bloodfcrblood

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: flashback to the lithia festival, saella happens up the hand of the queen and strikes up a conversation ; starter for @ronanbrackens

the lithia festival was a vivid celebration of life, the riverlands’ enduring spirit brought to life in music, laughter, and the glow of lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. saella qoherys wove through the crowd with a quiet confidence, her lilac eyes catching every flicker of movement, every ripple of joy. there was something magnetic about this place, a connection that tugged at her in ways she wouldn’t admit aloud. the riverlands, for all their chaos and calamity, had always retained their warmth. her pale hair and lilac eyes marked her valyrian heritage, but tonight, amidst the merriment, she carried herself like she belonged.

her gaze caught on a familiar figure, ronan bracken, unmistakable in stature and presence even in the thick of the crowd. she approached with a casual air, her steps light, her goblet of wine swaying slightly with her movements. when she was close enough, she gave him a small smile, her voice cutting through the noise without being too bold.

“my lord,” she began, her tone warm yet unassuming. “it’s a pleasure to find you here. these festivals seem to have a way of drawing even the busiest of us back to simpler joys, don’t they?” she paused, as though catching herself. “forgive me, I should introduce myself. saella qoherys, of the crownlands.” her words carried a faint hint of pride, but she softened them with a slight bow of her head. “my family once held harrenhal, though the riverlands have changed hands so many times, it feels almost like an inherited memory.”

she stepped closer, her lilac eyes meeting his with what appeared to be genuine curiosity. “lord bracken, is it? even amidst the festivities, a man of your stature doesn’t go unnoticed. do you find these festivals restorative, or do the demands of your station follow you even here?”

her tone was conversational, even inviting, but beneath her polite charm, saella’s thoughts shifted like pieces on a cyvasse board. every word, every gesture, sought to reveal the man behind the title, all while keeping her own motives neatly obscured.

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: king’s landing, a feast in the great hall after the kingdoms return from the westerlands.

context: elys is an anonymous benefactor of saella’s ludus. also, snobs. @elysbrax

the feast hall buzzed with conversation, the din of laughter and clinking goblets rising into the vaulted ceilings. the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread mingled in the warm air, though saella qoherys found herself more intrigued by the room’s occupants than the fare. she moved with the grace of someone accustomed to navigating such gatherings, her lilac eyes sharp as they scanned the crowd.

it wasn’t long before her gaze settled on a figure she didn’t recognize immediately but had heard of in whispers and half-formed rumors—elys brax. cousin to the queen of the west, and a newer, quiet presence in the lion’s court. saella approached with her usual air of casual authority, a goblet of dornish red in hand.

“lord brax,” she greeted, her voice smooth but carrying just enough curiosity to invite a conversation. she inclined her head slightly, a courteous nod paired with a faint smile. “it’s not often i find myself in the company of someone who holds so much sway yet prefers to keep to the shadows.”

she took a sip of her wine, letting her words linger as she studied him. the flickering light of the hall cast his features in sharp relief, and saella’s sharp mind began to turn. there was something in his bearing, a quiet confidence that piqued her interest.

“i trust the journey here treated you well,” she continued, her tone conversational but laced with a subtle edge. “the crownlands are fond of their allies, and it’s always a pleasure to see bonds strengthened.”

her gaze held his, unwavering. “though i must admit, i find myself curious. you seem the sort to favor action over revelry. what brings you to a feast like this, my lord? business? or is it simply the wine?”

[bloodfcrblood]

Claire Holt as REBEKAH MIKAELSON

THE ORIGINALS S01E08 - The River In Reverse

[bloodfcrblood]

the room felt heavier as saella watched her sister’s unease. gaia’s tension was palpable, an energy that lingered like a storm cloud waiting to break. the elder's lilac eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of the book's worn pages. the weight of it felt unnatural in her hands, an object not meant to rest in this world—or at least not in hers.

