#aidan 001

[lenavaz]

WHO: Lena & @aidanbishop

WHERE: The Mirage, downtown

WHEN: Season of Love (February, 2025)

Being friendly normally had its perks. Elena got along with just about everyone, made friends easily, didn't really have a long list of enemies... but sometimes it backfired. Like when she was just trying to have a nice, friendly conversation with someone at the bar while waiting for the performance to start, and someone simply would not take the hint that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't interested. She needed an out, before she ended up curled up on one of the couches with a stranger that smelled like patchouli and was wearing fake leather. Not her ideal night.

Thankfully for Lena, her eyes caught on someone passing by, someone who looked amiable enough, didn't seem to be there with anyone else. Hopefully the next Jesus Christ in terms of saviors. "Honey!" she reached her fingers out to tug on the man's sleeve, clearing her throat softly and leveling him with a pleading gaze, hoping that he caught on, "oh, I'm so glad that you made it, I was just wondering what was taking you so long."

[saffroninsilk]

setting: flashback to the gathering in the westerlands, malee spots the fish prince, and decides to politely strike up a conversation ; starter for @princeaidantully

malee westerling stood on the fringes of the gathering, her gaze drifting over the nobles milling about the hall. the evening was alive with chatter and laughter, yet her mind was far from the revelry. she had heard the stories about prince aidan tully—the flirt, the rake, the charming rogue. his time spent in essos during the war had stirred many a rumor, and while she didn’t find him particularly intriguing, she was nonetheless curious. she had spent time in essos herself, mostly in yi ti, and wondered if their paths had crossed in some distant corner of that vast, unfamiliar land.

with a small sigh, malee straightened her back, adjusting the folds of her gown as she moved toward the prince. her steps were quiet but purposeful, and as she approached, she gave him a polite smile.

"good evening, prince aidan," she began, her voice soft and gentle, "i must say, i’ve heard that your time in essos was quite the departure from the troubles here in the west." she knew little else of what he endured, only that he seemed to have stayed for some time. "i imagine it must have been a very different world from the one we know."

she allowed a pause, her eyes thoughtful as she spoke. "i spent some time in yi ti during the war myself," she continued, offering a small smile. "shenlong. i have family there. the cities there have a rhythm all their own. i'm curious, what was your favorite part of essos? what drew you in most when you were there?"

her fingers lightly adjusted the bracelet at her wrist, a small gesture of quiet elegance, before she turned her attention back to the prince. she didn’t wish to probe too deeply into his personal affairs or the more dramatic tales of his time abroad, but she was curious about the moments of peace he might have found. surely, there must have been something beautiful about the lands he had called home, even if only for a time.

"yi ti was very different from what I imagined," she added thoughtfully. "i imagine the contrast between the cities of essos and the more... traditional lands of westeros must have been striking for you too. would you agree?"

her tone was friendly, with a genuine interest in hearing his thoughts, but there was still an air of reserved politeness in her approach, careful not to intrude too much.

[bridgeguardbutcher]

setting: the crossing, the riverlands, an unexpected visitor pays the ruling lord frey a visit / @aidantully

the twins were never still. even in the hush of late afternoon, there was movement, ferrymen calling across the water, servants hauling crates of grain, the river grinding slow and relentless beneath the bridge. yet when a single rider slipped through the gate without escort, the air seemed to shift, just enough for keiran to take notice. perhaps it was instinct. perhaps it was habit. either way, word reached him quickly: a tully had come, alone.

keiran stepped from the shadow of the archway, the stone beneath his boots worn smooth by generations of frey feet. no guards flanked him, just the weight of the twins at his back and a quiet authority that needed no display. he watched aidan tully dismount, the young man moving with a deliberation that spoke of intent rather than courtesy. arrivals like this were never without meaning, and never without cost.

he didn’t offer greeting right away. instead, he let the silence stretch between them like the river below, waiting to see who would disturb its surface first. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, unhurried. “you bear no banners,” keiran observed, gaze steady. “either you come in peace, or you’d rather not be seen coming at all.”

the wind tugged at the bridge banners overhead, a flutter of muted blue and grey against the sky. somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, the faint laughter of children drifted on the air, a reminder of life within these stones, of what he protected. but keiran did not look away from aidan.

[casterlygldcs]

who: @princeaidantully when and where: the celebration festivities celebrating the birth of prince arthur lannister, the lion king purposefully takes his time in order to welcome the prince of the riverlands back into the fold - no doubt trying to work out if there was something more to the prince's return. context: tyland believes aidan should be king of the riverlands, rather than iona as queen because...he's tyland?

the great hall of casterly rock glimmered with the wealth and grandeur that only the lannisters could command. gold banners draped from the high ceilings, shimmering in the glow of countless candles. the air was thick with the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the faint tang of sea salt carried in from the nearby coast. tyland lannister sat at the high table, his crown gleaming under the flickering light, his gaze sharp and watchful.

though the festivities were meant to celebrate the birth of his son, prince arthur, the lion king's attention drifted elsewhere—to the young man seated further down the hall.

prince aidan tully, the long-lost son of house tully, now returned to the riverlands. a curious piece on the board, tyland thought, and one worth examining. he had never thought much of the tully prince; brutish, lacking of intelligence and the practicality needed to truly be a determining force. and yet, he was the son. he had not seen the boy in years—or rather, the boy who was now a man. aidan had grown into his frame, broad-shouldered and steady, with a presence that could rival any knight of renown. his hair, a fiery auburn, caught the light like the embers of a hearth.

the freckles tyland remembered had faded, leaving behind a chiselled jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in everything - and yet, boyish mannerisms continued to present themselves. it were a good thing, considering that meant boyish naivety and foolishness would also remain in the man's bloodstream. a side effect of the war on many of the men in the current generation; all forced to grow up in the danger of the dance of dragons.

"prince aidan," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of their shared history as his voice called from the room; it were an obvious painstaking acknowledgement, done in public, only some days following tyland telling iona tully that her womb had already failed her. this action was intentional, and entirely political; a public show of where he stood, if any still had anything to question and wonder about. "the years have changed you." tyland pressed on, his tone measured but insistent. "as the years have changed what is considered traditional by the riverlords."

he straightened, his golden cloak catching the light as he stepped from the dias, closing the distance between them as he studied aidan’s face; was he truly so unbothered? to focus on the flowing drinks and the women, when a birthright had been robbed from his hands entirely? "and the riverlands deserve a leader who embodies the strength of their history—not one thrust into it by convenience." his voice was plain, little done to try and flower up the words or make them kinder.