@sacrifyed - Tumblr Blog

( as if it wasn't sacred to me ) 𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗒𝖾𝖽 .ᐟ 🦢 is a dependent multi - muse . carved into history by 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 .

✶ . . . lady 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒𝗇𝗰𝗲𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗮𝗿 , intro.

< but he , that dares not grasp the rose should never crave the rose > , the intricacies of the court woven into a skirt's fabric — my body is the patron saint of want , a head that is blood but unbowed .

✶ . . . lady 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖺𝘁𝘆𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗹 , intro.

< a fearsome old harridan , and not near as frail as she appears to be > , petals taking space in the lungs of a fawn ; whatever you do — make certain your hands are clean , a shield of thorns to protect the garden .

✶ . . . princess 𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 , intro.

#📌

serxndgifites

Ashley Moore for LoveShackFancy * Bohème

#ch. asha farwynd

pennywises

FRANKENSTEIN (2025) dir. Guillermo del Toro

#c. merryn celtigar

shambleslily

A smirked appeared on his face. He had heard of the Tyrells and how they are. His encounter with them having been ever minor beforehand as he tend to never venture too far inside the mainland and lingering at its ports.

"I shall hope so. I would hate for the poor fool to lose his soul if your Hand brother were to find out someone dared swindle one of his own." He answered smoothly. "Fire? Pray tell that, is that what the roses of the reach think of us ironborn? I do not know if i shall take that as a jest or a compliment, my lady."

sacrifyed

the mention of her brother, the hand, hardly caused a ripple or a twitch in her body language. she knew how the reach may be perceived by those who spent their lives clinging to the rocky, salt sprayed fringes of the islands ⸻ soft, ornamental. easily rattled by whatever minor inconveniences fell in their path that day. a misconception, one she had no intention of correcting today.

she schooled her expression, returning to the still waters of a frozen pond the moment she noticed the smirk on the ironborn's lips. those of the iron islands were sharp, like the cold iron of their blades and their temperament, and talisa did not wish to give them any reason to believe they had ammunition against her family.

“ it is neither a jest nor a compliment, my lord. only an observation. ” she replied, her gaze drifting casually over the trinkets on the stall as if they were nothing but painted pebbles. they probably were. “ as for the curiosity as to how the reach views those born of the iron islands, let us simply say that i have found most men are far more predictable than the sea they claim to master. ”

#c. talisa tyrell #ft. dominic harlaw

gildedheirs

Even when he had grandiose dreams of becoming a knight, learning their ways and honors, he was never one to shout and follow the crowd. There was always some other agenda he seemed to chase.

Now that he was ruling lord, those days of jousting and fighting simply shifted. Instead of being one of them, even though he never truly was, he knew how to understand them. And most days he wished he didn’t. How they only listen to threats and prizes, an antithesis to who the Tullys were at their core.

Oswyck’s stance was like stone, as hard as the material surrounding the water around them. Even then, it was pliable, allowing the waves to ebb and flow. It takes much for someone to change their home, to make it into someone for them and generations to come. Yet, Oswyck couldn’t imagine Riverrun any other way, finding the easy elegance from his mother amiss. No one could ever replace her, even as her name would obscure in history. His home would change no matter what, the water would carve its own path against him.

“Neither are you,” is his simple remark before he finally looks at the princess. “Pride is the same reason they are doing… that.” There is no specific word that he could say to explain that. “A shame; They miss the beauty that they can behold.”

sacrifyed

“ neither am i. ” arianne echoed, acknowledging the accuracy of his counter. she shifted her weight, letting her attention settle on the gentle ripple of the water rather than the distant clamor of the tracks. “ though my absence is purely for the sake of my own peace. i'm rarely granted an hour where i'm not expected to put on some show. ”

his mention of pride struck a familiar chord, even if they viewed the world from entirely different shores. “ pride is a tricky foundation, ” the princess started, her gaze tracking a fallen marigold petal as it drifted across the surface of the pool, “ it built these gardens, yet it is the exact same trait that drives men to match their wits against dragons. metaphorically. it is a shame that they miss what is right in front of them, but as long as they are chasing prizes, they leave the rest of us alone, no? ”

she paused, a calculating curiosity tempering her features. “ that is, assuming, you find the quiet as beautiful as the gardens as well, lord tully. ”

#c. arianne martell #ft. oswyck tully

glittxeringgold

Eleana kept her arms crossed and glanced at her sister with sorrow. "hmph" was the only response that came from Eleana's lips. She hated the idea of both her siblings being married off to those cruel dragons. The young princess leaned back on the wet stone, savoring the cool to drown out her more unsavory words.