“a gift,” saella echoed dryly, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. she tilted her head, studying the other's tight posture. “and yet, you look as though it might swallow us whole.” her voice was laced with skepticism, her usual veneer of charm slipping as the air grew tense.

she snapped the book shut—not harshly, but with enough force to punctuate the moment. "research, you say?" her gaze lingered on her sister, sharp and unyielding. “since when does a grafton—” she said the name like it was an amusing little jest, “dabble in such curiosities?” truthfully, saella knew nothing of norbert grafton, only that he had money.

the realization hit her and she let out a sharp exhale, her gaze flicking from the book to gaia. the corners of her mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of amusement trying to break through. "harrenhal," she mused, her tone edged with disbelief as she leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers lightly against the armrest. “the grand, cursed ruin that keeps half the realm up at night. and you, dear sister, want to waltz right in and… what? break the curse? as if centuries of death and ruin are just waiting for you to wave your hand and fix them?”

The air around them seemed to shift and change as Saella opened Norbie's gift, the candles around them seemed to flicker and darken as though they felt Gaia's unease. Perhaps it was all imagined, and yet, her discomfort was not. She froze, eyes fixed on her sister's hands holding the book, her fingers skimming over the edges of the pages.

"It's a gift," Aenogaia repeated, almost downright petulant. After a moment of mulling it over, teeth drawing in her bottom lip, she deflated a little, though no less tense in the way her body was posed. "He did the research himself. Since I..." cannot yet go myself. That was the moment she kept quiet. Saella would be adamantly against it. Would call it ridiculous perhaps, would say that Gaia needed to finally let it go.

[bloodfcrblood]

claire holt via instagram

[bloodfcrblood]

the lady of rosby sipped her wine, the spiced sweetness rolling over her tongue as she studied him from her perch. rhaegar was composed, careful in his responses, but there was a crack in his practiced calm—a subtle tension that saella could almost feel, like the taut string of a bow. his words were calculated, deliberate, and yet, she found herself intrigued by the shadows he danced within.

she set her goblet down on the balcony's edge, the delicate chime of metal meeting stone punctuating the air. chin rested lightly on her hand, her lilac eyes narrowing as she considered him. her intrigue had deepened, curling into something sharper, more focused. rhaegar targaryen, a prince long thought lost to the grave, standing not in the halls of power but among her gladiators, unannounced and unacknowledged. It was a puzzle, and saella qoherys loved puzzles.

her voice broke the stillness, smooth and deliberate. "you’ve made an interesting choice, hiding yourself among my men. not in a lord’s hall, not under your cousin’s roof, but here—on my sands." she tilted her head, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at her lips, though her eyes remained calculating. "you’ve taken great care to keep your presence quiet, even now. no formal announcements, no banners unfurled to declare your return. why is that, I wonder?"

her smile turned sharper now, the faintest edge of challenge creeping in. "so, tell me, my prince—what is it you’re hiding from? or, perhaps more importantly… who?" the question was not necessarily one she expected an answer from. she took a step back from the railing, now, her hand gesturing toward the stairs leading to the balcony. "why not join me? unless, of course, you prefer the grit of the sands and the company of those who fight for their survival." her voice carried an undercurrent of curiosity, as though she were trying to see which part of him would answer—the prince, the man, or the ghost of someone caught between both.

He could tell Saella was intrigued. By his words, by his fighting, by his past shrouded in shadows. Whatever it may be, Rhaegar thought he could see her lilac eyes twinkling from where he stood. "Don't we all hold sentimentalities for the places that raised us?" His tone remained carefully neutral, but challenging all the same. There was something about her posture, the air of authority that lingered around her and the control she had over the men fighting under the Qoherys banner. He had been a mischievous boy, and the man he was now knew to control this piece of himself. Though, he took more liberties now that he knew the punishments he was expecting would not come.

"I know so," he responded. Braavos was an excellent place to hide someone, especially a sold Prince who should not be found. But even in less convenient places, the chances to hide away yourself or someone else were infinite. The shadows rivaled even the realm of light. A more reliable guide, she had said. The words lingered. "You would greatly profit from someone just a bit more reliable, I am sure."

