No More The Fury

Cassandra Seaworth, Nee Baratheon of Cape Wrath Tristan Vance of Wayfarer's Rest Lord Commander Hallis Hornwood of the Northern Kingsguard Lady Serenei Arryn, Nee Narratys, of The Eyrie

[stormxblooded]

the courts offer bread and salt to cassandra seaworth, nee baratheon of house baratheon. many say that the twenty seven year old ruling lady of cape wrath is known to be determined and lively, though ill tongues whisper that she is stubborn and tempestuous. when her is uttered , one is reminded of a lone figure standing on the side of a cliff as waves crash below, dark eyes dancing with mirth, a sudden strike of lightening illuminating the sky, a discarded box of jewels left abandoned and untouched . may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

Bio - Threads - Face - Musings  - Timeline

the courts offer bread and salt to tristan vance of house vance. many say that the thirty year old lord of wayfarer’s rest is known to be confident and responsible, though ill tongues whisper that he is cynical and gloomy. when his name is uttered , one is reminded of dusty rooms and broken furniture, the thunderous hooves of an army of horses, candle wax solidified into heavy droplets, staying up late to gaze upon the stars. may he be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

Bio - Threads - Face - Musings - Timeline

the courts offer bread and salt to hallis hornwood of house hornwood. many say that the thirty one year old lord commander of the northern kings guard is known to be capable and strategic, though ill tongues whisper that he is arrogant and hedonistic. when his name is uttered , one is reminded of days old stubble rough to the touch, elegant blades wielded with a practiced hand, lips stained with dark red wine, vows uttered in the godswood and forgotten in the moonlight. may he be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

Bio - Threads - Face - Musings  - Timeline

the courts offer bread and salt to SERENEI ARRYN, NEE NARRATYS of HOUSE ARRYN. many say that the THIRTY THREE year old RULING LADY of THE EYRIE is known to be RESILIENT and CHARISMATIC, though ill tongues whisper that SHE is AVARICIOUS and PEDANTIC when her name is uttered , one is reminded of a flickering flame burning long into the night, well-read scrolls written in a variety of languages, a clear, sweet voice raised in song, a table strewn with a variety of perfumes in elegant bottles. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

Bio - Threads - Face - Musings  - Timeline

[stormxblooded]

stormlanded​:

                          OF  COURSE  IT  HAD  COME  THROUGH  WORD  OF  MOUTH that  her  niece  had  taken  ill .  her  sister  who  had  called  her  a  bitch  and  a  liar  only  nights  before  wouldn’t  deign  to   stoop  to  her  level …  to  clue  her  in .  they  were  finished .  and  yet ,  katherynne  could  not  stand  idly  by  when  a  child  was  in  danger  and  she  had  the  means  to  help .  she  offered  her  apologies  to  tristan (  something  she  found  to  be  more  genuine  than  she  expected  )  and  made  her  way  toward  cassandra’s  rooms  with  her  kit  in  tow . 

she  knocks  once ,  waits  to  be  allowed  entry ,  and  slips  inside .  preemptively ,  she  holds  a  finger  out  in  warning  .  she  assumes  a  position  of  authority , her  voice  no  more  than  a  whisper  as  to  keep  marya  calm.  “  the  nearest  maester  is  a  half  day’s  ride  away ,  at  castle  cerwyn .  and  with  very  limited  ravens ,  it  will take  longer .  you  can  turn  my  help  away ,  and  watch  her  suffer . or  you  can  allow  me  to  do  what  i  know  how  to  do .”

in  this ,  there  should  be  no  choice ,  and  she  moves  closer .  she  kneels  at  the  girl’s  bedside  a  gentle  smile  touching  her  lips. “  hello ,  beautiful  girl .  your  name  is  marya ,  yes ?  mine  is  katherynne .  my ,   you  look  so  like  your  mother . i  imagine  you  have  her  fighting  spirit ,  too .  i  must  ask  you  to  use  as  much  of  that  spirit  as  you  can  now  ,  my  dear .  i  trust  your  mother  is  using  hers  ,  too .  and  together  we’ll  make  you  well  again .”  tentatively ,  she  reaches  out  to  touch  marya’s  arm ,  before  casting  a  wayward  glance  at  her  sister.   “ cass ,  i  need  you  to  move ,  please .  you  may  sit  at  the  edge  of  the  bed ,  but  she  needs  space .”

