* ── [ natalie dormer , cis fem , she / her . ] : in the frays of king aerys iii's reign , therein remains vaessa greyjoy nee targaryen, the forty two year old high queen of the iron islands . rumor has it that their loyalties lie with house targaryen and they are for the targaryen reign . they're so observant + patient that it makes sense , but most seem to look past their reserved + duplicitous nature . when they come up in conversation , i'm always reminded of dragon scales embroidered like a secret, a rebellion, onto evening gowns, the call of the siren song whispering your fate to you, ice blue eyes that carry a dragon’s fire within them .
biography
there were celebrations all throughout king’s landing when it was announced queen laisa had given the king an heir, a healthy baby boy, on the first try. news of a frail little princess following on her brother’s coat tail was met with apathy. that was how life would go for vaessa, always scuttling in behind the fanfare that followed her twin, the crown prince of westeros.
the court looked at her and saw what they wanted to see. a perfect little princess, quiet and obedient, it was only those closest to her that saw the truth of what vaessa was. a future king’s closest companion, the first born daughter of a woman hand picked to be a queen, who had learned the hard way what it took for a woman to wield power in the court of king’s landing.
as the first born daughter of the king, there would be no question as to vaessa’s fate. all her childhood, she carried the knowledge that one day she would be married off to some lord of her father’s choosing. as a little girl, she dreamed of where she might end up. she imagined she would flourish in the fertile lands of the reach, spending her days on the riverbanks, sipping on fine wines. or perhaps she would be sent to strengthen ties with the stormlands, where she would live amongst her mother’s people.
how shocked she was then, when her father told her she would be sent to the iron islands, to marry the high king’s eldest son. a reward for their continued loyalty. she would one day be a queen. but her kingdom would be a collection of damp rocks, her subjects blood thirsty pirates. although the iron islands would not have been the fate she would have chosen for herself, she was determined to make the best of her future. poring through every book she could find on the history of the iron islands. all the books in the world, however, could not prepare for the harsh reality of the iron islands, filled with people who saw her very presence there as a threat to their independence.
more than half vaessa’s life now, has been spent living on the iron islands and still she feels like an outsider. even when she became their queen, her people still looked at her with distrust. she wasn’t entirely without allies however, she remembered her mother’s lesson. the power of silence, observing others and allowing them to tip their hand. she charmed her way into the lives of those who didn’t wish to see her exiled immediately, and kept a close on those who had less kind intentions toward her, taking them down whenever she had the chance. vaessa was by no means the most popular high queen the iron islands had seen, but she was nothing if not determined, and even after all these years she is still working hard to forge a place for herself in her newfound home.
wanted plots/connections
her iron islander mentor, the first real friend she made after coming to the islands, and the person who taught her about their culture and politics.
misc iron islander allies/enemies etc. the people she has managed to win over, as well as the people who still don’t trust her and everything in between!
childhood friends from her days growing up in king’s landing, maybe someone she had a bit of a flirtationship with before her marriage just for that little bit of drama?
a lady in waiting who accompanied her from king’s landing to the iron islands, probably her closest confidante and the only person she feels truly comfortable around.
victarion could barely contain the growl rising from his throat as he stood, throwing a nearby object off the table in frustration and anger. “i want out of this gods forsaken keep.” it was a behaviour he knew might incriminate him, but he was at his wits end. this was supposed to be a short trip for the coronation, and now he was stuck even longer in the sweltering heat of king’s landing that would only get hotter as winter ebbed away.
“patience.” was the best counsel vaessa could offer, though she doubted victarion would heed her suggestion. vaessa took a second to compose herself, to remind herself she was a queen, not some frightened little princess, ni matter how much shaken she felt inside. “whoever was behind those attacks will soon be caught, and this will all be over in a few days.” her words were firm, refusing to entertain any alternative.
Open starter: In the gardens, in the aftermath of the assassinations
Liliyana roamed the gardens in the Red Keep, her eyes clearly a thousand miles away. Any attempts to stop her slow, wandering pace were seemingly ignored, as a heavy mix of pain, grief, and numbness reigned over her senses. The heavy singing of her dress, the smoot on her cheek, the pain in her ankle with every step she took - it all seemed so insignificant. Especially as the death of her father hit her. She had no right to mourn, since she cannot claim she ever truly knew her father, and she was little more than his bastard to boot. But the grief at the loss of a parent still remained. And so, she wandered, waiting for an end.
vaessa’s mind was only half there, her feet navigating the gardens through leftover childhood instinct. she tries to focus on the feel of the breeze tangling up her air, the smell of the freshly blooming flowers, but her mind keeps snagging on the memory of those heads fixed upon spikes. why, why why, the question plagues her, until her eyes find the figure of the baratheon bastard, and she feels a selfish wave of relief that her family had come out relatively unharmed.
vaessa’s instincts are to head in the opposite direction. her mind is still too scattered to be offer the condolences the girl needs, and she is sure she’s heard people offering their sympathies enough times to make her sick. “can i offer you anything?” vaessa hopes the smile she offers conveys her understanding. “i could call for a glass of wine? i’ve found it’s the best thing to soothe my mind.”
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