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[forgednlight]

i  am  unsure  what  you  gain  from  this  torment.  i  am  also  unsure  what  you  would  gain  from  framing  me  for  a  crime  i  would  not  commit.  i  would  like  to  remind  you  that  it  is  you  who  commits  offenses  by  threatening  nobility.  i  have  shown  you  mercy  not  a  single  other  liege  would  have,  and  yet  you  still  spit  in  my  face.  do  not  think  me  superstitious  enough  to  see  you  as  anything  but  a  coward. it  is  useless  to  threaten  telling  king  corwyn  of  my  “treason”;  he  —  as  well  as  everyone  who  matters  in  driftmark  —  has  already  been  made  aware  of  your  defamatory  letters.  like  i  do,  they  look  upon  your  anonymous  face  and  your  mysterious  hand  with  nothing  but  disdain.  they  will  not  believe  you.  do  you  believe  yourself? do  not  reply  again. lady stelsa greyjoy

i am the voice of the gods. i am the wind the whistles uncomfortably in your ears. i am the waves that lap against driftmark's shore below the window of the room you rest your traitorous head in. my identity matters little. you, nor the guard dogs you claim to wield control over could ever dream of finding me where i reside in blissful peace. i, unburdened by the weight of lies and treachery, sleep well. the same can not be said of you. you refute my claims steadfastly, and yet this only serves to twist the knife of your treachery. perhaps you have convinced yourself of the verity of your written word. if that is so, i fear you are beyond any help that men or gods could offer. i invite you to take this "action" you speak of. i await it with great anticipation. perhaps we will encounter each other in the physical realm within the coming moons. this, or perhaps i will send to corwyn velaryon the letter i wrote long ago, detailing your treason. my ravens eagerly await the opportunity to fly. your mysterious hand

[forgednlight]

"let  us  both  hope  that  we  can  go  wherever  we  wish  again  soon.  i  am  sure  i'd  prefer  hell  to  this  place,"  she  complains.  it  felt  like  she  had  been  doing  that  a  lot  recently;  between  her  meeting  with  elia  and  finding  nymeria  again,  she  was  beginning  to  feel  exhausted  by  her  own  whining.  it  wasn't  like  her  —  the  prolonged  annoyance  and  disdain  for  everything  around  her  was  not  out  of  the  ordinary,  but  her  making  it  everyone  else's  problem  was.  gone  were  the  days  of  suffering  in  silence.  should  the  famine  continue  much  longer,  that  sentiment  would  become  more  popular. "anyways,"  she  sighs,  looking  wistfully  ahead  at  the  congregation  of  commoners.  it  hadn't  been  a  long  time  since  braavos,  but  it  had  been  a  long  time  since  ricasso.  their  time  spent  together  in  either  any  continent  was  bound  to  be  worth  it  —  and  it  had  been  far  too  long.  she  links  her  arm  with  his  before  dragging  him  through  the  tavern  doors  next  to  them,  “let  us  get  drunk  and  forget  our  troubles,  my  friend.  my  treat.”

he tries to hide is smile and laugh at her words but ricasso has never been on to hide his emotions. he was a big guy with bigger emotions, especially when it came to sarcasm and jokes. "this place is stinking waste land, it was breed with bad luck," he says in their shared tongue. there was no need keep his voice low when the chances of someone understanding them out here was so low. while he has grown to love dorne and care for the martells, it will never compare to the freedom he felt in essos. he knew kesara felt the same as him. he didn't know her full story, but he knew her reputation. it was nice to have someone from that other life here in king's landing.