Rhaegar could not quite tell with her, if she was making a simple observation or a well placed accusation. He decided to answer in kind. "I was gone long enough, my Lady. I could be mistaken, but I thought it a good time to return." It was more convoluted than he claimed, but he was not going to spill the most vulnerable parts of himself at her feet in the sand, surrounded by Saella Qoherys' fighters.

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: after the kingdom's return from the events in the west, in king's landing, the lady of house rosby visits the ruling lord of driftmark, to offer her condolences for his lady-wife, and her support for his house in the aftermath ; starter for @deimos-velaryon

saella qoherys stepped into the quiet hall with the practiced grace of one who understood the value of patience. the long, dark gown she wore swirled behind her like an extension of the shadows, as though she herself was a part of the gloomy atmosphere that weighed down the room. she found the lord of driftmark stood near the window, his back to her, but even from behind, she could sense the tightness in his shoulders, the rigidity of his posture. grief, anger... guilt.

she paused for a moment, taking in the scene with a calculated calm, before she moved toward him. her steps were light, deliberate, careful not to make too much noise. when she spoke, her voice was soft, full of the practiced empathy that came so easily to her. “i’m so sorry to hear of your loss, lord velaryon,” she began, her tone the perfect balance of concern and distance. "

“your lady wife was a lovely woman, and i hope those responsible are brought to whatever justice you wish for them.” she continued, her tone smooth as silk, “you should know that you have my house's full support during this difficult time, my lord. should you need any resources, any assistance, I would be more than happy to offer what I can.” she let her words settle, watching him carefully for any flicker of interest. ties to house velaryon were already well established, but saella saw any opportunity to lend a hand - and perhaps seek a favor in return, one day, should she need one of him.

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saella’s gaze remained fixed on the silver-haired figure as she leaned forward against the railing, intrigued. her eyes were sharp, a glimmer of amusement tucked within their depths, as her wine-slicked fingers lightly drummed on the cup’s rim. the gladiators, now still at attention, were nothing more than an audience to the show unfolding before them.

when rhaegar spoke, her lips quirked upward in a smile—one that was laced with a touch of irony. “rather uninformed, your sources,” he had said. her heart quickened, but only slightly, as she recognized the depth of the game now before her. she was no fool, though she often played one to her advantage. saella had heard whispers of his death, of the mysterious disappearance that had shadowed his name in the wake of the war, and yet here he was—alive, and standing in her arena as if time had chosen to forget him.

she let his words hang in the air for a moment, a knowing glint in her lilac eyes. "ah, braavos," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing. "a beautiful place, indeed. though I must confess, it has never held quite the same... charm for me as it seems to have for you, my prince." she leaned forward, her posture one of casual authority, as if the very air she breathed was one of command.

"and as for my sources," she continued with a small, but deliberate tilt of her head, "perhaps they simply underestimated the resilience of a prince who refuses to be forgotten. or perhaps they were the ones in need of a more reliable guide." her lips parted slightly, a smile playing at the corner of them. "and yet… braavos is far from the only place that knows how to hide someone, don't you think?"

her gaze softened, but there was no mistaking the sharpness in her words. "you were gone for quite a while, my prince. long enough that even those closest to you thought you were lost to time. i suppose his grace's ascendence to the iron throne was no better time to return?"

Wood met wood in dizzying movements, rudimentary clacks echoing through the round space. Rhaegar could tell the gladiator he was sparring with was wholly overwhelmed by his swiftness, his maneuvers of evasion and the way he struck; sure and bold. With a precision that was not taught in a gladiators ring.

Rhaegar held his breath on the move and exhaled when it hit true. Inhaled on a step back, alike a dance on water itself. It was a flexing of well honed muscles and instincts, smooth like the melted salted butter on his favorite meal as a child. Frustrations welled in his opponent now and again, coming and going like waves. It made for interesting intervals in their sparring session. Drive born from gritting ones teeth and charging ahead, sometimes stupidly and sometimes with a plan behind each movement, seeking their hits to find their target.

