ojovivo
tannertan36
★
Origami Around
occasionally subtle
noise dept.
roma★
Kiana Khansmith
Mike Driver
izzy's playlists!
Keni
The Bowery Presents
Monterey Bay Aquarium
titsay
Cosmic Funnies
Jimmy Eat World
Doug Jones
PR's Tumblrdome
RMH
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Spain
seen from Indonesia
seen from Chile
seen from India
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Uruguay
seen from Indonesia
seen from Canada
seen from Iraq
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bolivia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@tcrturedpoetx
a dependent roleplay blog for @dracoregnitm. as penned by lavs ( 25 , she / her , est).
lady LYANNA of HOUSE STARK; winter rose: intro; threads; musings.
prince ARON of HOUSE MARTELL; the viper knight: intro, threads, musings.
princess VISERRA of HOUSE TARGARYEN; the drowned dragon: intro, threads, musings.
lady MINISA of HOUSE TULLY; the silvery fish; intro, threads, musings.
lord CEDRIC of HOUSE LANNISTER; the golden knight; intro, threads, musings.
location : before the feast status : closed ( @tcrturedpoetx )
"cedric" arryk called out, approaching the lannister. "good to see you, my friend." he exclaimed. it wasn't long since they had seen each other but this was a celebration and arryk was making his rounds.
the florent hadn't been around much, his father had called him back home for something he'd rather only discuss with his sister but here he was, about to attend another wedding. arryk felt honoured to have been invited, so he would smile and shake everyone's hand and converse in small talk until he was too exhausted to continue.
"are you already planning your next trip?" he asked casually. "i have some suggestions on which routes to take if you are open to suggestions?" arryk continued.
cedric turned when he heard his name being called, and it was with great delight he recognized arryk, his friend from the reach. the lannister man opened a big smile, creasing his light eyes, as he approached and laid a hand on his shoulder, with the camaraderie they built on long days aboard a ship, sailign away seeking adventures. ❛❛ — long time, no see, arryk. — ❞ he jested, in good spirit. for they had parted ways not a long time ago, when they finally landed back in westeros after a trip to essos. ❛❛ — it is tempting, arryk. i am not going to deny it. but the position of master of ships come with a lot of responsibility, no matter how much i long to be sailing away. — ❞ some part of cedric missed desperately being away from it all, from all the politics an scheming. in essos, all he needed to do was reap the profits from all the scheming done before, from what sister and him did, and from all the lannisters that came before. it all had power even so far away from home. but the position laurentia and him areenged for him and master of ships comes with responsibility to get things right, he was aware. ❛❛ — but tell me of your suggestions. i am certain we can arrange something in the future. but about you, my friend. are you enjoying king's landing? — ❞
STATUS: closed with @draconianmuses LOCATION: the red keep, before the wedding ceremony
cedric lannister felt restless, even so early in the morning. he was not a man to be drowned in anxiety for the future. as a second son, his nature was to carve his future and open possibilities, not to despair with duties. that was the first child's cursed destiny. his only duty was to his family, so dear to his heart, and his house. it was what his mother instilled in him, still in those warm days when he would sit on the floor paying attention more to her words . his wise mother would be proud of the maneuvers and schemes her descendants were up to in king's landing. and those thoughts led him to seek laurentia that morning, before duties called them both and appearances would need to be met in preparation for the royal wedding. as he entered the solar, with the familiar crimson decorations he knew reminded laurentia and himself of home, cedric motioned with a kind equable smile, for the servants to leave the oldest lannisters siblings alone. ❛❛ — good morrow, laurentia. did you find enjoyment in the hunt? I heard they captured boars for the delight of the king. — ❞ he greeted his sister with a smile.
❛❛ — so... what is your little beauty in maidenpool whispering in your ears? about my betrothed. I met her, before the hunt, the way I promised I would. — ❞ his sharp emerald eyes met her blue ones, equally perceptive. she had to be aware of what he was leading their conversation. the bane of his existence at the moment, the matter of his betrothal. tired of standing with his restless limbs, cedric slothed on the velvet chair, laying both his hands on the desk separating them. ❛❛ — what should be our plan, laurentia? i do not think i can keep running off on a ship to avoid this marriage without compromising my position as master of ships here in king's landing. but. i do not want this. not in these circumstances. — ❞ he said. the pieces of the board were moving quicker than he anticipated, this post-war world pushing people to change loyalties to survive.
