to the realization that she didn’t need to. 

The next thing she came conscious of was her undying affection for Robb. Their time spent together had been sparse but it had been enough. Mira was extremely overwhelmed with the wedding and her features showed on her easily-excitable and easily-read face as a result, the apples of her cheeks flushed deeply enough to match every rose in Highgarden at the thought of the wedding. Tonight, Mira and Robb were exchanging vows and being wed in the Godswood. When she imagined herself in King’s Landing-a place she did not think of frequently, she did not imagine herself being wed to the King in the North or to anyone in particular. Her dress was elegant and beautiful, mixing the colors of the North with patterns that would be designated to Southern fashion. Her hair was composed of flowers that were weaved into plaits on the sides.

This was her wedding and where before Robb was her king, he was everything to her. He was her king in every possible way and she was flushed with the idea that they belonged to each other now. The room they were held in was dimly-lit and she obediently made her rounds to offer her kind words to those who had appeared. Mira smiled sweetly to the guests, clasping her hands together happily when another song began. "Would you like to dance with me?” Mira squealed in excitement, taking the arm of the person closest. Her face was already flushed for the spirits in the room and the dancing she had already managed. “Are you having a good night? Thank you for coming. We both appreciate you and your presence.”

Attending the wedding of the King in The North was not something that he particularly wanted to do when he was still painfully conscious of the Northern presence in lands that had once belonged to his home. It mattered little to him that they had been deemed part of The Riverlands nor taken in the name of a Targaryen when he knew exactly who had been behind the plan and who had execute it. Still, it was second nature to him to put aside any personal vendettas in favour of the bigger picture. He might have very much liked to shun such an event on a personal level but he had long since learnt to place his own desires second and the needs of The Westerlands. As such for the time being he needed to ensure support from as many factions as possible, whether it be from the very people he would eventually try to remove from his home. Appearances were everything and he had every intention of appearing to be an eager ally who was more than happy to be welcome at such an event.

It had been a cordial enough event, him not having to work too hard to maintain his polite friendliness when everyone around him seemed happy enough - or perhaps simply in need of a celebration and a break from all of their worries. Part of him wondered if at any point in the evening anyone would deign to acknowledge the role he had played in making it happen. Rather hard to have a wedding with the bride trapped aboard a ship. Still, he had never been one to need praise or acknowledgement and instead he revelled in private smugness as he surveyed the affair. His father had always taught him that he would win over more people with manners than harsh words and it was a mantra he had adopted since he was a boy, ensuring that he never put a foot wrong. 

He had just been finishing up his conversation with a Riverlord that could have easily led to a flared temper did he not exhibit such control, when none other than the woman of the hour approached him. If the unexpectedness of her request had surprised him, none of it showed on his features, instead a smile touched his lips as he bowed his head in greeting to the lady who was now supposedly a queen. “I would be my pleasure.” As he extended her arm to her, he deemed her pretty enough to explain the rush to get married though it was yet to be scene whether she had other qualities to justify such a quick match. Still, it hardly mattered to him who anyone else married when he was so confident in his own choice and instead more words left his lips, imbued with a convincing warmth he did not feel. “On the contrary, I am honoured to be welcomed at such a fine evening. I must commend you on such an achievement - it is no mean feat making something like this happen at such short notice.”

[ofcrakehall]

R O B B   S T A R K :

If Robb had his way, he would have returned home to the North well before now. He had little care for the South and it was only Jon’s claim to the Throne – and Stannis’ blatant disregard for human life – that had kept him here for so long. Otherwise he would have found a way to retrieve his sisters and seal the Neck. But he had not done so and now he was stuck with Southron politics and Southroners. He wasn’t certain which he disliked more. Still, he kept his expression placid as he looked over at Lord Crakehall, remembering well how he had beheaded Karstark for his initiative.

The King in the North arched a brow, unwilling to give much away to the other man. He didn’t trust many and he saw little reason to trust a Crakehall of the Westerlands, especially given the fact that he had taken a large portion of the kingdom and handed it over to his uncle to rule as part of the Riverlands. Robb supposed that it would eventually be sorted, but he did not think that the men of the Westerlands were ones who easily forgot. “We are quite so,” he agreed with an incline of his head. “But I would like to believe that whoever performed such an action was so incredibly foolish. We are men of sense, are we not?” The question was rhetorical and Robb continued, fully aware that his words could be taken as pontification. “We can put aside differences to work together. I believe that this might have the opposite effect.” He offered a mirthless smile.