Beads of sweat ran down both their faces as their duel mounted to a peak - and then, just like that, it was over.

A shout could be heard overtop their fighting and suddenly, his opponent dropped his arm to his side where he had formerly been mid movement. Alert, the gladiators gazed up at the balcony, near unmoving. Rhaegar let out a deep breath, a slight furrow to his brows as he swiped a sweaty lock of silvery blond out of his forehead. He took his time, turning once around himself before looking up at the balcony with an almost defiant edge to his icy gaze. He would have liked to go on training. This interruption was inconvenient at best.

Setting sight on the lady, though, he found himself relaxing the pinched look on his features. Saella Qoherys was no stranger to him, even if it had been well over a decade since he had last spoken to her. "Rather uninformed, your sources," he called up to where she stood on the balcony, like a figure carved from marble. A statue with light hair and lilac eyes to watch over the men playing their trivial little games. He stepped a little closer, head tipped back into his neck. The wooden training sword was jabbed into the uneven sandy ground so he could rest his palms on the hilt. "Braavos," he admitted, an ease to his voice that had been northing short of practiced over the last three and ten years. "Beautiful place, have you ever been?"

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brows rose in surprise at the name uttered from gaia's lips, and even more, that she had called him her friend. it were not that saella thought that gaia had no friends, quite the opposite, really, but rather, she did not expect her sister to have found a friend in such a high place. "grafton?" she questioned, giving way to the curiosity that lingered in her mind, now. finger moved over the edges of the pages, not quite opening it yet, but hinting to her next move.

"where'd he get it?" she asked, and saella felt the uneasiness of the object in her very hands, a sixth sense of sorts that seemed to make it's way through her veins, the same sort of feeling she had experienced when she drank the blue liquid in the dragon pits some time ago. it was the same feeling that some strange memories of harrenhal, that were not her own, gave her. that alone made her begin to grow more anxious, almost angry that gaia would bring this into their home. she opened it now, not really looking at the page and moreso gauging her sister's reaction to the act. "you can, soon." she answered, holding up the page to gaia. "what is this and where is it from?"

Gaia stopped short when she saw Norbie's journal in her sister's hands. Held aloft like an accusation as lavender stared right at her. Aenogaia bit back a grimace. A foolish misstep on her part, to place the journal right where Saella kept her papers, right where she did the things their ruling lord brother seemed to be wholly incapable of.

She ought to have known. She also knew Saella's views on her downright obsession and with the curse she vehemently denied existed at all.

"It was a gift," she spoke carefully. "From Norbert Grafton." Gaia smiled then, mischievously, even if it was a little shaky around the edges. "I have friends, you know. It may be a bit uncommon, though not unheard of." She hoped this, at least, would be enough to placate Saella, to spare them both another lecture. "Can I have it back?" Gaia reached out her hand across the desk.

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: before the kingdom of new valyria departs to the westerlands, saella is observing her gladiators sparring on the tourney grounds, and notices a familiar, ghostly figure amongst them ; starter for @fromthcfires

context: this is before it is known that rhaegar targaryen lives.

the sounds of wooden swords clashing against one another filled the air as saella qoherys observed some of her best gladiators within the sparring grounds, readying themselves to be presented in the westerlands tournaments. lilac hues keenly watched as a cup of spiced wine hung delicately between fingers. while she often used these opportunities to draw in more sponsors, wining and dining them while they watched gladiators in their element in real time, today she were alone, save for some swords of her house. it were times like these where she solely watched and noted what could be better, though she knew little of the art of the sword, she knew much of what a performance should be - and it were much of that than anything else.

an unfamiliar figure, however, found itself within the ground. lilac hues bore into the figure, who moved sparring sword with ease and skill, nobly trained, for certain, and quick on his feet. he was not one of her men, and she wondered who he was at all. the lady rose to her feet, approaching the railing of the balcony she sat at that overlooked the grounds, and in taking notice of this, the lead gladiator called to the others to cease, and ready themselves to hear what their lady had to say. saella continued to look at the silver-haired fighter in their midst, who's features were that of one who was long dead.

