z a l d r i z e s

- closed mumu for bloodlinehq -

[zvldrizes]

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♕ DAEMON TARGARYEN : prince of house targaryen ( intro. )

ϟ BELLARA DONDARRION : lady of blackhaven ( intro. )

☙ FREYA PIPER : a lady of house piper of pinkmaiden ( intro. )

♞ TRYSTEN SANTAGAR : a knight of house santagar ( intro. )

[zvldrizes]

windswiinter​:

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?”

.

It only takes a few seconds and a brief exchange of words for Freya to decide that Taelys Stark is going to be one of her new best friends. It certainly helps that Taelys doesn’t immediately scowl disapprovingly at Freya’s chosen means of introduction. “Freya Piper,” she replies with a beam, taking Taelys’s hand and offering... well, it’s sort of a curtsy, but it’s clearly a bit awkward and facetious. “Oh yes, it’s been a long while since I’ve been allowed to attend a feast like this. So I’m determined to enjoy myself to the fullest.” Her head tilts curiously. “And what of you, Lady Stark? Are you not one for dancing?”

[zvldrizes]

etinego​:

lcngreiign​:

starter for @etinego and @zvldrizes​ ( aelinor && trysten )

“sister!” daenys called, pushing through the doors to her quarters with a bundle of wild flowers in her arms. “i brought you some flowers! i thought they might liven up the room since i know you’ve been feeling under the weather toda — oh!”

daenys nearly drops the flowers at the sight of aelinor and… and a man! daenys would be scandalized if she did not know her sister’s…tendency to break tradition and rules. gods love her.

“i see why you’re not feeling well, at least.” a smirk.

aelinor giggled under the covers, savouring the morning moments she had with her lover while she still could. coming home was always bittersweet to her: she gained her family, but she lost the freedom that the road afforded her. being able to sleep with whoever she liked was one of those things. it was only when the sheet was pulled back that she gasped.

“daenys!” aelinor didn’t even try to cover her body, instead, pressing against trysten more. “perhaps try to knock next time.” she gently pet the soft curls at the nape of trysten’s neck.

@zvldrizes​

.

Trysten’s mouth is somewhere that many septons of the Faith believed mouths should not be when an unfamiliar voice sounded in the room. In fact, he was so preoccupied with what his mouth was doing—and what it was on—that he didn’t realize who was interrupting them until the sheet flew back. His instinct, at first, was to roll off the bed and hightail it for the nearest window, as he had done countless times before. But Aelinor doesn’t seem too fussed about the intrusion, and the look on Princess Daenys’s face tells him that he need not worry about being chased away with a hot poker.

“Your Grace!” Trysten clears his throat and mirrors Aelinor, trying to use his body to cover her modesty as much as possible. Though why she should need to worry about modesty in front of her own sister is anyone’s guess. “I beg your pardon, I did not realize that I had uh... that the Princess was expecting anyone today.” Should he be more concerned at being a Dornishman caught naked in the bed of a Targaryen princess? Perhaps. Definitely. But Trysten Santagar doesn’t do ‘concerned’, at least not when it comes to his own safety. “Many congratulations on your upcoming nameday, by the way!”

@lcngreiign​

[zvldrizes]

lcngreiign​:

“i, for one, can’t believe you’re alive. with how you ride your dragon,” she teases back. she takes her brother’s hand in hers, and she marvels over the callouses and crinkles her nose at them.

“i think they just want an excuse to be happy. humans are strange creatures. we find excuses to be happy instead of just allowing ourselves to be so. we are a silly lot, aren’t we? the gods must be laughing.”

she rests his hand back on his leg before turning more towards him as well. “my mother said something to me a few weeks back, and as i am sworn to secrecy, i cannot reveal our conversation…even to you. but… it weighs heavily on my heart. i am… not sure if i have the strength to be what she wants me to be.”

.

“What’s wrong with how I ride my dragon?” he protests, mouth pursing into the closest thing to a pout that he’s capable of making. “Vhagar likes diving. I wouldn’t want to deny her that joy, especially not at her age.” Daenys takes his hand and he sighs in reluctant agreement. “I suppose. And keeping up morale is important, as father is constantly reminding us. I just...” He stops himself. It’s petty, childish even, to wish that others were as discontented as he was in the face of his nameday. Another year older, another year closer to marriage and a throne he’s not entirely sure he’s ready for. He’s never felt less steady in his life, and it irks him that such joy for others comes at the cost of his own.