"dorne is nothing like this place," he says with a nod. as they walked through the streets, he knew that to be true. while king' landing was filled with shit and piss, people and buildings smashed together. it was no wonder that the city was filled with chaos when the dragons were locked away in their castle, blind to everything that was happening with their small folk. "in dorne, everyone is more equal. bastards are not shamed there, small folk matter. we are all one in dorne." it was not perfect, but it was better than here. "nothing will compare to braavos or my years with the dorthraki, but it is better than here." @forgednlight

[forgednlight]

stelsa  watches  the  rich  red  liquid  fill  the  cup;  the  bubbling  and  slightly  nauseating  feeling  of  dread  filling  her  stomach  at  the  fleeting  thought  that  just  by  drinking  the  wine,  her  hands  were  just  as  bloody  as  daeryssa's.  she  tries  not  to  think  about  who  had  their  hands  on  the  alcohol  before  she  did.  "well  it  appears  i  am  stuck  with  you  then,  no?"  she  giggles  before  clinking  her  glass  against  her  sister's  and  taking  a  sip.  it's  too  hard  to  hide  her  grimace  at  the  fermented  taste,  so  she  doesn't,  though  she  manages  to  suppress  the  cough  as  it  goes  down,  "how  old  is  this,  sister?  surely  this  is  not  fit  for  human  consumption,"  she  says  sarcastically,  taking  another  sip  anyways.

daeryssa lets out a laugh as she steps into the room. "it wouldn't be any fun if i didn't join you in getting drunk," she says easily. she knew of the tensions within their family. it was easier to ignore it when she was across the sea, but seeing her two sisters together for the first time in year, it was clear that the tensions were still there. she loved rhea but she loved stelsa as well and hated seeing the two at odds. there was nothing that could fiz their strife but the least she could do was try to be a better sister than rhea was to her. "this," she says as she sets down the two cups and starts filling them with wine, "is from my own stores. paid the iron price months ago on a raid of an island off in essos. it is nothing like you will taste here. so you better not send me away or i'll have to find someone else to share my spoils with." daeryssa offers one of the cups to stelsa with a smile.

[forgednlight]

( halle bailey , 24 , cisfem , she/her ) : ANNOUNCING !! 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄 of 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 hailing from winterfell. they are known to be 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄-𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 but also, 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 across the realm. there are faint whispers that they support 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. they are currently at court in 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ( mitzy , 25 , cst , she/they , n/a. )

name :   estre stark   /   estre rocke ( formerly )  nicknames, titles  &  epithets :   lady of winterfell  age :   twenty six  ( 26 ) gender : cisgender woman  identity :   bisexual   /   homoromantic location :   driftmark ( currently )   /   winterfell ( past )   /   skagos ( originally ) culture : northerner ( assimilated )   /   stoneborn ( native ) name day :   december twelfth  strengths :   socially magnetic   /   unshakable composure   /   adaptable   /   resilient   /   keen emotional insight weaknesses :   detached from reality   /   reckless   /   avoidant   /   mischievous to a fault   /   restless allegiance :   house velaryon   /   house stark religious affiliation :   the old gods

faceclaim :   halle bailey  eye color :   dark brown hair color  &  color :   ginger   /   loc'd vibe : carries the air of someone who belongs yet doesn't — like a ghost who decided to stay and make herself at home   /   warm, playful, and full of laughter, she weaves mischief into every word yet there's something off beneath the surface   /   doesn't fear the dark or flinch at danger, and when conversations cut too deep she dances away with a grin height :   five feet five inches

parents :   jesper stark  ( jesper stark )   /   marta stark  ( adoptive mother )   /   unknown rocke  ( biological father )   /   unknown rocke  ( biological mother )  siblings :   edric stark  ( oldest brother )   /   eira baratheon  ( oldest sister )   /   erren stark  ( older brother )   /   lyanna stark  ( older sister )   /   alson snow  ( older sibling ) marital status :   single  &  unwed closest friend(s) :   tbd enemies :   tbd