So Lord Crakehall thought he was running the operation, did he? Robb found the very idea of it amusing, though he said nothing to break the tenuous peace that had descended over his tent. “If Northmen agree to help, the Riverlanders will follow. I am certain that Lord Tarly would offer some men from his army in hopes of finding his daughter. But, of course, Targaryen bannermen are technically out of my purview.” Lips quirked at the corners. “Have you planned on this mostly being on foot, Crakehall?” he inquired. “I would assume the Greyjoys would be most pleased to offer a longship or two.”

Exchanges such as this came easily to him and he had yet to find anything particularly challenging about this one. “I should certainly like to think so.” It was easy to remain polite, easy to give the flicker of a smirk at the other’s word, seeming as though he enjoyed the notion that they were both men of sense. “Then we must make it so and later we can enjoy the irony of their search for division only leading to unity.”

He wondered whether he was supposed to be intimidated or impressed by the other man’s extensive list of men he had at his disposal. In truth he was neither when he had already accounted for such alliances. An assumption perhaps but he had thought it only logical to assume that The Riverlands would follow in the footsteps of the Starks when the Young Wolf’s uncle lacked a the knack of leadership. “I had hoped that would be the case. I am sure we will need every man we can get.” 

Doubt filled his mind as to whether the Greyjoy comment was meant to shake him when he was unsure of how well known the dislike between he and the new Lord Reaper was. Still, no such emotion flickered over his features and instead only smooth words left his lips. “Not solely, no. It makes little sense to hunt for a boat only on the land. Perhaps the Greyjoys or perhaps the Redwynes. I am certain someone will extend that goodwill.” 

Smile touched his features again, a confidence in his movements as he handed over the neatly written scroll. “I will leave you with the plans but there are others that I must see next.” He had no intention of allowing the other man to overestimate his position nor get the impression that he had no other allies to turn to. It was quite the opposite really. “If you wish to join, you are welcome to send word or simply send men.”

[ofcrakehall]

R OS A M U N D   L A N N I S T E R :

Somewhere in The Crownlands

It was strange, to be back in King’s Landing and the Crownlands. If she were being honest – which she rarely was entirely outside of the confines of her brain – she had not missed it here. There were too many whispers, too many glances, too many people who saw her as a Lannister and assumed they knew exactly who and what she was. While Rosamund was content to help those rumors along if it helped her, she had found that she rather liked being as adored as she was in Crakehall. She hoped that she would return there soon.

Rosamund offered Lord Tybolt a small smile from across the wheelhouse. She was not certain where he was taking her, but she found herself rather curious about his intentions as well as the destination. If she were to glance outside the window, she would see the colors of the Crownlands but the young woman was inordinately pleased to simply glance at the man across from her. “Might I have any clue as to where we are heading?” she inquired, her ruby lips curving upwards.

Kings Landing had failed to impress him and he was certain it was not only because of the woman who had her claws so firmly dug into it. If he allowed himself the honesty then it paled in comparison to Crakehall and he wanted nothing more than to return to the simplicity that had been his life before his homeland was invaded. Life was rarely so straightforward and he knew that there was still a long and complicated road ahead of him before he reached the goal that he wanted. Politics were far from simple. 

What was simple however, was the choice he had made regarding the woman before him and he still counted himself lucky that fate had seen fit to grant him such a match. Marriage had always been in his future but he had never been optimistic about there being even fondness in it. But as Rosamund’s lips curved upwards, so did his own and he was filled with a certainty that their union would one where such feelings would only grow. “You must allow me at least one surprise.” But, as ever, he found it impossible to resist her request entirely. “Somewhere far more picturesque than the capital.”

[ofcrakehall]

R O B B   S T A R K :

The King in the North had a touch of the wolfsblood in him, though it had never been as much as his younger sister. He had worked hard to temper the anger, to only let it show when he was truly overcome with a rage that he would no longer hide. But much as he wanted to rage now, Robb Stark knew that it would not do to anger the de facto leader of the Westerlands, especially when the King in the North’s men occupied some of their lands. Though they technically belonged to Jon, it had not been hard for Robb to take them and at some point, there would need to be a negotiation to remove the Northmen back to their homes. The thoughts were heavy on his mind, but he said nothing of them, not yet anyway.

He hummed lightly at the other man’s observation, inclining his own head in agreement. “Aye,” he said as his eyes met Lord Crakehall’s head on. “And from what I understand, they meant to have taken more than they did.” He knew that Mira had been taken for Margaery, that Theon’s brother’s betrothed had nearly been taken as well, and he would have been surprised if Loras Tyrell hadn’t been taken to save Renly Baratheon. Robb leaned against the table as the man spoke further, and it was not until Lord Crakehall finished that his eyebrows rose and a small smirk rose on his face. I do not have enough men to spare. The thought was surprising, that Crakehall was coming to him at all and Robb would not waste any leverage, perceived though it may be.

