#𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚄𝙽 . ━━ I'VE OFTEN DREAMED OF SLEEPING IN THE SNOW'S EMBRACE. PRIVATE DEPENDANT BLOG FEATURING; DAFNE STARK NEE MARTELL, RULING LADY OF WINTERFELL, PRINCESS OF DORNE , XXX.
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“ yes, that would certainly do it, ” lioness laughs, “ i'm the eldest yet to marry, though after all of this i cannot believe that will last. ” for how the dowager of casterly rock would tear her claws into the next highest bigger for her eldest, despite how lucretia would argue against it unless they could provide the life she so desires. “ but i do not, i think it’s almost romantic — and horribly clever. something i'm sure will one day be retold with affection. ”
' you'd be surprised to know that the eldest in my family has yet to wed, much like you. things are rather different in dorne than here. ' her own marriage was an act of irrevocable love and not some political ploy or gambit. she knows, knows it better than most, that it isn't possible to love and to part. ' perhaps you are correct. it's just that when people are in love, they hardly behave in ways they should. i reckon i'm no better. '
he'd been looking for her. the wedding, despite the change in brides, possibly for the best where his friend was concerned, had caused his mind to drift back to the day of his own. a quieter affair in comparison to royal gathering despite it marking the joining of two great houses, ice and sand tied together. the wolf walked faster when he spotted his wife only to pause when he was a few steps away. the sun illuminated her beauty, a goddess in human form, melting the ice that lived in his chest. ❝ i gifted you these. ❞ he commented, a quiet smile upon his lips, as he picked them up and held them out to her.
' you did — and so the one thing i dread is the thought of losing them. ' she pulls the confession between her teeth like a silk ribbon, embellishing an untold truth. it's not the gold that she fears being deprived of; that would be too simple. what's all the gold in the seven kingdoms compared to the mere presence of her husband? instead of the jewels, she reaches for his hand, all too familiar with every sinew that binds bone to bone. looking up at him, half curiously, she asks, ' what's on your mind? '
a cruel symphony of whispers, whispers of the royal marriage, spreads through the castle like gossamer — but dafne, adamant as ever, disaccords with the notion of eliciting such talk. she keeps her thoughts close to her chest, much like the pearls around her neck, keeps them hidden like flowers between tattered pages of a treasured book. ' this wine tastes rather awful. i wonder if they watered it down, ' she mutters, glass in hand. ' because this is far from true dornish red. '
perched on a stone wall, more like a curious feline or siren than a sun-deprived serpent, dafne begins to plait her half-wet hair in small tresses, exposing the brown locks freshly perfumed with jasmine and lavender to the warmth of the sun. here, in the gardens of the red keep , far from the buzzing of the court , with only the mellow murmurs of distant foam prayers to keep her company, she realizes that she's no longer alone , but instead of fully craning her delicate neck, the lady of winterfell only points to the sitting area with a smile. ' could you lend me a hand — or rather could you pass me the jewels i left on the table there ? '
OPEN STARTER ━━ the day following the masquerade & marital rites, open for replies.
“ i think the meddlesome mamas might be more upset than the rest of us. ” hers certainly is, for if any simple foreign maiden could simply replace the predetermined bride, why too could her own daughter not? golden lannister had listened to the fulminations of her dear lady mother from the moment she woke until the moment she broke her fast. “ mine could hardly stand it. ”
' i suppose that's correct for most, but i've yet to hear something about it from my mother. perhaps it's because i'm already married . ' though she doubts that the beloved caryenne , the glistening ruby of sunspear, who shares her husband with another woman could hardly hold the same views as the rest of westerosi wives and mothers. ' but do you share the same sentiments with your mother ? '
a beautiful ceremony it was , even arnolf had to admit , perhaps plentiful of ale in his blood lending a helping hand . he even raises a toast ( an excuse to drink more , really ) after a generous cheer when the sudden tense atmopshere becomes more than evident to lord stark . whispers and hushes follow , some reaching his ears . so arnolf stands there , ale in hand , eager to have it all , toast or not , but confusion paints his features . " so that was not princess adhika ? "
' it appears not. ' shifting her weight from one foot to another, as if she's about to walk out, dafne only nods, the rest of her silk-like words remaining caught in her throat. instead, she lifts her goblet filled to the golden brim higher, pleased to have the younger stark by her side over anyone else . ' i wonder if they'll blame and ascribe this to someone else . all of this just makes me miss home even more. '
' ━━ lady lannister .... ' dafne mutters upon catching a glimpse of flaxen locks, her gaze adamantly refusing to fully tear itself away from the glass of wine that she's pouring for herself, as if to avoid spillage. ' would you like a glass too? it's dornish red. mixed with citrus fruits. it's my most treasured secret. '
❝ thank the gods. ❞ ice melted in the presence of the sun. he offered no resistance when she pulled him closer; they'd been apart for far too long today, pulled in different directions by people who theon wished would leave him be. now those people were nothing more than background noise. theon's eyes belonged to dafne alone. ❝ i almost believed there was some plot to keep us apart so i'd have to partake in dull conversations. ❞ a chuckle fell from his lips. ❝ that'll be easy. there's nowhere else i'd rather be. ❞
in spite of his subsequent assurance, a sharp breath hollows the inside of her mouth as her gaze flicks up, reflecting something that has yet to be uttered just between them. ' i think we ought to leave this place. ' concern bleeds into her touch and terse tone; it's a never-ending hemophilia only amplified by the most recent whispers and queen's proclamation. ' i've had enough of the dragon's carelessness for the evening. '
open starter , near the red keep, blackwater bay's shore.
