the glass gardens at winterfell are a sight to behold ; and while there are countless such sights, elio finds himself drawn to them. beyond the visual spectacle he picks his way through --- lush greenery caged in panes of fine glass, winter roses in shades of blue, a lemon tree bright as gold in the refracted light --- the sheer historical brilliance of it impresses him. reaching out, he takes a single rose petal between his fingers, thinner and softer than silk. it feels somewhat dramatic, but he wonders how long it would have taken the starks to freeze or starve, without hot springs to warm their walls, and bones, and glass gardens.
he looks up at the sound of a door creaking, and interruption to his thoughts ; a cold breeze from outside floats in, carrying faint voices and the noise of everyday life. a weighty click of a heavy door closing shut, and the sound ceases, and soon the chill has dissipated into the warm air. curious, and more importantly, concerned about appearing secretive, elio takes a few steps from his rather concealed spot. he raises his hand in brief greeting, not wanting to seem threatening or suspicious in any way, as faint recognition dawns on him.
“ prince siddharth, ” he greets in what he hopes is a kind and friendly fashion ; he does not know the dornish prince well, having very little occasion to speak to the man, but is not so clueless as to have no knowledge of him. “ come to escape the cold ? ” he inquires. “ i’d wager it’s near as hot as dorne in here, though not half as dry. ” / @siddharthmartell
eliar did not expect anyone to recognize him . one day , yes , once he was a story to be told —— for now he was just the youngest son of a far northern lord who had done well at a few tourneys . ‘ umber , ’ he answers to the question he thinks is being asked . hand raises to slightly in a gesture to the other , ‘ your accent … where are you from ? ’ he wasn’t sure if that was an impolite question , but he was the type to ask forgiveness ( if anything ) rather than permission . his tone is curious , as he always found it exciting to meet people from new places ; they often had tales he had yet to hear .
eliar would not be one to out the other as such , knowing the feeling of being lost in a new castle . he understands . eliar follows after him and easily falls into step , ready to guide elio in the correct direction when they reached the next turn . ‘ it’s more exciting to be lost sometimes , ’ he replies with a shrug of his shoulders , ‘ though i’d understand if you’re trying to escape this place quicker . ’
elio nods, as if he understands. it's a now-familiar gesture he adopted quickly after realizing that even the most patient people grow weary of question after question. yet he remains occupied. umber . . . he racks his brain for what he knows of the northern house, and comes up empty. were those the bears ? down that rabbit hole, he’s almost caught off guard by the question, and has rather fallen out of the practice of explaining himself. “ i was born in braavos, ” he answers as he falls into step beside eliar with a slightly brisker pace than usual.
“ ah, yes --- i do hope there will be plenty of time for getting lost later. ” and he means it ; he’s seen little enough of winterfell, but he’s already intrigued. he can’t quite hide his surprise at eliar’s next statement ; he’s been told time and time again how proud the northerners are of their homes and histories. it feels suspiciously like a trap. “ oh no, nothing like that. ” he’s more genial than he’s used to, trying to put his best foot forward. “ in fact i’m quite glad to be here. all things considered. ” it feels a little selfish --- the northern king has died, after all --- but it’s a welcome respite from king’s landing. “ are you not ? ” he poses the question with a careful nonchalance.
she knows well enough that the godswood will become something of a spectacle to any guest who had not visited winterfell . while many regions had a ‘godswood’ in their ancestral homes , few compared to the sheer size & scope of winterfell’s. many would tread upon this ground in the coming days , and could freyja truly blame them ? the place calls to her still , and she is privy to it whenever she wishes.
❛❛ the heart tree is best viewed from up close , ❜❜ she remarks absently , turning her head to face the man . ❛❛ you are more than welcome to look . ❜❜ freyja stands , an attempt at creating some neutrality in this space , where previously it was holy as she knelt before the tree . she gives some space for the prince to examine the tree if he wishes .
❛❛ condolences are more appropriate , and i thank you for them. we lost king brandon far before his time . no one should truly celebrate a crown stained in blood . ❜❜ she is perhaps too candid in front of the man who was all but a stranger, and had too many connections with a kingdom whose peace with her own seemed like a flickering flame : one breath enough to extinguish it entirely.
he does not kneel, but gives a small bow as she turns, hands clasped behind his back ; he hopes the gesture adequately conveys his gratitude at her invitation. it cannot come naturally, being so welcoming. he’s been told often enough that the northerners are suspicious of strangers even at the best of times, and now . . . it must take considerable strength to even tolerate the southern presence in winterfell, and he does not take that sacrifice lightly. he accepts only the space that she offers, approaching the heart tree with a practiced solemnity. all manner of priests and holy men walk the streets of braavos, and all hold their gods to be above reproach or disrespect ; elio has been taught since he was a boy to afford all gods their due reverence, especially under the watchful eyes of their worshippers.
