#c: loreza

[myriamas]

who: @lorczamartell when and where: the private quarters of prince mors martell, soon following the discovery of his lifeless body. one by one, more officials of dorne are called secretly in the early hours of the morning: and when princess loreza of dorne enters the room, myriam approaches her quietly.

there was an unsteady silence in the room, of which the curtains had been drawn; the high commander of dorne remained stood by the door, awaiting for the presence of the other prince and princesses of house martell to cross the threshold and find their household changed forever, they were to be told prior to entering these rooms, for they needed to prepare themselves: this was nothing that was to be a surprise, or a shock. and so, in the minutes that ticked by as she waited for someone, anyone else, to cross into the threshold of the chambers, myriam allyrion remained sat in the chair beside the bed that she once shared.

the idols of the gods she had once quietly worshipped in the chambers of her husband were the same as those that were within her own personal chambers; and she had turned them in his direction - all that was left being a veil covering a face that once radiated the sun from it. and the hymns she chanted quietly, in the ancient tongue that followed them from across the narrow sea, were ones that were meant to try and comfort him as much as her in this moment.

mors martell would be reborn, or he would have collected enough good karma to be released from the cycle of reincarnation the dornish believed in; and so, as she muttered her prayers, she thought only of his passing. to wherever he would be going next.

how had this happened? why had this happened, so soon after the death of prince nymos himself?

what struck her, was how crushingly empty the room felt. his lack of presence, his absence, was felt; despite him remaining there. she knew he was no longer here. and she wondered if he would be reborn into a another that would be able to design the greatest of palaces, of gardens, without the weight of a crown on his head. she had not realised there had been tears rolling down her cheeks as she lit the candles surrounding the idols of the seven, not until she thought of her daughter who was within the royal nursery, curled up, blissfully aware that at three years old, she had become the princess of dorne.

she would never know, nor remember, what it was to not be the princess of dorne.

as she sounds of quiet talking came from the other room, she turned her gaze over her shoulder slightly, recognising the sounds of the voices of the martell family. leaning forwards, she unclasped the anklets from her ankles, as though she did not wish to wake him with the sound of the jingling as she walked. and she closed the door quietly behind her, looking upon the faces of the family she had married into. the family that had been her own, for thirteen years.

she greeted each of them with a kiss on their cheek, and yet when it came to loreza, she found herself hesitating. looking upon her, the young girl that had looked upon her with wide eyed awe the day she had married her brother. lost a father, and now her brother. "forgive me for not being here when..." she whispered, unable to finish the sentence. when her brother had breathed his last. because all suspected how the marriage of the prince and princess of dorne had broken down, into the distance it had become.

"the gurus have been called. the granthi too." the gurus, the ones who dealt with surveying the health of the court. they who dealt with the corpses of royals. her hand rested nervously over her mouth, almost as though she were in disbelief.

[visxionaries]

what: a fiery schism // the flight of silverwing.  where: red lake, the reach who: @daemonntargaryens @caetargaryen @aeyvel @ofgoldengrove @riyanshmartell @lorczamartell @stonesqueen​ (mentions of lord darklyn)

After months of negotiations, a meeting was proposed in the seat of House Crane between Cedric Tyrell, Mathis Rowan, Caerella Targaryen, Aeyla Valeryon, Riyansh Martell and Loreza Martell - Red Lake. Close to location where the shedragon Silverwing herself had made her nest. After hours of tense deliberating, it was agreed the dragon may leave Reach land, in exchange for protection from any future conflict in regards to the dragons. This word was agreed upon within the Sept of Red Lake; considered binding before the council of the Seven. But not all loved the Gods; and not all were loved by the Gods.

On the second day of negotiations, talks became tense. Targaryens, Tyrells and Martells in one room - practically mirrored the fire within Silverwing herself. The handover was due to occur on the third day; each faction looking forward to parting from one another. And yet there was a plot - tensions regarding how Silverwing would react to those who tried to ride her. Would she reject? Would she harm? The day came - a clearing beside Red Lake. All seemed as peaceful as it could be, before Silverwing reared her neck upwards as Caerella Targaryen stepped forward. For those who did not truly understand the movements of dragons, it was a sudden move.