mbti :   enfp   /   infj  ( depending on the situation ) alignment :   chaotic good character archetype :   the jester character inspiration :   jester lavorre  ( critical role )   /   babette  ( skyrim )   /   babydoll  ( sucker punch )   /   luna lovegood  ( harry potter )   /   the journey from the fool to the magician  ( tarot )  public persona :   always ready with a song, joke, or dramatic tale   /   free-spirited, adaptable, and effortlessly happy — like someone who has completely moved on from the tragedies of her past   /   has an almost mischievous aura inner truth :   deep down, part of he risn't convinced she's truly alive. she feels disconnected, like she slipped between the cracks of life and death   /   the world sometimes feel surreal to her, less like she's actually living and more like she's playing a part in a story   /   despite her outward joy, she has a strange stillness in quiet moments — when no one is watching she exists like a shadow reputation :   with skagos so isolated, her past is murky — she's a curiosity someone mentions in passing, wrapped in song and laughter. those who have seen her describe her as charming, eccentric, and a little eerie — someone who makes you laugh but lingers in your mind far after  ( outside of the north )   /   among common folk, she's seen as a kind-hearted enigma — someone who will share a drink, a laugh, and a song but doesn't quite fit anywhere. among lords and ladies she's a mixed bag, with some finding her pleasant and others see her as an unnatural addition to the stark family  ( in the north )   /   assumed dead by the skagosi, though legends that she rose from the dead exist among smallfolk  ( in skagos )   /   a strange, smiling sister — loved and accepted, but different due to pre-conceived feelings towards people from skagos. a jester among wolves  ( in winterfell and winter town ) bad habits :   isn't always present in the moment   /   very little fear, which leads to occasional reckless behavior   /   mischievous provocation   /   avoids deep conversations with most people   /   doesn't sleep very much

languages :   the common tongue  ( native )   /   the old tongue ( proficient ) speech :   excels at persuasion and performance   /   her charm, wit, and unsettling insight make her a dangerous conversationalist — she can talk her way into castles, out of trouble, and under people's skin   /   she's no politician, but she has a bard's gift for storytelling and emotional manipulation   /   she sometimes overplays her hand, pushes people too far, or relies on charm when silence serve her better attack :   she isn't a warrior but she is a survivor, so she'll fight dirty when she has to   /   when armed, she favors small and quick weapons — things that are easily hidden and fast to use. when unarmed, she uses misdirection and even sometimes humor to disarm opponents   /   she fights to end things quickly or to escape, not for honor or extended combat   /   lacks formal training, raw strength, and endurance defense :   avoids direct conflict when possible —her first instinct is to dodge or misdirect rather than block   /   if cornered, doesn't fight fair, instead she fights like someone who knows what it's like to lose   /   has quick reflexes   /   isn't built for drawn-out fights or taking heavy hits so if someone overpowers her she's in trouble hobbies :   songwriting   /   storytelling   /   playing the flute and the lute   /   wandering  &  nightwalking   /   collecting odd trinkets and lost things   /   sleight of hand tricks

[forgednlight]

stelsa  turns  at  the  sound  of  the  unfamiliar  voice  behind  her,  eyes  landing  on  the  older  woman,  "who  is  asking,  my  lady?"  she  questions  politely.  her  face  was  ever-so-slightly  recognizable,  but  she  was  unable  to  place  it.  there  wasn't  many  people  concerned  with  her  to  the  point  of  actively  asking  for  her;  defense  was  her  first  instinct.  "there  are  a  few  pyke  women  here.  i  doubt  i  am  the  one  you  are  looking  for."

closed starter ! @forgednlight

for stelsa

she excused herself as she made her way around driftmark getting still use to the place. Yildiz had never left the comfort of dorne, specifically starfall but now here she was in a place where the monsters of the sea and dragons of the sky met. she heard whispers of the young lady greyjoy who her brother mentioned once in passing and had to meet her herself. eyeing someone who looked like the description that was given to her, she made her presence known. "i've heard you are the young lady who hails from isle of pykes, is this true?"