they should have known before. that king aerion would not miss the opportunity of snatching his painfully obvious obsession, the lady dondarrion, when he was given the choice of a bride. no betrayal has ever paid more for a house, than of the dondarrions leaving the baratheons for the crown, he was certain. it almost made him wince to think of it. if any house in the westerlands ever attempted to do the same to house lannister, he would wage war against them, no kings consulted. with the dondarrions so favoured to the point of receiving a royal marriage, their plans for storm's end and the baratheon marriage turned into a liability instead of an advantage. the castle. the title. the wardenship of the east he could possibly snatch from the hands of the rebel arryns. he was nothing if not ambitious. it would all be for nothing if he still married alysanne baratheon. ❛❛ — nor do I think it would be advantageous anymore for our house. the king would not support it anymore. not if it means robbing his own queen of her inheritance. — ❞
it was the only reason he was bringing these concerns to her, he was sure of that. no illicit affair would stop him from pursuing a good marriage. they usually shared their dalliances, closer than most siblings are on the quality of being orphans; they learned to rely on each other before anyone else. it was the first time cedric kept something from laurentia. and it maybe made the secret, the tiny spark of interest - so brief, so ephemorous, a product of pure lust he would wager - he felt for the widowed lady cornelia only grow. it would not matter, anyways. ❛❛ — mayhaps we need to plan a way out, sister. — ❞ he said, his finger tracing the top of his lips, the way he used to do since a child when he was particularly concerned. a marriage in westeros should be advantageous, it was all that mattered.
the feast was loud and roaring , with the comet still burning bright in the darkening sky. ronan had decided to drown his night in wine , downing cup after cup to hide his displeasure. as the hall was crowded with people , he had quickly lost sight of his liege , who had no doubt scurried away to the nearest plate of fruit and cheese. a pleasant heat warmed his belly , a heat he suspected had nothing to do with the wine. it distracted him enough that he nearly missed the muttered words of a lord next to him. ronan eyed his cousins that were sitting at the table of honour , next to the ruling house and its new queen. "it seems that they have ," ronan replied quietly. the dragons scared , yet not as much as the monsters hiding in the depths around pyke. or the depth itself. "their new gods seem to hold a fondness for dragons and fire." the drowned god favoured no one not born of salt. ronan might not always see eye to eye with him , but they shared that sentiment at least.
aron offered a thin smile with the answer provided by the greyjoy lord. very diplomatic, quite unexpected, particularly. the other lords and ladies at the table would offer the same syncophantic remarks the sharp man was, but they would have at least try to appear sincere. but even with shared blood with the targaryens of dragonstone, lord greyjoy was a known rebel and a follower of different gods. ❛❛ — the gods and their mysterious plans. I have never found that they cared much about dragons. only of what is right. — ❞ aron was from dorne, where most people never had a very fond opinion on dragons and the destruction they caused whenever they used. a region that was proud of the defiance and only joined the seven kingdoms when they were no longer around. aron wondered if his father and brother were watching these with cautious eyes or an open heart and we would loathe to know the answer. it does not matter what would the dornish do and thing; they were loyal and they were in aron's past in the end. with a second gulp of his cup, he watched the greyjoy with curiosity as to why was he roaming around the hall with anxious eyes, watching the crowd. ❛❛ — lord greyjoy. you look distracted. anything happening in the iron islands? it is so far away from king's landing. we hardly hear from it. — ❞
kaela nods solemnly, feeling like she had to swallow a bitter medicine. she had not been much of a rebel force herself but the celebrations still stung, just as the coronation had, a salt in a wound — a reminder that they had backed the losing horse. however, the north had been fairly untouched in the war — in thanks to the lord stark, mostly. it must have felt worst for the remaining tully siblings. the three baratheons. "yes," she says, a small, humourless smile graces her features. “it seems the south hoards all the excitement in the realm.” the thought of the dragons return was an impossibility that none could have expected. she stomps out the kindling of fear in her stomach with the same ease that one stamped out a wild ember. she had been sent south to kiss the ring, so kiss it she would. she was quite talented at swallowing her pride. thin fingers wrap around the stem of her goblet, raising it to the man, not familiar enough with the south to remember him by face as one of her brother’s men. "glory be to the targaryens, my lord."
he nodded solemnly at the lady beside him and the words she uttered, with a strange smile on her fair face. a northerner, for the way she separated herself from the south. it was an idiosyncrasy so northerner, he found out the more he interacted with people from that region. dorne had actually succeeded in their independence from the rest of the kingdom a century after they kneeled for aegon targaryen, but they did not separate themselves the same way people from north of the neck did. ❛❛ — you have your own incredible things in the north, surely. — ❞ and surely more terrifying things also. he mused thinking about beasts with sharp fangs and a peculiar connection to their owners. he thought of the woman in the camp that healed him when she did not need to do it, and how she was followed by a beast too. magic was not blooming only in the north.
