( freya allan, cis woman, she/her, 23. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ nymeria yronwood ], [ lady ] of house [ yronwood ]. rumor has it that you are [ blunt ] but are also [ clever ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ undecided ].
( millie brady, cis woman, she/her, 26. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ taelysanne stark ], [ lady ] of house [ stark ]. rumor has it that you are [ proud ] but are also [ loyal ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ the north ].
( joey batey, trans man, he/him, 29. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ miłosław gomółka ]. you are the [ bard ] from [ king’s landing ], are you not? rumor has it that you are [ easily flustered ] but are also [ compassionate ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ undecided ].
BRIEF BACKGROUNDS
nymeria yronwood is a rather unwilling visitor to king’s landing. her father, lord nymor yronwood the bloodroyal, has continued his ancestors’ tradition of the andal rules of inheritance. thus, despite the fact that nymeria is the eldest of the yronwood children, her duty is to marry and create a strong alliance, as she is considered “unfit” to succeed her father to the position of head of house. this has always been a point of contention between the two, as it is clear to all (both within and without the family) that her younger brother trebor is not exactly suited to follow in their father’s firm and just footprints as lord. she has come to king’s landing with both of them, where her father hopes to find a proper match.
taelysanne stark has decided to accompany her eldest brother edwyn to king’s landing, both for the celebrations and because her poor brother must find a wife despite still deeply loving his late wife. as the only stark daughter, she knows her brother will also be trying to find her a man to be betrothed to despite her resistance, but in the meantime...she is determined to have fun and cause as much (harmless, mostly) chaos.
miłosław gomółka likes to keep his background a secret. for all he’ll tell anyone in king’s landing, he may as well have sprung from the ground in the gardens of the red keep, fully formed and already deep in song. in truth, he was born to a small family deep in some corner of the crownlands, before stealing away the night of his 16th nameday to join a wandering entertainers’ troupe. there, he reinvents himself, finally shedding the suffocating skin of the woman he’d been born as and stepping into his own as a boyish young man with the voice of a songbird and a particular talent for the lute. he made his way to king’s landing, then to the red keep, and now he is the king’s bard. and if he has eyes for a certain daemon targaryen, well...no he doesn’t.
For once, Freya finds herself in a setting where revelry is encouraged, and she’s making full use of the opportunity. Naturally, she had a little to eat and drink, but the moment the musicians started up, she was out of her seat and on the dance floor before her lord father could so much as blink. With the ending of the latest song, some leave and some join, but she spots a face in the crowd that she decides should not be on the sidelines. In a very unsubtle move, she slides up beside the figure, watching the dancers as she does. “They look like they’re having fun, do they not?”
taelys startles when someone comes up besides her and asks her a question, before relaxing and grinning. “they do,” she agrees, before turning to face the other woman more fully. “you looked like you were having fun, too.” she extends her hand, still grinning. she had a good feeling about this woman, like they could be fast friends. “taelys. stark. what’s your name?”
starter: closed for @windswiinter ( taelysanne stark )
though known for her proper etiquette and practiced leadership as acting ladyship of house forrester, even the most dignified lady loses grace at the sight of a close friend. not so elegantly elbowing her way past southern lords and ladies, eddeline calls out with a crooked smirk to her fellow northern lady.
“you finally show you face, little wolf, i was afraid that brother of yours was too fearful of the ladies wanting to wed him to even step foot out of the north with the stark house.”
as soon as she hears the familiar voice, taelys drops all pretense of being a lady of the north in favor of letting out a happy squeal and running to almost tackle eddie in a tight hug. “honestly, it was a battle getting him out of winterfell,” she laughs, finally letting go and stepping back. “i had to drag him to his horse.” unable to stop herself, she pulls the lady forrester into a tight hug. “how have you been? how was your journey?”
he chuckles, grasping her hand as he looks upon his sister fondly. he always loved her best out of their siblings; the boys were rambunctious at best and layabouts at worse. they never had much pressure on them due to being second, third, and fourth sons, not like edwyn and taelysanne. not like an eldest son and a youngest daughter.
“i was born and bred for duty, taelys, and this is but one part of what i must take upon myself when father dies.” he leans over to kiss the crown of her head, hoping it softens his words. “now i must see who of the eligible ladies here is the least cumbersome to have a conversation with, while still being reasonably pleasing to the eye.” he raises an eyebrow playfully. “anyone come to mind?”
his hand is warm as it rests over hers, brightening her smile. “and you think i haven’t?” she teases back, always determined to lighten her brother’s mood. “though, i suppose it’s easier for me to flee my duty than you.” taelys leans into him as he kisses the top of her head. “well, i’m sure eddie would be a lovely conversationalist,” she hums, unable to keep from chuckling at the thought of her poor brother trying to propose marriage to eddie. she’d probably have to drag his unconscious body back to his rooms after the other woman finished with him. “hm. well, who have you spoken to already? have you spoken to anyone already?”
“i have to admit- this weather would be considered a rather wintery day back home.” valena pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. “that must sound quite ridiculous to you, considering your home.” she didn’t believe that she’d ever even seen snow, having rarely left sunspear.
taelys breaks into a bright smile and bubbly laugh when the other woman giggles, ducking her head. “a little, but i’m well aware that not many are used to the winters of the north,” she grins. “so it’d be more ridiculous coming from a northerner, rather than someone as far south as you.” the youngest stark glances around. “would you like company on your walk? my brother is busy mingling, and i have nothing to do.”