"I do not want you to go" Eleana said somewhere between a whine and a plead. "I do not want that other Princess to take your place" Perhaps her wants were juvenile for her age, but they were wants all the same. As the youngest, Eleana never saw it as her place to understand politics. The last to be born, the last to be sent away.

She blinked a tear back. Her sister's wedding was not for months now, but she still dreaded it. "I am going to be stuck here with a stranger who resents me" Eleana drew her knees to her chest. "Its not going to matter if we appear united, they are suspicious of us anyway." In her own mind it might have saved her in the long run. Maybe. The disagreement would throw the Targaryen's attention off of her and she'd be free without betrothal to them.

sacrifyed

the sight of eleana drawing her knees to her chest broke through the last of arianne's royal composure, the sharp edges of her political mind softening into understanding, and a hint of concern for her youngest sister. she closed the distance between the two, pulling her sister's form into her arms for comfort. for who, between the both of them, would be a mystery for their god to decipher.

“ no one is taking my place, eleana. ” arianne said, her voice steady and stripped of the usual court born deception. she reached down, fingers playing with the dark hair that mirrored her own, in hopes to ground her. “ a dragon princess might take a seat in sunspear, but she will never be the blood of this house, and she will never be the eldest princess of the house of martell. and remember who you are: you too are a princess of dorne, and you don't need their approval, nor their love. should any stranger of this palace dare treat you with resentment while i am gone, send a hawk. i will make sure they answer to the spear. ”

she looked out over the quiet water, the reality of her own wedding ⸻ though months away, always settle heavily on her chest. dragon and viper may have come to a fragile understanding, one that made the consequential pill easier to swallow, but the truth was still bitter. “ i won't let these weddings tear us apart. ” her arms tightened, squeezing eleana softly.

#c. arianne martell #ft. eleana martell

exfortunas

Her eye had flitted to the couple's dance, the movements imbued with an unapologetic sensuality habitual to Dorne. She had been careful not to gawk, of course, but the warmth shared between the pair was a lovely sight to indulge in. A courtship played without words, each turn drawing them close enough to share a breath -- whilst every retreat carried the promise of another glance to be exchanged. She had averted her gaze before it could discomfit, finding quick delight instead in the lively music.

The Lady Celtigar had joined her after temporarily parting from her spouse, then, a vision in green. Amarei looked to the soft disarray of her copper curls, a hue striking of its own accord, but her attire only complemented it further. "A madness, indeed. I do so find the experience most intoxicating, thus far." She had leaned in, her smile warm, easy, charm-laden. "One should perhaps proceed with a measure of caution, when it comes to such delights. Dorne rather reminds me of a rich strongwine, as sweet as it is dangerous when all too recklessly imbibed." A quiet laugh tumbled from her lips, having matched the other's register. "For rules, I should think, are subtly woven into the tapestry of Dorne still."

She had made sure to wipe her hands with water and a cloth provided for what mess honeyed treats would be sure to leave, and tilted her head with an innocuous curiosity. "Thank you, my lady." The wine she lifted to her lips, cool and crisp, its brightness perfectly cutting through the fig's sweetness. "Indeed, even their way of quenching thirst seems... more indulgent than our abodes would allow."

sacrifyed

amerei's assessment of the local landscape was wonderfully accurate, eliciting a lighthearted laugh from the lady celtigar. it was always such a treat to speak with someone who understood that there was far more to a place than what first met the eye. to the crowds spinning in the center of the room, dorne was simply a whirlwind of bright colors and unbridled romance. but the true magic was in the details.