katherynne  puts  the  back  of  her  hand  to  marya’s  head  and  nods ,  and  begins  to  immediately  pull  back  layers  of  fur  and  blanket. they  need  to  cool  the  child ,  not  keep  her  warm  before  any  next  steps  can  be  taken. reaching  into  her  kit ,  she  grabs  sections  of  cloth  before  rising  to  stand  and  pouring  water  into  a  bowl.  she  is  careful  to  avoid  cassandra’s  gaze.  there  is  very  little  she  wants  to  say  to  her  sister.  she  dips  the  cloth  into  the  basin,  before bringing  the  entire  basin  to  the  bedside. “  this  might  be  quite  chilly  my  darling ,  which  is  why  i’ve  brought  you  this…”  from  around  her  shoulders  she  removes  her  shawl ,  and  places  it  delicately  in  marya’s  small hands. “  this  shawl  is  magic,  you  see. it  has  made  me  braver  for  many  years.  you  need  only  touch  the  flowers  and  remind yourself  of  how  brave  you  can  be,  and  the  shawl  does  the  rest.”  again,  kat  smiles  reassuringly  at  the  child,  before  placing  the  makeshift  compresses  on her  arms ,  forehead ,  and  across her clavicle  and  legs. 

                         “  the  fever’s  only  part  of  it …”  she  starts ,  whispering  to  cassandra “  when  did  the  cough  begin ?”

Cassandra’s lips purse together, jaw clenching at the sight of Katherynne. If Marya wasn’t there, she would be ordering her away. Their last meeting had been disastrous, telling her all she needed to know about any hope for reconciliation - that there was none, that time and space had done nothing to build bridges and bring understanding. She doesn’t want her, or any of those who bore the Baratheon name anywhere near her child. But Marya is there, and Cassandra no longer has the energy in her to fight. 

She bristles at the finger, a primitive, childish part of her wondering how satisfying it would be to bite it, and draws her daughter closer, arms tightening around her fragile body and chin resting atop soft curls. “I’ve asked Will to go to Wintertown to find a healer when a maester didn’t come,” the words hung in the air, an offer for Katherynne to turn her back, to leave and wash her hands of Cassandra and her brood, but instead, she draws closer. 

Marya’s dark eyes, still alight with curiosity as they always were, turn to Katherynne, falling upon her aunt for the first time, and Cassandra’s teeth grit together. For so long she has wanted no Baratheon influence upon her children, wanted them to know nothing of the Other World that she herself had been raised it, for it to be undone in a second. She said nothing, though, stubbornly turning her head to gaze at a spot on the wall, determinedly not looking at Katherynne until she requested that she move. Her glare snaps back, reproachful and reluctant to let go, but she does, gently shifting Marya on to the pillow and shuffling to the edge of the bed. 

“She says she is cold,” her hand reaches out to catch Katherynne’s wrist, to stop her from making her daughter uncomfortable, but her sister persists, stripping Marya of all that which is keeping her from trembling, and Cassandra can already see her beginning to shiver once more. Her arms cross over her chest, indignant and disproving, but at this point, she is willing to do and listen to anything if it had a chance of working. She could hardly imagine her getting any worse. 

“I don’t know,” she’s defensive, eyes finally meeting Katherynne’s and flashing in a silent dare to make comment on her lack of clarity. “Children cough and splutter all the time. I can hardly remember a time when one or the other was not coughing,” she’s rambling, one hand flying to her hair, unbrushed and untamed and wild against her face. “I realised it wasn’t normal three nights ago. I boiled mint leaves for her.” 

[stormxblooded]

oftyrells​:

                           Marina’s blood began to boil with the tone of voice of her youngest sister, estranged sister, stranger. The dagger on her back that had found a place to sleep there began to pulse as if it was a fresh wound, was it really such hatred to her family that she couldn’t even find it in her heart to be civil? And her heart soon travel to their older sister, the kindness yet the most fragile one, and she prayed to the gods that the venom on the youngest Baratheon had not reached her. 

                         “You sure have some nerve to speak to me in such manner, Cassandra,” her teeth pressed together as she tried to keep her calm, but each passing second became a harder task to accomplish. “You are not a victim here, you wrong did your own family, that child only suffers by having you as a mother. We never turned our back on you nor them, you turned your back on us.” And while there was still anger in her words, there was also heartbreak for the baby sister they lost. 

The anger that flashed through Cassandra’s expression is unmissable, a white hot rage that proceeds the eruption of fury. Indeed, she starts, making a jolting movement towards Marina, but eyes fall on her belly, heavy with child, and she catches herself, balling shaking hands and keeping her fists tucked tight to her sides. It was a low blow, a cheap shot that hit her like a slap in the face. Failing her children was the one thing Cassandra was afraid of, the one mistake she knew she could never, and would never make, but she would not stand for such words from someone who didn’t know either of them - who didn’t know her, not anymore.

 “And you say I have nerve,” she spat, nostrils flaring. “If you make assertions about my child again, I will not be held responsible, Marina.” It was laughable to insinuate that the Baratheons would have accepted her choices or her children with open arms - whilst she honestly couldn’t account for how Marina herself would have reacted, for she had never afforded her the choice, their father certainly would not have stood for it, and they both knew it. “I will not apologise for doing wrong by Lord Baratheon if it meant doing right for my son.” 