Dornish scorpions had been stationed, nestled within the woods beside the Lake, and soon a bolt had been fired directly into the wing of the beast, flying by the duo from the Crownlands. Letting out an earth shaking roar, Silverwing seemed to awake from whatever change had befallen her since the Dance. Chaos erupted as the dragon breathed fire upon the men who did not immediately jump into the lake, the guards of each faction turning on one another, blood spilling into the lake. The Targaryen Princess and her Valeryon cousin had climbed onto the scaled back of the beast, soaring above the treetops as blood spilled beneath them - Silverwing forever damaged by the bolt within her, and Lord Darklyn taken hostage by the Reach.

[theeldestsun]

@heelsclick / glinda --> loreza / cont. 

loreza nymeros-martell

[ glinda || 23:58 ] I’m finishing up with a few emails.  [ glinda || 23:58 ] I’ve been doing some thinking too. About what you said. [ glinda || 23:59 ] How was your day, dear?

[myriamas]

who: @lorczamartell setting: the two women of house martell are taking a stroll through one of highgarden's many gardens, accompanied by some martell guards and other women; though there is considerable space and distance between them.

and the sounds of anklets jingling was hardly something strange or suspicious to those dornish attendents and courtiers some yards behind the two princesses of dorne; only, for it to be in such a setting as this one, where different hues of green seemed to almost attack the senses.

there was so much, too much here, almost as though nature itself had been tainted by gluttony.

"i do still think you had every right to deny the wish to accompany the court to this place. your early married days should be somewhere in peace and private, rather than the court of snakes."

and she glances sideways at her good sister beside her, who had recently entered a new phase of her life as the lady of the tor; married life was important in dorne, a family matter in itself - and whilst she never doubted loreza would be warmly accepted by the jordaynes and the tor, all of dorne had heard the songs they had sung for their new lady upon her barrat procession and arrival to the new city.

"how are you finding it, truthfully?"

and perhaps it was because she felt closer to loreza than her own sister, or perhaps because she wondered whether she had any more sisters out there, she felt a strong sense of protection over loreza. she would stand to hear anyone say anything of her, not in the reach of all places

[armaans]

who: @lorczamartell where: the dornish court's return to sunspear following the wedding celebrations of king cedric tyrell and illya oakheart. the travelling party stay in yronwood. prompt, family heirloom: armaan and loreza discover an old family heirloom hidden in the yronwood castle. as they unravel its history, they bond over their shared heritage and slowly bridge the gap between their distant relationship.

the change seen through the eyes of those who made up dorne itself was made noticeable as they passed through the rolling fields of the reach; the greenery and flowers beautiful, and seemingly endless. and yet, as their sky turned to black night after night and camps continued travel onward, the sight of the red mountains made it clear their world was soon to change to what it should have been.

it were hard for the dornish to be beyond the rays of their sun, as even the sun did not feel like the same sun; there came the sounds of smallfolk greeting their prince and the procession of dorne as they came within their lands again.

and for the first time in what felt like months, armaan felt his shoulders relaxing from the tensions that simmered. he had used the opportunity to network with those who would usually never look to trust the dornish; but in his mission to ensure the power of the yronwoods remained something to be remembered, he was able to read out and establish a connection, a trail, through westeros and even across the narrow sea.

and so it came for the parties of dorne to seperate, like the rivers of their lands: some heading south to starfall, some stretching further to sunspear, and armaan knew his first priority was to return to the fortress of yronwood. the strength of the boneway, which seemed built within the large side of the cliffs: it were easy to mistake yronwood for being part of the stone itself. but that was how imposing it truly was: it's shadow stretching across those who stood below it, watching almost in numbing shock.