But it’s easy enough to cast that all aside as Daenys confides in him. Like so many people, Daemon prefers to focus on the problems of others before his own, and his brows knit together in concern and compassion for his almost-twin. It’s strange that there is anything in the world she cannot share with him, and that troubles him a bit. But Queen Elyse is (in his eyes) as much his mother as Queen Eyme, and he can do nothing but trust them both. “You are the blood of the dragon,” he replies softly, seeking her eyes with his own. “You are stronger than most human beings could ever hope to be. Even if you did not have a dragon at your side, or a handsome and incredible brother who will always stand beside you-” he grins for a moment “-you would be strong enough on your own to surmount any challenge before you, Daenys. I know this to be true.”

[zvldrizes]

lcngreiign​:

“mmm. the gods are illusive, aren’t they? are there seven or just one? are they faceless, or are they the dragons of valyria? who can say? i, for one, cannot and will not. i am far too content to drink myself silly.” alara’s father had often tutted at her for her quick, yet mouthy wit, but it seemed to have ensnared a prince! aha! take that father! she had far too much of her mother in her.

“entirely at my service? be careful now; i am a demanding mistress.” she curtsies low before taking his arm and holding firmly. oh he’s got muscles.

“you have the pleasure of addressing me. perhaps i should make you guess my name just as i have guessed yours.” she looks up at him with a twinkle in her eye before relenting. “but that would impede any juicy gossip you might have for a country reach bumpkin like myself. the lady alara ashford, almost entirely at your service.”

.

Daemon has never been much for religion, but jokes at the expense of it are always welcome in his eyes. If the people of the Seven Kingdoms knew what a heathen stood in line to rule them... “That’s why we have holy people—to give us answers, and then debate those answers among themselves so the rest of us can drink and not worry about it.” Witty repartee is not his strong suit, but he’s compelled to try anyway. It would be as close to a sin as he believes in not to spend more time with this lady, and if he cannot keep up with her, then he’s damned anyway.

He chuckles and, with her on his arm, begins leading her in the direction of the godswood. “That is my function, my lady. The royal family of the Seven Kingdoms is at the service of their people. And I’d much rather serve a demanding mistress who knows what she wants,” he adds with a the slightest of eyebrow raises. For half a moment, he almost panics, thinking he will in fact have to wrack his brains to try and remember her name. But she saves him the trouble, and he masks his sigh of relief with another grin. “Lady Alara. I will be sure to keep my demands of your service reasonable, then. Though I’d hardly call House Ashford ‘bumpkins’. Ashford’s markets are well-known, and I have fond memories of exploring your family’s keep when I was young.”

[zvldrizes]

windswiinter​:

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.

.

As soon as the Greyjoy starts towards them, Daemon is hustling Miłosz in the opposite direction, his body language making it very clear that the bard was now his and was unavailable for any other tasks. He briefly hears a drunken grumble and something that might be a very rude name, but he chooses to ignore it for now. The ironborn knew nothing of manners, and starting a row with one over their basic lack of education was (as Daemon had been told many many times) a pointless endeavor.

In the meantime, he now had a very chatty songbird to deal with. “My, my. Such a barbed tongue,” he chuckles as he steers Miłosz around a corner, coincidentally towards a shortcut to the godswood. “You ought to be more careful with it, Miłoszlaw. I find it charming, but others might not.” His tone makes his amusement abundantly clear, and he even gives the bard a little squeeze with his arm. “I’ve heard you compose twenty-stanza songs on the spot, so I have every confidence you’ll manage something.” Though the thought of another song for himself is very tempting—there’s already at least two in circulation that inflate his ego to a positively unhealthy size—he shakes his head. “I will simply tell my father that I specifically asked you not to write about me. He will have a hard time believing it, it’s true, but then the blame shall be mine and he will ignore you.”

They come to a stop, and Daemon lifts an eyebrow as Miłosz thanks him. “My pleasure, songbird,” he answers, tilting the bard’s face back up towards him with a knuckle. “No one deserves the company of drunken Greyjoys, except maybe the Dornish.”

[zvldrizes]

etinego​:

she let out a small sob in her panic, shaking her hands for a moment as if to fling off dirt visible only to her. “i– my maid confirmed it on the road back to king’s landing. i was so foolish–” she hiccups. “i was not being careful while traveling and–” aelinor bites her lip and finally brings her gaze up to meet daemon’s. “i don’t know who the father is.” this is a lie. it only takes a few moments of shaky breaths for her resolve to collapse entirely. “okay, i do. but you won’t like it. no one will. father will kill me when he finds out. oh gods–” she’s begun pacing now, her hands grasping her head. aelinor takes in a shaky breath. “it’s trysten… santagar.”