[stormxblooded]

@gildedheirs​

Sereni regarded the bard before her with a neutral expression upon her face. They were certainly one of the better Westerosi musicians they had heard - but it was nothing on those from her homeland. Music was part of everyday life in Pentos in a way that it wasn’t here. and it just couldn’t compare. She had half a mind to take over from them, to snatch the instrument from their hand and sing a song she had learned in her childhood, but her mask would never crack. She remained composed, impassive, simply watching through thoughtful eyes. 

“What do you think?” She spoke eventually, cocking her  head to regard her companion. “I’ve heard that you have some beautiful songs and stories over here, but I am yet to hear any that capture my imagination. Do you have a favourite? Perhaps they take requests.” 

[stormxblooded]

@alysanneb​

Serenei would be lying if she said that Alysanne Blackwood did not intrigue her. In Pentos, she had been the most powerful person in the city, even moreso than her brother, than the magisters. She had ruled, but here, things were different. With the new crowning, though, and the freedom to speak to those in power for the first time since she had arrived in Westeros, there was opportunity. 

Alysanne was not a queen, but the Mistress of Coin still had the ear of the king, and, in Serenei’s opinion, the means to do far more with what she had than any consort, no matter how influential. That drew her attention, her admiration, even, and she was pleased to have an audience with the other. 

“We have much to discuss, you and I,” she drawled in her lyrical voice, eyes meeting the other and soft smile gracing her face. “I have long hoped I could make use of my heritage to negotiate some sort of deal. Pentos is a centre of trade, after all. I hear you are the woman to speak to of such matters.” 

[stormxblooded]

@armoredspirit​

The arrow whistled through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying certainty. Hallis grinned, pushing dark hair from his eyes as he lowered his bow. “Look at that,” his smugness was palpable as he spoke, and he strolled leisurely over to the target, wrenching arrow from the chest of the dummy he had shot. “another bullseye for me.” He returned the arrow to it’s holster, turning to look at the other. 

He was many things - conceited and confident, charming and genial, and very, very competitive. That was what had him removing his bow, carved for his hand, decorating with sigils of his house, and offering it out to the other with a half-smile upon his face. “Would you like a turn? First to three. Loser buys the winner a bottle of Dornish red.” 

[stormxblooded]

@madefantasy​

Hallis is doing what Hallis does best - talking about himself, glowing with pride, with arrogance, as he does. “There’s not a scratch on me, you know,” he boasts, stretching his arms in front of him to demonstrate his point. “I expected more of a skirmish from the Ironborn.” He looked at them expectantly, waiting for their praise for his role in the apprehension of the rogue escapees. “I hope that is the end of it, though. For The King’s sake.” And for his own, slacker as he was. 

[ofkinglystag-deactivated2022060]

location :  winterfell  grounds  // @brokenstarters​​

Some of the smaller houses of Westeros were leaving Winterfell happy with the lockdown over and a culprit to point fingers at. However, the councils of the North, South, and Dorne were still planned to meet there in the Winterfell to discuss House Greyjoy and the Ironborn. The accused were claiming innocence, but with the attempt on queen freyja’s life, many were ready to condemn quickly. A few of the Ironborn had been caught trying to slip away into the night and had since been brought back. It wasn’t the most popular opinion, but the lord commander wasn’t ready to pass judgement on supposed conspirators without all the answers. By now, it probably had already gotten around that he had made an unorthodox visit to where members of House Greyjoy were under guard by the North. But the visit had left him more questions than answers. He found himself walking the grounds of Winterfell trying to sort his thoughts and decide his next move. As he walked he noticed another approaching him, “If you’re here to tell me somethin else has happened, I don’t want to hear it.” He said with the utmost seriousness and a pause. “I’m kidding about that just in case you’re wondering. But I’m hoping this is more a social call at least. I think we’ve all had enough excitement.”

[stormxblooded]

Hallis made his way back through the gates of Winterfell, bow slung over his shoulder. If he hadn’t have made it in The Kingsguard, he would have made a fair ranger, or a huntsman. Nobody could navigate the woods like he could, as silently and carefully, leaving nary a footprint in the snow. Being amongst the trees recharged him, but it was time to return to the keep. He was taking a shortcut around the castle to his quarters when his eyes found his southern counterpart, a man Hallis had been curious to speak to for a while now. Without hesitation, he made his way to him, easy smile gracing his face. “Purely social, don’t worry,” he held his hands up, a universal sign of coming in peace. “Unless you want to compare weapon techniques, a favourite pass time of mine, I’ve no desire to discuss official matters, either.” 

