WHERE … the gardens WITH … anyone ( capping at 5 replies)
♛
being back among so many faces ( some of which denyse can’t help but wonder just how much they still remembered about the way her betrothal blew up for all to see ) after so long of avoiding something like king’s landing’s court is enough to overwhelm a mind that is usually at peace, under the sun and under warm touches. now, she finds herself in a quiet place in the gardens, away from the music and the lively celebration, even if it still echoed not too far away. just low enough so she can hear the footsteps approaching, fingers absentmindedly playing with the same flower they have been for the past few minutes. “if you were hoping for some alone time,” denyse starts. she knows that’s why she came out here, “i’m afraid i’ve ruined your plans. you’re welcome to join me if you’d like, though.”
their afternoons have been spent between being roped at bethany’s side and patrolling various places in the red keep, a task that had seemed daunting at first... but lyra was very much enjoying herself. the king wanted all guards stationed on constant watch throughout the festivities and though they were never to question orders, nor did they disagree, lyra was getting a bit overwhelmed. she also wanted to enjoy the good music and wine just as much as everyone else. that’s why they find peace in the gardens, feet shuffling closer to a familiar bench - though it already has an occupant. ❝ i was... but i don’t mind company. ❞ a warm smile is offered as they sit down, glancing around for a moment to make sure no one spotted her. ❝ i just... need a second. ❞
he'd been a dutiful prince for most of the morning, greeting guests with charming smiles and pretending he wasn't aware that everyone walking through the doors possessed secret motivations, some of which could harm his family. the one benefit of being the spare was that slipping away was easier. as the eyes had drifted away from him, daemon had made his escape, stepping into one of the secret passages that he knew like the back of his hand. he ended up in the deserted hall, far from the heart of the keep, and sat down in one of window alcoves, a book opened, enjoying the silence. until the sound of footsteps broke it. ❝ are you lost? ❞ he asked, glancing up. he couldn't think of why else one would wander this far into the keep.
they had overslept again - the king would have had their head by now if it wasn’t for bethany’s kindness. lateness was a habit inherited ungratefully from her father, always assisted by her mother’s gentle reminders. being in the kingsguard had been a rough adjustment, but they had been determined and wanted to be knighted more than anything in the world... and now they were lucky enough to protect one of their best friends. tiptoeing through the corridors on her way to the barracks, lyra was unfamiliar with the exact layout of the passages but knew of their existence in the deserted areas no one ever went. it led them to a dead end and lyra gulped, realizing they did not know these halls as much as they thought they did. ❝ prince daemon ! ❞ they exclaim, heart pounding at the sudden company. ❝ yes... but right now, it’s probably for the best. ❞
not even a day in king’s landing and lyanna was longing for home. even if she saw the wolfswood every night in her dreams. the travel hadn’t made adjusting to the heat any easier; now she must also endure the delights of the southern court. she was putting off entering the heart of the viper’s nest for now, milling about the apartments assigned to her family and helping the servants get various belongings to their proper places. a few of the staff gave her odd looks - as if people’s thoughts of her was of great concern. it seemed she wasn’t the only stark acting against the grain. however, before she could great her older brother, the contents of his bag emptied onto the crowd. lips pressed firmly together, fighting to keep her amusement at bay. ❝ i did. ❞ laughter won out and now tumbled off her lips. ❝ be glad it was only me, brother. otherwise everyone would soon hear how terribly clumsy the great lord stark is. ❞
by the old gods is he fortunate enough to have his company be his youngest sister. alaric adores each of his family members dearly and holds no favorites, but his siblings will always be the first he confesses his thoughts with. after everything they’ve been through together, he trusts them with his entire being. it helps that he thinks highly of them all. he can’t help but laugh at his own misfortune and figures laughter is better than anything else. ❝ i am glad - as it sounds, you’ll be keeping this incident to yourself ? ❞ almost a beg rather than a question, though a smile breaks through his attempt at a stern expression. ❝ is there much left to grab ? come now, join me in judging this monstrosity of a keep. ❞
alaric always feels uneasy being far from home, especially when venturing somewhere unfamiliar such as king’s landing. their good terms with the baratheon family where alliances are concerned is the only comforting thought. he feels a weight on his shoulders, knowing there are plenty of important decisions he must make during their stay - but all of that will come in time. he’s carrying one of his bags ahead of the staff, insistent on helping at least with his own supplies, admiring the view of the red keep on the way. the ruling lord stark isn’t paying attention when the latch fails and his bag spills open, releasing various garments. he halts immediately, feeling the bag empty, though his embarrassment worsens when alaric realizes someone has been watching the entire time. ❝ oh... you saw all of that, did you ? ❞
( REGÉ JEAN PAGE, CIS MAN, HE/HIM. ) could that really be ALARIC STARK, the RULING LORD of WINTERFELL entering the keep ? king’s landing is sure to benefit from the THIRTY TWO year old’s ability to be both CHARISMATIC and INTUITIVE, but beware, whispers also say they have been known to be CALCULATING and PARANOID. their loyalty belongs to HOUSE STARK and they ARE INDIFFERENT TO the notion of peace throughout westeros.
