"where the fuck is that damned lamb?" erich mutters in frustration as he searched high and low for that now-missing toy that his four year old was now crying for. in hindsight, maybe it might have been a better idea to let their septa watch over the child instead of allowing the child to join them in the long processional walk. it had resulted in a beloved toy being lost and lots of crying and refusing to lay down for a nap till she got what she wanted. it took a lot of bargaining but the exhausted child finally agreed to close her eyes when her father promised to search for as long as it took to locate back her precious belonging.
he must have been searching for almost two hours now and still no luck. he huffed impatiently as he came to a halt next to the statue of cregan and was unwillingly pulled into a shallow conversation. "if you want my honest opinion, i'd say it is a blatant show of overcompensation," he stated bluntly with a slight roll of his eyes. no one ever wanted erich's brutally honest opinion but he'd still give it anyway. "and they got his nose wrong. it's a little too big and the bulbous tip serves no justice to an otherwise rather handsome face," he noted as he studied the statue once more. "it was a good turn out for the procession but that resulted in a lot of accidental stepped on toes. a clumsy oaf treaded on my wife's foot , not once but twice, mind you," he grumbled in irritation.
the princess looks over at her newfound company, realizing very quickly that he had no intention to start a conversation with her when he approached. she sighs, ever so slightly, as he too proclaims that she is wrong and the statue is somehow in poor taste. she wonders why he seems to care so much, though, considering he is no northman himself.
“i take it you knew him well, then?” she questions curiously. enough to know that this statue got his features wrong, at least. so she has to wonder, how exactly did he know the old wolf of the north?
“i am sorry to hear such a thing, my lord. i suppose i am not surprised, considering how big the turn out was, but still, that is quite frustrating…” she frowns slightly. “did i hear you were looking for something, or am i mistaken?”
LOCATION : day two, after the games
STATUS : closed ( @oflcgends )
hallis had spent the majority of the day drinking and laughing at those who took part in the games. it was rather hilarious, watching some of the southern houses make fools of themselves. hallis had enjoyed himself a bit too much and now he found himself stumbling around, drunk. his sisters would not be happy if they found him like this.
he made his way around to pick up another cup of ale but when he turned around, he slammed directly into someone. he groaned and threw his hands up in defeat. "of course this would happen to me!" he exclaimed. "now i need to get another drink." he continued. "now please.. try not to make me drop it."
the bastard of starfall feels quite lost in a place so far from her home. the games had been entertaining thus far, but she still knew little of how things were meant to happen. still, it had been a dream of hers to see far beyond the red mountains of dorne, had it not? so she tries her best to enjoy herself while she is here.
she's walking around the festivities when suddenly, she collides with another. the collision nearly sends her directly into the cold ground, but luckily she is quick on her feet and manages to stop before she falls. she looks up into the half-lidded eyes of a northern lord, reaching out to him briefly for stabilization. “apologies, my lord!” she quickly says, releasing her grip on him.
he is lucky that his drink did not spill all over her dress.
“i will do my best,” she says, almost sarcastically. “is this drink any good?” she asks curiously as she joins him in grabbing another. she'd never had northern ale before.
"Well im not much a hammer throwing guy but I've seen quite a few people throw it earlier in the day more farther. I take it the leige isn't one who is used to doing as so." He answered. Dominic half expected the other to make a comment on him for what he said but just maybe they were also in agreement.
"Its all in the grip I think. My brother weilds an axe himself and if its anything similar to it, I think its the same principle." He says. "Though i could just be saying some shit and be totally wrong for all I know." The ironborn admits. "Are you partaking in an of the other contests or do you prefer to admire the view instead?"
allyria looks him over, just now coming to notice the pin on his dublet – that of a silver kraken, symbol of house greyjoy. so he is an ironborn, then. she knows little of the people, beyond that they are quite harsh and known for raiding other regions such as the west and the north. many seem to hold this reputation against them, but not she. she knows all too well what it is like to hold one's birth status against them.
she chuckles slightly when he says that he may well be talking completely out of turn. it is not as if she knows any better, though. she knows little and less of these northern style games.
