#valoisqueens

[amuelia]

“The fate of Dorne goes with you, daughter,” he said, as he pressed the parchment into her hand. “Go swiftly, go safely, be my eyes and ears and voice… but most of all, take care.” 

He believes in me. I will not fail him.

Arianne Martell travelling through Dorne, with her companion Jayne Ladybright (and Garibald Shells in the background)

Happy Birthday @valoisqueens !!! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

[arielseaworth]

Quentyn/Ynys unrequited for february, pretty please?

For the prompt: Quentyn Martell/Ynys Yronwood, unrequited.

When first he’d come to Yronwood, he had been smitten with Ynys, the eldest of Lord Yronwood’s daughters. Though he never said a word about his feelings, he nursed his dreams for years … until the day she was dispatched to wed Ser Ryon Allyrion, the heir to Godsgrace. (A Dance with Dragons)

“Ser Ryon has a natural son older than us,” said Cletus. “Can you imagine my sister trying to mother this Daemon Sand?”

Quentyn was startled. “Surely Ynys would not be expected to do anything of the sort? He is a grown man after all. Why would he need mothering?” he asked.

Ser Daemon had been his uncle’s squire. His sister and his cousins the Sand Snakes were very fond of the Bastard of Godsgrace, but Quentyn secretly found him quite alarming. He had a way of looking at you as if he were measuring your courage and your conviction, even your worth. And Ser Daemon’s smiles were even more disconcerting. A man like that should not have dimples that bloomed like Tyene’s, thought Quentyn. The contrast was too eerie and unnerving.

Cletus clapped Quentyn’s back and laughed. “You are far too earnest, Quent. I thought I have cured you of that habit. It was a jape, brother, merely a jape. Though it would be amusing to see Ser Daemon addressing my dear sister as lady mother."

“Is she … is she happy about the wedding?” Quentyn asked, cautiously. Even Cletus never knew how he truly felt about Ynys. Cletus would have made a jape of it, he feared. Not out of cruelty, for his foster brother was never knowingly and deliberately cruel, but Cletus might have thought of it as yet another thing to tease his sister about.

“Is Ynys happy about her wedding? Well, you can ask her yourself. Here she is.”

She did not look any different, to Quentyn’s eyes. The dress she was wearing was new, though. “A gift from my good-mother,” she said, with a dazzling smile. She was very pleased, it was clear. Quentyn dropped his gaze. He had to look away. To his relief, no one seemed to notice.

Cletus snorted. “Your good-mother? Lady Allyrion is not your good-mother just yet.”

“She will be soon enough,” Ynys replied, serenely.

“You seem more gratified about the prospect of being her good-daughter than being her poor son’s lady wife,” Cletus remarked.

Quentyn stood staring, astonished. He would never have dared to say such a thing to his own sister. Not now, certainly. Perhaps he would have in the past, before they were separated, before he and Arianne grew very polite and exceedingly careful with one another, even in their letters. How did that happen? When did that happen? He felt as if he should have been able to pin down a particular time and occasion. Or was it merely the corrosive and gradual effect of the passage of time? Somehow he doubted it.

My heart is breaking, Ari, he wished he could have confided to his sister. She would have pulled him into her embrace, in the past. She would have listened to his woes and tried to coax more of the truth out of him, and he would have ended up telling her more than he originally intended and feeling the better for it.

But now … now he could not truly say what Arianne would do.

Ynys did not seem offended by her brother’s remark. She laughed and said, “Her poor son? Ser Ryon is marrying me. You should be congratulating him for his good fortune. I will be a formidable Lady Allyrion, just like his great mother.”

“You won’t be the ruling Lady of Godsgrace like Ser Ryon’s mother.”

Ynys ignored her brother’s remark and turned her gaze towards Quentyn. She patted his hand. It was a sisterly gesture, nothing more than that. “You will miss me, won’t you, Quent? My lunk of a brother here will not miss me at all, I’m sure. He’ll throw a feast, the moment I leave.”

[lady-arryn]

In many ways Lyra was a barbarian. What she liked best was clambering over the College roofs, to spit plum stones on the heads of passing Scholars or to hoot like owls outside a window where a tutorial was going on, or racing through the narrow streets, or stealing apples from the market, or waging war.

(requested by @valoisqueens)

[arrthurpendragon]

I was thinking about creating an oc wikia and I wondered if there was interest before I go about making one?

I’m sure there would be people interested in this.  It is a big undertaking! :)

[belmondo]

Happy Valentine’s Day, Sheb!!!

Happy valentine’s !! ❤️❤️

[the-perfunctorily]

ojos

For YOU, this unfinished dyptich of (young) Lysa and Sweetrobin

[kendelias]

allison in murphy’s phone?

honestly he has like... no one in his phone minus. scott, imogen, and oliver. so he probably does not have her number saved - but if he did, it would probably be like ‘huntress’ or smth

send me a character + an oc for their name in their phone

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

💕 + Cassia (or if you’ve already done her and I missed it, pick whichever oc you’d like!)

Harry Potter

Dimitri Aleksander Volkov

Fred & George Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Remus Lupin & Sirius Black

honourable mentions to everyone in this gifset, the DA, Draco, Blaise, daphne, the older weasley boys, viktor, Fleur, and Minerva McGonagall (and as much as I hate their dynamic more than anything, her dynamic with Snape has been a point of fascination for me for over a year now so it deserves a mention)

send me 💞 + an oc and I’ll tell you my top five favourite dynamics of theirs