[stormxblooded]

stormlanded​:

                EASY  CONVERSATION  COMES  WITH  VERY  FEW  outside  of  her  direct  family .  katherynne  has  always  known  this  about  herself .  she  finds  it  difficult  to  go  out  on  that  limb  for  just  anyone .  but  with  tristan ,  words  fall  where  they  may  &  where  they  should .  step  falls  into  step ,  and  the  world  does  not  feel  so  unconquerable. with  each  step ,  she  worries  she  has  made  a  mistake ,  by  setting  her  heart  up  for  its  breaking .  with  each  step ,  she asks  herself  what  alternative  existed  ?

           ❛ CERTAINLY  NOT ! ❜  she  laughs ,  withholding  no  mirth  for  the  sake  of  propriety .  ❛ i  would  be  more   offended  if  you  mourned  their  losses . ❜  she  could  not  stomach  the  idea  that  tristan  saw  her  in  the  way  that  most  men  did ,  as  some  pretty ,  pitiable  thing  in need  of  saving  or  scolding .  suddenly ,  his  reputation  is  brought  into  light ,  she  prepares  for  the  long  explanation  - -  the  list  of  his  rakeish  behavior .  she  does  not  prepare  for  the  hands  that  splay  and  squeeze  against her waist.  she focuses  a fraction  of  a  second  too  long  on  the  sensation ,  rather  than  the  jolting  shock  of  his  flexing  fingers . 

  ❛ tristan! ❜  she giggles , another  peal  of  laughter  punctuates the air ,  sending the darting glances of promenading couples their way. immediately, she flushes, bobbing her head in apology, before sending a blazing glare in her ‘fiancé’s’ direction   ❛ you did that on purpose .  fine .  if  i’ve  nine  years  of  scandal  to  catch  up  on ,  you’d  best  prepare  yourself ,  ser . ❜

he  ceases  to  walk ,  and  they  are  faced  with  the  grim  realities  of  their  world  for  a  moment .  she  finds  comfort  in  the  familiarity  of  his  face ,  growing  more  familiar  every  day.  she  thinks ,  she  is  not  sure  what  she  will  do  every  day  without  that  brooding  face  to  try  and  decipher .  katherynne  allows  instinct  to  guide  her ,  placing  her  fingertips  on  his  forearms  as  they  speak ,  an  unexpected  lump  rising  in  her  throat .    ❛ and  what  of  me ,  lord  vance ?  do  you  care  what  i  say  of  you  ?  for  the  truth  is ,  i  think  you  want  me  to  think  you  a  rake - -  or  to  retract  sentiments  that  you  are  good.  when i  simply  do  not  and  i  cannot .  ❜

He doesn’t remember a time where he has felt so light, as though the burden he carries is finally shared with another. It should be a relief, but it brings with it its own concerns. There will come a day - perhaps soon, perhaps in the weeks to come - where he will have to let her go, let her replicate this charade they have created on more honest terms, and the most he shares with her, the harder it will hit when that day comes. He cannot share that burden with her, though. Not now, and not ever. 

But when she laughs, it is easy to forget, easy to allow a chuckle to rumble from his own throat. “Oh, good,” he makes no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice. “Then there is no need for pretence. It couldn’t have happened to more deserving victims.” There’s something underneath his humour, a darker and more twisted feeling, an anger that he cannot name and cannot place. She has had her share of ill treatment, and that this should continue despite her liberation from Lord Royce is maddening. 

“I did,” he confirms, calmly, no sense of shame or apologies in the words. Neither do the glares of others deter him. In the world of Tristan Vance, there’s little that matters outside of the two of them. “I am quaking in my boots, I am sure,” the glint in his eyes show that he is doing nothing of the sort, and he nudges her again. Gentle teasing, anything to keep that smile on her face. 

Her question, however, pushes his mirth to one side, replaced by a thoughtful furrow of his brow as he considers that which she proposes. It is only then that he realises the one truth he has been repressing for far too long now - that despite his claims, he does care what she thinks. He cares very much indeed. “It’s different,” he responds after a beat. His eyes meet hers, and a heartbeat passes. Then another, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry. “I do not want you to think ill of me,” he admits. “But I fear you may come to. At least you cannot say that I did not warn you myself.” 

[ruinovs-deactivated20230919]

━━ one  word  prompts :  stalk  ╱  @stormxblooded​​

       KASSANDRE  HAD  BEEN  TOLD,  to  her  aggravation,  that  he  was  there  in  winterfell.  the  news  of  his  engagement  incensed  her,  emotion  that  she  refused  to  give  a  name  other  than  rage  had  prompted  her  to  retire  early  the  evening  she  had  caught  wind.  it  had  been  a  lofty  hope  that  they  would  never  encounter  each  other,  though  kassandre  had  been  hoping  it  would  be  in  passing.  a  glance,  &  nothing  more,  yet  as  she  moved  through  the  corridors  about  her  day  it  became  apparent  that  whenever  she  turned,  he  was  there.  the  first  time,  a  mere  coincidence,  the  second   ━━  it  was  around  the  time  for  everyone  to  break  bread.  the  third ;  kassandre  was  not  a  fool.  in  a  whirl  of  red  &  gold  she  turned,  fists  clenched  in  an  attempt  to  contain  her  rage.  “  explain  to  me  where  you  have  found  the  audacity  to  approach,  let  alone  follow  me  ?  make  haste,  i  have  far  more  important  things  to  do  with  my  time  than  to  speak  to  you. ”