“i think i will be quite content to watch from the sidelines… truthfully, i am not quite sure how much of this is even supposed to be done. i fear i would just make a fool of myself if i were to participate. will you be participating, my lord?”
"It has been quite some time since the North has played host to many people. At least that is what my lord husband has told me. So I would not say it was not a disturbance just more along the lines of having to prepare and hoping there is enough." They were all still recovering from the last five years. Rosalyn had even asked her ruling cousin for help. She did not want to as rhe Vale had already helped out so much but last thing she had wanted was to hear some Southerner complain of them lacking things.
"Though i hope what has been provided is wnough to satisfy our Crown and neighbors." She answered with a smile that was too sweet.
“you have done quite a lot with what you have,” daenys says sweetly. it is true, she was not expecting much when they traveled this far north… but they've done well to make things accommodating and entertaining. not that the entertainment was quite to her taste, but that is fine. the effort is enough to please her.
“it has been,” she confirms with a smile. “i appreciate your grace, lady stark.. truly.” she looks off in the distance for a moment before her gaze falls back on the northern lady. “you have children, do you not? we should arrange for our children to meet. i think it would do them all some good.”
she nearly jolts, eyes widening and mouth parting in gasp. but it takes only a heartbeat for recognition to ignite, and daera forces the tension out of her body in an exhale.
"yes, yes. i'm okay, daenys." she raises her hand, fingertips feather-light on the back of her sister's hand. "i --- i was thinking of father." a smaller truth. she would not yet lie to daenys. "i . . . i miss him terribly. and so much more on a day like today."
her brow furrows. she is not totally convinced by her sister's words, no matter how sturdy she is when she delivers them. daenys frowns slightly, reaching out for her hand and giving hers a gentle squeeze. “are you sure?” she asks, concern laced into every word.
“i… i understand. the years have not made the loss any easier, no matter how much everyone says it will…” she sighs. “shall we go somewhere more quiet, more private?”
he allows his gaze to track over the princess's features then back to the glittering statue, tracing over the clean lines. an objective thing of beauty, yet the voice of his father rung clear in his head. all that looked pleasing to the eye not what it seemed — what glittered not gold. “ i would assume. ” had often felt as though if the war itself would not be his death, it would be the heated sands with their choking nature. each time a retreat allowed for them to return to the stormlands he took to it with a vengeance … and now they were here. “ i have little interest in games. i wanted to see the statue without many bodies around to allow me a better look and pay my respects to a man whose legacy preceded him. ” someone that he could look to, difference of regions be ignored, especially when he had gone into combat with his ilk. “ am i interrupting you ? ”
she nods. daenys would not speak ill of her home, not unless it were around those she trusts deeply, but him? he did not need to hear her discuss how, at times, she really longed for home. he probably wouldn't want to hear that anyways.
“no, of course not,” she shakes her head along with her words. she looks to him again, brow slightly furrowed. “please, take all the time you need… i will not bother you with my thoughts if it is quiet reflection you were hoping for.”
the grunt comes. wrinkles gather at the corners of their eyes as they squint, not yet having formed an opinion upon the statue. eyeing the princess with both respect and suspicion, still uncertain of how to read her smile, but the lady dayne rarely smiles for anybody. she was not the full targaryen representation, all too willing to be folded against love, but for the martells, perhaps that was for the best. but for dorne? ❝ the procession was thoughtful, but why need an idol or reminder? did his actions not speak louder than the rest of it? ... i would strike a statue down of me. ❞ another grunt. everyone is far too willing to exaggerate how nice and well - thought a man was when he passed.