“lady stark-” valena paused along her walk, her head bowing towards the younger woman in greeting. “how lovely to see you here. i have to say the southern sun really suits you.” she gestured towards her retinue to continue walking without her. “some day we may even get you to visit dorne.”
taelys blinks as the lady martell calls to her, dropping into a quick curtsy in response. “please, call me taelys,” she requests, smiling at her. “perhaps one day, but i think i’ll have to find a far more appropriate wardrobe for that. my current is only barely suitable for king’s landing,” she jokes. “i hope the weather here isn’t too unlike your home. the cold can be much more brutal than the heat, i’ve found.” it’s genuine worry- one time, when she was young, her father had entertained a retinue from dorne, and she remembers all too well the rush to bring them more and more furs to keep them warm. “and i hope your journey wasn’t difficult either?”
Daemon hadn’t really registered who he was speaking to at first, but his lips curve into an amused smirk once he does. The bard. Naturally. “Oh?” he says, and that’s really all he has time to say as Miłosz rambles through his predicament. It’s quite a skill, being able to get out so many words while still being almost incomprehensible, but perhaps that is more due to the speed at which the bard speaks. It’s only once Miłosz has flitted behind him that the prince makes heads or tails of what he’d said, and he has to stifle a laugh.
With a decidedly Greyjoy-looking figure approaching from the other end of the hall, Daemon ponders for half a moment before letting out a little sigh. “Except you are here,” he replies quietly, before turning around and clapping a hand on the bard’s shoulder. “Excellent! I was looking for you,” he says, loud enough to be heard by the encroaching ironborn. “How goes it with that song for my sister? I’d like it to be ready by tonight, after all.” And with that, the prince puts an arm around Miłosz’s shoulders and starts pushing him along down the hall away from the Greyjoy.
the sound of the prince’s stifled laugh and his murmured comment barely gives the poor bard any warning before daemon turns, claps his shoulder, and loudly begins speaking about how he’d been looking for miłosz. “wait, wait-” he panics, shaking his head frantically and watching the greyjoy perk up and head their way. “you-” he starts, only to be cut off by the prince throwing his arm around his shoulders and leading him away, almost stumbling with the mental whiplash he’d just experienced. “you ass,” he hisses, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and residual panic. “you could have just stood there and let him pass, but no, you just had to draw more attention to me.” normally, miłosz was what some would call a whore for attention, but that was reserved for when he was not being chased down by a drunken greyjoy to sing a drunkenly made-up song. “now i have to write a song for your sister, because you know i don’t have one, and then your father will kill me if i don’t have a song written for you as well, and everyone will be expecting me to perform them both tonight, and i swear your song will be all about how you are a giant, toe-headed plank and have the personality of a lobster,” he rants, before shutting his mouth with an audible click and stepping forward to turn and face daemon. his cheeks are still flushed, and his lips are pursed a little, but he does bow his head. “thank you for rescuing me from the horrors of a drunken greyjoy, your grace,” he grumbles. stupid daemon targaryen. stupid, assholish daemon targaryen. stupid, assholish, attractive daemon targaryen.
edwyn grunts in response, clasping his hands in front of him as he surveys the crowd. “perhaps. but i do not wish to trap a lady who wants something more than i can give.” a soft, watery smile finds its way onto his face. he could never give his second wife the same kind of love he gave to the first; it wasn’t possible. “i will marry whoever father considers to be a good match,” edwyn says as he straightens his back. “i will be the one succeeding him, after all, and he should have some say in how the legacy is to be carried on.”
she reaches over to rest her hand atop his clasped hands when he gives her that smile, heart aching for him as it had done since aemma’s passing. “a proper lady will understand, and won’t ask that of you, ed,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand. she wrinkles her nose at the thought of their father passing- she’d always been close to him, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear. “you and your duty,” she teases, even though the mischief doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “i’m sure he will also want you to be happy again. he loves you, and though yes, he will want a strong legacy, he isn’t going to push your own happiness aside to be ignored.” gods, there are times where she’s so glad she isn’t in her brother’s position. firstly, because the idea of marriage itself is too much on its own, but secondly...having to marry someone she doesn’t care for? having to bear their children? having to lose the stark name? she can’t imagine. “one thing i know for certain is that you will be a fine lord of Winterfell, no matter who stands at your side.”
@ open : daemon + ?, the red keep before the feast
“Godswood’s out that way,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder and out a window. Through the glass, the tops of the trees filling the Red Keep’s godswood are just visible. “You must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, I’m afraid. I don’t think the gods will mind if you are late to meet them, though.”
“shit,” miłosz blurts out, only half realizing he’s speaking to daemon. the prince. the prince. he glances behind him, fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap securing his lute to his back. “one of the greyjoys refused to leave me be until i sang one of their songs, and i swear they worked with the bottom of a wine cask to make it up, because i don’t know it, and i know songs,” he babbles, before he catches sight of a familiar bald head and darts behind the targaryen prince, ducking down to hide behind the man’s broad shoulders. “i’m not here,” he hisses, praying this was a good enough hiding spot.
he had almost forgotten how little pleasure he derived from southern feasts; they were dull affairs where nobles swanned about making conversation that went nowhere. fights that broke out– if they were even fortunate enough to have any– were sure to be cut short by guards. it made edwyn long for his diplomatic visits to the iron islands, despite their uneasy alliance. he took a sip of wine and glanced in his sister’s direction. “if any more titled ladies attempt to come my way, kindly kill me before they reach my side.”
taelys drums her fingers against the solid wood of the table, eyes alight and twinkling in the firelight. she’s half bored and half mesmerised, the first by the inane small talk spilling out of everyone’s mouths, the second by the sheer vibrance of people filling the hall. she turns to look at her brother, grinning in response to his request. “ah, but then i’d miss the look on your face when you try to escape them,” she teases, nudging him in the side with her elbow. “surely one of them will take your eye.”