[stormxblooded]

If the engagement had never happened, he would have done all he could to stay out of Kassandre’s way. He knew he had done her harm, had encouraged her to let him into her life, and then realised his own walls were impregnable, and done what he always did. He had ran from her, leaving her to deal with his actions alone. It wasn’t noble, what he had done, nor was it kind - but in the long run, it was the best thing for her. She deserved better than being tied to his dreary legacy, and he would not hold her to a promise she shouldn’t have to keep. 

“I thought we may need to talk,” he cleared  his throat, visibly cringing at the words. “I have ... some news, and I wanted to clear the air.” 

[stormxblooded]

ofsaintsnsinners​:

Maraiya loved sex, there was no doubt about it. It wasn’t her main passion, no, indeed, the wide, large world and life itself had much more to offer than just that activity alone. However, there was no denying it was one of her favourite past-times to indulge in every now and then, especially since it was held in such a high regard and importance in her culture. From the moment she had been old enough to be taught the ways on how to explore both her sensuality and sexuality, she had been a passionate and avid learner of the intricate craft of carnal acts and desires and half the time, it was also lovemaking, when one had more deeper feelings than just steamy sexual attraction to the other. She had been one of the most skilled princesses to have served in one of the main temples of love in Jhala and if not for her adventurous spirit and main passion of exploration taking precedence in her life, there was a possibility she might have followed her second eldest sister’s footsteps in becoming a priestess to the either the goddess of love or the goddess of sensuality.

However for all of her many sexual affairs, exploits, little quick romps, she had been very careful to not get impregnated. Having a child was a heavy responsibility and she was having far too much independent fun enjoying her globe-trotting adventures to actually ever settle down. Fate it seemed had a different plan for her when she got together with Tristan Vance. Things had started innocently at first with them becoming genuine friends after a particular incident during his time with The Golden Company, but there was not mistaking the sparks of attraction and sexual tension growing between them and it wasn’t long before they both eventually ended up in bed together. He had been one of her favorite lovers for a time, for there had seemed to be something deeper, more towards a romantic vein between them and he even seemed to be slowly opening up to that idea before he suddenly got into jitters about it and distanced himself away from her. The way he ran away so fast from it did hurt her feelings slightly, but being who she was, a person that always believed that life was too short for regrets or self-pity, she got over it quite quickly. Their relationship was brief and she had thoroughly enjoyed it while it lasted. He didn’t want to commit to something deeper and she wasn’t in love with him just yet, so they were both free to part ways on more than amicable terms and remain friends. It was all smooth and easy.

Except that it turned out, her entanglement with Tristan had left her with a lot more than just fond memories. Nine months later, as she held her precious and cherubic baby boy in her arms, Maraiya vowed sacredly that her child would always be kept safe, healthy, happy and very-well loved. And by the gods, she would do everything in her power to maintain that kind of life for him. 

Which was why she now found herself wrapped up in several layers of furs, arms crossed, head cocked sideways as she surveyed the current ruling Lord of Wayfarer’s Rest with pursed lips and a rather deprecating expression in her wide, startlingly-blue eyes. She was too annoyed with Tristan to even do a brief incline of her head back in polite greeting.

“Oh your son?” she answered dryly. “Our child, has a name, Tristan,” she reminded him, her tone slightly indignant. “..-Or have you forgotten his name as well already by now?” she mocked slightly. “And no he isn’t well, he is suffering. And when my darling boy suffers, I suffer even more on his behalf. Hence, I guess you could say, we are both NOT FINE. “ Maraiya could tell that she was veering of to being a tiny bit dramatic, but as worried and upset single parent, she had every right to be presently.

There had been women before Maraiya, and there were women after. It was a pattern Tristan had fallen victim to over and over again - whenever he thought he could be happy, could offer and accept love from another, the reality of it gripped at him a little too hard, made him feel unworthy and inadequate, and before he knew it, he was gone again, putting a rapid halt on everything that he had once held on to, guarded as precious. Maraiya was one of many who had been on the receiving end of this, but it seemed a little different with her.  They had been friends, first, before there had ever been any hint of desire between them. What he had done to her seemed a little worse, somehow. 

But that was all before the child. His guilt was intense, almost overwhelming at times, but he knew in his heart that both Maraiya and the boy were better without him in their lives. He didn’t know how to be a parent - his parents didn’t know, either, and had done a poor enough job that he was certain he would be little better. Staying far away was for the good of both of them, even if Maraiya could not see it. One day, she would, and she would be thankful for what he had done, but today was not it, and until it came, he would have to bear the brunt of her anger. 