“And do you wish to merely take my men or offer your plan to a larger group?” he inquired, curious as to what Lord Crakehall’s aim was. He had not lost anyone that Robb had heard, but he would not believe that the other man’s aims were purely altruistic. He did not blame Crakehall for that; the King in the North was not entirely altruistic either. “They’re likely held near water,” he mused, though the words were more for himself.

Though he had heard plenty of tales about the formidable King in The North, he had yet to see anything but a man. While he knew that the other man’s track record in battle was more than simply sufficient -and he would never attempt to dispute nor undermine that when the facts simply spoke for themselves - he had not found anything else particularly remarkable about the man across from him. Part of him wondered if the Northmen had risen up and declared independence only because of the so called Young Wolf or whether they had simply grown tired of being ruled by Lions and Stags. He found one of those options vastly more understandable than the other.

Despite having not witnessed much other than cockiness and bravado, he remained measured and cordial, knowing that it was never wise or prudent to underestimate ally nor opponent. There would be time for putting the Stark in his place and there would be time for him achieving justice for his homeland. For now he would continue playing the role of neutral ally, simply wanting to help where he could. “Then I suppose we are all somewhat fortunate that at least some of their plan was foiled.”

He knew a man who thought he had the upper hand when he saw one, the smirk on the other man’s face showing clearly that he thought he had the advantage. Perhaps on some level he did but were he to refuse the Boar’s attempts to form a scouting party, he would be sure to let everyone know that the The North had not wished to cooperate. “You are the first, though I must confess I did not intend for you to be the only.” Polite smile flickered over his lips before he continued, knowing that he did not need Robb Stark at that moment anymore than he needed him. “We are all united now and perhaps the best way to achieve our common goal is to act like it. I have already drawn up routes, all of which include easy routes to the ocean. I am sure most will find them suitable but of course, input is always welcome. That is of course, you are willing to join the effort?”

[grandefilms]

[ofcrakehall]

grandefilms‌:

Maurice (1987) dir. James Ivory, DoP Pierre Lhomme

[ofcrakehall]

R O S A M U N D   L A N N I S T E R :

The day had not gone nearly as smoothly as Rosamund had expected. Her gaze was stoic, though those who knew her would be able to see the tells. The strain in her eyes, the way her jawline tightened and clenched, the tightness in the corners of her mouth. Her back remained straight and as Tybolt came toward her, her eyes softened slightly. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “I am not entirely calm, my lord,” she told him. “I will not incite dramatics, but it was most disconcerting to be having a conversation one moment and then discover that my companion was gone the next.” She had no love for Arianne Martell, it was true, but the woman made a decent conversationalist. At any rate, she was pleased to have someone intelligent with whom to verbally spar.

Her chin inclined only slightly at Tybolt’s suggestion. It was quite a good one, she thought, and she threaded her fingers through his arm. To an outsider, it might look like nothing more than simple politeness, but she knew he would be able to tell her fear by the way her fingers gripped his arm tighter than they had before. “I believe you are correct,” she said quietly, her other hand moving to hold onto his arm as well. Rosamund’s heart still continued to beat in her chest and for that she was grateful. A soft smile rose on her lips, though it was also strained. “I would like that very much,” she murmured as she began to walk in that direction.

Jaw tightened somewhat at her description of what could had happened but he kept his frustration at bay, simply murmuring words that she hoped she could find some reassurance in. “I am sure. I am only sorry that I was not by your side when it happened.” He tried to keep bitterness out of his tone, not wishing to bring anything more negative to to when she had surely endured enough. There was no denying the resentment that he felt, however, that fate had had him fighting by the side of a man he loathed instead of the woman that he intended to marry. Love was an abstract concept to him and he was certain that he did not feel it quite yet but there was an attachment there and a protectiveness that he was sure would grow into more. There was a simmering anger inside him that he might have been robbed of that chance for that to happen and a private vow was made for some sort of revenge in it all.

That same anger only tightened its hold on his chest as she gripped his arm in an entirely different manner to that evening they had spent in the orchard. The contrast between the two lodges itself in his mind and he instantly knows that he will do everything in his power to ensure she never had to feel the need to hold on so tightly again. “Rest seems to be the only solution for the moment and I shall approach those necessary when they have had time to come to terms with it all. In the meantime,” Voice lowered, gaze shifting to focus solely on her as he set plans aside for a moment. “you must let me know if there is anything else you require from me this evening.”