.

Words pour out of her, interrupted only by her own distress. Daemon hears them all and yet hears nothing—there’s a strange buzzing filling his head as he tries to comprehend what Aelinor is revealing to him. With child. She is... with child. Going to have one. A baby. She’s pregnant and going to have a baby. No matter how many times he tries to grasp the concept, it keeps slipping away, taunting his inability to even conceive of the notion. It was clearly one thing to know in theory that Aelinor and Daenys would likely bear children one day. It was another thing entirely to actually believe that would happen. And Daemon only now realizes that he’d never seriously believed such a thing could come to pass.

“Santagar?” Because his mind is fumbling so hard with all this information, it takes him far longer than it should to grasp the severity of her situation. “A Dornishman?” His tone isn’t one of anger, but sheer disbelief. At last, the pieces are falling into place and he can feel a rising surge of panic inside him. “Aelinor, of all the men in Westeros... a Dornishman.” And not even a lord of any kind. A house of landed knights, who only retained any status due to their long-held wealth and ties to their liege lords. Even a bastard of House Martell would have been more acceptable—they, at least, were princes. “... Fuck.”

[zvldrizes]

anogarrizmon​:

“are you suggesting that we corrupt these pure and innocent peoples of king’s landing?” she gasped, clutching at his hand in faux outrage. “that, my love, sounds wonderful.” she cocked her head to the side, shrewd eyes scanning the scenery around them. “i say we start at the top- really bring the nobility around us to their knees and mingle with the small folks. did you have your eyes on anyone in particular?”

.

"It’s only corruption if you consider pleasure to be sinful,” he replies with a shrug and a damn near-wicked smile. “Since their Faith believes as much, then yes, let us corrupt them together.” Trysten turns his eyes to those around them and muses for a moment. “I didn’t, but I’m sure a sufficiently entertaining option will present itself. Let’s follow these high lords and see what sort of taverns they frequent.” He gestures to a group of lordlings and their lady companions, just ahead of them. “It will give us a place to start, if nothing else.”

[zvldrizes]

etinego​:

the corners of aelinor’s mouth turn downwards for a moment, but the hint of negative emotion is swept away. “him? ha!” she snorts and takes a dainty sip of wine. “he’s a fine enough toy to play with, but i would hate to have to actually marry the man. i am sure a better offer will come my way at some point.” the thought of marrying someday, of leaving her brother and sister, her mothers and father, and one day rarely seeing them unless under the most dire of circumstances, overwhelmed her. she felt horribly and impossibly sad.

“come. i have something to tell you.” she grabs daemon’s wrist and pulls him away from the clamour of the party, down a hallway and into a room where they will not be overheard. her wine abandoned back in the celebrations, she is suddenly struck by how she has no idea what to do with her hands. emotion mounts within her until she can no longer hold her secret in. “i’m with child.”

.

Daemon’s mouth weaves into an odd smile, somewhere between placation and respect, as he puts his hands up and nods. “Fair enough, my sister. I don’t know him myself, only that he’s apparently quite pliable in bed, so I thought perhaps that would suit you.” Truthfully, he’s happy to be wrong. As Aelinor’s brother, there is a part of him that wishes never to see her married. He knows all too many lords and knights of the realm, and none of them are fit for either her or Daenys, as far as he is concerned. And... well, Aelinor marrying would mean she’d leave forever, like as not. Months away from home, from him and Daenys and their parents, was hard enough. To not see her for years?

"What...? Ael-” Her change in demeanor and tone is so abrupt that he cannot follow it, only allow himself to be dragged along behind her. There’s a brief moment where he looks back at her abandoned goblet in confusion—that is what strikes him as strangest of all. He’s never known Aelinor to abandon wine, unless it is something quite serious. This confusion is writ large on his face as they finally stop in a darkened room where the sounds of merrymaking grow quite faint. Silence stretches between them, and then she delivers words that make his ears ring.

“You what?”

[zvldrizes]

anogarrizmon​:

“i would assume not- look at how many poor fools live here.” painted lips quirked into a smile as meria hooked a hand into trystan’s elbow. “the fish that are brought in by the fishermen have more room to breathe than anyone who lives in this god forsaken place.” 

.

