#deimos 001

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: after the kingdom's return from the events in the west, in king's landing, the lady of house rosby visits the ruling lord of driftmark, to offer her condolences for his lady-wife, and her support for his house in the aftermath ; starter for @deimos-velaryon

saella qoherys stepped into the quiet hall with the practiced grace of one who understood the value of patience. the long, dark gown she wore swirled behind her like an extension of the shadows, as though she herself was a part of the gloomy atmosphere that weighed down the room. she found the lord of driftmark stood near the window, his back to her, but even from behind, she could sense the tightness in his shoulders, the rigidity of his posture. grief, anger... guilt.

she paused for a moment, taking in the scene with a calculated calm, before she moved toward him. her steps were light, deliberate, careful not to make too much noise. when she spoke, her voice was soft, full of the practiced empathy that came so easily to her. “i’m so sorry to hear of your loss, lord velaryon,” she began, her tone the perfect balance of concern and distance."

“your lady wife was a lovely woman, and i hope those responsible are brought to whatever justice you wish for them.” she continued, her tone smooth as silk, “you should know that you have my house's full support during this difficult time, my lord. should you need any resources, any assistance, I would be more than happy to offer what I can.” she let her words settle, watching him carefully for any flicker of interest. ties to house velaryon were already well established, but saella saw any opportunity to lend a hand - and perhaps seek a favor in return, one day, should she need one of him.

[malcontentswanns]

who: @deimos-velaryon​ where: kings landing, the crownlands

the chambers of the hand of the king remained atop the winding spiral staircase of the tower of the hand, and in some strange way, it seemed entirely fitting that deimos velaryon would expect others to climb some preposterous way in order to discuss matters that were important. considering the man was soon to be his own good brother, though truthfully, the second son of stonehelm hardly believed he would be able to see the man as family. they did not know one another well, and judging by the air of arrogance surrounding the man, and the own accounts his sister had shared with him regarding deimos velaryon. 

still, there was the matter of the dornish vulture king to discuss, considering the increase pressure and weight the bandits were placing upon the defences of the southern marcher lords of the stormlands, his own house included; the man needed to ensure his family would be supported in their defence of the stormlands, and thus the crownlands, though there was mighty issue that came with the question of the ironborn and their close relationship with the martells of sunspear. will was not entirely sure if the crown of the dunes had entirely given up on the bandit situation, though there was an issue in terms of their alliances. 

“my lord.” will greeted as the he was granted access into the hand of the regents audience chamber, curtains billowing in the soft breeze as he looked down upon the sprawling city of kings landing; his motive for this audience was plain and simple, that which included ensuring his family would be granted the support clearly granted to them according to the laws of the alliance they had upheld - including that with the ironborn, if their support was judged as necessary. and yet, the greyjoy king had openly stated she would not draw weapons against her kin across the southern border; it was truly an issue. “are there any updates on the dornish-ironborn matter?” 

[falcxnprince]

setting: the verdant concord, rhys hangs with an old friend (he thinks old literally) - starter for @deimos-velaryon

rhys leaned against the low stone wall overlooking the gardens, the scent of flora and newly turned earth surrounded him in the afternoon sun. the music of the bards drifted faintly from the central plaza, though he paid it little mind. his gloved fingers tapped idly against the silver falcon atop his cane, a rhythm meant more for himself than any onlooker. when he saw deimos approaching, shoulders heavy with the invisible weight of his loss that he carried better than most, rhys allowed himself a small, crooked smile.

“well, if it isn’t my favorite dragon of the clutch,” he called, voice teasing but quiet enough to avoid the bustle of passing nobles. “come to enjoy the festival, or just to make sure no one spills wine on the wrong tunic?” he straightened slightly, leaning on his cane with exaggerated effort, as though the motion itself were meant to entertain. “i swear, deimos, for a man of your reputation, you have a remarkable knack for slipping quietly through this chaos. unfortunately for you, you cannot evade me.”

he gestured toward a nearby bench, palms up in mock invitation. “sit. it’s better than standing awkwardly among the lords trying to outshine each other with their crowns and posturing. at least here, you’ll have someone to complain at, or at the very least, someone to roll their eyes with.” his brown eyes looked over deimos, teasing but careful. “you know i’ve missed having someone who doesn’t mind a bit of pestering. i’d almost call it comforting if i felt like we were having a moment..”

rhys shifted, the breeze ruffling his chestnut curls, and let his gaze linger on the man beside him. “so, what have you been up to while i’ve been away?” he asked lightly, voice smooth, a hint of curiosity threading beneath the jest. “i trust you haven’t grown too comfortable with all this highborn decorum. it would be a shame to lose the sharpness i’ve come to rely on in battle, and in conversation.”

