he recalls theon blacktyde ( @disrcpairs ) from another life; would have had more in common with alannys then. calon was too young and his siblings at that point too grown. but the blacktydes didn't frequent pyke the way his drumm cousins or the goodbrothers did— attached at the hip was the kraken to both daegon and merrick at the time. and now he and the blacktyde were trapped on a little boat together; essentially strangers to one another. ❝ how fares blacktyde island? ❞ the questions is born of being the only thing the greyjoy can think to discuss to break the silence and out of genuine curiosity. he is not ignorant of the current state of the islands— knows well that things have gone from bad to worse since the end of the rebellion. ❝ iravan has told me a little of the state of things, but i'd rather hear it from you— if you don't mind sharing. might make this romantic moonlit boat ride go by a little faster. ❞
❝ that was eventful. ❞ and disastrous. though that part would be left unsaid— for now. the king's behavior at the plays was entirely inappropriate. and grated on him just as it had others. the knight had despised king's landing the entire time he had been there; it was why only a year was wasted on the capital. now, riverrun was being made to feel much the same by the presence of the court. but concern didn't lie with riverrun or lord tully himself, but for the one he had sworn to protect ( @milkhoncys ). ❝ how are you faring, my lady? i cannot imagine your wish for this whole affair to meet it's swift end has lessened given the drunken antics we've been forced to endure. ❞
dark hues manage to find her in the crowd of spectators by chance. the last time he'd seen her, she had bore the name mallister. now, he knew her only through words on parchment— ravens being the one thing that would keep them in contact whilst he traveled and she found a place again in nightsong. the knight was glad for a moment to reconnect in person, even if only briefly. ❝ well, there is a face i have not set eyes upon in years, ❞ there is a touch of a smile to his lips as he greets her ( @xfulminare ), ❝ hello again, lady renyse. would you care for some company? ❞
excuse to show their ward his own tent for the next five days — should he choose not to stay with them, words are pronounced sweetly enough to dissuade him from the thought — is ready on the tip of the tongue; proper distance ensured just long enough before solitude and the faint glow of candles welcome them into the greyjoy tent. delighted breath is exhaled, caught by his lips just as they met hers — even after so long (for it certainly had felt like forever, whenever she thought of them apart), she melts against him, dainty hands trailing his chest as if looking for damage imperceptible by glance, until her fingers find root in the curls of his nape. "my love, my heart, my sweet boy," each name is punctuated by a soft kiss, never lingering enough to get but a taste (there will be time for more of that, later); once more, a sigh of bliss escapes in between a giggle. "i am glad to know you have not forgotten all about me," a gentle jest, is all — by now, she is confident to know that an impossibility. "but we musn't linger. what if your father's delegation is to arrive and find us as thus?" grey eyes pull away from hazel ones to glance at the entrance of the tent, a thin eyebrow raising in question. "your cousin has arrived, but your father's ship may have been delayed for a few hours? the king has received a missive from the lord reaper, surely he means to convey his delay." for what else could victarion greyjoy say in a letter to the king? a dismissal of his presence entirely doesn't even cross lynara's mind.
sweet words accompany every kiss she steals ( what could be stolen when it is so freely given? ) and it causes his lips curve into a smile against her own. love has made the kraken grow soft and tender— but only for his she - wolf. fingers drifting down over her waist to keep his wife close, settling on her hips to give a little squeeze at her teasing. ❝ you are not easy to forget, love, ❞ a fact known well, actually. for there was a time when the ironborn was so certain that the feelings lynara stark stirred within him would not be reciprocated. something he need not have worried about in the end; although her lord father was unlikely to ever approve, hence the secrecy of it all. the mention of his own father does not entirely wipe the joy of seeing his wife from his gaze, but it does pull a sigh and somber his features slightly. ❝ if he was to arrive he would have with the rest of the ironborn, ❞ there was little desire to discuss the lord reaper, but she would be unlikely to let it go once she caught on to his foul mood surrounding the subject. ❝ he isn't coming. and i am sure all my father conveyed in his letter was an insult to the king. ❞
after a grueling three hour scrimmage under the scorching sun, the melee had ended in a northern victory and her coin purse sagged and sung with the weight of her winnings from the betting pools as the lady of the rills made her way through the dwindling crowd of spectators to where she had last seen the men limp off after the fight, hoping to find her fiancé so she could scold some sense into him in between fussing. a small smile curved at her lips, softening her expression as she thought of rodric, though her features soon soured as an annoying familiar voice called out to her. ( her irritation was highly exaggerated, of course, but it had become something of a ritual between them now. ) rolling one of the remaining chestnuts in her hand, the roasted treat purchased to keep her from gnawing through her lip in anxiety during the melee, she threw one in his direction, aiming for the spot she had seen rickon attack earlier, but falling just a few inches short.
