𝔪𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔲𝔫.

anya redwyne targaryen. xxiv. queen of the southern kingdom. penned by kit for warofcrowns.

[wishtorn]

princebenjen‌ .

        “Surely you can agree you don’t have to know terribly much about jousting or melee fighting to see that these tournaments are simply an excuse to put on a show of ‘who’s the best’,” Benjen began, gesturing slightly as he lifted his goblet of wine again. He’d grown tired of biting his tongue, it seemed, “causing, of course, just enough discord between the noble houses to have our friendly rivalry, but not quite too much to result in a war, or bad blood, and then followed up by seeing who can eat the most pig and drink the most ale, hoping that none of the more doltish in the family will make fools of themselves. A play of the excess, if I have ever seen it. No?” He turned back to Queen Anya then, eyebrows raised and a slightly amused pull to his lips. “But that is our job, is it not? To watch and parade? Life is all a game, after all. The bid for the crown, for the kingdoms.” He paused then, thinking perhaps he had indeed said too much. 

          was it the wine going to his head, or was he so emboldened by her insipid prying, that he spoke so ? if he seemed amused, or careless, anya couldn’t help but hear an edge concealed beneath his voice, not mild-mannered amusement, but a distilled contempt. ‘ oh, it’s certainly excessive, but not half so excessive as a war --- and as you say, that would be undesirable. yet it seems men must find some excuse to beat each others brains out, and the excesses of tourneys must be excused. ’ she glanced furtively at the two kings seated at the high table, but that was all the hint she gave of her concern --- let him think she thought nothing of his words, that she was the fool they all believed her to be. ‘ if life is a game, it is not a very good one. it is terribly unclear who wins or  loses --- and i suppose we all lose in the end. and you sell yourself short, your highness. i’m sure you do much more than just watching and parading. ’

[wishtorn]

          maya had been whisked away once more into the arms of a young lord, and anya observed, amused, over the edge of her cup. stirred by some sense that she was being watched, that she had best look engaged with, and at home in present company, she cast her gaze around for a familiar face. or not quite familiar --- she recognized lucan arryn’s heraldry much more clearly than she did his features. ‘ lord arryn --- how’s your head ? ’ the injury had looked like a bloody affair, from her vantage point, the side of his head gone all red, but now, clean and dry, the wound looked unremarkable, just a red scrape near the hairline, not even long enough to stitch.   /   @lucanarryn

[wishtorn]

princebenjen‌ .

          Benjen nodded, his gaze having shifted slightly off toward the rest of the hall, but turning back as the Queen spoke again. He was itching to escape. Why had she chosen to speak to him of all people? “Mhm, essential for a man of our time,” he replied, trying to focus completely on her, not wanting to offend. “I’m sure with the finest men to train him, your son will be very skilled.” He thought for a moment, before nodding, “It does, my grace. Although, I do have a preference for melee fighting. I’ve always felt that jousting, and tournaments in general really, require a great deal of performance with it. I am not much a performer, despite what my father would have said. As for Ser Olyvar, I’m afraid I didn’t see his match, but it would not surprise me if there was more to his win than meets the eye. Are you a fan of the tournaments, my grace?”

          ‘ jousting is a very different sort of skill set, ’ she agreed diplomatically. he was distracted, and she was annoying him. anya had spent enough time vying for some attention to know the telltale signs of someone who didn’t particularly care what she had to say, and was only humoring her questions for as long as propriety dictated. still, she would pretend, as she always had, not to notice the obvious ; despite the sinking feeling in her gut, she had yet to die from making a fool of herself. ‘ oh, that’s a pity, ’ she remarked, with an earnestness that suggested she was truly invested in the answer, not just grasping at the flimsy makings of a conversation. ‘ i’m afraid i’ll never hear the end of it. truthfully, i don’t know enough about fighting to fully appreciate the sport of it, but for what it’s worth, i do enjoy the performance. ’ her gaze flickered down to the table, almost embarrassed, as if she had all but announced that she was an idiot.

[wishtorn]

          after all the proprieties had been observed, congratulations and blessings and a choir of well-meaning wishes for king brandon and his reign, the great hall had settled into a low murmur of conversation --- mostly polite, with here and there a pocket of raucous laughter and lesser lords getting steadily more drunk. it was a little stifling, and she was still nervous as ever, but it was pleasant all the same. one might even be fooled into thinking all was well. another rousing chant of the king in the north echoed through the hall, and when it died down, she turned to the king in question. ‘ you are well-loved, your grace, ’ she observed, with a mild amusement, stopping herself from congratulating him yet again --- she would start sounding like one of those talking birds from the summer isles. ‘ your men must take great pride in their king. or is this customary ? ’ somehow, she could not imagine the stark king as a man who would abide being cheered for relentlessly.   /   @icegcd

[wishtorn]

princebenjen‌ .