with her toast, aron turned to fully look her, he recognized her and the familial connections she possessed, there was even something in her eyes and countenance that were almost too similar to the commander of the kingsguard. ❛❛ — I will trust you in this toast for your brother's sake, lady umber. a man who I deeply admire. it is not easy to forsake your childhood loyalties, even when they are criminals to the crown. — ❞ he said, watching her reaction. part of him was just curious to understand what relationship one could have with a sibling who was on the kingsguard, someone who was not him and not his family. ❛❛ — have you talked to him lately, lady umber? — ❞
fated for semi - open / @fateofcrvwns, @draconianmuses, @seahorsestars, @noblesouls, @tcrturedpoetx & @beautifulsnares .
pinpoint the feast, after the egg has hatched .
ysabel's cheeks are flushed a rosy hue. despite her hesitations, and despite the way that her heart beats within her chest like that of a prey animal's, crushed beneath the combined gaze of all the realm — this hour was for celebration, not for worry. perhaps the trophy of the king's hand had not been bestowed upon her because she had begged for it, nor sought it out in a fugue state of longing. but the new queen has resolved to place it upon her mantel in victory nonetheless. aerion had been attentive thus far, and even more pliant to her desires. she would be happy, if she could not yet be deeply in love. she would be drunk, if she could not be happy.
in her hand is her first cup of wine, poured by a serving boy as she circled the room out of duty. she could not move a foot without being stopped for conversation, and aerion remained out of her line of sight — unable to be summoned to rescue her from what ysabel considered equivalent to a public flogging. " i fear i must take my leave, lord rosby, " she bows her head, still unaccustomed to the weight of the diadem perched upon it. over the lord's shoulder, she makes eye contact with another. " — the king and i thank you for your attendance. " the conversation begins swiftly, deftly, and ysabel moves to put the chuntering lord rosby behind her.
viserra had enjoyed herself in the celebration. in the delightful decoration, music and dancing. a lovely ceremony, exactly what the kingdom needed after so many tragedies had befallen them lately. she kept close to her mother's side the entire evening, holding her hand and helping her dry her happy tears in seeing her first born get married to a dutiful maiden. however, she could not hide between her mother's skirts forever and if there was one person she wished to converse with, it was the bride herself. so viserra crossed the hall and interrupted her in conversations with a rude lord. using her sweetest voice tone and a smile, viserra put herself between the two. ❛❛ — if you could excuse us, dear lord rosby. — ❞ she cringed slightly when the man put his hands on top of hers, before bowing and leaving away a little dazzled. it was not always that viserra initiated conversations and abused her own power as a princess born in royalty in such matter, but the red-faced man annoyed her and she could clearly see that he was pestering lady ysabel too. it would not do well to scare aerion's bride from court in her first celebration as part of the royal family.
with the lord safely away, she turned her lilac aways back to the lady. her new sister, if the gods were good and their temperaments matched. her mother, blessed her soul, had coached her into the words she was supposed to say when addressing the dondarrion lady. ❛❛ — it is my pleasure to welcome you into the family, your grace. I wish all the happiness for you and my brother. you both make a lovely couple. — ❞ her voice creaked when addressing her by her newest title, but viserra covered up her awkwardness with a gentle smile nonetheless. she always knew this day would come, that her brother would marry and as the heir, someone else would succeed her mother as the queen; caerella would marry one day too and if not to a ruling lord, he would be the one brought in to the royal family and given the title of prince or princess to accompany her. but it still felt so foreign to call someone else, someone she doesn't know, by the royal honorific. she is to be part of this family, too. someone else would be more welcoming, more warm instead of shy, she was sure.
she almost wished caerella was there with her. to hold her hand like they used to do as girls, and whenever viserra felt too unsure of words in front of new people. she wished to know ysabel, the woman her brother was so fond of, but she did not know how to reach out. ❛❛ — i wish we had more time to get to know each other, before you were thrown into the chaos. it is my fault, I admit. sometimes, I am too shy for my own good. but I am glad you are here. — ❞ she admitted, averting her eyes slightly so ysabel would not see the embarassment in them. she had been in the needlepoint circus, but had kept her distance from anyone she did not already know. preferring, once again, to circle around caerella, aemma or her new lady-in-waiting she was starting to grow fond of. after her apologies, she was out of words, but the prolonged silence was almost suffocating. ❛❛ — the wedding was lovely. like something from a song. you must be very happy. — ❞
When he heard the knocking at his chamber doors he was not expecting to find the Princess Viserra at them, and yet there she was. He had half a mind to think she was there to ask about dragons. Considering the birth of one, having taken place a few nights ago.
"Princess, welcome. If I had known you were coming I would have tried to make these rooms more presentable." The Grand Maester's rooms were cramped and hot, and overflowing with books and scrolls.
"Is there anything I can do to help you, or be of assistance? Or is this a social call?"