[forgednlight]

"how  interesting  that  the  only  fun  i've  had  recently  has  been  behind  the  walls.  work  is  usually  work,  it  is  not  shocking  the  only  fight  worth  remembering  has  been  a  little  lord  with  proper  training."  she  sighed,  taking  a  heavy  swig  of  her  drink.  it  upset  her,  of  course.  it  was  never  supposed  to  go  as  far  as  it  did.  there  wasn't  supposed  to  be  a  fight  at  all,  the  only  thing  she  was  set  on  doing  was  extortion  —  still  a  crime,  but  surely  the  sentence  for  that  crime  was  shorter  in  westeros  as  well.  her  lapsed  devotions  to  the  many-faced  god  forbid  her  from  actually  killing  him  when  she  didn't  accept  that  contract.  instead  of  her  being  richer  than  she  was  a  few  days  ago,  she  had  to  live  with  the  knowledge  that  somebody  in  the  city  had  faced  her  blade  and  lived;  the  thought  drove  her  mad.  "i  have  made  it  a  personal  mission  to  visit  dorne  before  i  return  to  essos,  though  i  plan  on  doing  it  on  my  way  out.  i  fear  i  will  fall  in  love  with  it  and  not  want  to  leave,"  it  has  been  a  constant  truth  in  her  life  since  nymeria  told  her  about  dorne  all  those  years  ago.  she  would  visit  it  one  day,  even  if  she  had  to  do  it  alone. "how  long  ago  was  this?  i  was  paid  to  take  one  down  recently.  i  am  sorry  to  say  i  was  not  successful  —  but  i  believe  i  made  him  slower  if  you  would  like  to  try  your  hand  at  it,"  she  smirks,  tossing  her  hair  over  her  shoulder.  a  jest,  of  course.  if  there  was  anyone  in  the  city  that  could  do  as  much  damage  as  kesara  did  with  equal  odds,  it  was  the  woman  sitting  across  from  her.  some  deep  scratches  on  his  legs  was  better  than  nothing,  she  supposes.  "the  details  leave  a  lot  to  be  desired.  a  man  makes  another  man  mad  and  i  got  paid  to  handle  it;  tale  as  old  as  time  —  though  pay  is  ..."  she  shook  her  head  and  scowled  in  disgust  at  the  memory  of  the  low  offer,  "...  a  bit  of  a  stretch.  i  am  told  that  many  people  want  lannisters  dead  these  days."

Scoffing, Elia nearly choked on her mug of ale- nearly. One of the few sacred things in this world Elia adhered to was a good, sharp knife and a stiff drink. That and she knew a few crucial things like poisons, antidotes, dismantling complex systems of government with the bat of an eyelash, and how, without any of those things, at the very least sixty different ways to kill a man without using her hands in the set of circumstances that would've potentially seen her restrained. Saving the ale, watching it slosh, Elia sipped it without a single drop wasted, looking over at her wonderous new friend. The Red Keep was a pitiful lump of rocks constructed by a conqueror rather than a ruler around a city swarming with flies. It was nothing to write home about. Home however - Sunspear - was a shining gem of the south. It was an architectural marvel with its water gardens and hanging gardens, and it was clean. It deserved to be the center of the world, but Dorne had no dragons for now - it would, though, and the world would watch Dorne rise into the empire. It ought to be the conqueror crumbling to the speared sun when dornish dragons flew at full strength. "Oh, my dear Kes, please, I don't claim that as my castle. They can knock it down for all I care. It's been an eyesore since it was made." She smirked, whispering that into her cup, though not entirely fully hoping to stir some of the city watch into a fight she sorely needed just to feel. "Wait until you see Sunspear. The pests are much more bearable when you can find relief in the water gardens or in the wild dunes of the desert. Heavens, Dorne is miles more exciting than this backwater. Even more dangerous too - you'd love it Kes. You would"

Elia smiles, leaning back in her chair, draping an arm over the back of it and extending long legs so that men and women would throw themselves into the sun for one over the other atop the table. Chips and playing pieces shift with the thud of her boots, but if she weren't born to the name that doomed her to her fate - she would be the hired blade Kesara was. Heavens the mercenary company the two women could've started would wipe the floor with that of the famed golden company. She furrowed her brow, taking another deep drink and looking over to their companion. "Has anything happened lately? Anything fun you've done without me while I was stuck behind those stuffy walls? Details, my friend, I need all the details - I restrained the urge to maim a maned lion in a council of dragons. Speaking of which do you know the details of a decent sorcerer?"