         To say that being seated at the high table was rather a boresome task to Benjen would be an understatement. He was hardly interested in the Southern royalty, or the dull conversations they were expected to take part in. Instead, he occupied himself with drinking his wine, eating the food (which at least was one positive of this situation), and watching the interactions of the many gathered in the great hall for the feast. His gaze was pulled away from the room in front of him, however, when a voice spoke up directed to him. He turned toward where Queen Anya was facing him, eyebrows lifting as he considered how to respond in the split seconds he had. He knew Brandon would be furious if he disrespected the Southern queen in any way. Benjen wasn’t that stupid that he’d consider it. Peace was still essential. Even if Benjen was a skilled swordsman, he truly wanted no war or bad blood.         “You are too kind, your grace,” he managed, placing his goblet down onto the table carefully, a formal, polite smile on his lips. “Fighting has been a passion of mine since I was a boy. Perhaps, one of the few princely duties I wasn’t quick to flee from.”

          she recognized his look all too well. polite, unassuming, and entirely uninterested, despite varying attempts to appear attentive. that look had been turned on her often enough that anya paid it no mind, merely pressing on as if the stark prince had answered with enthusiasm, rather than his apparent reticence. ‘ then you were wise even as a boy --- my father always says that if a man learns nothing else, he has to learn to fight. ’ those weren’t quite lord redwyne’s words, but in this company, it would not reflect well on her to quote him precisely. ‘ if my son is half the warrior you are, i must count myself lucky. and does your expertise extend to jousting, too ? ’ the change of subject came swiftly. in her experience, men did not care to dwell on the hopes of mothers. ‘  two of my ladies are in some disagreement about whether or not ser olyvar’s win was quite deserved, but i’m afraid neither of them knows enough to convince the other. what would you say ? ’ if it was an obvious ploy, it was nevertheless earnest ; he seemed terribly bored, and if nothing else he would be entertained by her acting the fool, as she couldn’t help but doing.

[wishtorn]

posted on discord but i realize not everyone is on there, so pls like this if you wanna plot an event thread with anya !

[wishtorn]

         the northerners were a stoic bunch, she had been well-warned ; something about cold places breeding cold people, or some such nonsense. she hadn’t found that to be the case --- with food and ale, dancing and toasts to the king in the north, the celebration had grown quite warm. even at the high table, a murmur of conversation and compliments flowed as freely as the wine, yet in a lull in the conversation anya noticed the young prince stark was rather disengaged. in fact, he looked positively disaffected, as though he had rather been anywhere else but there. it was perhaps a foolish impulse that moved her to speak, a desperate desire to ingratiate herself here, among strangers. ‘ prince benjen, you fought wonderfully in the melee this morning. i’ll admit, i know little of swordsmanship, but even i could see you are a an expert fighter. ’   /   @princebenjen

[wishtorn]

stormlanded‌ .

             light eyes inspect the festivities with rapt attention. truthfully , it has been a great length of time since katherynne has attended an event as grand or populated as this one. gatherings in the reach were lavish & lively , or so she had heard. her wedding had been the first & last feast she had attended there, before her husband invented an excuse for her to remain  in oldtown , declining almost every invitation on her behalf. it is why she feels so small now - -  so out of place. she watches the dances begin and realizes it has been years since she’s danced. can she even remember how ? small fingers fidget with the base of her goblet , and she shrinks towards the outskirts of the banquet hall , deciding it might be better that she remain a happy spectator. still , a longing twinkles in her eye.  she turns her head slightly , politely engaging with the person to her right. 

                ❛❛are northern dances very different to southern , i wonder ?                         surely we must share a common ground somewhere. ❜❜

          anya watches nervously, eyeing the enthusiastic, surefooted passes with a growing dread --- she’s never been a skilled dancer, and the unfamiliar steps are a sure sign that if she tries, she’ll only embarrass herself. for a while, she is safe, occupied as she is with food, drink, and conversation at the dais, but before long her reluctance surely begins to look like contempt and the only polite thing to do is to descend from the hight table. she spots the former lady hightower quickly, a familiar face she hasn’t seen in all too long, betraying for a moment the same look of apprehension that anya, too, is trying to suppress. people move from her path as she approaches, offering katherynne a smile that she hopes is commiserative. ‘ i was wondering the same. for me, i don’t think it will make much of a difference --- i’m a dreadful dancer. but surely there’s some gallant northman who would be more than happy to teach you, ’ she suggests, encouraging.  