❝ let my legacy speak for itself. folk will say what they wish ... your grace. they'll stand at the feet of this statue and take out all they couldn't on the living. it disturbs me, but ... ❞ ending with a shrug. she clearly enjoys it, entertains the notion. acrasia, rather aware of how they don't wish to fumble a tentative friendship with their liege martell's spouse.
daenys looks beside her, immediately recognizing the woman as the ruling lady of starfall. a lady of dorne. her people, now. “i suppose you have a point there, but i do think there is some use in physical reminders of those we've lost. especially when they've had such profound impacts on the realm as a whole.” she understands the lady's perception of it, but daenys chooses to look on the brighter side for the sake of her family.
“you really think so?” she says, brow furrowed as she looks over at her. “at least the craftsmanship is quite well done, wouldn't you say?”
with her eyes closed, she could be as much of a part of this place as the very heartree that welcomes its visitors – even red of hair they are both, though the thought does not bring a smile to her lips until the arrival of another draws her attention from the plenitude of the wilderness. dacey feels like an outlander in these lands now, gilliane knows, but can't help cherish the approach, even if it is not as well - guided as one would like for she means to pry them away from here and gilliane does not wish to leave so.
but they know they must. yet, for a moment longer, they remain. "no." it's half a lie. she knows what she must do, but the body does not wish to go through with it. "i have been trying to escape to tell the children that they must do such long procession for a grandfather who lies underneath the ground of their own home." a procession may feel necessary for other northman, but not to the stark, who slept with their dead as if they were still part of themselves. "do you think karlon has rid me of that burden or i shall find them in bed yet?" there is faint amusement on the severity of her face as she glances to the woman on her side. "would you rather be in bed, yourself?"
the lady stark smiles gently at the sight of her friend. gilliane, who had been at her side through thick and thin. and though gilliane has always been a strong believer in the gods of old, she has thus far been quite understanding of dacey's own crisis of faith. it is comforting, of course, to have the support of a friend.
“i imagine that must be difficult,” she nods, still smiling as she remains kneeling beside her friend. “and how do you imagine they will take it? i know the southerners expect grace from us, but…” she sighs heavily. “somewhat,” the lady nods. “though i think i mostly just want to get this over with.”
"both fitting for you, little wolf," a nickname of childhood slipping out of beron's lips. fondness that hardly existed within the harsh climate of the north, even harsher within the stone castle of the last hearth. "beauty of a doe and strength of the direwolf." the smile he offers her is one few get to see, even fewer during the winter that had ravaged their home and left many for dead. "i do hope something is a compliment," he jests with her. the days leading up to the procession, to the south coming and invading a place they did not even pretend to care for, had been tough. even tougher with his father in his ear and his sister's death looming over him like a cloud he could not clear. "shall we strike a deal then? you pay for one and i will give the other as a gift, as—" beron has to pause, swallowing down a lump in his throat, "condolences... i offer them greatly, dacey."
dacey cannot help but to smile at the use of the childhood nickname. it is sweet, and reminds her of much simpler times. back when they were just little tykes playing in the yard, and not lord and lady with the heavy weight of expectation sitting upon their backs. of course, neither is an heir but there is still a certain amount of responsibility that they must bear.
“you are too kind,” she chuckles lightly, looking down for just a moment as her cheeks burn before looking back up at him. “it is, you know it is!” she insists, reaching across the table to lightly push him in jest.
“fine, i suppose that will work… and i appreciate that, beron, i really do. we all do. it has been hard but… i dunno, the sooner these southerners depart, the better.”
the targaryen princess ( for that was what daenys would always be to her, no matter how many dornish babes she bore for akshay, just as coryanne would always be the martell princess ) was something of a mystery to her ─ in many ways, they mirrored each other in that they had been forced to serve as pawns to ensure the peace between their people. love had blossomed, slowly but surely, between coryanne and gaemon, but she had never been comfortable enough to prod her siblings about their own love lives, and the idea of akshay, softening for his targaryen bride, sat uneasily in the gut.
was this how the rest of westeros saw her ? an outsider, one that would sway their king into making wrong decisions ? it made her sympathetic to daenys for a brief moment, enough that she accepts the arm that is offered, leaning into her goodsister for warmth. coryanne hated that they had been forced so far north for a dead man she cared naught for, but perhaps something good might come from this.