“ i understand, ” he says, addressing the carved face of the weirwood more than the queen. “ when king aeron passed, they say kingdom mourned him like a father --- but that does ignore the fact that he was indeed, a real father to some. though it is hardly the same, of course, ” he admits, hoping this is sympathetic, not insensitive. “ as you must know, i can make no promises which i can guarantee, ” not even on my own behalf, but he does not say that, as it may sound spiteful, “ but if there is any way i may be of any assistance to your grace or king theon, i would gladly hear it. ”
he can see the moment of panic and then of relief , and nods . ‘ well that would not be good . you’d be frozen solid and your letter would never be sent … ’ eliar says the words as if both outcomes were equally dire , his face twisting slightly in mock concern as he makes a joke of the situation . ‘ eliar , ’ he offers his name in response to the honorific , not feeling like keeping up with an overly proper conversation in the moment . he did not enjoy them in most moments , and currently he was already tired . ‘ and you ? ’
he takes a step towards the stranger and , after tucking the gloves into his pocket , gesture behind elio . ‘ it’s actually that way . well , unless you would prefer to take the scenic route through the kitchens . ’ he had not returned to the north often since his sister married into the stark household , but even in the few visits he had spent it , eliar had managed to create a good map of the keep in his head .
through his nose, elio breathes a single huff of laughter, and imagines himself frozen solid with letters in hand, serving as a perch for disinterested ravens. “ that’s not a future i hope for myself, no, ” he says, amused. a brow twitches as eliar introduces himself, then a corner of his lips. “ eliar ? ” he repeats, wondering if it’s a name he’s meant to recognize and trying hard at an unaccented pronunciation. “ i’m elio, ” he introduces, hand over his heart, eyes downcast for a moment in a gentle mockery of polite deference.
“ ah, right, ” he says, an flush of color rising up his throat as he fights the urge to let out a deeply self-frustrated groan. it won’t be long before the whole northern kingdom knows him as the half-royal halfwit, he’s sure of it. “ well, i’m not too hungry, ” he says wryly, the sting of embarrassment perhaps straining his tone as he turns on his heel, back the direction he came. " i ought to start making a map now, i suppose, ” elio reflects sheepishly, “ or else i’m afraid i won’t be able to find my way back to the south gate when it comes time to leave. ”
eliar was just coming back from the stables , once again finding a reason to disappear for an afternoon . as he walked through the halls of winterfell toward the apartment the umbers had been allocated , he tugged the gloves from his fingers with his teeth . he had completed this process with the left and was just about to finish the left when he hears a voice . he turns to look over his shoulder , then realizes what he is doing , drops the now loose glove into his hand and turns completely once he has done so . he’s faced with someone who he has not run into on his travels .
‘ it’s above the maester’s turret , near the bell tower … ’ yet , as he explains he considers that it likely this stranger has just as much knowledge of these locations as the one he was seeking . ‘ i’m not going anywhere , i could show you ? ’
the figure turns over his shoulder to reveal boyish features with a leather glove pinched between his teeth, incongruent with his towering stature. a twitch at the corner of elio’s lips as the glove drops into an empty hand ; he sees too much of his son in the near-sheepish gesture, though these days it seems almost anything reminds him of one of his children. at the young man’s explanation, elio can feel himself panicking slightly ; he nods along with the explanation as though it makes any sense, prepared to thank him for his help and set off, hopefully not in the wrong direction.
“ right, yes --- . . . ” he’s trying to sound confident, but the offer to show him the way brings visible relief to his face, and a note of self-deprecating laughter rises from his throat. “ ah, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, i would be very grateful, my lord, ” he admits, an open and honest gratitude in his face. “ i think i could be lost here until winter comes again. ”
he’s terribly lost, that much is evident. winterfell’s walls, twists, and turns are labyrinthian, or perhaps he is simply too exhausted to find his way. he must have taken a wrong turn. it’s an old, familiar sensation of being completely out of his depth, and rather convinced he’s only wandering further from where he’s meant to be. not for the first time, elio wonders if he had not best stayed south with the children ; here, he is a liability, and quite selfishly he wishes for the relative comforts of home. trying not to think too hard about not wanting to be here, he casts about for a sign, something to signal where he is, but the grey walls are as grey and imposing as any other part of the castle. resolved to ask the next person he sees, he turns a corner and spots a figure with their back turned to him.