it had been a while since the greyjoy had last spent so much time on land, especially king's landing - a unique place, yet one of his least favourite places. still, the atmosphere at the red keep too solemn due to yesterday's events for sigfryd's liking, so he opted out for a night out with detested city. he'd made his way out of the street of silk, leaving behind fellow ironborn to their entertainment, the sea calling for him. young lord found himself near the red keep, one last stop before retreating to his chambers; the shore of familiar blackwater bay. full moon reflecting off wild waves crashing, the smell of salt and rock filling one's lungs, he took a deep breath. suddenly sound of footsteps is heard amongst all other sounds of nature and wilderness; he turns around and they both stop, as if freezing in time as silence follows. whoever it is, they are out of the moon's illuminating shine, so hand stands atop of sword's handle, always on the ready. "show yourself."
' — is a sword truly necessary , lord greyjoy? ' she poses the question with her hands elegantly hoisted up in the air, brandishing a smile instead of a steel blade. empty-handed, with even her arms and fingers denuded of her intricate jewelry, dafne steps forward, unwavering in her approach. ' though i doubt it would be of much help against me. ' a gentle laugh punctuates the sentence, its meaning left for deciphering. chew on it or throw it into the deep sea. ' sleep evades me tonight and i like just how quiet it is here, so i hope you won't mind my presence . '
at long last he was given a reason to smile, small as it was, after dutifully socializing with southern nobles. he'd escaped his conversation with the aging lord clegane mere moments after spotting her and now wove through the crowd to reach her. his sun. ❝ i've been looking for your everywhere. ❞ another reason to despise the crowd's size. his hand brushed against hers before entwining their fingers.
' — now you have found me. ' his voice pulls her quicker than the sight of his well-familiar visage, committed to memory better than any song or hymn; it's the first thing she hears in the morning and the last before she closes her eyes at night. ' i attempted to look for you too, but none of these faces around me seemed to match yours. it was quite disappointing. ' the last words she enunciates with a laugh , instinctively tugging him closer , as if to revel in their nearness . ' stay by my side for the rest of the day — that's my only request . '
the dragoness’ victory still seemed ⸻ factitious . unreal . the reality of it all had yet to sink in . she’d had no doubt , going in , that the beasts would choose , as they had her cousins and siblings , she . but to believe , and to live , are far from the same . subliminal gown fell down to feet , going further , in an attempt to cover the blemishes the dragonpit had cursed her with . they called it a curse , margaery called them proof that the whispers of the castle had been wrong . lavender gaze caught the figure at her side , but she’d only grasped the last word of the sentence . ❛ apologies . could you repeat that? ❜
' are you all right ? that's all i asked . ' something akin to concern seeps into dafne's tactful tone , softer than silk and freshly fallen snow , though her true feelings she could not yet discern . her graceful hands clasped together , adorned with jewels, still remain anchored beneath her chest , close to her abdomen , as if to guard , protect and prevent any other emotions from escaping her grasp . ' that must've been challenging . not just for the body — but the mind , too . '
open starter: event , THE CLAIMING OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE.
“ an excellent showing, truly. ” resentment grows within - hidden by polished expression - this discontent lying deep within him as he looks to the castameran lady and her newly claimed dragon. it is a cruel fate, to be valyrian yet not quite enough in the queen's eyes to be granted access to his birthright. still, the burns he'd eyed upon her before she'd been covered bring a small sense of satisfaction, however cruel. “ though i don't dare wager how please her grace truly is at the lady's success. ”
' it's certainly an impressive feat . ' she mutters , assured , without reason , that behind his smooth veneer hides a dosage of poison . does he covet and vie for the same thing , too ? does the valyrian blood corrupt them all from within ? ' i cannot speak in her grace's name — though i must presume that you're rather proud of your cousin . a triumph for one of you is a triumph for all of you , is it not ? '
࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ hande ercel, 30, cis woman, she/her. announcing the arrival of 𝐃𝐀𝐅𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐍𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 of house 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 , the 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 / 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 . whispers among the court name them to be both 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 and 𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in horse riding. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of the sun hoisted up high in the sky on a cold winter day, a snake hiding in the sand to savor its strength, fur rustling just a little too close to a cliff's edge, a bed of silk where she used to lay, walking barefoot even on cold stone throughout the great hall . the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .
FULL NAME . dafne nymeros stark nee martell NICKNAME(S) . TITLE(S) . princess of dorne, ruling lady of winterfell AGE . thirty GENDER + PRONOUNS . cis woman , she + her ALLEGIANCE . the starks BIRTHPLACE . sunspear , dorne RELIGION . used to be faith of the seven , but is now more inclined toward the old gods RESIDENCE . winterfell
FATHER . prince doran martell MOTHER . princess carynne martell SIBLING(S) . liege martell, ( eldest half-sibling, ), princess nehir martell ( second eldest sibling ), lady esila martell ( third eldest half-sibling, ), lady elif martell ( younger half-sibling, ) , prince/princess martell ( youngest sibling ) SPOUSE . ruling lord theon stark CHILDREN . none PET(S) . various snakes EXTENDED FAMILY . house stark ( in-laws )
𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 .
not the first, not the last, but rather wedged and stationed somewhere near the middle, dafne was born as prince doran's fourth child, inheriting her mother's dark eyes but her father's dauntless nature. the much-treasured laws of primogeniture in dorne had bestowed dafne with a life of freedom, allowing her to live on her terms. spoiled, beloved, and irrevocably cherished, most notably by her mother cyrenne, the young martell princess had always known the true importance of family — and thus she attempted to extend that same love to her siblings, in the best ways she knew.
the thing is, to know dafne is to know that you can never quite properly catch her. it's like trying to hold a snake or wisps of faint smoke in your hands. just when you think that you have a full grasp on her, she somehow manages to slip out, twining herself around your arm in ways that she desires.
as a true dornish girl, or rather a woman, she spent certain parts of her teenhood jaunting through her land and the free cities, rather than westeros, alongside her cousins and other dornishmen. she developed several hobbies, including horse riding, playing cyvasse — a game that she's practically a master at, and most notably the art of working with snake venom at shandystone.
she greatly admired these creatures that unlike most had neither hands nor feet, but were forced to crawl on their belly and were behated by many. it's worth noting that she kept plenty of non-venomous snakes as pets, going so far as to even keep some quite literally up her sleeves — that is, if rumors are to be trusted. yes yes, this part is very much inspired by lucy gray baird, i can't help it. and yes, if she strongly dislikes you, she may just let one crawl up your leg or arm.
now in terms of duty and marriage, she did presume that someday she'd perhaps have to marry for the sake of politics or an alliance — other possibilities she did not envisage despite the more open-minded view on marriage in dorne. in a sense, she simply refused to let her mind be tormented by thoughts of irremediable love— and then, she met theon stark, and well, journey's end, after all, in lovers meeting. it happened at one of many westerosi tourneys, and what ensued was a political agglomerate in dorne, which resulted in correspondence between the two in the form of letters and later on coincidental meet-ups in king's landing. she denied it at first, or perhaps she didn't want to see it, but after a certain point there was just no space left for pretending — and well, look at her now, they've been married for nearly four years.
leaving dorne and moving up north certainly came with its own set of challenges — especially for someone so used to the sun and its warmth, though of course, dafne's willful nature has made the process of acclimating to her new household somewhat amusing. she still very often goes out for horse riding and there's no doubt that she ended up getting lost a few times on such unfamiliar terrain, and yet she still persists ! then there's the fact that she does walk around barefoot at times to sort of get used to the cold — this is the type of behavior that definitely made her quite ill on a couple occasions. really gave the maesters a fright with this one.
for the most part and despite what some may assume, she possesses political savoir-faire — she is after all doran's daughter. dafne's soft-spoken, and can be rather gentle, a trait that perhaps cannot be attributed to many dornishmen, but that makes her no less stubborn or vicious when provoked. the snake loves to play dead until it can bite you.
back in dorne, other than being renowned for her beauty, people used to affectionately call her 'copper-sleeves', due to her almost always wearing dresses with quite long copper-coloured sleeves. it was something that she used to be known for. now, her style has evolved, and she likes to mix dornish silk with northern fur. another thing that she'S kept is her love of baths — so she definitely insists upon dornish flowers and herbs and citrus fruits to be shipped up north every now and then. it's fair to say, however, that she fell in love with the winter rose and its unique scent. her snakes also did not come with her due to their dislike of cold.
i'm probably forgetting some details so more things will be added later.
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