[ladyofvalyria]

reign costumes character: mary stuart season: one episode: slaughter of innocence

[wishtorn]

“ i did what i did for the good of the realm.”

game of thrones sentence starters / no longer accepting .

          dark eyes flash dangerously at him, but only for a moment — to look at that face, earnest as he was, truly believing what he said, and yet being so terribly wrong, was infuriating, and she had not even the slightest authority to contradict him. ‘ if you believe that, you’re a fool, ’ she tells him, the even, calm tone of her voice ringing hollow even to her. ‘ the night’s watch is an old, proud institution, and the punishment for desertion is death. if the northern king sends forces south for you, we must either risk a war with them, or an uprising from our own bannermen if we let them have your head. tell me, what good does that do the realm ? ’

[wishtorn]

“ i’ve waited my whole life to see the world from up there.”

game of thrones sentence starters / accepting .

          ‘ and you will wait another lifetime, if it comes to it. the wall can wait. ’ she can’t pretend not to share his curiosity, and if the circumstances had been different she might have acquiesced and even accompanied him on the ride north. but such talk, at such a crucial diplomatic juncture, simply cannot be tolerated. ‘ my lord, you are no man’s prisoner — if you wish to ride for castle black, none of our men will stop you. but you know as well as i do that your king needs you by his side, now more than ever. he will give you leave when he sees fit. if you depart before then, i can assure you, you had best stay there. ’

[wishtorn]

“ can we not talk about that here?” (reina)

game of thrones sentence starters / accepting .

          ‘ and what of him ? the young lord crakehall ? ’ anya suggests in hush tones, the arm looped in reina’s pulling her closer, an air of mischief in her voice. she sounds like a young girl gossiping about a handsome household knight, but where men have their hunts and hawking, women’s sport is destined to remain the frivolous hunting of hands in marriage, and the titles they confer. if it is to be her lot, anya means to do her best to enjoy it, but a glance at reina, and her voiced apprehensions, make her think better of it. reina, of course, dreams of a northman — lord crakehall would never do — but anya reads her hesitation only as embarrassment, and it leaves her feeling strangely the fool for even bringing it up. ‘ of course, i’ll hold my tongue, ’ she acquiesces, confidentially, with the air of an ever-patient and world-wise septa, despite being only two years reina’s senior. ‘ but do consider it well, my lady. your feelings on the matter are infinitely valuable — i would not see you wed to a man you detest, but for that you must make your opinions known, at least to me. ’   /   @reinabaratheon​

[memesfromstuff]

game of thrones sentence starters ( s3ep6)

“ the more wood the bigger the fire.”

“ you know your fires.”

“ i knew you were highborn.”

“ buried treasure. thousands of years old, i think.”

“ what does it do?”

“ it’s beautiful though, isn’t it?”

“ how much longer?”

“ you’re playing with me.”

“ do you sing?”

“ sing me a song.”

“ that’s not how you skin a rabbit.”

“ i made this bow myself.”

“ oh, you’re gonna punch the rabbit to death?”

“ some of us are just a little better.”

“ you’ve got a big mouth and too many teeth.”

“ stop it!”

“ me? it’s my fault?”

“ we can’t fight each other, we’ll never make it!”

“ don’t push me.”

“ i’m right here with you.”

“ what’s happening?”

“ you’re afraid.”

“ i’ve waited my whole life to see the world from up there.”

“ here, sit down.”

“ you killed someone for them?”

“ i didn’t kill him, but i bet his balls are still bruised.”

“ can we not talk about that here?”

“ you were trembling like a leaf!”

“ don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“ you’re loyal, and your brave.”

“ they don’t care if you live or die.”

“ don’t ever betray me.”

“ ’cause i’ll cut your pretty cock right off and wear it ’round me neck.”

“ you’re good. you’re not as good as you think you are.”

“ there’s someone out there.”

“ that’s about far enough.”

“ you’re going to hurt him.”

“ i see a darkness in you.”

“ you staring at me ass, ___?”

“ sorry. were you sleeping?”

“ wa… wa… water? you want some water?”

“ i wish i had some for you.”

“ so let’s play a game. which body-part do you need the least?”

“ please! i’ll do everything, please.”

“ wouldn’t that be a hunt to remember?”

