November One-Word Prompts: 5. Offering? I don't know enough about HotD to ask for specific characters, but I'm always ready to learn.
This is such a good prompt for this, and thank you so much for giving it!
Short version: Westeros has a bunch of faith traditions, and the most dominant is the Seven, which is kind of a trinitarian-but-add-more-aspects approach to God. It's fantasy Catholicism, it's fine.
This scene takes place in the Sept, or cathedral, of King's Landing, the royal capital. We'll meet Iselde, my OC, and several members of the royal family, who she works for as a lady in waiting.
She always felt out of place, coming here.
Iselde knew that was silly, of course. High or low, the Seven had space for all in their holy places. It was one of the first things she'd learned, as a child. But they had no sept at home like this.
The Great Sept of the city was beautiful - time and money had made it so. A person's eye could get lost, following the high columns all the way to the ceiling, where far, far above one could just make out a field of seven-pointed stars. What had once probably been brilliant blue was dimmed with several generations of accumulated candle smoke, but it was still awe-inspiring, to look up and know that men could build stone so high.
But there was no comfort in it. Everything here made her feel small, and the Seven as unapproachable and remote as the stars in the ceiling. Each stood staring down from their plinths with empty eyes, hands posed in welcome and blessing.
Greylag Hill was only a knight's holding, with no money for grand ornament, and their sept had only carved faces, mounted on the wall. Iselde knew each figure like they were members of her own family, stared at and spoken to day in and day out. Wood was more forgiving than stone, and the features of each face, the kindly smile of the Mother and the stern composure of the Smith, stood out in vivid and loving detail. Iselde could remember going into the Sept at the new year with the women of her family and cleaning the whole space, taking each mask from its place on the wall to clean them and wipe away the candle soot so that they could return to their places on the wall calmly answering the cares of House Cargyll. She'd always asked her mother to clean the Maiden, as a child, too afraid of the other faces, but as she'd gotten older she'd realized the value of the Stranger's encompassing generosity and the Crone's long-lived wisdom.
And there was something living, too, in the wood - she'd felt that spark of…of something she couldn't name, as she ran her cloth over the folds of the Stranger's hood and the shallow rises of his eyes. Grandmother had laughed and nodded at that. "There are older gods than ours in these," she'd said, and told Iselde about the ancient weirwood that had stood here in Corrin Cargyll's time, and how it had been cut down to shape the Seven. "Best to light your candles to both."
She did that, at home - but there were no old gods in this stone. Still, she'd paid her three pennies at the door for a candle, and she meant to light it and pray. Alysanne and the others flocked to the Maiden, any time they came here with Helaena, but she knew that face held no answers for her today.
There were reliquary tokens among the candles for the Warrior, tiny iron swords and clasped fists that could be pressed into the wax as a further offering to the Seven, meant to remind the gods of the supplicants' prayer long after the candle had burned out. She gently brushed several of them aside to find space for her own candle, lighting it from a taller taper that had been banded with red wax - an offering from someone who'd recently been knighted.
The wood of the kneeler could have done with a cushion, but the Warrior's ways were never easy. Iselde folded her hands together and pressed her thumbs to her lips, eyes focusing on the flickering of the candle, in amidst the others. Give me strength, and courage. Give me a stout heart and good armor. I need those here more than the Maiden's smiles.
"It's good to see someone so devoted to their prayers."
Iselde tried to rise quickly to her feet, her skirt catching inelegantly under her shoe. "Your Majesty!"
Queen Alicent looked regal in her green, the golden chain across her dress and the caul around her hair catching the flickering of the candles. "Oh, please don't get up. I didn't wish to disturb you. What a good sister you are, to pray for your brothers." For myself, Iselde amended silently. But she wouldn't tell the Queen that, or she'd doubtless ask why a lady needed the Warrior's help. "I wish my children would come here more," Alicent remarked quietly. "Perhaps my daughter will learn from your example."
Iselde could only nod, thinking of the reverent way the Princess stroked the dragon skulls below the Throne Room when court was too loud and she longed for quiet. Helaena's gods are old and strange, and she does not find them here. I don't understand them, but I know she listens, and prays, too. What he prays for I don't know, but I don't think Aegon's gods are here, either.
"I should return to my duties," she managed, giving another brief curtsy. The candle would burn without her to watch it - she'd said what needed to be said. "Mother grant you mercy, your Majesty."
Still, she couldn't help pausing at the door of the Sept to look back at the Queen, lingering at another of the statues to look up into its face, silently searching for her own answers.
But Iselde found she only had more questions. Why should the Queen be praying to the Stranger? He helps those who look for death.
Only a handful of years had passed since Rhaenyra had met her, but Larissa appeared a lifetime older. Not aged in a wrinkled or stooped sense, but rather enlightened with hard earned wisdom. She stood straighter (although her posture had always been excellent) and reported to Ser Tywin as Amias' equal, commanding no lack of respect. It was a sense of worth, Rhaenyra realized as she gazed across the room, that shaped the new fashion in which Larissa carried herself.
Rhaenyra couldn't as easily spot a shift in Amias' countenance. She hadn't known him very well before the young couple departed the Keep to fight in the War for the Stepstones. Before the Trinity formed to wreak havoc, Amias had taken a hiatus from captaining in the Valeryn fleet to pick up a second trade. Without interest in politics or knighthoods like his younger brothers, he decided to improve the weapons he and his fellow navy men fought with. Word soon spread through King's Landing of a blacksmith surpassing his apprenticeship faster than any other. Who better to fashion swords than someone who known them his whole life ?
Meanwhile, Larissa was evolving through travel and the experiences court life in the Red Keep imparted. The grieving teenager whom Rhaenyra met in the library years ago was an adult now, molded through battles, adventures and love. The queen-to-be was envious of such evolution; her travels were only for peacekeeping and meeting suitors.