❝ injured or not, i will clobber you. ❞ lynara would understand, might even thank her for giving calon a reason to stay in bed for longer for her to tut and fuss over. rocking back and forth on her heels, barbrey gave him a wide grin, the sound of her full coin purse filling the air. ❝ i was coming to share my winnings with the victors but if you want to be a pest, then i shall keep them all to myself. well done, with the prince. did you see the look on old matthos' face ? ❞
the roasted chestnut flies through the air and hazel eyes watch as it misses it's mark to land lamely beside him. his gaze falls back upon the lady of the rills with a look full of mock seriousness, ❝ has your aim always been this shit? ❞ hands held up as they approach to show they mean no harm with their teasing— least she try to chuck a whole handful of chestnuts at him . . . and miss again. the greyjoy's grin matches her own. as much as he will claim barbrey ryswell as an annoyance to anyone who would listen, there has always been an inkling that had circumstances been different the two of them may have very well been as thick as thieves. the words they share now were a testament to that. ❝ oh, i saw and imagine i shall get an earful soon because of it . . . but it was worth it. matthos already has it out for me because of my father; may as well give him an actual reason to detest me personally. and i got to put the pretty prince on his ass to top it off, ❞ arms cross over chest and he nods to the weighted coin purse, ❝ so, how much did you manage to win, hm? ❞
( santiago cabrera / cis man + he / him ) hear ye hear ye — the riverlands welcomes SER VORIAN STONE of SNAKEWOOD. king matthos baratheon is glad that the thirty - eight year old appears to be affable and he shall overlook that it’s said they are also vindictive, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, matthos remains oblivious that they are happy with his reign.
TRIGGER WARNING : death.
STATISTICS.
full name : vorian stone.
nickname : v.
gender / pronouns : cis man / he + him.
age : thirty - eight.
sexual orientation : bisexual.
romantic orientation : biromantic.
religion : faith of the seven.
affiliation : loyal to himself and aysia tully.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
face claim : santiago cabrera.
height : 6′0″ / 183 cm.
eye color : brown.
hair color : dark brown.
usual expression : easy & open ; often seen with a small smirk on his face as though he finds his surroundings amusing.
distinguishing marks / characteristics : nose is slightly crooked due to being broken previously ; faint scar along his left cheek bone & one above his left brow ; a few scattered scars from the occasional fight & general roughhousing while growing up.
FAMILY.
parents : ruling lord hubert lynderly ( father † ) ; rosamund turner ( mother ).
ONE . he is the son of an unwedded lady’s maid of house templeton in ninestars. the mother refuses to name the father of her boy, for rosamund sees little point in naming the lord who got a child off her. she has no wish to ask anything of them, but the chance to raise her son in peace. however, the older the boy gets the more it becomes glaringly obvious what his parentage is — for the lynderly genes are strong and he is already shaping up to be the spitting image of his father at only four years old. it isn’t long that rumors spread and one day the lord of snakewood shows up at ninestars once more.