were he a dragonseed? she did not think so. if a dragonseed had come to her ludus, she would have taken special notice, and they would have received different treatment. though their blood was tainted, they were still of old valyria. no - he was no bastard. "it is as if i have been transported back in time, my lord." she called, a small sense of jest in her voice, gauging his reaction.

she were a young girl visiting the crownlands long before the dragons danced and the skies raged with flame and death. saella had known the faces of all the prince's of the realm, both green and black, and she never quite forgot a face. "though last i heard you were no longer of this world." she gestured for him to come closer so they could speak more directly. "where have you been all this time, prince rhaegar?"

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: rosby, after their return from the westerlands, the ladies of house qoherys make a stop home before returning to the court of dragons ; starter for @blocdinthewater

she were not the ruling lady of the house, no, that title was held by her brother's dearest wife, the one who helped house qoherys make their way into the lands of rosby from their settlement upon dragonstone. it were tactical, clearly so, but the marriage seemed successful enough, except for a lack of heir. saella, however, was not quite concerned with such a thing, sought it's delay, even.

there was a faint smell of oak within the halls as she made her way towards the seating room, a spacious area that contained bookshelves, too. the lady often found herself taking to her accounting in her, for the lighting was much better than the rooms that had been dedicated as the solar in this place. she had a mind to redecorate, but no time or patience for it, at this moment.

entering the room she shuffled through her normal documents, however, something nearby upon the table caught her eye. it looks like parchments, a journal, edges frayed and charred, her light grasp causing small black flakes to fall from it. brows furrowed, uncertain of what these were or where they came from. lavender hues looked up to see the image of her sister staring back at her. saella held up her findings, certain she knew of their origin. "what are these?"

[bloodfcrblood]

[bloodfcrblood]

saella rolled her violet eyes, knowing very well that axell was going to be difficult regarding giving her more to spend - a part of her that she would never let him see understood why, but she also knew that they had plenty more, or he would simply earn it back. she never really cared where he got it, or how, only that she continued to live comfortably. over the years she had simply gotten used to a certain lifestyle that she intended to maintain. while their relationship was certainly not the healthiest, she also did not feel any indication he intended to leave her, and she did not intend to leave, either. there was always some strange pull between them, and it didn't matter if it was as if they were under some spell. they succumbed to it time and time again.

"too hard for me? is that why you aren't trying at all?" she snipped back, ultimately a satisfied smirk coming over her lips, dimpling her cheeks, as she plucked the cash from his hand, got on her tippy toes, and kissed the corner of his mouth. "come on, won't you be my good luck charm for a while?"

.

now this was the kind of night axell relished. the smoky haze, the clinking of glasses, and the thrill of gambling. it was far better than the stiff, formal affairs where everyone sipped on cheap wine while pretending to enjoy it. tonight, he was in his element, reveling in the action at the poker tables.

but even the best hand could wait when he spotted a familiar face—a girl from school, now all grown up. worth a little distraction. they had just started catching up when his wife appeared by his side, the other woman quickly slipping away, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“keep losing my money?” he quipped, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to face his wife. his hand slipped into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigarette instead of his wallet. he took his time lighting it up before speaking. “maybe try something a little simpler if you keep losing. could be too hard for you.” another snide remark to toss into the cauldron of back-and-forth barbs they’d been slinging all night. to anyone overhearing them, it would sound like they absolutely despised each other. and maybe, at times, they did.

but there was also something deeper—an intense fire that burned for her.a force that felt as if letting her go would send him spiraling into an abyss. it was a possessive need, one that made him crave her closeness, even if it meant they were yelling at each other. passionate, messy, but undeniably real.

with a resigned sigh, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing her a few more bills. “for the children,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, knowing full well that tonight, she’d be back for more.

[bloodfcrblood]

saella snorted at the comment, of course gaia had always read her better than anyone. they didn't have to always discuss things outright, her sister simply had that way about her. there were times where it felt as if her little sister was actually her elder, and the guilt bore itself deep within her stomach at the thought of having failed in that sense. life had been a whirlwind of chaos for saella, perhaps much at her own fault.