“ pardon me, ” he announces, not wanting to startle them, “ you wouldn’t be able to point me to the rookery, would you ? ” / @armoredspirit
she does not pray as often as she used to . duty has taken priority , and she has begun to wonder if the gods listen to her at all . how can they , she wonders , when she catches glimpses of her husband’s grief - stricken face when he thinks she is not looking . when she cannot properly explain to her children why they are so very afraid . perhaps the old gods do not listen like she had once believed . or if they do , perhaps they do not care . she shudders , trying to remove sacrilegious thoughts from her mind , for the truth is that she needs them to listen. she adjusts her cloak around her , paying little mind to the dirt and leaves as she lowers herself onto cold , hard , ground in a cascade of blue-grey skirts.
she has only just begun to pray , her eyes fixed on the face of the heart tree ( it seems to stare at her with burning intensity ) , when she hears footsteps approaching . though the crown does not rest upon her head , she feels its weight - feels the cool metal on her forehead as if someone — something is reminding her of her place. she is a queen now , or will be .
❛ have you come to join me ? or retrieve me? ❜ she knows that either is an appropriate response. her time does not quite belong to her .
elio is no stranger to holy ground ; it holds no power to unsettle him. he’s seen temples built to too many gods to place his faith in any of them, and yet he treads with distinct caution. the northerners are proud people, as he’s been warned countless times on the journey, and he cannot do anything to threaten their already tenuous peace. he hopes it is not a sign of disrespect, then, to enter the godswood with no intention of worshipping ; what a poor impression that would make.it is only as he approaches the weirwood that he spots her there, a figure emerging from behind the foliage, her upturned face as pale as the carved one she faces, and for the first time he feels like an unwelcome interloper. he retreats a few paces, a sign of deference.
“ neither, your grace. ” he hesitates a moment, unsure whether to make his excuses and leave her to her prayer. “ i wanted to see the heart tree. and offer my condolences --- or congratulations. ” he wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. “ whichever is more appropriate. ” his features are solemn, but he cannot help but find the whole practice somewhat absurd, that a son must celebrate his coronation while he still mourns his father.
@freyjad said — 🍌
( is my muse inclined to help others, or will they only do it when it benefits them, if at all ? what makes them this way ? has it ever gotten them into trouble, or inconvenienced them ? )
elio is raised with a relatively strong sense of community, with a large family and strong ties to his birthplace ; his family, parents and siblings alike, have given him much to be grateful for and much which he may feel inclined to repay. and yet he stills leaves braavos without their blessing, despite their wishes, and convinces himself never to look back. this could be careless, heartless, or even cruel, but for elio it is a matter both of the heart and the head, and he cannot understand why they do not see it this way. his parents, for all their love and affection for their children, are merchants through and through, and they teach him to never give anything unless he gets something in return.
so his outlook on altruism is much the same as his outlook on everything else : rather transactional. he will help where he can, where it does not cost him too much, or where he has something to gain. in this way he can convince himself he is still a good man, or no worse than any other. if challenged, he might insist that it is not greed, but pragmatism. this is an argument that might have held up when he was still just a sailor, the son of a merchant, with little enough to his name that it must be protected at all costs. as a prince and a lord, with more than enough resources at his ( or rather, his wife’s ) disposal, such an outlook is not pragmatic but selfish, and it requires a great willful ignorance to maintain.
hey hi, it’s kit again, this time with a brand new baby, elio ! he’s a super new muse so pls bear with me as i figure him out. if you know anything about me, you know my intros are always way too long, so i’m really trying to keep this short and to the point and put any extra stuff elsewhere. under the cut, you’ll find some basic info, an intro, and some plot ideas for elio ; if you wanna plot anything at all, hit me up on IMs or ( preferably ) discord ( do you like yuice ?#6373 ) !
⤷ the courts offer bread and salt to elio vhassenor of braavos. many say that the thirty-four year old prince of the southern kingdom is known to be sentimental and intuitive, though ill tongues whisper that he is opportunistic and irreverent. when his name is uttered, one is reminded of coins slipping through deft fingers, sunrise viewed from the highest tower, serpentine tongues spilling secrets, & the heavy heat of sunshine on cobbled streets. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns. ( fc: matteo martari )
basics.
name. elio vhassenor.
nicknames. westerosi call him the merchant prince ; his family calls him eli ; his enemies call him the snake.
age. thirty-four.
traits. + egalitarian, forgiving, intuitive, reasonable, sentimental.
- disillusioned, indulgent, irreverent, opportunistic, stubborn.
titles. prince ( consort ) of the seven kingdoms.
loyalty. [ john mulaney vc ] my wife !