❝ it is times like these when i do not envy your brother for the burden he carries ... king, conciliator and miracle worker. ❞ coryanne rolled her eyes, allowing the conversation to flow towards more pleasant topics. she groaned as she thought of her pregnancy, the weight of the babe heavy on her back. ❝ well enough, all things considered. i am trying to make my peace with the fact that i will likely have this baby in the north or gods forbid, the riverlands. ❞ she grimaced. ❝ we've brought all three of the boys ... it will be good for baelon to see his future kingdom and well ... if baelon goes, then aeryn must go. ❞ and she would not be parted from rhaegar, though that needn't mention.
❝ if you need some time to yourself, please feel free to drop nymor and rhaena off with me ... i intend to stay inside whenever possible, and rhaegar could use the company. his brothers are ... less patient with him. ❞
daenys knows good and well that the people of dorne still look at her and see an outsider, an intruder. she may have bore akshay two children now, both wearing the name martell, but did that really matter when they had the features associated with dragon's blood? maybe not totally, but the traces are there, and plain for everyone to see.
she doesn't want to dwell too much on that though. especially not when her goodsister is being so kind. it would be silly to disrupt the fragile peace that hangs between them now.
“ah yes, i feel the same,” she says with a nod. gaemon, with so much sitting upon his shoulders… she wishes that more would see that, would understand that he is trying his very best to please everyone. she knows that more should've been done during the harsh winter, but what was he to do? let the illness wreak havoc upon the whole of the realm?
“i do hope my brother has been tending to his pregnant wife as he should,” she adds with a little smile. “i can hardly believe how big they've gotten, you know? they're such good boys… but tell me, do you wish for another boy this time around? or are you hoping the gods bless you both with a little princess finally?” there is just a certain bond between a woman and her daughter, and truly daenys hopes that the queen gets to experience it.
“that is so kind of you to offer.” daenys had taken to motherhood well enough, though she feels as though she hasn't quite thrived in the way that coryanne has. perhaps it would be good for the two of them to spend some time with her, and their cousins as well. “i am sure they would love to. rhaena is a little shy, but nymor… nymor i can hardly keep track of, the way he's always go go go.”
during : the time of northern games - hammer throw
this was one of the places he had yet to visit fully. he had seen the shores of the North but stepping foot on it was a different story. the ironborn were hated mostly everywhere. so it came no surprise when he walked amongst the crowd, pretending to play the little noble lord, the looks that came his way. some stared at times because of his height but others was because of the house sigil pin he wore on chest. the one that shone brightly of a silver kraken, a preference of his over the traditional gold, on black field. still he could not hide his smirk as some stared with disgust and others who think they could tame the ironborn.
as he approached a post to lean on, he watched someone throw the hammer and could not help but say some commentary on it to the person who stood near him who did not ask for this. " is it a little sad i can feel pity for the liege? all the muscle on him and yet he cannot throw the hammer any farther than a young child would throw their toy when they are having a tantrum. shameful really." dominic said sarcastically.
allyria cannot say that she is truly entertained by the northern display. it is so different from her home, after all, so far from what she is used to. still, it is interesting to see how culture shift the further one travels away. and though she loves dorne more than anything, she has always longed to see the rest of westeros.
she is stood just at the outskirts of the games, right along the barrier. honestly, she fears that something might get tossed her way and gods how awful would that be? just as she is almost fully entranced by what she is watching, she hears a voice beside her.
the bastard of starfall looks up and up, to the tall man beside her. he carelessly picks apart the player's performance and she cannot help but to snicker slightly. “was that really not far?” she had no idea what made a good throw, clearly. “it's certainly further than i ever could.”