@tcrturedpoetx
her hand was almost clammy on the heavy wood of the door, as she entered the grandmaester's chambers like a lamb to the slaughter. poised and cautious, she sat down in the plain chair in front of him. yes, the rooms were not the most presentable, but it was no matter. it would serve only not to delay the matter. ❛❛ — no. not a social call. — ❞ she offered him a thin but polite smile. somehow, she did not think they could have much fun together. viserra avoided the maester like the plague, even if he was not the one responsible for the unconventional treatments, more alike to suffering in her young mind. when maester edderion was appointed by her father and brought to the city, viserra was already in her better days. healthy, rosy and outside of her secluded chambers. but surely he knew. everybody knew of her condition. it only made her more uncomfortable.
viserra averted her eyes as she explained the purpose of her unwilling visit. ❛❛ — my mother sent me. with instructions for you to check on my parlor before it is too late. — ❞ she scoffed. her mother had begged her to pay a visit to the maester for the slight change in viserra's demeanor. if she was too silent or coughed in the sept after a dose of incense, she would look back to her mother staring at her with glazed eyes. she had a lot on her mind lately, her mother, with aerion's wedding and caerella's new acquisition, and was probably just looking for something to worry about in viserra too. if she divided attention to all three of her children, she would not feel guilty for neglecting one. even if viserra would understand it. ❛❛ — she worries for nothing. i feel perfectly fine, maester. — ❞ and she did. a little fever only served to add color to her pale cheeks after all. the dowager queen worries would only be wasted.
The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
Where: feast before the hatching Who: Open to everyone!
Cymbeline stayed close by her two children and the rest of the Iron Islanders during the feast. The ceremony was beautiful, but ultimately too delicate for Cymbeline's taste. She missed her lonely little island, and the company was beginning to get overwhelming. Too much talking about matters that did not concern her. Cymbeline wondered why she was even invited to the wedding at all, since the royal family rarely gave any attention to Lonely Light. Not that Cymbeline would prefer it, her children ruled the island just fine without introducing anything more.
"The bride was shining, but unfortunately I doubt she will accomplish more than the Dowgar" Cymbeline idly gossiped with the noble to her left. "In terms of assisting House Farwynd, I mean" It would be interesting if Ysabel somehow convinced the royal family to visit so far out west. If that were to happen perhaps Cymbeline would declare her house allies with another instead of staying continuously neutral.
minisa enjoyed the festivities with a satisfied smile upon her lips, mostly due to the tasty wine she had consumed before. so much fun she had not even noticed the older lady approach, nore recognized her. minisa was astonished, no doubt. her big dark tully eyes widening in disbelief. ❛❛ — house… what? — ❞ minisa have always prided herself in her extent knowledge of noble houses and important individuals throughout the realm. it was the only intellectual subject she enjoyed studying when she was a mere child, complaining about time spent with the maester instead of outside playing with the other children who visited riverrun, and then later, of more womanly activities. but even her was startled with the lady. farwynd… farwynd… even after long, dragged seconds, she could not place it. that was definitely not from the riverlands, with those she was familiar even with most hedge knights and their delusions of nobility the moment they gained knighthood. minisa looked for clues on her clothing, the style that screamed iron islands.
she stared at the lady with a haughty expression souring her face. ❛❛ — i am sorry, my lady. but who would care about house farwynd? i thought you ironborn would prefer to be left alone than to covet favours with the crown. — ❞ these arrogant ironborn... they managed to marry one of them to the royal family, the dragonstone branch besides, and now they presume the rest of westeros should care about them. barbaric, all of them. the stories of harren the black and the carnage he left in the riverlands before he was expelled used to scare minisa when she was a child, but now, she only saw them with contempt.
𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍.
𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕, 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.
her little finger plays with the plush of her lip as her palm indents the side of her face that selyse cradles her head on — a curious eye remaining trained at ysabel’s waistband, wondering. well. she did not appear quick with child. after all, ysabel had always been so waifish, like one strong sea breeze would send her floating over the edge of storm's end. one would be able to tell if she were pregnant. so selyse had no choice but to deduce that it must be the targaryen's sheer stupidity that saw their nuptials pressed so closely to the dondarrion funeral. if you were to ask the estermont, she found it disturbing for them to celebrate a stormlander's wedding and funeral in the same year. the thought left a hollowed pit in her stomach, feeling it was all wrong.
she looks away from the new queen's figure, eyes focusing on her companion. pointedly, she ignores the stag antlers behind them, left on display as warning to those with lingering rebel sensitivities. "the cloak was beautiful," selyse says, pushing down the cynicism. "perhaps it was worth all the blood that went into it."