He deserved her fury, after all. If there was anybody who had the right to speak to him like this, it was her. And so, Tristan bit his tongue, nodding his head a little in acceptance of her words, and began to speak. “I know his name,” his lips thinned as he spoke, his discomfort written on his face. “Though I did not think I had a right to speak it.” He was many things, but Tristan was no liar. “His needs are seen to, though? He is not unwell?” She didn’t get it, didn’t get how his presence in their lives would make them suffer even greater, and he didn’t know how to make her see the truth of it. 

[stormxblooded]

scigne​:

___

“The Kin of the Stag?”, she repeated, her brow arching. “I’m afraid I haven’t read it.” His next words awoke her curiosity. Myriah wondered what was the identity of his bride-to-be. “Oh, congratulations then. On your future marriage.”, the princess added. “Do you believe I have met your bride?” Myriah was doing her best not to sound too intrusive and leave him with a bad impression, yet she couldn’t help but inquire more. “Is she present in Winterfell?”

Discussing the delicate topic of murder and death was not something which the Dornish woman excelled at. She never knew how to approach the subject, due to fear of appearing cold or nonchalant. “I mean to say that I hope the guilty ones would be found, so we can leave this behind us and have the justice we need right now.”

“I doubt anybody out of The Stormlands would be interested in it,” he admitted, lips twitching in something akin to a smile - as close as it got to a true one for him most of the time. “Thank you,” he nodded. It felt strange accepting well-wishes for a marriage that would never come to pass, but it was necessary if they were to sell this particular ruse. “Perhaps. Katherynne Baratheon?” He ventured, brow raising quizzically. “She is here with her kin, though I have yet to speak to most of them.” 

Topics of life and death were the norm for Tristan. He had spent long enough with a sword in his hand as to be desensitised to such matters. “That makes sense.” He nodded. “Do you have suspicions yourself?”

[stormxblooded]

scigne​:

___

The forwardness stunned her at first, as she had not expected any noble lady to dare to venture into the topic of Myriah’s status of an unwed woman who was raising a child on her own. The princess could still appreciate the honestly though. There were not many who dared to ask the things they wished, whether it was due to propriety or simple displeasure by the circumstances. “I wouldn’t necessarily say so.”, she finally replied. “I have not noticed any judgemental looks in my direction while in Dorne. But I do know better to expect some while in Winterfell.” During coronation festivities, attended by all the kingdoms.

“There are times when I wish I had more than one child.” Myriah had always loved the presence of children. They were tiny, little creatures who managed to put a smile on her face. She adored them, had spent a long time wishing to know what it was like to have a child of her own. Now when she knew, she could only be grateful for her most dearest wish to have come true. “But perhaps it would come easier if I were to be wed to someone.”

Cassandra nodded slowly, contemplation written all over her expression. Not since she was a teenager had she contemplated bringing up her children alone, but she had never foresaw a time where her marriage was quite as delicate as it was now. If things with Will were to topple, who was to say if she would manage half as well as Myriah seemed to have? “Let them judge. You have a beautiful child, and they have unhappy marriages and husbands with more than a few bastards of their own. It’s laughable, really.”

“There is time yet.” Her daughter was still small, after all. There would be plenty of opportunity to expand her family, through whatever circumstance she wished to do so. “Believe me when I say it is not. I don’t think children are ever easy.” 

[stormxblooded]

@stormlanded​

It had started small. A running nose, a cough that reverberated through Marya’s chest. Cassandra has mentioned it in passing, had ensured her daughter had a draught to ease her lungs, and thought little else of it. She had worried over her eldest’s every sniffle, but had long since learned that children were hardy little things, that chills and colds were common amongst little ones. She hadn’t been worried. 

How dearly she was now paying for that mistake. 

Perhaps it was more of a shock that it was Marya who lay struggling for her every breath. The cold of The North wasn’t healthy for any of her children, but Marya had always been more robust than her siblings, bolder and brasher, a smaller version of Cassandra herself in both looks and temperament. If it had been the baby, or even Steffon, she may not have been caught so unawares. But this was Marya, her Marya, and she had never thought to see her like this. She’d never seemed smaller, not even as a newborn, and Cassandra couldn’t help the cold, sinking feeling that her next laboured breath could be her last. 

She wouldn’t cry. Not while her daughter was still awake, bundled in blankets and furs, head resting on Cassandra’s lap. Slender fingers brushed dark curls from her face, cold hands burning where they made contact with clammy forehead. She had sent for a maester, god knows how long ago now, and had sent word to her dinner companions for the night. By now, half of Winterfell would know what was going on - though she doubted many would care. 

A rap at the door jerked her from her troubled thoughts, gaze snapping to the lock to check it was not bolted. It wasn’t, and so she called out, her voice hollow and hoarse. “It’s open. You can come in.” 