TWO . he never knows how the exchange between his parents goes. he vaguely recalls them both being upset. but what stands out in his mind is his mother teary eyes as she sweeps him up in her arms and makes him promise to write to her once he masters his letters. he does not see her until he is near twelve after that, for he is promptly taken to snakewood to be raised by his father from then on.
THREE . things are uneasy at first. he does not know where to fit in. before he was simply the son of a lady’s maid and now he is a noble - born bastard. he is treated to wariness and disdain in the beginning, it makes him desperately wish to return to ninestars. but his father will not have it. he makes himself seem smaller than he already is, blending seamlessly into the background. for it feels better to go unnoticed. yet, he cannot ignore a curiosity over his father and lord hubert seems to wish to know his natural born son as well— much to the dismay of his lady wife.
FOUR . lady henrietta is not cruel, but wary. worried that her husband's natural born child might be placed above the children they now share. this paranoia does not wane with time; rather it grows in spite of vorian making it clear over and over that he does not seek legitimization and that the life of a noble lord does not suit him in the slightest. he had been carving out a life for himself outside of the snakewood as it was. growing into a confident young man and eventually an honor bound knight. it is only a few short years after the death of his father in the ironborn rebellion that vorian finally reaches his end with his step - mother. snakewood no longer feels like a home whilst she is there— and so he will play the role of wondering knight.
FIVE . his travels take him all over westeros. most often to ninestars to see his mother; but he has settled and uprooted many times over now, looking for something that was just the right fit. five years ago would land him in the riverlands, and by chance, he would earn himself a place protecting aysia tully. earning their trust and friendship has kept him in one place for much longer than he intended, but as long as his dear friend has need of him, he sees no reason to abandon them.
expression graves itself as his wife's voice rises, cutting through the attempted merriment like a whip, reminding him of the magnitude of the situation he so hard tried to forget about, else it would only worsen his day (week). still, royce does not dare to entirely give in to the nerves that unsteady vysena — he did not wish for this to become yet another one of their matches. so, instead of lashing out as he do wished to do, he reaches forward, seeking for her hand with a gentleness only reserved for her and the others he loved. "wife of mine, do you truly believe i am all done in proving myself in this life? i would have to be reborn for that to be the truth." he has never been a wordsmith, but he hopes that what he says can convey the truth. "any fortune earned in this life is on the hands of my king, vysena. i am to forever bear my father's shame — would be worse had matthos not seen some sort of value in me and taken away the bastardy from not only me, but renyse and rayssa. i have spent three years denying him any enjoyment he may have seeing me on the tiltyard; doing it again in such a public setting would do me no favors." he pauses, pressing his lips together, and giving her a gentle tug, hoping she may give in just this once. "would you understand it, please? i would not put myself in harm's way for no light reason. haven't i been good — tried to be good — for you and the children for as long as you have gifted me your affection, my love?"
a sigh escapes as he takes her hand in his own. the years have made him far more talented at curbing her anger; but the fire could not be entirely extinguished. not when a reminder of what drove her had left it's mark upon his face. ❝ if you want me to understand you then be sure to return the favor, dear husband, ❞ a freehand reaches up to cup his cheek, she'll soften just a tad. if it will make him listen. ❝ you have proven yourself to be far more than a name. and i know what the king has done for you and your sisters . . . but is that debt infinite? have you not already done so much for him and continue to do so as you are kept so far from nightsong? it not the king who has built a life with you— that is me. ❞ fingers delicately trace over that scar just under his eye, ❝ i do not wish to see you hurt like this again. we must already spend so much time part; i refuse to lose you in this life for the king's entertainment. is it so terrible to have a wife that loves you and wishes for you to grow old with her? ❞
House Caron was a vassal house of the stormlands. Cassandra had made it a point since she was a child to learn everything she could about her mother's vassals, all the houses and current members. The lady believed that she needed to be prepared when she stood in front of one.
The appearance of ruling lady Caron came as no surprise, given her husband's role in the City Watch. "Yes, I will be participating," Cassandra stated. "I surprised myself by signing up. It's the first time I'll be participating in a competition of that nature," she explained. "Will you be taking part in any of the events, lady Caron?"