first and foremost, minisa wished she was not seated and forced to mingle at a rebel's table. it was so unbecoming. inwardly, she was counting the minutes up until she could leave without seeming so rude in the views of others, she rather enjoy the company of more advantageous lords and ladies. minisa wrapped her hands in the dark silk of her blue dress, feeling for the soft fabric as comforting measure. it was the first public celebration minisa was not drabbed in mourning black for lysa's death; the pang in her heart subdued but still so present it could not be erased by a mere change of wardrobe. and it felt oh so strange to beat a wedding, pretending to be happy for the royal family. selyse offered almost a sweet distraction, even for her rebellious status.minisa bit her lip before words spilled, but she could not avoid the biting remark from surging for too long when the lady estermont was practically begging for it. she started the conversation after all, minisa was only being polite in replying delicately. ❛❛ — you are watching the queen like you wish to eat her too. do not pout, lady selyse. your day will come too. — ❞ the tully smiled sardonically, for she was well aware that the grave selyse was probably not mourning her marriage prospects. she did not envy the dondarrion position, of having betrayed almost of all the houses from its regions. coming from an unforgiving land as the riverlands, she assumed it was not a comfortable position.
for all her courtesies and facetious noble facade, minisa could not help the snicker that left her plump lips with the topic of the bride’s cloak. what would a wedding be without a scandalous fashion choice in the end. ❛❛ — beautiful. yes. like patchwork. it was definitely a choice to have such mismatched designs sewn into a single cloak. — ❞ she fought against her laughter so much that she had to fan her face with her delicate hand. but she schooled herself in the end, it would not do well to be commenting so candidly with someone like selyse. she missed the lady cemre, if only for that. ❛❛ — anything would be worth a crown. — ❞ she said with a jealous glint in her dark eye. lady ysabel was a doll, but minisa could not say in front of the high septon thay she would not have pushed her from the dais for the chance of grabbing the crown. alas, the dondarrions arranged that first. just something else to blame her father and siblings poor choice of sides in the war. ❛❛ — you should not dwell on waters past, if you wish for advice. clinging to the baratheons for whatever reason will not bring you anything in this world. — ❞ she said gravely. if only lysa and the rest of her siblings could heed the same advice.
「 ⚔ 」 STATUS ﹕ semi - open . 「 ⚔ 」 LOCATION ﹕ mira & felyx's chambers , lannisport ( pre - wedding celebrations ) . 「 ⚔ 」 WITH ﹕ @oflcgends , @fateofcrvwns , @tcrturedpoetx , @themoonthestarsandkeegan , @violetamaisonx , @lorentxtyrell !
a miracle. finally. after what had seemed like a barrage of bad news, sleepless nights and stress, mira had given birth … and instead of the gods blessing them with one child, they had offered two. the first moment he could force himself away from his three girls — an impossible feat for even the strongest of men — he had sent ravens to their family, loved ones, and closest friends. more than once he had almost inked edric’s name by mistake. he hoped that his dear friend was watching from above, keeping an eye on the children that would one day hear tales of his bravery. within the weeks that followed, as the royal wedding approached, those he had called upon started to arrive. with his companion in tow, felyx led them up the winding staircase to their chambers. “mira is sleeping,” he assured, voice low like a rumbling tide, “but she is well. the three of them are well. her labor was arduous and long, but i am keeping close watch of her. i will send my apologies to the king for not being able to attend the celebrations.” although, the track record of noble events of late had been more bloodthirsty than anyone had expected. perhaps it was best that him and his dearest stayed home, not only for recovery but for protection. there before them, sleeping, were the two angels, dark of hair like their mother, and they were scooped up with ease by their father, one in each arm. “freya and myrcella,” felyx announced, “the gods are good.”
he approached his cousin with familiarity, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. felyx may be a decade older than cedric, but there was camaraderie and affection between cousins who lived so close to each other - and who fought together in many battles. he nodded as he heard the news of mira with an anxious heart. ❛❛ — I am glad to hear it, felyx. when you see her, tell her that she had been in my prayers. — ❞ said he, even though he was not a pious man. in truth, while others were so happy for the coming of the babies, his thoughts always drifted more to poor mira and the battle she had ahead; far more bloody and ardour than anything he had braved as a man. he knew so many women who did not survive it, including the most important of them. cedric kept to himself mostly, not sharing his worries with another person; maybe only laurentia would be able to know why he became suddenly so sullen when the topic was brought up in merry company. he just truly wished, from the bottom of his bleeding heart, that she never suffered a fraction of what his lady mother had been through that last time she had been confined to her chambers in preparation for her youngest's birth. it led her straight to her death, no warning and no god's clemency.
when the ravens arrived with felyx signature that all was well, he was once again rejoicing that tragedy had evaded house lannister once more and mira survived childbirth. ❛❛ — and how fair you, cousin? newly made a lord of his own keep and now a father. i hope you remember that I am only a raven away. say the word and I will ride the gold road to come to your assistance. — ❞ cedric affirmed and followed the man when felyx led him up the staircase to where the babies were peacefully sleeping. cedric stood there, watching them from a distance, stiffly awkward for he had no previous experience with babies and children. he did not want to startle the babies and cause them to cry in discomfort; that would make it worse for all of them. so he stayed put, hands crossed behind his body as he smiled to his cousin and his children. ❛❛ — they are beautiful, felyx. tiny little things. the first of a new generation of lannisters. who could have thought? we must all be getting old. — ❞ he said, with a smile. he thought of his younger brother gerion and his sweet wife and the secret they thought they were keeping from the rest of the family. soon enough, there would be even more children in this family.