[ maddison jaizani. sand a. twenty-eight. cis woman. she / her. ] the king welcomes allyria sand of house dayne of starfall ! all of court has heard that they are charming and independent, but whispers claim that they are also cunning and judgmental when no one is looking … how much of that is true, we will soon find out. asking around, we are told that they remind people of hands stained red with dyes made of flora and berries, the scent of various powders and perfumes, trinkets scattered across one's windsill ─ that should give the bards something to sing about ! unbeknown by most, to rise above her station is the real reason why they answered the call of the king, but with so many rumors flying around, who is to say what the truth is ?
i. stats
name: allyria sand. alternatively: n/a. nickname(s): lyria ( by family ). age: twenty-eight. date of birth: first day of the 8th moon, 152 a.c. place of birth: starfall, dorne. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she / her. sexual orientation: bisexual. religion: faith of the seven, not especially devout. title: none. languages: the common tongue, fluent. rhoynish, somewhat fluent. affiliation: house dayne, dorne.
faceclaim: maddison jaizani. hair color: dark brown. hair style: typically wears her hair loose and wavy, it reaches the very end of her back. will sometimes wear it braided back when doing things like horseback riding. eye color: hazel. height: five foot, seven inches. body modifications: pierced ears. clothing style: dresses in typical dornish fashion with looser and more flowy gowns. doesn't particularly enjoy northern attire that feels more suffocating to her. loves purples, reds and oranges. distinguishing characteristics: doe eyes, full lips. signature scent: nectarines and vanilla.
disorders: n/a. allergies: n/a. sleeping habits: light sleeper, wakes up often throughout the night. eating habits: not especially picky. sociability: very social, loves talking to people. addictions: n/a. alcohol use: moderate, prefers dornish red above all. drug use: none.
likes: horse back riding, sunbathing, socializing, dress - making. dislikes: rude people, sitting still, those who are close minded. fears: never becoming better. habits: rubbing the dyes off her hands and onto her dresses, always preening. weapon of choice: an ornate dagger. weather: sunny, clear skies. color: purple. beverage: dornish red. food: shellfish. animal: cats. season: summer.
ii. background
allyria was the firstborn to lady acrasia dayne, the future sword of the morning and ruling lady of starfall. lucky for the lady, her birth was no great feat. allyria had come easy, within a few hours of the lady going into labor. she was born crying loudly and healthy.
of course, a healthy birth and a happy household would not change her status as a bastard, though. sure, bastards are more accepted in dorne than anywhere else in westeros, but there was always some small semblance of shame that lived within allyria.
perhaps that is why she tried her hardest to excel in all the ways she could, showing her mother and all those that were watching that she could be a lady, even without the title.
sitting for her studies was always hard for her, as she struggled with paying attention at times. still, she did her best to learn what she could about what it mean to be a daughter of starfall.
as she grew older, she also found a love of making clothing. not only could she sew garments well, but she knew how to dye them herself as well using mixtures of different berries and various flowers that grew in the area.
this knowledge would then lend itself to her interest in cosmetics as well. once again, she would use her knowledge of different plants to turn them into various beauty products, some to enhance her features and others used to preserve one's looks in the face of aging.
she also has a way with words, being quite the social butterfly. she knows exactly how to get one someone's good side and get them to like her, even if they come from vastly different backgrounds.
she has a talent for fooling many a people into believing she is indeed a lady in her title, and many are shocked upon finding out that she is actually a bastard.
has a great love for her homeland, but also a desire to see what the rest of westeros has to offer.
"That is certainly a word to use to describe the statue." It was taking much to hold back her words. She clearly did not know the other well enough to say what she truly thought of it. How the statue was anything but marvelous. How it felt as if it was almost an insult from the Crown and his people. But she held back for the sake of her husband. For he had asked her to play nice and for him, she would.
"The procession was quite a spectacle to say the least. Something most northerners are not used to but it was a way to pay respect to someone aa respectable as Cregan Stark." Rosalyn answered as diplomatically as she could. "Has the North been treating you well?"
it isn't hard to tell that the lady beside her is not pleased – not only with the statue, but with daenys' choice of words. she isn't stupid, after all. still, if this one wants to play nice, then she will as well. daenys had always been good at that, after all. she looks over, smiling gently at the lady of winterfell.