It pleases him to no end to have Meria among his retinue—the children of the Andals and First Men could stand to learn a thing or two from the Dornish as far as merrymaking went, and Meria was a great teacher. “Oh, go easy on them,” he says brightly, putting a hand over hers as they exit the Keep into the streets of King’s Landing proper. “It’s hard enough living as they do under such piety. I consider it our duty as good neighbors to go out and show them what pleasure truly is.” He gives her a wink and gestures around them. “What do you think, shall we start at the top and work our way down? Or start from the bottom and climb back up?”

[zvldrizes]

windswiinter​:

“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.

.

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.

[lcngreiign]

starter for @zvldrizes​ ( daemon )

“can’t sleep either?” she asked, holding the torch higher for her brother. she moved to sit next to him, reaching over to pat his knee affectionately. “we’ll be one year older tomorrow. can you believe it?”

[zvldrizes]

He blinks rapidly in the torchlight, his eyes struggling for a moment to adjust after staring into the darkness for so long. “Sleep? Never heard of such a thing,” he jokes, instinctively leaning closer to Daenys as she sits. “The way everyone’s going on about it, you’d think we’d achieved some great record. Do they really expect royalty to have such short lives?” After a moment, Daemon turns his head and looks at her properly. “What keeps you from your bed?”

[zvldrizes]

etinego​:

aelinor snorts and gives her brother a cheeky grin. “i am always good at finding entertainment, brother. while i do wish my name day was celebrated with such applause, there are benefits to being the youngest.” she does a small twirl. in her spin, she sees trysten from across the room and a wealth of feelings overwhelm her. it was difficult at times for her mind to grasp hold of the monumental news she had discovered on the road to king’s landing, and it put her at odds with her normally carefree personality.

“pray tell, daemon,” she grabbed a goblet as filled it with a bit of wine to distract from the downturn in her mood. “who has suggested marriage to you tonight? i imagine there’s a slew of people just waiting to sire the next round of dragon offspring.” a slip of the tongue. careful, aelinor.

.

The elder Targaryen grins right back. “Benefits like getting away with all manner of things that would make father keel over if he knew about them?” There’s no judgement in the statement whatsoever—if anything, he’s almost a little jealous. “I tell you what, Aelinor. I will personally see to it that your next nameday is such an event, everyone will instantly forget this one even happened. We’ll hold a tourney, feast for at least three days, bring in dancers from Lys...”

He trails off when he notices her attention has shifted, but he’s not quick enough to catch what or who distracted her. So he turns to her next question instead. “Who hasn’t suggested marriage? No one will outright propose a union, of course. But I swear Lord Farman has been slowly increasing the number of unwed daughters and nieces he has by two every hour.” He waves away a servant offering him a goblet of his own. “What of you? Last I heard, you had Arrys Morrigen wrapped around your finger. Any plans to lock him down?”

[zvldrizes]

lcngreiign​:

“fairly sure the gods hate me. but that’s neither here nor there.” alara quirks a grin at the silver haired beast of a man. she clasped her hands in front of her and looked up, pale eyes locking with his own.

“silver hair. lavender eyes. why, would i be wrong in calling you a prince?” alara smiled fully, bright teeth straight as she met eyes with the prince of dragonstone.

“i might lose my way again, your grace. care to walk me the rest of the way? it would be quite chivalrous of you.”

.

Daemon’s head tilts slightly, while a corner of his mouth rises in the opposite direction. “I can’t imagine why they would, but in fairness, I have difficultly imagining many gods in the first place.” She looks vaguely familiar, but he’s been introduced to so many people over the last few days (let alone years) that it’s hard to put a name to her face. A pity, considering how striking a face it it.

False modesty has never looked good on him, so he doesn’t bother with it, instead returning the smile and offering a small bow. “You would not. Daemon Targaryen, entirely at your service." He straightens once more and offers his arm. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of showing off just how chivalrous I am?”

[wordfather]

well maybe the power of love would fix things did you guys think of that? if not we could try biting

[zvldrizes]

@ open : bellara + ?, the feast

Feasts are, in truth, not Bellara’s favorite thing in the world. Polite dinners are far more comfortable, as manners and subtlety rule there and constrain others to her preferred means of socializing. With feasts, the festivities make it hard for her to hear herself think, let alone speak with others. Nevertheless, she sips her wine with the utmost composure and smiles over the rim of the goblet, refusing to seem phased in the slightest. “I’m terribly sorry, dear, would you repeat that? I couldn’t quite hear you over the noise.”

[zvldrizes]

@ open : freya + ?, the feast

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?”