with a soft voice and careful movements, he opened the sack of gifts he brought specially for when the children arrived. his cousin orielle's presents were sent to her as soon as he landed in westeros, but those he wanted to give them in person to felyx. ❛❛ — I came bearing gifts. dolls. swaddling clothes of tyrosh linen. golden chains for when they are a little older. and some healing balms for mira, if you would be so kind to give it to her. a healer from pentos assured me they are of great help to women after their labors. — ❞ the little lannisters did not know yet but they were born into opulence and gifts were a lannister specialty.
fated for open to all .
pinpoint the feast, an hour or so after the hatching of the egg .
wine renders benjen's tongue heavy, and yet his goblet seems to drain repeatedly of its own accord. dragons in the possession of the targaryens once more meant only one thing — any plans he had been making surrounding the continuation of the rebellion sparked by orys baratheon needed to be accelarated, and at least tenfold. stress stiffens his joints, and he haunts a corner of the red keep's great hall like a statue carved from the most solid of stone. no longer alone, he presses the the small of his back to the stone wall, its intricate carvings jutting out to press between his lower third and fourth vertebrae. “ quite the turnout, ” he notes of the room's crowd, milling and conversing and merry - making as they were. he exhales a cold breath, taking a long pull from his goblet once again. " the king has many friends. ”
the scowl was permanent marring the younger stark face during the whole celebration and subsequent feast. while lyanna wandered around the loud hall, haunting the merry people with her distrust dressed in grey velvet, she had kept to herself most of the time, only speaking with trusted acquaintances and her family when they crossed her path. there was a throbbing in the back of her mind that she never felt before, she could almost feel herself slipping away from her skin there, in the middle of hall. when she found her brother benjen almost hiding away a corner. she turned to him with a sly smile, it was good to turn her back to the sychophants for more like-minded conversation, even if they could never be truly honest in that place. ❛❛ — friends. subjects. does a targaryen king know the difference? mayhaps some of them are not true friends and are just drowning their contempt in expensive dornish wine. — ❞ like us. she would rather see the pompous king choke on his own food than to toast as his friend. it was more than what she could bear.
what kind of peace could be bought with the blood of her father, she wondered when her eyes glazed through what benjen called friends of the king; all she could see were liars and murderers and backstabbers. ❛❛ — if we were offered the choice of coming, I suspect the crowd would be much smaller. — ❞ her words not louder than a murmur, meant for her older brother's ears only. one could never be too careful with spies eavesdropping any conversations in the den of dragons and for all that lyanna was known for her recklessness, she would not jepordize her house so directly. at the moment, her glares were all she could afford while the claws were kept away.
something more dire was pressing on her mind; the topic she longed to discuss with her siblings in the privacy of winterfell, in their godswood where the gods could protect them, but the words came out anyway. ❛❛ — dragons. not what anyone expected from this wedding. — ❞ she hoped he could understand the read the deep resentment in her eyes, in the cruel twist of her mouth when she finished the sentence. there was a petty jealousy gnawing at her insides when she had sat there, in her too warm bench, in the too crowded room, watching the little infant dragon explore the world for the first time. not jealousy of the dragon, but of the magic. the starks and other northern houses were the only of them to have their own beasts since the dance of the dragons. lyanna’s own abilities were a hidden secret. they lost the uprising but kept their blessings. now, they were not safe.
private starter for lyanna - during the wedding feast after the dragon egg hatched | @tcrturedpoetx
"for fucks sake" he lets out under his breath as he could not help but stare at the small dragon that was behind the newlyweds. it was as if the gods were taunting him for his small victory he had and making it seem like it was small. "they have a dragon. i guess all our future is now deemed to end either by fire or a sword by the king. i have half a mind to just leave and returned back to the North at this rate." kelvyn was lost in thought as he drowned himself with whatever watered down wine they kept serving to everyone that he had yet to notice who was near him.
while his coarse attitude would have scandalized a proper maiden, lyanna smiled at kel's complaints, a sly smile of understanding; and better yet, of agreement. they were sitting side by side, without touching. they could not touch in public, in the view's of others who would not understand the fascination lyanna had for him since they were younger. they could not touch, but they could talk. ❛❛ — I could not love you more in this moment. just know that when you are reprimanded by foolish people for speaking borderline treason. as if we cared. — ❞ she said, looking straight into his eyes with her candid declaration. there was only admiration for his brash honesty - and a touch of jealousy - she could not do the same, not after benjen dragged them to bow for the king and not speak against them anymore. the starks needed to prove their loyalty for the good of the region, but boltons did not need to be liked. the wild cards, they were free to speak their mind.