[dancingshores]

setting: a terrace upon casterly rock, where guests mingle and dance indoors during a great feast being held this night, and zahra sand finding herself where she always is, gazing at the stars ; starter for @deimos-velaryon

the sky was lovely here, more serene than she might’ve imagined, though incomparable to the one back home, of course. different stars and constellations than she normally saw were sprinkled in the indigo above, and eyebrows furrowed together as she made it out, trying to memorize everything she saw, to read what she saw. a light breeze blew, and she pulled her dupatta, a burgundy color with golden trim, tighter over her shoulders to shield her from the chill. it was colder than she imagined, although not terrible.

people lingered about the terrace, more so in the seating area, where zahra stood nearer the balcony, in the open space. she heard soft chattering behind her, but she was so focused on what she was looking at that she didn’t hear notice a man who took his spot upon the balcony railing just a few paces away from her. it was only when she heard a heavy exhale that hazel hues drifted to look at him, though she did not know if he were the source of it.

his features were stern, and zahra was unsure if he were in a sour mood, or if that were simply his face. she did not recognize him in the least, but she rarely remembered people up north that she did not stay in contact with outside of her visits outside of dorne with the rest of their court. regardless, she felt so inclined to strike some polite conversation, not out of any obligation other than zahra enjoyed talking and knowing people who were not from dorne, curious about their customs and lives.

“it’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” she asked, a soft grin upon her lips, she did not truly see him from the front, or up close, for she knew if she saw the lilac of his eyes, she likely would not have engaged at all.

[rememberences]

who: @deimos-velaryon where: the audience chambers of lord deimos velaryon, following king graham royce travelling to kings landing earlier to settle the dispute regarding nettles and her dragon.

the knight of ninestars recently side excursion had resulted in rippling effects, as initially seen in the letter he had received from the newly crowned king himself. some called him a conqueror, and whilst that caused him to first raise a slight brow upon seeing it on the parchment, he found himself wondering where conquest had taken place. his actions had been clever enough to have gone without notice, so he heard. or notice that was futile, as it was not enough to save the crown of the previous dragon queen. and all those who once supported her now found themselves at the bottom of the chain, within the conqueror's new court.

one of those people had previously been hand to queen daenaerys, the son of corlys velaryon - deimos velaryon himself. a staunch black supporter, as graham had once been himself: his oath being so solemn and sacred he had watched his own personal life fracture over it. this was not about the oaths taken back then: only the oaths they had taken to their own kingdoms now. as graham royce entered the personal audience chambers of deimos velaryon, amidst a concentrated group of knights of the vale that included lord percival templeton himself, it were clear who was king. there was something anciently majestic about the way graham royce carried himself, as though the blood and sacrifice of the ancients ran through his vains. because they did.

the best kings were the kings who were not seeking it. the ones who followed through with their duty beyond ambition, but because it was their role in life. "lord velaryon." graham greeted, his words wrapped with the accent of the royce highlands. there was a roughness to them, and he did nothing to try and ease the harshness that wrapped around his words. for his face, his manner, was anything but harsh. dark grey orbs flickered back to the knights of the vale who stood behind him, and in strictness, they all bowed in the exact same moment before leaving, the door closing behind them. there was not a word spoken. "it is an honour to speak with a man who once stood beside me on the battlefield."

kingship, appeared strange on graham royce. for whilst he held all ancient majesty, there was something that remained about his former self in the way he spoke. the way he interacted with those around him. he had been the second most powerful man in the realm, after the falcon king. they had come to him to stage an emergency intervention with the king himself. and now the crown had landed on his hand. kingslayer. "i was glad to receive your invitation to discuss the matter at hand. urgently."