[forgednlight]

"is  not  speaking  at  all  an  option?"  its  a  rhetorical  question,  she  knows  that  rhea  will  not  her  leave  without  the  conversation  being  had.  stelsa  would  comply  regardless,  partly  out  of  curiosity  and  partly  because  the  more  naive  version  of  her  she  had  not  yet  figured  out  how  to  kill  still  yearned  for  her  oldest  sister's  approval.  sister.  its  a  word  that  means  nothing  to  her.  the  familial  tie  that  binds  them  seemed  to  change  with  wind. she  isn't  sure  where  the  vitriol  comes  from  when  she  speaks  with  them,  the  emotion  should  not  be  able  to  be  produced  in  someone  like  stelsa,  but  it  festered  like  infection  within  her  until  it  was  all  consuming.  she  sighs  and  shifts  her  eyes  anywhere  but  her  sister's,  "speak  here.  quickly,  please.  i'm  busy."  she  wasn't  —  not  really  —  but  they  did  not  need  to  know  that.  her  days  were  mostly  spent  alone  writing  letters  or  visiting  with  nymor.  there  wasn't  much  else  for  someone  of  her  standing  to  do;  rhea  made  sure  of  that.

@forgednlight | Stelsa

They were finally mobile, well, somewhat mobile. The crutches proved to be helpful to a certain point. Then they became a hinderance. A loud, annoying and painful hinderance. They couldn't wait to get rid of them.

They had been returning to the gardens when they had spotted Stelsa in a hall. After the events of recent, they decided that the girl could do with a small amount of respect, having kept the entire 'daughter' situation to herself. No matter what Daeryssa's thought were on the matter, Rhea themselves wasn't ready to admit it.

"Sister" They greeted as they approached. They stood as tall as they could without inducing any extreme pain, hoping to recover at least some of their dignity. They waved the lady in waiting away, they had no interest in having anyone listen in on their conversations. "Normally I would insist you walk with me to speak, however that seems to be an issue for the time being. Shall we stay here or would you prefer to speak somewhere else?"

[forgednlight]

she  turns  away  from  him  to  dry  her  eyes  with  her  sleeve,  "you  are  right,  you  do  not  need  the  added  stress  of  me  crying."  she  tries  to  make  it  a  joke,  but  in  her  mind  its  true.  the  one  thing  on  her  mind  from  this  point  forward  was  nymor  healing  —  and  she  intends  to  take  part  in  it  if  he  allows  her  to.  "i  was  so  worried,"  she  reveals  as  she  turns  to  face  him  again,  but  she's  unable  to  keep  the  tears  from  lining  her  eyes  again  when  she  sees  him,  "nobody  would  tell  me  anything.  not  even  the  guard  outside,  he  would  just  send  me  away.  i  did  not  know  what  to  expect,  so  i  haven't  cried  over  you  yet,"  she  says  lightheartedly.  she  tries  her  best  to  ignore  the  fluttering  in  her  stomach  when  he  kisses  her  hand.  now  wasn't  the  time  —  a  maester  could  come  in  at  many  minute  to  kick  her  out  —  but  it  was  a  feeling  she  would  have  to  confront  eventually.  nymor  served  as  a  sort  of  mythical  being  to  her.  he  was  one  of,  if  not  the  strongest  and  most  capable  person  she  knew.  in  her  years  of  knowing  him,  this  was  the  most  down  she  had  seen  him.  it  did  not  shatter  the  image  in  her  head,  seeing  him  injured  and  bedbound,  it  only  served  to  humanize  him.  she  had  been  so  convinced  of  her  own  foreboding  demise  that  she  had  forgotten  that  nymor  could  die  too.  the  thought  terrified  her  even  more  so  than  her  own  death.  she  had  lived  without  him  before,  but  that  was  not  an  option  anymore. "i  have  been  busy  while  you've  been  gone,"  she  was  hesitant  to  reveal  the  extent  of  her  activities.  not  due  to  a  lack  of  trust,  but  because  should  she  be  exposed  she  would  at  least  have  a  chance  to  leave.  she  would  have  to  tell  him  eventually  if  she  wanted  to  plead  her  case  for  him  to  leave  with  her,  although  his  sisters  and  nephew  being  here  complicated  things.  she  had  no  qualms  about  ripping  apart  her  own  sham  of  a  family,  but  the  daynes  were  different.  he  would  not  care  about  shaera,  but  he  would  need  to  know  about  cassian  and  sarya  —  and  he  would  want  to  know  about  the  anonymous  letters.  the  unfortunate  truth  hanging  over  her  head  was  that  she  was  living  on  borrowed  time  in  driftmark,  but  he  didn't  need  to  know  that  right  now.  "i  will  tell  you  all  about  it  when  you  are  better,  but  only  then.  i  am  sure  you're  very  curious,  so  i  will  use  it  as  a  bargaining  chip,"  she  jokes  with  a  squeeze  to  his  hand.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, he was supposed to be stronger than this. Strong enough to not get hurt, to win the battle and to not make his best friend cry. Stelsa was stronger than anyone thought, everyone looked at her and saw someone too soft for House Greyjoy. Not everyone had to be a warrior, people seemed to forget that. Strength was different for different people, if Stelsa needed physical strength Nymor could be that. It was what he'd decided when he first met her. She was allowed to be herself, he could protect her from anything else.