it was the first time she ever wished she could speak a different language, something no one could understand but the chosen few she would have shared with this secret language. maybe the language of the first men, the old tongue that is still spoken in the lands beyond the wall, or the language of the giants who still lived far north, in the lands of always winter, according to wildling rumours. ❛❛ — but yes. the gods are testing us. our resilience. but if young babies can die, so could infant... pets. they are so delicate, after all. — ❞ it would be her new prayer to the weirwood when they returned home, and she would sacrifice blood for it again. it had saved her little nieces, it could deliver vengeance. her grey gaze fell upon the dragon again, of what little she could see between the sea of people gathered around trying to get a better look of what just happened. a direwolf could feast on that little lizard; and it would have tasted splendid on a warg's tongue like lyanna's. there were direwolves available and common wolves in lands away from the kingswood. she could almost feel them the way she was not sure she could before. what was stopping her from doing that? her siblings. her blood. she could not act as wild as she wanted without her pack.
she looked back at kelvin, the dreaded bolton she loved to keep company; he would not have stopped her. she would not stop whatever his heart desired. staring at his eyes she remembered a letter, sealed in pink flesh-toned, bearing grave news from the dreadfort, but almost too coincindental. ❛❛ — I would like to speak with you about something in particular, later. not here. not with so many eyes upon us. — ❞ evading her siblings would not be an easy feature, but she always did that for kel.
unlike his twin, loras was not a fighter. instead he was the brains behind an attack, the planning, the steady hand atop the pen that drew paths and routes toward victory. regardless he did not feel as though he particularly fit within the needlepoint, what with his large hands ( unfit for anything too fiddly ) and the need to routinely fan the fire within his brain. it was why he was out at the hunt, riding atop his palfrey with a mane as grey and coarse as the snowy mountains he had been born upon. for the first half he had been trotting alone, moving through the undergrowth near silently, observing in the same ways he observed battle ; with measured breath and piercing golden eyes. a rustle ahead. at first he thought it to be a boar, or a deer, or perhaps some sort of game bird taking flight. instead, his dear sister. loras couldn’t help but chuckle at the misidentification. “it is folly indeed,” he agreed, sidling up against lyanna’s mare. “fool’s entertainment. and yet here we are. did you expect any more from the crown, dear sister ? i do not believe they possess the intelligence for a game of cyvasse. it is all bloodshed, the idiot’s act of beating someone or something with a stick long enough for them to yield.” he often thought that the cold they had embraced like a mother had something to do with keeping their minds sharp. those in warmer climates seemed to suffer from what loras could only discern as a boiling, melting brain. not much in their heads beneath the fairness of their hair. “but we are here, are we not ? and being here means that we must smile and push through. the sooner we appease the king, the sooner we can return home.” the boom startled loras’s horse, and he clicked his tongue and cooed until the mare calmed. once more he followed lyanna’s steed, running the ends of his fingers through the mane of his own companion. “i think we can bring back a stag each, easily. we could venture into that thicket ahead. when i moved through it only a moment ago i could hear nothing but the sounds of the earth moving below me.”
once again, the thoughts of relief crossed her mind when she came to realize that the person next to her turned out to be her scholar older brother and not someone unknown and unwanted. there were too many of those around. lyanna smiled at her brother, a sly smile of comaraderie between dissidents minds, wolves in the middle of a tamed forest they did not belong to. ❛❛ — no. I expect nothing but ludicrous activities from this court we unwillingly bow to and yet, they always seem to find ways to disappoint me. I would like to see you beating them at their own game one day, even something as innocent as a game of cyvasse. — ❞ they almost had it during the war, with her brother startegies in the northern front and the mighty valor of their soldiers, they almost had it. if only orys baratheon had defeated the loyalist kingsguard in the Trident.
at least she had her brothers with her in this hunt; olynna was alone in the needlepoint that fitted her demeanour more than this boisterous and useless hunt. if they were offering more intellectual activities, she easily assumed she would lose her senstitive brother also. would she one day not look at loras like someone, a sibling so close and dear to her heart, who almost got away? she loved her siblings very much, with every bone of her being. but it made her appreciate loras' presence in a peculiar way. sometimes, she was glad just in seeing him. eventually, they would all leave her the same way they did during the war. as long as it was for noble causes, northern rebellion, love, she could find in her heart to make peace with it when the time came and cured all wounds. or so she thought. everytime a member of the pack threatened to wander too far from their home, she clinged harder with bone white knuckles.