[stormxblooded]

stormlanded​:

                          SOMETHING  SHATTERS  WITHIN  HER  THE  MOMENT  THE  WORD -  vile ,  foul  ,  hateful  as  it  is  comes  tumbling  out  of  cassandra’s  mouth .  how  many  times  has  she  heard  if  before ? immediately ,  a  dam  breaks .  her  eyes  go  blank  as  she  is  swept  back  .  the  word  had  been  something  of  a  pet  name  to  moryn  royce .  he  called  her  it  so  very  often ,  that  she  had  started  to  believe  it .  the  word  that  made  her  feel  small ,  and  unkind ,  and  unfit .  and  here ,  it  falls  so  easily  from  the  tongue  of  her  sister . 

                        ❛  i  see .  . .   ❜ a  tear  slips  down  her  cheek , blank  expression  averting  that  of  cassandra’s . ❛  that  is  not  the  first  i’ve  been  called  such ,  but  it  will be  the  last  that  i  stand  for  it .  if  you  hold  me  in  such  an  ill -  regard ,  then  we’ve  nothing  further  to  speak  of ,  do  we ?    ❜  her  whole  frame  trembles ,  fighting  a  silent  battle  not  to  slip  into  the  abyss  of  memory ,  but  the  echoes  are  dizzying . she  does  not  want  to  go  back  to  runestone .  she  cannot .  it  is  that  secret ,  locked  away  place .  it  is  where  the  memories  go  to  hide  until  they  cannot  anymore ,  and  cassandra  has  triggered  a  flood  of  them . how  was  she  to  know ?  ❛  i  see .  . .   ❜ a  tear  slips  down  her  cheek , blank  expression  averting  that  of  cassandra’s . it  as  if  everything  in  her  has  flattened ,  a  detached  monotone   replacing  her  typical  lilt.  ❛  i’ll  attempt  to  be  brief ,  as  i  feel  one  of  my  moods  settling .  ❜ 

               ❛ for  the  last  seven  years  i  have  made  every  attempt  to  be  your  sister .   to  help  you  with  whatever  you  would  let  me .  to  be  as  close  as  you  were  comfortable .  because  i  loved  you  so  terribly  much.  because … because i did  not  stop being  your  sister  when  you  stopped  considering me  yours .  ❜  her  breath  hitches , and  she  feels  the  familiar  seize  of  panic  in  her  throat . 

       ❛ and  for  nearly  five  of  those  last  seven ,  i  have  sustained  the  cruelty  of  a  man  incapable  of  love .  i  have  been  slandered ,  mistreated ,  and  kept  away . for  nearly  five  years  i  lived  through  horrors  that  i  will  not  deign  to  share  with  someone  who  regards  me as  a  stranger  as  you  have  just  made  yourself .  i  do  not  mean  to  compare  our  struggles ,  but  cassandra  you  have  made  a  point  to  know  very  little  of  mine.  i  did  not  say  because  i  could  not  say .  i  wrote  to  you - -  i  asked  only  that  you  come.  i  told  you  i  needed  you - … that  should  have  been  enough .  to  even  acknowledge  me  would  be  enough . i -❜   the  words  are  lost  to  her ,  she  knows  what  is  coming  next .  BREATHE .  BREATHE . BREATHE .  she  finds  a  grounding  touch  in  the  embroidered  flowers  of  her  shawl ,  remembering  the  steps  of  labor  it  took  to  produce  them .  the  thread ,  the  needle ,  in  an  endless  loop .  she  cannot  go  back  to  RUNESTONE .  she  WILL not  allow  herself  to  return  to  invisibility. 

                       ❛ you  are  in  winterfell .  you  are  safe .  and  moryn  royce  is  dead .  ❜ 

                                               A  BREATH ,  A  TAP  ON  A  GOLDEN  FLOWER  .  REPEAT. 

                      ❛ you  are  in  winterfell .  you  are  safe .  and  moryn  royce  is  dead . ❜

Cassandra has never been easy, and certainly never soft. She came into the world fierce, and that shine in her now, burning with a furious intensity. Her anger may be displaced, but Katherynne does little to dispel it - not with her refusal to think about Cassandra’s view point, about the good of her children, and not by the tears that spilled down her cheeks. If anything, it made her even more enraged. The more detached she came, the more Cassandra wanted to catch her be the shoulders and shake her, and scream at her, and provoke her to fight back. 

“No. We don’t” Her words are short and sharp and filled with venom. She kicks at the chair as she storms back to the door, delighting in the satisfying clatter it makes as it skids towards the fire, knocking over the tongs and poker as it did so. Crashes and bangs, loud and undeniable, it was far more her style than Katherynne’s quiet retorts. She was almost at the door, ready to flee again into the night, when the next words had her whirling on her heels, to get in the last few words. 