Except he couldn't.

Watching her cry he felt another wave of guilt, she was his best friend and he was the reason she was like this. "And you don't cry." Still he sat up anyway, he should have been able to do more, but he'd not been willing. Nymor didn't have the fight in him to actually do it. But his sisters were here, his nephew was here and so was Stelsa. If he could just let himself lean on any of them, maybe he'd find a reason.

"Please no more maesters. I'm tired of seeing them hovering over me. I'm... okay." He lied, he wasn't okay and until he was able to fight again he didn't know if he would be. "You know me, it takes a lot to take me down." But her. Nymor wasn't used to seeing her look like this. He'd seen her upset before, he'd seen her after fights or arguments with her family. But never this. Lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, "I'm okay, but you look worse than I do."

[forgednlight]

"should  anyone  try  to  buy  you  or  ryella's  life,  you  have  my  word  that  i  would  at  least  give  you  the  opportunity  to  counter  their  offer  first."  it  was  true  that  her  promises  meant  little  as  a  sellsword,  her  words  were  coated  in  gold  and  greed,  but  sarya  was  like  a  friend  to  her  and  kesara  didn't  want  them  or  their  sister  dead.  sure,  her  wants  were  moot  but  the  last  twelve  hours  reinforced  her  own  belief  in  her  self-will.  still,  if  the  price  was  right,  her  blade  could  be  bought.  "dead?  unfortunately  not.  not  unless  a  few  scratches  would  fatally  wound  the  noblemen  here,  which  would  not  surprise  me  given  how  he  fought."  kesara  reached  a  hand  to  grab  sarya's  arm.  the  actions  of  breathing  and  walking  getting  more  raw  and  painful  the  longer  she  went  without  rest.  with  a  bit  of  weight  leaned  on  her  companion,  she  followed  them  into  the  keep.  "—  and  those  injuries  were  his  fault  as  well.  had  he  let  me  finish  speaking  he  would  be  as  healthy  as  he  was  last  night  and  i  would  be  a  few  gold  dragons  richer."  it  was  frustrating  to  think  about,  though  she  supposes  the  silver  lining  is  worth  it.  had  she  not  wasted  her  time  fighting  back,  she  would  have  missed  sarya  doing  her  rounds.  she  turned  her  head  to  look  at  her  friend  —  or  at  least  one  of  the  closest  things  she  currently  has  to  one,  "how  have  you  been,  my  lady?  i  fear  we have  been  apart  far  too  long."