lyanna grimaced, thin lips disappearing altogether at the thought of bowing and appeasing the king, once again. she remembered the first time they were forced to vow loyalty again, the first time lyanna had been south of the neck. her youthful joints stil felt the strain of a lying kneeling. there were some words stuck in her throat she wished to discuss with her brother in more secluded areas, so she grabbed the reigns of her trusted mare and rushed her to the beginning of the trail he mentioned, away from the others, invinting loras to follow her. when they could not see the caravan anymore, she started their conversation again. quietly this time, as a hunter is supposed to do. her voice not louder than the sound of the hooves of their horses and the shuffle of her riding skirts. ❛❛ — must we smile to appease the king, must we, really? and for how long should we keep this farce? I am so tired of traveling here for these foolish events that could be summarized in a raven. let them make the journey north next time. — ❞ she immediately shook her head at her own words, a laugh escaping her throat at the mere thought of such terror. ❛❛ — I jest. as much as I do not want these pompous southerners in our land, I fear I would have too much fun watching them freeze their asses in the snow. — ❞
STATUS: closed with @threadedjade LOCATION: the red keep, before the hunt
even with no intention of joining the hunt, cedric took his courser, his fastest horse to the entrance where the stragglers were before they would leave for the kingswood, finding the lady alysanne baratheon among the mooton scarlet soldiers; a poor comparison to lannister crimson, it almost brought a small smile to his lips. he was a lord with a mission, to remedy a meeting that was past due for plans to advance. he dismounted and bowed slightly, it was supposed to be a kind gesture to a lady who was merely a ward when once she had been a great lady, before addressing her. ❛❛ — lady alysanne. i do wonder if somehow you are avoiding me, my lady. you would not know anything about it, would you? — ❞ this time he actually cracked a smile, a crooked one hiding the irony he could not share with the lady he had been betrothed to but never actually met in person. cedric had been avoiding her himself, the red keep and his new duties as master of ships providing great distractions.
once he had been interested in the lady alysanne. mostly in her claim to a castle and a major house the lannisters could sink their claws into with the correct amount of pressure on house targaryen. he would have been interested in charming her with honeyed lies and luxurious gifs and whatever the lady demanded the way he had done his whole life. but alas, everything had changed. not with lord edric's death, the seven blessed his innocuous soul for he would not be missed by more than his family and the fools from the stormlands who dared to take his side against their regional overlord, but with king aerion's marriage to a lady of house dondarrion. cedric assumed immediately they would not take too kindly on anyone asking for his queen's heritance through a second daughter. lady alysanne and her hand, for all her tempestuous beauty, had wiltered like ashes in his eye. without house lannister, there was no true future for the baratheons. they would die penniless and titleless, a destiny worse than death in cedric's eye.
his ambitions ran deeper than the caverns hiding gold in the rock, beneath the very ground he rested his head every night back home. but until they, as in himself and laurentia, could find another path that did not involve the baratheons and their lost cause, he would have to be charming and playful, interested in getting to know her; and that involved finding some common cause with the lady. his emerald eyes raked quickly around her figure, noticing the bow and arrow she was carrying in preparation for the king's parade. ❛❛ — will you be joining the hunt? I have heard of your prowess with the bow. we have great game around casterly rock too, once in a while we can even hunt a mountain lion. they are more fun than prey. — ❞ he was surprised they would allow her a weapon, a protected ward as she was supposed to be; and a warrior in her own right, if the rumours were true. ❛❛ — my sister shared with me the conversation you two had in storm's end. I hope she has not come off as too incisive. that is laurentia for you, she means absolutely well. we can postpone if it is your heart's desire, my lady. — ❞ now that the circumstances changed so drastically, he did not for a second about alysanne's wishes. but the lies slipped so easily from his lips it was almost second nature. it was easy to portray earnestness against laurentia's cold demeanour; it was easy to be the adored lannister second child when everyone already feared the oldest. it came with many rewards he was not tardy in trying to explore.
&&. HEAR ME ROAR.
STATUS: everyone! LOCATION: the feast after the hatching
aron martell was not on duty for that joyous evening, for once. not on duty, but always alert. once again, when the whole realm was reunited under the same roof, it was when he felt more anxious. it was the warrior in him who was so unforgiving to people he fought on the battlefield only a couple of moons ago. if he walked around the great hall, sitting down at random tables to intimidate against rebellious behavior, he could justify to anyone as only doing his duty. ❛❛ — well, that is quite unexpected. — ❞ he whispered, still loud enough for the person next to him to hear, when he set down the cup of bitter ale he had been drinking moments before the egg started to crack. not one to be dazzled by magical stories and house targaryen's pride in its past glory, he had not even paid attention to the dragon eggs displayed in the dais before the newlyweds; it was only part of the decoration, details easily ignored. but once they started to crac maybe everything is about to change. he would not dare to utter those words aloud, for what once could be a sign of triumph could so easily turn to ash on one's mouth. aron decided for a better exclamation, that he uttered calmly to the person next to him. ❛❛ — the gods favored house targaryen once again. — ❞