“ you failed, but i’m a better hunter than you.”

“ how about your  ___? you don’t need that for much do you?”

“ good, let’s start with that.”

“ you’ve been wondering why you’re here, haven’t you?”

“ if you guess right, i’ll tell you. by the old gods and the new, i swear it.”

“ you win the game if you can figure out who i am.”

“ if i win, you’ll let me go?”

“ if you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“ if you say please again, you’ll with you hadn’t.”

“ do i look like a fucking umber to you?”

“ how did you know that?”

“ it was just a guess.”

“ he’s dead. strangled by ____”

“that’s why you’re torturing me.”

“ yes. you win.”

“ but you forgot to ask one question. you forgot to ask if i’m a liar. i’m afraid i am.”

“ everything i’ve told you is a lie.”

“ this isn’t happening to you for a reason. well, one reason. i enjoy it!”

“ please, cut if off, cut if off!”

“ i win!”

“ thank you for riding here so quickly. i know travel isn’t easy in these times.”

“ i had something less permanent in mind.”

“ if we don’t do this, and do it now, we’re lost.”

“ many people would pay a great deal for you.”

“ shall we drink on it?”

“ you do understand how suspicious that is to ordinary people?”

“ i’m afraid i must insist.”

“ you’re in no place to insist on anything.”

“ i would have hoped you’d learned your lesson.” 

“ you may have a stomach for bloodshed and slaughter, but this is another matter entirely.”

“ i will not breathe further life into a malicious lie by discussing it.”

“ i feel like i’m in a dream.”

“ it’s terrible isn’t it? the most terrible place there is.”

“ trying to have me killed is an odd way of saying thank you.”

“ it’s… this… this is awkward.”

“ who doesn’t like to see their friends fail now and then?”

“ i did what i did for the good of the realm.”

[wishtorn]

daeryons‌ .

          there was a very nagging , very needling thought that permeated his subconscious, fueled by years of doubt and unrest - - the meddling of a mother and the menacing glares of siblings. what if jonaerys had wanted to subvert him ? what if in undermining his appearance at the gates of winterfell , she had something to gain. a distancing from a mad king would certainly do much to further her benevolent causes , wouldn’t it ? it was this kind of thinking that led him into fits of anxiety , made him prone to accusation when accusation did not exist. what if ? 

           to his wife , he merely forced a smile . it was likely the exhaustion of travel and nothing more that made his mind so terribly uneasy . ❛❛ if the northerner’s were looking for a spectacle , then they had multiple places to do so . winterfell is practically teeming with them , dove .   ❜❜ his words were more an attempt to ease his own mind than hers. ❛❛  i’m sure all was forgotten once they were sated by the sight of me . i’m sure they expected the whole fortress to be ablaze by now … they look at me as if they expect something . ❜❜

          biting her lower lip, anya fought the impulse of despondency that overtook her at his words. already convinced that the northerners considered him little more than a spectacle, his assurances seemed tinged with resentment. she could empathize; she had felt it herself, the sting of defensive anger whenever anyone questioned daeryon, or alluded however vaguely to the insidious rumors of his madness. but here, surrounded by strangers and enemies and too few friends, that would not serve him well. 

          gently, she pulled from his embrace, remaining close as she turned to meet his gaze. ‘ then you must prove them wrong. ’ it was a foolish, simplistic solution, but uttered with a sweet, ardent confidence. she had feared, and then quickly grown to love him --- given time, perhaps the lords of westeros could do the same. ‘ everything they know of you, they hear from the mouths of lesser men. now you can show them you are not a spectacle. you are strong, and just, and kind, and a good king. let them see that. ’   

[wishtorn]

          it was a relief to finally retreat to the comfort of her chambers, withdrawing from so many curious eyes to the security of enclosed walls and only familiar faces. a trace of the old anxiety still remained --- after all, who knew which walls had ears in this unfamiliar castle --- and her thoughts lingered on her son, wondering how he was, anxiously awaiting word from king’s landing. ‘ maya, ’ she prompted, rather trying to shake her own thoughts from her mind, ‘ come, play a round of cyvasse with me. ’ taking a seat at the table, she pulled the board equidistant between the two seats and nodded towards the empty one, expectant. ‘ and tell me, what are your impressions ? what do you make of the northerners ? ’   /   @mayaswann​

[wishtorn]

crownsandgods‌ .