??? targaryen, princess of the southern kingdom ( wife ) ; ??? targaryen, king of the southern kingdom ( brother-in-law ) ; jaehaerys targaryen, prince of the southern kingdom ( brother-in-law ) ; daenys targaryen ( sister-in-law ) ; ??? targaryen, prince(ss) of the southern kingdom ( sibling-in-law ) ;
first impression.
he has a harsh, inscrutible face ; dark eyes and a severe brow. he speaks slowly and deliberately, with a braavosi accent that has faded over time, but remains ever audible. for a prince, his dress is rather modest ; if you didn’t know better you would not have recognized him. you’ve heard he’s harmless ( ‘weak’ is the word of choice ) ; he’s tall but slight, and you suspect he is indeed no fighter. still, there is a dangerous grace in his movements --- but then he laughs, and there is nothing at all threatening about him.
early life.
fifth of seven children from a braavosi merchant family ; not even braavosi nobility. they were relatively wealthy, whatever the closest thing to upper middle class is in braavos. the business was a family one, and their parents, shrewd business partners more than anything, groomed all of them for similar success. they were somewhat educated, well cared for.
with that many kids, though, he’s often overlooked by his parents but also doesn’t grow up with the sense that he’s entitled to not be overlooked ; often raised more by his older siblings than parents.
still, as he ages he takes more of a role in his parents’ dealings. they trade in textiles and dyes all across the known world, and elio accompanies his older siblings on such trips ;
and it’s on one such trip that he meets his future wife ! at least, i think so. a lot of this is still up in the air and needs to be plotted with whoever fills my wc, so for now i’m gonna leave this kind of vague and edit it later when there’s more to know !
but rest assured elio’s young and overexcited and thinks he knows everything, meets her and is immediately completely sold
have i mentioned they’re young because i need to impress upon you how stupid and in love they were to think they could just get married and that would be Fine, even though she’s a princess and he’s ... nothing
anyway literally nothing is canon until i’ve had a chance to plot with whoever picks up his wife ofc but i like to think that she was the one who convinced her fam / pushed thru the marriage / decided to elope / whatever it is they did ? like i cannot emphasize enough how much elio is just along for the ride
life in westeros.
so elio’s in westeros, chilling with his new wife and loving it. the lifestyle ? delightful ; he was the son of a merchant sailor and now he’s a prince. is he totally accepted by his new family and by westeros at large ? somehow i suspect not really.
he’s also confused a lot, especially in the early years. permanently baffled by the culture. he’s a young man who’s seen a lot of the world from the middle of the crowd ; he’s definitely not used to the view from above, nor the treachery of westerosi politics.
and like, we know how westerosi can be about foreigners ; among the smallfolk there’s all kinds of rumors he’s a red priest or a shadowbinder or something and he spelled the princess to seduce her. the nobility generally know better and consider him extremely non-threatening
which, okay, fair ? he’s no political mastermind, he has few connections which do not derive from his wife’s family, he’s a big fat trophy husband is what he is.
he’s ok with that tho ? most of the time he’s very comfortable not fitting into the westerosi ideal masculine type. he likes singing and dancing, and his ‘fight training’ ( read: getting beat up by his older brothers ) in braavos was pretty limited. can’t handle wearing armor it’s too heavy and constrictive and he’s not with it. much better on a boat than on a horse. decent archer, decent ‘water dancer’, probably couldn’t wield a broadsword.
i am not sure yet if he has children or how many, but i do think he does ? would also need to be plotted i guess. but... big dad energy.
enjoys his position more with each passing day ; most of his wide eyed excitement and nerves have faded to a comfortable distance ; enjoys the shit out of being a lowly merchant married to one of the most powerful women in westeros, meaning he can mask his still somewhat poor understanding of westerosi customs. instead of “i don’t know how to react to this situation” he can simply say “i do not care and i do what i want”
personality.
he can be very dramatic ; he’s always had a love for the mummers of braavos and while he was a rather shy youth, he’s come in to his own. loves a bit of a flair, enjoys making an entrance. dresses modestly, but impeccably, and will probably embellish all the stories he tells.
has a very hard time expressing negative emotions ; instead he gets rather withdrawn and can appear cold and even unsettlingly calm. he has a rather serious and grounded disposition and can come across as much more severe than he actually is, a source of great confusion for him.
plot ideas.
sorry, these are a little shorter and less detailed than my plot ideas for jeyne because i’m on a bit of a time crunch to get these intros out on time ! and also i’m bad at thinking of generic plot ideas, but rest assured if these all seem super lame ( they are ) i’ll happily come up with a fresh brainstormed plot for you !
but, here goes: enemies, frenemies, good friends/buddies, confidante, lovers, pen pals, former customers ( lmao imagine someone being like: ‘ur face is familiar ... wait what’ ), former connections from braavos, allies, bad influences, new friends, god i don’t know honestly .. but if you hmu at all i promise to come up with more better ideas than this, i can do it