“it has,” she lies. the bitter cold and the the frigidness of its people had been far from welcoming, but what was the point in saying that? it would only sour the conversation. “i quite appreciate the hospitality… i do hope we have not caused too much of a disturbance in coming here, lady stark.”
the procession has concluded, and DAERA TARGARYEN drifts away from the statue of the old wolf. the cold bites at her open skin, and she surrenders to its force, wrapping the cloak tighter around her as she slips into a path between buildings. // accepting replies.
the day reminds her too much of her father's death.
it's all she's thought of in the journey to the north; it's all that lingered as she followed after her family and the starks. where respect ought to be owed to the old wolf in the north, it's targaryen flames that crowd her thoughts. of what she witnessed then while her father exhaled his last. of what she dreamed within the walls of the red keep before the raven arrived of lord cregan's death.
daera rubs a hand at her chest, lids fluttering close. "who would ever want something like this?" a thought escaping to sound, a hiss to the quiet; she means it for herself, and what has plagued her for a lifetime. but maybe it should be directed toward the old wolf and how the realm crowds his home.
daenys is feeling.. lost, in all this. she hasn't been to the north in ages and it has been very clear that its people do not welcome southerners into their mix. still, they forced their way in anyway in the name of ‘honoring’ the old wolf. she looks upon the statue for some time, before noticing that her sister is slipping away from the crowd. she watches her for a few moments before doing the same.
she reaches out, grasping her by the shoulder gently. “daera!” she calls out to her. “are you alright?” she asks, her brow furrowed, having not caught what she said under her breath.
for weeks, coryanne had been forced to share a part of her space with cregan stark ─ or rather, the ghost of the man, etched in sketches for the approval of the king as it was targaryen coin that had erected the rather large likeness of the old man of the north in the middle of wintertown. ( her nose twitched in the cold. wintertown. did the northerners have no creativity at all ? ) rhaegar had been transfixed by the statue which was the only reason why she had even lingered back for so long, allowing the boy to coo over the marble before the nursemaid took him inside as she came to stand beside her goodsister, a dark brow raised.
❝ the northerners hated it. ❞
coryanne knew bitterness when it was forced down the throat. she had swallowed her fair share of hatred and injustice upon marriage, and still did whenever one of the stormlords or reachermen whispered derogatory things behind her back. it did not bother her, if the words were solely about her, but after the boys had been born, the attacks had landed on them as well, which was a pain that no one seemed to understand. ❝ do not tell your brother i said as much ... this is not enough for them to forget the silence from the crown over the past five years, but i do not know what else they expected us to do. ❞ open the borders and willingly allow illness to spread further ? she shook her head slightly.
❝ come, sister ... let us start our own procession back into warmth and you can tell me about the children. ❞
the princess is seemingly transfixed by the statue, wondering what kind of man he truly was. he had done much and more to aid the realm in its time of need, specifically aiding her own father when he was young and in the throes of grief. and yet, despite all he had done, the crown had seemingly abandoned him and his people in the wake of an illness that struck hard here. daenys knows it was wrong, but she stands by her brother and his choices regardless.
besides, what could they really have done? would the crown's interference truly have made a difference? she is not so sure.
daenys is pulled from her thoughts by a familiar voice at her side and turns her head to face her. coryanne. her goodsister, the mother of her nephews. “i know…” she sighs. can anyone really blame them?
“it will stay between us then.” she smiles gently and nods her head. “i suppose they hoped for some kind of miracle, one not even we could not provide.”
daenys moves closer to her, offering out her arm for the two to link them together. as they make their way inside, she smiles at the thought of her children. “yes, well, little nymor had been counting down the days until he could see his cousins again. he loves them dearly, you know. and rhaena.. she's still coming into her own, but i know she will be happy to see them as well. and you, how do you fare, my dear?”