[ofcrakehall]

R O B B   S T A R K :

The King in the North was rattled. It felt as if a lifetime had been crammed into the past few days; Mira had been taken, Theon had been taken, and instead of struggling for thrones, it seemed that the majority of the lords and self-proclaimed kings had chosen to work together to bring back those they cared for. The problem, at least to Robb, was that no one could agree on much and even if they could, there was little knowledge about where those taken were currently being held. It had not been difficult to accept Lord Crakehall’s meeting and as the man in question walked in, Robb raised a brow at the address.

There was some good, of course, that came from this. Arya had returned to them and he’d been able to leverage the kidnapping of Loras Tyrell to ensure that Gendry Waters no longer resided with his nefarious Baratheon relatives. But as he looked at Tybolt Crakehall, all Robb could think about was the man he’d had to behead for murdering the previous lord. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “It was no trouble,” he stated, though the words were more honest than the mere platitudes he expected Lord Crakehall thought them to be.

A brow rose as the man sat and the King in the North considered the words that left the Crakehall’s lips. “Very fortuitous indeed,” he remarked. If he was a more suspicious man, perhaps he would have suspected the Crakehalls as being behind some of this, but Robb was pragmatic enough to realize it would have done little to advance them. “The problem, Lord Crakehall,” he mused. “Is that we’ve little idea where they’ve been taken and we’ve even less idea of what type of manpower is there. They could be halfway to Lys by now with a fast ship and a strong wind.”

In his pursuit for the freedom of The Westerlands from both those who had invaded them and the clutches of the Lannisters, there was little that he was not prepared to do. This meeting was a simple formality, another opportunity to show himself having a willingness to collaborate and even ally where the lioness would not. It was a case of small, seemingly inconsequential gestures eventually building an inarguable case to prove he was a far better choice to lead his homelands than the golden haired woman who had once been Queen.

Level tones left his lips, stating the obvious when he knew it would be impossible to incriminate himself when no guilt lay at his feet. “It seemed they had some reason and then no reason at all behind who they stole.” As proud as he was of his House he knew that at the moment the name Crakehall did very little to stir much in others and he was not offended by the notion that they had not been deemed worth taking by whoever was behind the attack. With the exception of Cersei Lannister he could not imagine all that many thinking them worth the trouble. That would soon change, however, and he was content to be deemed only mildly important when it meant that they would not sense his plan until he had all that he needed to enact it.

Expression did not alter despite his dislike of the inference that he had not already considered al of this. “I assure you that I have already taken such things into account. However, I suspect that they will not have been taken all that far at all if the aim is to ransom them back to us. It is far easier to keep leverage handy but secure. I took the liberty of studying some maps and I feel as though I have some scouting routes that may prove useful. However, I do not have enough man to spare to put them into practise as thoroughly as I might like.”

[bergaramadejs]

[ofcrakehall]

lordreapcr‌:

bergaramadejs‌:

insp.

@ofcrakehall

[ofcrakehall]

R E N L Y   B A R A T H E O N :

“ tybolt, ” he conceded, his smile unwavering; cocksure as ever and laced with just the slightest hint of curiosity. the new lord of crakehall was a mystery to him; someone he couldn’t quite place, but hadn’t quite tried to place either. renly was charming - he knew it only too well. but his was an easy charm with laughing eyes and charismatic smiles and always entertaining and listening and talking; even when he was cut to the bone. he didn’t have any of the intelligence in the other man’s eyes or the polite way he seemed to sway others, but he was definitely intrigued. and once intrigued, renly rarely let things go. “ my brother rarely spoke highly of anyone, ” he added in a lilting voice, because it was no secret that robert had been…well, he’d been robert. and he’d been too occupied with his drink and his whores and his precious starks all of his life. he hadn’t even cared for renly or stannis - even if he only reigned over the stormlands because his younger brothers had kept it afloat. “ a baratheon trait, i suppose. ”

stannis had spoke highly of roland crakehall too. and though renly knew that was a far genuine sentiment, coming from a man as steeled as stannis, he didn’t think the late lord’s heir would would want to hear it. at cersei’s mention, a laugh was inevitable. “ his widow hasn’t spoke a good word about anyone in her entire life, ” the lord of storm’s end offered back, a wry grin playing on his lips. cersei was both a monster and likely just tywin lannister in a dress. he had once asked her if she was, and robert had laughed until he’d been red in the face and heaving for a clear breath. “ i doubt your father would be the exception - even her late husband wasn’t. ” renly downed the rest of his wine, savouring the taste on his tongue before he settled a puzzling glance upon his companion. he had heard of strife in the westerlands, but he didn’t think the crakehalls would ever speak out against cersei of all people. “ will you give her cause to sing your praises? perhaps you’ll be successful where no one else has been. ”