❝ afraid not, my lady. i have contented myself to being an observer this time. my good sister and husband, however, will be taking part in an event or two, ❞ words offered conversationally. she had taken part in archery herself in the past; back when she was a lady of the hightower. but she cares not to join in now; leave it for those younger to enjoy and show off a bit. ❝ but your first time competing? that ought to be exciting; are you nervous at all? ❞
Dark eyes widened as her good sister made her entrance, no longer shocked by the other's boldness ( oh how there were times she wished she could channel but a fraction of it ) but instead taken aback by the words that leave her lips. the notion of her brother entering the joust again after the last time had ended in a brush with the stranger was enough to bring on a nausea. she swallows in some vain hope that it might dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat. "no, he has not." she wondered if it had slipped her brother's mind given that previous times he had told her first in an attempt to enlist her help in softening the news. but this time she had been denied being his conspirator. "if he is undeterred by your protests I doubt mine would make him waver." it may have taken years but she had finally come to accept that her counsel was welcome but objections of this sort would likely fall on deaf ears and she says as much. "I suppose it is something we will have to endure - he is far too stubborn once his mind is made." wry smile touched her lips at her brother's expense, hands gently extending in an offer to take her nephew.
braxton is given over to his aunt with ease, allowing for his mother to freely throw her hands up in frustration. it was just like renyse too understand what her good sister needed at nay given moment— and now she needed the freedom to express the growing irritation within her. ❝ your brother is a fool! stubborn as an ox and for what? so, he can prove that he can keep up with some young knights? to entertain a king that will likely be too drunk to recall the day? ❞ a huff is promptly accompanied by the lady caron throwing herself upon the cushions that were to make up a living quarters in these tents. it isn't of the most ladylike fashion that she does it, but there is little to hide from the one who has helped her so much over these last few years. joy, sadness, anger— they would not be locked away from her good sister for the sake of appearances. ❝ i . . . we endure every decision he makes, do we not? are you not more upset by this one? after what happened last time? ❞
he's cleaned up well enough. he'll be bruised and sore for a couple of days, but the ironborn had been through far worse fights and carried on all the same. it would be fine— so long as his lady wife didn't tear him a new one for taking part in the melee in the first place. fortunate for the greyjoy that the first northerner he encountered was not his stark; unfortunate was that it was her dearest friend ( @monarkhes ) . . . unfortunate for lady ryswell. ❝ looking for another one of your stray arrows, barbrey? ❞ the teasing comment came easily, ❝ i heard a rumor you took out a page. the poor lad. ❞
gaze follows the boy as he walks out — a feeble possible salvation to his father from his mother's temper rested on the shoulders of young bryce caron, but of course the boy would know better (maybe roy and vysena do not have spats in front of the children as they used to, but their offspring are more familiar with their mother and her strengths and flaws than most). still, the father tries to retain his cool; he had swore not to give in to whatever words, gentle or harsh, thrown his way and he must steady his resolve. "if i was insistent on seeing you last, wouldn't you like to be a little nicer to me?" he toys with fate; perhaps if he is to go out of this world today, it would be good to be by his wife's hand rather than a splint of wood in another wrong place (last time, it almost blinded him, lodged just away enough to leave scarring rather than permanent internal damage). roy represses a sigh. "he's old enough to be a page, may as well start with his father. you wouldn't care for the other options, would you? even if steffon would treat the boy well." the possibility of having bryce around the king, despite the patronage of matthos upon the boy's birth, was one forbidden by vysena — and acquitted, gladly this time, by royce.