Technically, Larissa and Amias fulfilled their duties as children of noble houses -- marrying in equal rank, creating a new pact between their overruling houses BARATHEON & TULLY.
Curious, Rhaenyra thought, canting her head slightly as she studied the couple. They stood side by side, but their shoulders pressed together. Come to think of it, they were always touching in some way. Fingers entwined while they walked or scuffed boot tips touching as they stood in the courtyard surveying the latest installment of architecture. Were they even aware ? Or was it as thoughtless as breathing to the dearly devoted ?
Rhaenyra pursed her lips to the side and hoped she come to love someone that deeply someday. Sharing her bed for a night or stolen kisses weren't the same as honest love. Only one person held her hand as often as Larissa and Amias. Just one name came to mind as she stacked up the memories of arms linked or knees touching as they shared a blanket spread over grass while reading. But that wasn't love . . . if it was it wouldn't hurt this much. Rhaenyra stood and shook her head to clear Alicent's face from her thoughts as Larissa finally turned to her with a smile and began walking over.
a big shout out and thank you to some outstanding creators for inspiring me to follow my OC heart!! ♡ @samwilsonns, @kingsroad, @zoyazenik, @prosemoireia, @fleetwoodmcs, @stachedocs, @toilandtroubled, @richitozier, @fragilestorm, @elmunson
first appearing in✒️ ɪᴛ's ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ ⚔️
I apologize for the 720 quality -.-
a big shout out and thank you to some outstanding creators for inspiring me to follow my OC heart!! ♡ @samwilsonns, @kingsroad, @fragilestorm, @zoyazenik, @prosemoireia, @fleetwoodmcs, @stachedocs, @toilandtroubled, @richitozier, @elmunson @millie-55
🌊 the stones crack open, the water burns // the shadows come to dance my love // the shadows come to play // the shadows come to stay 🌊
Having been a skilled navy man under his house banners (under 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 reign) since sixteen, Amias was promoted & transferred to the 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 fleet on the Narrow Sea. The 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐲 had not yet formed & while pirates existed, their numbers were not that of an army nor were their mind sets.
From eighteen to twenty-one he sailed with Corlys. Ice Wolf was the famed journey beyond the Wall; an attempt to find a northerly route around Westeros through the Shivering Sea, but with no luck**. Amias was part of the first Westeroi crew who visited Nefer in N'Ghai & navigate the Thousand Islands (aboard Sea Snake). When Coryls purchased twenty more ships in Qarth he appointed Amias his own vessel. These and other expeditions are described in Maester Mathis's The Nine Voyages.
♡ In 111 A.C. he married Larissa (Lara) Swann -- the twin sister of Johana Swann. Johanna, otherwise known as The Black Swan, was enslaved by pirates at fifteen and after freeing herself became an influential courtesan and "ruled Lys in all but title". Johanna's kidnapping is one of the earliest examples of the Triarchy's tyranny.
Some do not believe Amias truly perished in 113 A.C. since he appeared in Westeros a year later. Only Larissa, who perilously sought the mythical Whyte Witch* across the continent, knew the full tale.
** this canonical event comes back into play later in the fic !
*learn about Incisu (the Whyte Witch) by clicking her link. Otherwise everything underlined is linked to a canonical source (yup! Johanna is book canon!)
♫ clicky if you don't know the song !
a big shout out and thank you to some outstanding creators for inspiring me to follow my OC heart!! ♡ @samwilsonns, @kingsroad, @fragilestorm, @zoyazenik, @prosemoireia, @fleetwoodmcs, @stachedocs, @toilandtroubled, @richitozier, @elmunson
𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 - I loved this crop and the font styles, but it just didn't fit into the color scheme as well as the others and having three pics chopped up the set too much as a whole for me. I wanted an "end credits" feel and this wasn't giving it to me. But I still think it's pretty so here ya go !!!
Rather than kill those she considered family in her clan to maintain a seat of power after her father's death as Khol & mother's departure thereafter to join the Dosh Khaleen, Aquila resigns as Ko and departs. She feels lost & longs for purpose outside the desert & violent life she was raised in. Surely her keen battle insight & strength can help others not only hurt them.
After traveling for some time, she hears the call so many others do: to serve 𝕽'𝖍𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖗 ❤️️🔥. Moving to Asshai to study & train, she is sometimes looked down upon for joining the Priestesses so late in life instead of as a babe or child. However, her fierce determination & skills ( particularly as a skinchanger with her golden eagle ) prove her worth & taunts fade to murmurs.
🌴 Aquila loves Pentos for its bountiful colors and rich lands. She preaches the 𝕽𝖊𝖉 𝕲𝖔𝖉'𝖘 message in the lavish temple, but deviates to free slaves & end disputes other Priestess' deem "not her problem". However, she becomes beloved by the people & cannot easily be snuffed out without notice (or casualties, considering she is the strongest warrior in the order even without magic).
Earning many titles, those of stature often try to woo her to serve & assist them while simultaneously fearing her wrath should they fall in her sword's path. Aquila does not answer to the beckons of kings & lords, but the needs of the people & 𝕽'𝖍𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖗.
Aquila wears a crown in remembrance of her royal Dothraki lineage, but a ✯ star is engraved for the True Lord's Light. Her armor & boots are mostly red & gold to match the fiery heart sigil of 𝕽'𝖍𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖗.
[ 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 ! ]
for the inspo !! ♡ @millie-55, @fragilestorm, @kingsroad, @toilandtroubled, @stachedocs, @zoyazenik, @prosemoireia, @fleetwoodmcs, @richitozier, @fragilestorm, @elmunson