        “I suppose because of family ties I know her in different lights that you perhaps never will.” He simply shrugged. Ryden was as similar to his mother as he was different, he possessed her wits and her smarts, he was well mannered and as handsome as the sun. But he was an emotional wreck, often let his emotions overcome his brains, he was impulsive and while he valued his positions and tittle he was far less concerned about becoming more or less than his mother was for him. 

         “I suppose you’re right, your grace. I can be lucky in such way, although I do miss my homeland, the rain is far more welcomed than the snow. Nature blooms and is more colorful than just grey and white.” He commented, far less lively than he had started the conversation, his energy become more stable and he appeared less of a child. Something he was often reminded of.

          just above the roof of the guest house, the red leaves of winterfell’s weirwood waved lazily, and beyond, she was sure, green sentinels stood ancient and tall, snowbells working their way up through the thawing earth. ‘ is there no nature here ? ’ she prompted, or can you not see it ? contrary and yet with a mildness that promised she was not doubting him, but merely curious with all the appearance of sincerity. it was a well-used gift, grown even easier with practice, a half-considered attempt at undermining him that came as naturally as breathing.

          ‘ it isn’t quite so colorful as the south, to be sure, but don’t you think the grey and white make it all the more beautiful ? a rose in a field of roses is boring. a rose in a field of snow isn’t. ’ her reflections rang childish, a girlish admiration for the striking and exceptional that doesn’t extend beyond an appraisal of the surface features of beauty. 

[wishtorn]

gildcdfalcon‌ .

                      ursula  did  not  have  as  much  consideration  for  the  poor  and  afflicted  as  she  ought  to.  those  in  the  westerlands  were  cared  for  by  the  pockets  of  the  leffords  and  their  vassal  houses,  but  she  did  not  spare  many  thoughts  on  them.  ❛   yes,  those  poor  men  will long  for  a  broth  to  warm  their  bellies  come  sunset,   ❜  she  murmurred,  glancing  around  at  those  still  hard  at  work.  while  the  lords  and  ladies  sought  comfort  and  warmth,  they  were  left  to  unload  the  wheelhouses  and  set  about  with  their  daily  routine  in  a  strange  land.  her  mother  would  have  looked  out  for  them,  she  was  a  saintly  person  who  deemed  herself  no  better  than  those  with  nothing             it  was  a  virtue  not  passed  down  to  her  daughter.  but  the  lefford  lady  knew  how  to  make  her  people  happy,  and  she  was  well  versed  in  faking  devotion. 

❛   oh  yes,  it  was  the  funeral,   ❜  she  responded  delicately.  considering  the  vast  lands  which  made  up  the  northern  and  southron  kingdoms,  it  was  hardly  strange  that  most  members  only  met  at  grand  events.  ursula  wagered  that  if  her  cousin  were  not  southron,  she  may  not  have  ever  even  been  introduced  to  queen  anya.  ❛   praise  the  seven  that  we  meet  on  far  better  terms.  i  was  delighted  to  hear  of  the  birth  of  your  son,  it  was  welcome  news.   ❜   children  always  held  a  special  place  in  her  heard.  where  she  had  little  patience  for  the  poor,  she  still  spent  time  with  the  orphans  and  she  was  a  devoted  mother  to  her  own  brood.  ❛   we  have  been  blessed  with  prosperity,  gold  is  once  again  being  mined  at  the  rock,  and  there  is  little  discontent  for  now.  and  while  i  can  claim  no  victories,  i  am  pleased  that  my  husband’s  own  reputation  is  bolstered  by  any  actions  which  i  take.  it  is  credit  enough  for  me.  ❜  it  was  the  tragedy  of  a  woman’s  place  in  society,  but  she  had  made  peace  with  that              so  long  as  her  husband  knows  she  is  irreplaceable. 

          ‘ i am sure you are being more modest than you deserve. a lady’s victories may be nothing to write songs about, but things do not need to be celebrated to be true, ’ she said, in that light, almost indifferent tone that, despite her words, offered no challenge to the lady’s self-effacement. still — and maybe it was her imagination — she thought there was something knowing in the look that passed between them, a mutual recognition.

          it was strange, anya thought, that though the leffords and arryns alike were sworn to the starks, there was so little of the north in lady ursula ; in her manner, she was as much a southron lady as any one from the crownlands. her hair, her eyes, even her furs were all as light as anya’s were dark, and yet she felt as if she were looking into a looking glass — or perhaps a pond, the reflection rippled, slightly distorted, and with more thought, a little superficial. ‘ my lady, if it would not offend your king and queen, would you join me tomorrow to watch the jousting ? ’ she suggested on impulse,