“ a strongwine is a wonderful comparison. ” merryn hummed agreeably, posture fluid and relaxed as she leaned slightly onto the stone balustrade. she kept her eyes trained on the dancers for a beat, a picture of serene enjoyment, though her focus was locked on the conversation between the two of them. “ agreed. i've found that the loveliest things in life are those we choose to savor slowly, rather than rushing into them. one should simply enjoy it responsibly. ”

a sweet knowing look was toward amarei as the younger woman took of a sip of the wine. claw isle was far more traditional, and the reach beautifully proper, yet both women possessed an eye for beauty and luxury no matter where they traveled. “ our homes are build on such grand traditions, it does them feel quite terribly dull by comparison. ”

merryn turned her head fully then, her eyes flittering with a warm, sisterly affection. “ tell me then, since you have tasted the wine and found it so intoxicating. what else do you hope to discover while we are here? i should hate for us to miss a single delight. ”

#c. merryn celtigar #ft. amarei hightower

rhaenyratargeryen

OLIVIA COOKE as Alicent Hightower HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | Driftmark

#c. merryn celtigar

sweetfridays

ig: ashley_moore_

#c. asha farwynd

⌗ open, the summer sea. ( 1 / 3 )

asha wished to shed her skin, and adorn the comfortable, heavy weight of her fur. but the summer sea was too warm, and the memory of her true colony waiting on the rocky shores of her home made the longing a bittersweet ache.

she dipped her toes into the calm, shallow waters instead, desperate to connect to the ocean's depths in whatever small way she could manage. a moment of calm in the hectic buzzing of the capital. pushing further into the sea, the warm waves lap against the bare skin underneath the silks she'd changed into that morning.

a handful of steps away, theon sat quietly on the rocks. her brown eyes never truly strayed from him, tracking his silhouette even as she allowed herself to enjoy the setting sun. a sudden, cold draft swept across the water, cutting through the sweltering dornish twilight and providing a stark, deeply welcome contrast against her heated skin.

she doesn't look back immediately. instead, her shoulders tense, and her arm subtly shifts back to signal theon to stay put on his rock. a beat passes, and she waits for the footsteps to stop before turning her head just enough to catch them in her peripheral vision. “ the gravel sings when it's stepped on here, and the water warmer than the ocean at home, but the air still carries a decent chill once the sun drops. you can stand closer to the surf if you like, the sea doesn't care about court manners. ”

#tc.starter #please don't match #i need to learn not to ramble

⌗ closed, the bazaars. @incendiium

take care not to stray too far. ⸻ asha brushed her thumb over her son's cheek, theon nodding his head like a filial boy. the iron islands had trained him to be vigilant, and she had taught him the sword in case, but the bazaars proved to be terrain she'd vastly underestimated.

her eyes scanned the crowd in a sudden spike of alert. she could no longer find theon's dark head in front of her, where it belonged. the dry land was no place for the folks of lonely light, who were accustomed to the endless deep sea and the safety of their sun warmed colony. yet here the farwynds were, beached in a strange city, attempting to navigate the heat of the sun.

then, his voice carried to her. her senses, ears fine tuned to pick out a single familiar cry from the roaring chaos of a coastal storm, caught her child's tone instantly. her deep brown eyes moved before her head could follow, a heavy wave of relief crashing over her broad frame the moment she spotted him. there he was, standing beside none other than a ghost of the past.

the ruling lady called out her son's name, reaching him within a moment before raking her fingers through his hair. to reassure herself he was safe, even when she tuts at him for wandering off. “ theon. gods be good, boy, do you mean to give me grey hairs before the winter hits? i told you the land is full of currents you cannot swim. ”