Just as the stag’s expression did not alter, neither did his own. Polite interest on his features as the other man spoke about his brother and he absentmindedly wondered if there were any men in Westeros who had the perfect relationship with their kin. He and Lyle almost certainly did not see eye to eye or value the same things but they managed to coexist well enough and Merlon barely made an impact at times. Understanding the dynamic that existed between the Baratheon’s would no doubt give insight in to the two remaining ones bu instead he chose only to comment on what was before him, there would be time for probing later if he felt as though he did not have the measure of the youngest just yet. “Perhaps no bad thing when so many seem to expect compliments or praise for very little.” Personally he saw little wrong with keeping people on side by giving them the praise they were looking for, even if he privately thought it unnecessary or barely worthy of it. “Of course flattery still goes a long way and I doubt that will ever change when we all like our egos and pride being spoken to.”

Noticing the other man empty his wine glass, hand was lifted calmly to signal for some more. He spoke freely even has the serving boy arrived, seeing little reason to hide what he had to say. He would hardly be the first to criticise Cersei Lannister and he very much doubted he would be the last. With some luck the Baratheon might appreciate the near boldness of the move when he had long given up caring what the golden lioness thought of him and his family. “It seems a shame really. A queen should be at least somewhat gracious to her subjects, wouldn’t you say? It seems as though she buys into the myth that strength and kind words have to be mutually exclusive.” Taking a leisurely sip of his now refilled wine, he allowed his expression to shift from its usual polite mask into something more of a smirk. “I doubt that very much.” If things went according to plan he doubted his name would ever be separate from a curse when spoken by her. But just as quickly as he had let that little glint show, he slipped back into smooth, practised words. “Crakehall and The Westerlands will always be my first priority. I will serve them both before anyone else.”

[arteims]

[ofcrakehall]

arteims‌:

he!!! pulled out Novella’s chair for her!!!

@lioncssoflannisport​

[ofcrakehall]

In the wake of the attack everyone was scrambling to try to get those who had been lost back and although he couldn’t claim to be that fond of anyone who had been taken, he had no intentions of sitting on the sidelines. With maps of the area closely studied and some more than helpful insight from Rosamund, he felt prepared enough to send word to the King in The North that he wished to meet. It seemed senseless to miss an opportunity to prove himself not only useful but potentially far more useful and willing to help than the Lions of the Rock.

Entering the tent with confidence his head bowed somewhat in his typical show of respect, polite smile forming on his lips as cordial words left them. “I appreciate you seeing me at such short notice, your grace.” It didn’t matter to him that the man before him was technically no king, he owed no allegiance to the children of Cersei Lannister and so it caused him little guilt to address another with respect. His pride did not smart at acknowledging that the other man might have a higher standing when it helped to have friend or at the very least acquaintances in high places. 

With ease he settled himself into the seat across from the other man, more smooth words on his lips as he offered his proposal. “House Crakehall was lucky not to lose anyone to these bandits but we would very much like to offer our help in retrieving those taken. I know a number of Westerland Lords would join me in this.”

@wolfofwinterfcll

[ofcrakehall]

Even though it would have been all too easy for him to get caught up in the events when he was someone who liked perfection and seamlessnes and the attack had been anything but. However, he always chose not to dwell on the past however tempting it might have been to get consumed by what if and endless possible outcomes. He could not change the past but he did have the option to affect the future if he chose his next moves carefully. The attack had been something of a failure for them all and that made the sting of it easier to bear when he knew it was not his alone to shoulder. They had all been blindsided by what had happened and he hoped that there would be an opportunity for him to be of use in the rescue effort that would undoubtedly be taking place. No Lannister had given orders to any of the Westermen and it seemed as though it would be far too good an opportunity to miss showcasing what a leader he could be.

Having risen early he had moved to the small tent that was acting as something of a solar for him, a simple table where he had plans and maps laid out to pour over with some chairs should he have guests. On this occasions though his men had strict instructions to let no one but his brother or Lady Rosamund in unless there was an emergency and with Lyle occupying himself with the men, he knew immediately who had entered as the flaps of the tent parted.

Eyes rose briefly from the parchments spread over the table, gaze flicking over her as he tried to discern whether the previous events still affected her or not. “I hope you are well rested and recovered, Lady Rosamund.” Leaving a pause for her to answer he soon found his attention back on the maps, seeing no point in hiding his plans from her when he fully intended for her to have a say in everything that he and House Crakehall did. “I am glad you are here, I would very much like your opinion on this.”

@lioncssoflannisport​