"eh, he's around here somewhere." the truth was they hadn't even arrived together to this event. their tumultuous marriage was no secret. "why thank you." she stated, dragging out the words dramatically as she gave a little pose in her midnight blue, form-fitted gown. a small laugh escaped her as she plucked another cocktail from a nearby waiter, moving to hook her arm in her sisters to go find a seat to take. "what have you been up to lately? how is the business going?"

"Hey," she drew out the word, one eyebrow cocked as she looked at her sister. The night was no longer young, and Gaia wasn't necessarily surprised by the flush on Saella's cheeks, betraying at least some of the glasses of booze she'd indulged in. Gaia couldn't nor would she blame her, she'd done no different.

A small grin built on her lips at the compliment, ruffling the fabric of her black, flowy dress. It had been a lucky find. Gaia found it beautiful as well. Even better; it was comfortable. "You look nice, too. Did you ditch the hubby?" Brow still cocked, though this time more curious than scrutinizing.

[bloodfcrblood]

setting: winter dance, starter for @vlxyrianclaws

there had always been some magnetic pull from saella qoherys to maximus celtigar, some twisted invisible string that lead her to him, over and over again. despite their parting ways after graduating from school, her marriage to axell, him dating other people, they still found each other in and out of one another's lives from time to time. old habits never really quite died between them, and that was precisely what drew her to approach him at the dance, she was sure her husband likely found himself preoccupied with another, anyways, they had already butted heads enough and they had only just arrived.

champagne glass dangled between her fingers as she flashed a feigned smile, blinking long lashes at him. saella leaned an arm upon the cocktail table, momentarily relishing the relief from standing upon her aching feet, they usually went numb by now. "hello, maximus." she greeted him, eyes scanning the crowd before looking to him, again, as if she were looking for someone, and she were.

"don't tell me you arrived alone?" head tilted to the side in mock curiosity, of course saella knew very well he did not, but she always enjoyed the game of cat and mouse they seemed to play, only she were never quite sure which she was at any given moment. "was it your heart of gold lead you back to your old academy for the fundraiser?" she grinned, because in all honestly, she were entirely curious as to what would bring a man like him back here. were it the connections? opportunity? the arrogant part of her mind suggested it were because she would likely be present, but even if that were a small part of it, she knew he would not admit to it, anyways. perhaps she preferred to imagine it was the reason to herself.

[bloodfcrblood]

modern au

setting: winter's dance, starter for @blocdinthewater

the night was young and saella had already overindulged in wine, she knew it, and probably anybody who bothered to speak to her knew it, too. she wasn't foolish enough to embarrass herself, however, and eventually she would slip out and go for a swim in the pool hall, or call it a night. before she could decide on either, however, she happened upon her little sister, and waltzed right up to her. "hello little sis." she greeted, arms crossed over her chest.

aenogaia had probably done better off than most would've thought, and frankly, saella envied the other for having such a strong sense of self, and maintaining that, whereas over the years, she felt she lost bits and pieces of who she was, perhaps by her own fault. it mattered not for she didn't necessarily make any point to fix it, instead finding reprieve in more bad habits. "i'm glad you're here. your dress looks nice."

[bloodfcrblood]

modern au

setting: casino night, starter for @mountainvroyce

it was said to bet on black everytime, or so saella thought she was told, she didn't really like to be told what to do or what bets to place, but she also wanted to win even more. despite that, the ball landed on red, and she had lost her wager, again. the blonde haired woman opened the clutch in her hand, digging around the various items in it, and realized she was all out of money.

that means she would have to ask for more.

saella nodded to the dealer and walked away from the table, eyes scanning the room until she saw the tall figure of her husband in the near distance. she hadn't a clue what woman he was speaking to, nor did she care. she simply approached them and looked at her until she got the hint to walk away. saella then turned to axell and flashed a fake smile, gesturing to his pocket. "i need to get some more chips. it's for the children." she stated, honeyed words lace with their usual venom.