#c. asha farwynd #ft. erik harlaw #oh look theon its ur dad

exfortunas

"Princess Arianne." He spoke her name with schooled decorum, duly bowing his head. The wit that rolled effortlessly from her tongue coaxed a huff of laughter from him, but there was an unmistakable rigidity to his posture. Here, where every exchange of pleasantries seemed to flow as smoothly as the silk he had taken to admiring, Andrik's discomfort was rather as glaring as the afternoon sun itself. "I had spoken no word of bloodshed. But I see my name precedes me in Dorne." He should not outrightly call her biased, but he had implied as much. Andrik hoped she would prove a good sport, however, and continue with her glib repartees. "I was under the impression haggling was an essential skill of navigating such a bazaar. From what I have witnessed, it is a sport that easily bleeds into altercation. Should you wish to claim the silk for yourself, after all, I've no doubt you would outwit me."

When she acknowledged how impractical the fabric would be in his native lands, he mustered an earnest smile. "The fabric is far too light to brace against Pyke's chill, indeed. Flimsy, one might argue." No, that was not what he believed his people would make of such attire. They would think him so a ludicrous sight, for all intents and purposes, he would be inviting their derision. "But I am far from my native shores. I had hopes of better acclimating to your sun in silks." And it could well be repurposed, perhaps worked into a lady's gown, once he'd made his return to Pyke.

Her offer came as a surprise, and he quirked a brow, not at all disinclined. "I am partial to shades of blue, but I will defer to your better judgement."

sacrifyed

“ reputations have a habit of sailing ahead of ships. ” she countered lightly, stepping just an inch closer to inspect the bolt of blue fabric he had been admiring. “ but i am always willing to let a man prove his rumors wrong. ”

her fingers trailed idly over the fine material as a thoughtful look crossed her features, a quiet sigh accompanying the confession. “ i'm ashamed to admit my haggling skills have fallen below what i would like to call an average line. you'd be better off with a local passerby if you wish to out smart a tenacious stall owner, but i would certainly give it my best. ”

“ if you are partial to shades of blue, then you shall have them. ” arianne decided, giving a brief authoritative nod to the merchant to secure the fabric. “ consider it a host's advice for surviving sunspear, but we will need to find something a bit more substantial than just silk if you expect to easily navigate our deserts. most definitely a tailor. an ironborn's frame is much sturdier than a dornish man's, most merchants will not have clothes made to match your size. how do you feel about a muted blue? it would go well with your eyes. ”

#c. arianne martell #ft. andrik greyjoy

ofembcrs

“i believe we can always use a bit more of it,” came his reply. what was luck if not a resource like any other, to be welcomed when it looked upon you?

he listened to her words, blue eyes following the line of her attention to the mare’s chest. as the animal shifted its weight and turned back into her stall, revealing the strong musculature of its body, luc inclined his head. the lady spoke truly.

“you know horses well, lady talissa.” his gaze moved then to the horse whose stall she had occupied, noting the ease with which it had accepted her presence. “i’ll have to thank you for your counsel when we win.”

he returned his hands to rest behind his back. “will you be joining us in the desert?"

sacrifyed

the small incline of his head as met with a slow, nearly imperceptible blink from the lady. she didn't preen under the compliment, simply accepted it as a matter of fact. the reach was a land of fields, flowers, and chivalry, but it was also a land of breeders. one did not survive without learning how to read the moods of creatures larger and more volatile than oneself.

his confidence was almost refreshing, an unwavering certainty that victory was an unmistakable conclusion. when we win, he had said. not if. a bolder woman might have teased him for his arrogance, but talisa merely watched the way his hands returned to rest behind his back.

at his question about the desert, her faze drifted past his shoulder, out toward the open horizon where the heat waves danced over the dunes. the very thought was exhausting. “ i have little desire to swallow the dust of a hundred galloping steeds. ” perhaps if her own were competing, but none had acknowledged it yet. “ my place is in the shade, watching the spectacle from afar. ”

talisa took a single, elegant step to the side, giving the pale mare a final, appreciative glance before settling her unblinking focus back onto him. “ but i shall look for your colors at the front of the vanguard. see to it that you do not make a liar out of yourself. it would be a great shame to waste such a fine beast on a second place finish. ”

#c. talisa tyrell