i. personal.
name: alaric stark.
official titles: ruling lord of winterfell, warden of the north.
age: thirty two.
gender: cis man.
pronouns: he/him.
orientation: bisexual.
allegiance: north af
spoken languages: common tongue.
religion: old gods, more religious after his father’s passing.
alignment: i’m gonna say chaotic good but besties idk his vibes yet
ii. appearance.
faceclaim: regé jean page.
eye color: dark brown.
hair color: black.
dominant hand: left.
height: 5′11″
build: athletic.
iii. relationships.
father: harlon stark, deceased ( passed four months ago ).
mother: lady mother utp stark nee utp.
siblings, in eldest order: gwyneth stark, lyanna stark, tbd.
relationship status: unwed.
children: none.
previous relations: tba ( plots wanted ).
iv. background.
the first child to harlon and lady stark, alaric stark’s birth was celebrated in the north for weeks. it was one of the first optimistic signs the north had seen in years - and with the promise of more from the ruling lord, northerners knew their fortune would grow. and it did, resulting in alaric’s siblings and those he considers himself closest to in the realm. he grew up surrounded by love and opportunity, rarely ever hearing the word no and knowing his looks could get him where his name couldn’t. the lord stark has always had an incredibly big heart but after the cruelty of children in his childhood, he learned to keep it sheltered - an uneasiness of strangers forming and growing into paranoia by the time he was a teen. while he could talk the head off of anyone who approached him, he grew to learn how to bite his tongue and when it was best to stay silent. always the quiet watcher, never a fan of the spotlight.
as a boy, alaric adored his lessons. he loved both the history books and the afternoons spent with a sword in his hand. he was always curious to know everything and anything, being a bit of an annoyance to his septa. though his septa never minded, knowing the boy meant well. as he got older his thirst for knowledge only grew, making it a habit to travel into the wolfswood and learn what else the north had to offer. though he eventually convinced his father to let him ride outside of winterfell and venture out into westeros, it took years. alaric wished he had rode further south but never rode past the riverlands.
he never wanted to be ruling lord. his father was supposed to live so much longer. alaric loves the north but he’s never wanted the responsibility of being their ruler. if things had gone differently, perhaps he would have gifted it to one of his siblings instead - but alaric now feels a sense of responsibility to his family, at the very least, to lead them as the eldest child now that harlon is gone. he doesn’t want his mother to have to worry about anything and refuses to let her lift a hand. he’s changed quite a bit in the past couple months since his father has been gone. alaric has always been very carefree and humorous, but his smile is hidden most days and he’s grown into a habit of raising his voice. he’s afraid of losing any more of his family so he keeps them close, trusting no one but them. as much as he wants to publicly end the betrothal between his sister and the eldest baratheon son, he fears angering the king. alaric knows he is not the man his father was... but he’s going to do whatever he needs to in order to keep his family safe.