it were like the fortress held a city of it's own behind the walls, multiple complexes and buildings; it were no simple fortress. a stronghold, and it played host to lord rashid jordayne as he and his wife, the princess loreza, made their way back to the merchant city that was the tor. it had been some years since a martell had stayed beneath the roofs of yronwood: the tension and bad blood between the families ran deep, and seemed to run endlessly, much to the dismay of the princess of dorne, allyria yronwood. the martells had a yronwood for a mother, who once walked the halls of armaan's home alongside his father. and now, his daughter entered through the gates again as the daughter of allyria.

the people of yronwood greeted her with traditional songs and ghoomars, a form of traditional dance. though, it were notable that the lord himself immediately made his way into the fortress rather than remain in the celebration after greeting his people.

it was during the next day that he came across his cousin again, though not entirely on purpose. opening the doors within one of the rooms higher atop the spirally towers, he saw the sight of her silhouette within one of the ancient rooms deep within the fortress, ancient due to the amount of family history it seemed to hold within it. rows and rows of endless bookshelves meant it could be seen as a library, but in truth it were so much more than that; within it were archives of yronwood history before the coming of nymeria, when they were ancient kings. he remained stood in his spot for a moment, briefly contemplating turning and walking away, when her gaze flickered up from whatever she were looking at.

"aap kaun see kitaab dekh rahe hain?" which book are you looking at? he spoke to her in their ancient tongue, the language of their parentage, the language of their ancestors.

[lordflorianmooton]

   Florian enjoyed hosting people, there was no denying that. It was something he was good at, one of the few things actually that no one could deny he was good at. Perhaps to some within his family that was seen as a negative. He should be better at more things than just planning parties, and hosting others, and yet what was being a lord if not being charismatic? If not being able to forge alliances through sheer personality? Florian could fight, he wasn’t an unskilled swordsmen, but he would much rather win his fights through becoming friends. Right now he planned on hosting the future Queen of the Riverlands, and in addition, his future Cousin by Law.  As both a member of the Small Council and her soon to be extended family, he imagined it was only natural that they got to know one another better. Smiling, he gave her a slight bow. 

“Princess, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. I thought it would be fruitful for both of us if we had the pleasure of meeting....getting to know one another. We will after all soon not only be Queen and subject, but family.” 

@lorczamartell

[visxionaries]

Ⓐ ( from lori )

@lorczamartell​

ATTRACTIVENESS:     repulsive ― hideous ― ugly ― not attractive ― unappealing ― not unattractive ― meh ― no preference ― ok ― mildly attractive ― nice looking ― cute ― adorable ― attractive ― pleasant on the eyes ― good looking ― hot ― sexy ― beautiful ― gorgeous ― hot damn ― would tap that ― perfect ― godlike ― holy fuck there are no words

PERSONALITY:     grating ― irritating ― frustrating ― boring ― confusing at best ― awkward ― unreasonable ― psychotic ― disturbing ― interesting ― engaging ― affectionate ― aggressive ― ambitious ― anxious ― artistic ― bad tempered ― bossy ― charismatic ― appealing ― unappealing ― creative ― courageous ― dependable ― unreliable ― unpredictable ― predictable ― devious ― dim ― extroverted ― introverted ― egotistical ― gregarious ― fabulous ― impulsive ― intelligent ― sympathetic ― talkative ― up beat ― peaceful ― calming ― badass ― flexible

HOW LIKELY THEY WOULD BE TO HAVE SEX WITH THEM:     not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending ― fuck no! ― never ― no way ― not likely ― not sure ― indifferent ― i’m asexual ― maybe ― probably ― it depends ― fairly likely ― likely ― yeah sure ― yes ― would tap that ― hell yes ― fuck yes! ― wishing that could happen right now ― as many times as possible ― we are already having sex

LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP:    never in a million years ― worst of enemies ― enemies ― rivals ― indifferent ― neutral ― acquaintance ― friendly toward each other ― casual friends ― friends ― good friends ― best friends ― fuck buddies ― bosom buddies ― practically the same person ― would die for them ― true friends ― my only friend

FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM:     i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― they’re weird ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― i trust them ― they’re cool ― they’re genuine ― i think we’re going to get along ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love ― oh fuck they’re hot ― i love them

CURRENT IMPRESSION OF THEM:     i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― they’re weird ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― i trust them ― they’re cool ― they’re genuine ― i think we’re going to get along ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love ― oh fuck they’re hot ― i love them

HOW GOOD OF A KISSER:    worst kisser ever ― terrible ― bad ― awkward ― just okay ― alright ― pretty good ― good ― makes me moan ― excellent ― exciting ― oh god they’re good ― i dream about it ― fucking amazing ― absolute perfection ― we haven’t kissed

[myriamas]

The Dorne-Reach alliance banquet;

Below the cut you’ll find Myriam Allyrion’s responses during the live event.

tangerine coloured silks swishing around the golden anklets at her feet, her hair laying on one side of her shoulder in a thick braid dotted with red roses, myriam allyrion rested her dark gaze over multiple of the reach lords and ladies. how they all seemed so sweet, so flowery, and yet she was one of the few of the dornish faction that was not entirely on board with the matter completely. there were still people to work out, intentions to gather. "your highness." myriam extended a hand toward the young hightower girl, only recently risen so far in station - she intrigued her. "we have all heard of your sudden elopement with the prince." she looked over at the tyrell and her own husband speaking, with a slight smile. "i trust we will find a way to get along, for the sake of our kingdoms. tell me, how are you finding your new life? exciting?"

Myriam nodded in a quiet understanding with the new Princess of the Reach, deciding to drop the matter, though it is something the woman would keep in mind to address later; for is the Princess of their allied region prepared for court life? Would she be able to handle their joint enemies, that would no doubt be threatened by such an alliance? "Come." She mused, motioning for Florence to sit beside her, seeing if she felt comfortable enough to be separated from her husband. Talk of the dragons caused her gaze to rise, watching as her brother Dastan entered the room, and how she momentarily offered him the warmest smile. Though they were not siblings by blood, she was taken in by the Allyrions after they found her floating down the river in a basket; and truly saved her. She remembered the day Dastan was born. "A dragon is a risk." She spoke, agreeing to that extent. "Though it is also a risk for us to anger the Crownlands once again, especially now we have levelled out somewhat; with the alliance between the Crownlands and the Stormlands, no doubt Dorne and the Reach would be embroiled in conflict with the pair, directly on our borders."

Myriam remained within her seat for a few moments whilst her husband rose from his own, crossing to speak to the Lord of Blackmont as privately as one can in this setting, to ensure his voice did not raise from the other side of the table. His temper was normally much better than her own short fuse, though there had been a line that had been crossed this day; keeping her own dark gaze on the Reach lords and ladies in the room. There were tension in every family, whether they were nobles of rich lineage, or commoners breaking bread for the evening after a long day's work; the recent events in the Reach proved that well enough. And whilst the Dornish knew not to press on questions regarding the internal strife within the Tyrell court, Myriam was hardly ashamed to allow her husband to deal with the Blackmont Lord.

Looking over at Loreza, an uncertain gaze in her eyes that spoken volumes in and of itself, she knew at this moment the answer was not a direct yes nor was it a direct no; these matters needed time, a period of getting to know one another better. She was more fortunate than most brides of Westeros, already having spent some weeks in the Reach after the Second Battle prior to returning this far North. "You have time - as much of it as you need." She mused to her, squeezing her hands before raising from her seat, walking over to the two men.

"We may speak of our family matters another time." She stated, placing a light hand on her husband's shoulder, though her words were directly mostly toward Ryon - her tone was not harsh or accusing, but firm in itself. She understood the man had questions, some reservations the same she did when first hearing of this idea, though she knew to question one another in public would prove harmful in the end. "Until then, let us return to talk of negotiations and enjoying the company we share tonight.”