“Well, aren’t you a saint,” she spits, mockery hanging from every word. “What is it you’ve attempted to do, exactly, beyond make yourself feel like a better person whilst you and the rest of them look down their nose at me and my children? You’re a liar, Katherynne, and I’d think a lot more of you if you came out and said what you really meant rather than hiding behind meaningless words that prove nothing.” 

If she had been in a better frame of mind, Cassandra might have listened to Katherynne. More than that, she might have heard her, might have understood what she was saying and asking for. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t, and if there was every any inclination of softening for her elder sister, it was gone when she turned her attention to the flowers on the shawl. Confused and drained, incensed and exhausted, Cassandra turned away, slamming the door behind her as she left. 

[stormxblooded]

jeyned​:

          jeyne scans the room, the crowd ; her gaze is that both of prey and of predator, seeking something and at the same time all too aware of being sought. when she catches another’s eye, her gaze flashes back to cassandra — almost startled or shy. but the lift in her chin, the straightening of her posture, betrays her awareness of being watched. from a distance they must look exactly as intended: harmless, frivolous, bright little creatures, little birds on a bough, chirping back and forth. it is only upon closer inspection that the truth becomes evident, and from her vantage point jeyne delights in the cruel cut of cassandra’s gaze, the cold cadence of her laughter. 

          “ hmm. ” lips pressed, she hums a little in vague assent, amusement rolling steadily across her face like a ship on the tides as she considers the idea, appearing for a moment more contemplative than mocking. “ perhaps you’re right, ” she admits with a note of high, girlish laughter, her smile stretching. “ lord brax, of course, would never allow it, the proud old fool. ” the irony of mocking his pride, while her family is known for its pride and ambition, is not entirely lost on jeyne. “ the mines at hornvale haven’t been productive in generations, and his favor wanes, but he still thinks himself the most important lord in the west, after lord brannon. he would sooner bankrupt his house than bring dishonor, and is well on his way to doing so, if reports are to be believed. his wife, though, is a spicer by birth. even now they’re still more merchants than lords, my father says. she’d have the good, mercantile sense to make that sort of arrangement, i think. ”

Cassandra and Jeyne were worlds apart in their differences. She can tell that the other is all too aware of how she is being viewed, whereas Cassandra, though more tempered than she would be at home in the Stormlands, on what she would consider to be her best behaviour, was still more blatant with her gossip, still making no effort to hide the disdain, mixed with amusement, in her eyes for the Westerland nobility. But through Jeyne’s attempts at concealment, it is evident that she’s enjoying this as much as Cassandra is. 

Upon Jeyne’s confirmation, Cassandra’s smirk grows, chin lifting in pride that he theory was not at once dismissed. “How delusional,” she comments, drolly. “I almost feel sorry for him, you know. Almost.” The final word cuts like a knife, a hiss that belies her malicious intent. “There’s nothing more pathetic than a man who overestimates his importance. You have to wonder why he cannot see what the rest of us can.” Her eyes fell upon Lady Brax, across the room in her ridiculous finery. “At least she has more sense in business arrangements than she does in clothing,” she mocks. It is a tragedy, really, to find oneself in such a position, but she has little sympathy for their plight. The Braxs have invited it, in a way, and she will not allow herself to feel guilt to bestowing upon them the attention they are clearly crying out for. “And to think - I thought tonight would be boring.” 

[stormxblooded]

madefantasy​:

“  you’re  late ,  lord  commander.  ”  he  said  evenly ,  hands  folded  behind  his  back.  it  took all  of  brannon’s  willpower  to  resist  the  urge  to  roll  his  eyes ,  he’d  known  the  kingsguard  since  he  was  a  boy  barely  taller  than  his  own  broadsword.  not  playing  into the  young  man’s  japes ,  brannon  took  the  sheath  of  parchment  from  hallis’  hands.  his eyes  briefly  scanned  over  the  words ,  the  neat  rows  detailing  where  each  of  winterfell’s staff  was. “ it’s  a  start. ” brannon  offered  after  a  moment,  conciliatory. “  do  we  have similar  reports  regarding the  staff  of  our  visitors ?  and  the  inquisitors ,  have  they  begun questioning  the  guests ? ”   

Hallis merely rolled his eyes. He was quite late, and marginally hungover, but that was nothing knew. He took things far less seriously than most, to his own detriment, but it had yet to cause him too much trouble yet. “It hasn’t been an easy task. It’s lucky I made it at all,” he responded, good-naturedly. He’d be lying if he said he knew Brannon well, but he knew enough to take him as he came, accepting his ways and paying no heed to what might deter a more sensitive soul. “I have a list of names. My men are still working on verifying their whereabouts, but we are making progress. The inquisitions are all in hand.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as though he had little care in the world, as though they were not discussing murder. “If you had any ideas, any hunches on where we should focus questions, I would welcome your thoughts.”