❝ that is not the point of the matter and you know it, royce! ❞ voice raises; hackles up. she did not come here to discuss her son playing the page. the lady caron will not allow him to dance around the subject at hand, to sway her from the purpose here. he could have died the last time he was in the joust— it was a day she would not soon forget. and the memory rushed to the forefront of her mind the moment she was informed of her husband's intent to take part. ❝ why? why would you put us through this again? your sisters, me, your children? did you consider any of us when you put yourself forward? ❞ the words come in a rush as she steps closer, even when she wants to shove him away. clinging to anger fiercely, least she give too much into fear. ❝ what exactly do you hope to accomplish? you are commander of the city watch, lord of nightsong, and favored by the king— you have nothing to prove to anyone. so, why? ❞
𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 : for lady vysena caron ( @stcneheartd )
the smile plastered on her features masked the utter disdain ysabela had for her companions . she had been stuck in the same group for the past hour or so that she could no longer have the patience to stick around longer . her cheeks were beginning to hurt and she badly needed a refill of her drink . the lady of gulltown excused herself when she saw vysena close by , sighing a breath of relief as she approached . " you came just in time , " ysabela mumbled . " if i hear another person complaining about the mud on their hems , i shooting myself in the foot . "
she would share the same breath of relief as the lady grafton. she had grown quite bored of keeping up appearances and feigning interest as lords droned on and on about the most menial of things— until her dark gaze landed upon an old friend. excuses were made and the post was abandoned to meet with ysabela. ❝ and if one more lord seeks to get into my good graces in attempt to get into that of my husband's, i will be joining you. him becoming commander of the city watch is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me, ❞ she offers in a huff, ❝ but never mind the fools we must put up with. tell me of you and how you have fared? it has been too long since we've last seen one another. ❞
it had been a month since he'd seen her last— the first time they'd be parted since they married under the heart tree before the eyes of her old gods. and his restraint to keep away wears thin quite quickly; but even then, he has the good sense to wait until he can get the she - wolf well and truly alone. no need for prying eyes at their reunion preventing them from greeting one another as they so choose. while the lord reaper's absence is a wound he cannot quite overlook, the empty tent at least provides some privacy— if only for a fleeting moment. and the greyjoy will waste little more time than has already been lost over the last month; the second that tent flap closes behind the stark ( @cordoleo ) he reaches out a hand to cup her cheek and seizes her lips with his own. and even when they part, he doesn't move more than a hair's breadth away. ❝ my wife, ❞ comes his gentle utterance, ❝ i have missed you. ❞
the decision to leave three of his youngest behind in white harbor was one he was coming to regret, if only because as he searched through the maze of tents he was regretting not leaving his eldest boys there too. fatherhood had been an easy adjustment for him ( perhaps too easy at times ) but that did not stop him from muttering curses under his breath as he searched for his wayward sons. rounding a corner he finally saw them, warning glance aimed their way before he greeted the figure they'd found. "I should have known the hooligans would seek out their ringleader." the words are grumbled there's no true disgruntlement in them, only a poorly disguised fondness. he had ensured that his boys greeted the greyjoy as uncle, he couldn't hold any resentment for them seeking him out. "perhaps they'd heed your warnings about disappearing more than mine."
❝ ringleader? ❞ while the statement is absolutely true, the greyjoy lacks any shame and pretends to be affronted by the words of the eldest of lord rickard's children, ❝ i am the one clearly under attack by a pack of wolves! ❞ the teasing comes as the wolves in question run about him, only stopping when the young kraken scoops one of them up to sling them over his shoulder. laughter fills the air as he approaches their lord father with the little starklings in tow. ❝ they went and found their uncle, didn't they? don't think that counts as disappearing— right, lads? ❞ he shoots a grin towards ned with that, setting the younger stark back on the ground to join his brother, ❝ they're in the home of your lady mother's family, brother. what trouble do you really think they can get up to here? ❞
❝ well, there you are little shadow, ❞ words teasing, for wherever ned was the younger she - bear ( @talestold ) was usually none too far behind. today appeared to be the exception, with the greyjoy knowing the stark's whereabouts but not that of his squire. he only comes across them by chance— a luck that he could only hope to hold through the week what with the king's glaring eye upon him. ❝ i was wondering where you'd gone off too. spending the day with that brother of yours? ❞
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