Sarya waved their hand in dismissal, "If there was anyone else here waiting for you then you could be worried." Kesara was an asset, someone she might on somedays call a friend. The woman had kept them company on some of their trips to Essos, it was a mutually beneficial relationship. It was interesting to see her here now but thinking about it, this was a very profitable time for a sell sword. It was actually more surprising that she wasn't here sooner. "You know how I value your information and company, until your blade faces myself or my sister you're a wonderful companion." They didn't trust many people, but they did trust after everything that either Kesara would tell them, or they'd just find out.

"Oh a Lannister!" Her eyes brightened, "Someone always wants to kill them these days. I'm surprised I haven't seen more." It couldn't have been Varyn, he was too prideful for someone to walk away after trying to attack him. Humming when she lifted her shirt to show the bruise Sarya let out a sigh, "Follow me, I've something that can help with the pain but lets you keep your mind." They'd vouch for her, she was the mistress of whispers and if she wanted someone in the castle it wouldn't really be questioned. "Am I going to find out about a dead lion in a few moments or did you satisfy your curiosity without bloodshed?" @forgednlight

[forgednlight]

the  protector  no  name, even  knowing  the  lengths  you  go  to  to  protect  our  innocence  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  —  which  i  am  thankful  for,  i  am  hesitant  to  repeat  what  they  speak  to  me.  it  is  treacherous  and  violent  in  nature.  more  than  anything,  i  am  worried  that  certain  members  of  driftmark's  court  would  not  allow  me  to  defend  myself  should  the  theories  of  treason  be  whispered  to  them  instead  of  thrown  at  me. i  promise  to  stay  in  the  safest  spot  for  me  —  which  happens  to  currently  be  high  tide  —  until  the  tides  ebb  in  my  favor.  there  are  few  that  i  trust  to  accompany  me  to  the  mainland,  and  the  person  i  trust  the  most  is  not  able  to  do  so  at  this  time.  is  it  only  my  observation  that  more  serpents  have  made  their  way  to  driftmark  recently? i  think  it  is  okay  to  hold  back  on  arranging  passage  for  now.  i  do  believe  my  own  fears  of  retribution  influence  my  nervousness.  i  do  not  think  anyone  on  driftmark  is  suspicious.  when  the  paranoia  becomes  more  tangible,  i  will  write  immediately  and  accept  your  help.  i  hope  the  time  between  that  SOS  and  my  fears  manifesting  will  be  long  enough  to  make  it  back  home. i  have  not  yet  made  a  habit  of  destroying  letters,  but  i  will  begin  developing  one  now.  as  always,  thank  you  for  your  kindness  and  your  wisdom,  my  lord. yours,  juline

my dearest friend juline,

it aggrieves me that, even in your small moments of freedom, concerns plague your mind. please find some solace in the fact that all correspondence i receive is read, memorized, and subsequently destroyed to ensure the safety of all those i hold dear. whatever you tell me in our letters stays between us.

what is this person writing to you, that troubles you so? on my end, i shall do my utmost to seek them out and determine why they terrorize you so. your safety is paramount to me.

be careful, my lovely juline. if you must leave, do so under the cover of someone you trust. otherwise, try to hold out as long as you can. a hasty retreat can be as dangerous as living in a viper's nest if you flee without taking time to learn the serpents in the water.

i shall begin work to try and obtain safe passage for you to king's landing, if this is your wish. but learn to be vigilant, my friend. destroy letters, especially those precious to you, and watch those around you with a fair but suspicious gaze.

better days are ahead for you, i promise.

your watchful friend, no name

[forgednlight]

"no  one  has  yet  offered  enough  coin  to  convince  me  to  fight  in  a  westerosi  war,  but  i  am  sure  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time,"  the  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  she  had  not  thought  about  if  she  would  accept  such  a  contract.  it  was  not  completely  out  of  the  realm  of  possibility  that  sarya  or  someone  else  could  convince  her,  though  her  required  price  would  be  substantial.  she  would  not  hesitate  to  kill  foreign  soldiers,  but  dying  in  foreign  lands  was  a  different  story  entirely.  knowing  that  nymeria  could  be  —  would  be  —  on  a  battlefield  without  kesara  to  have  her  back  triggered  a  fear  that  she  thought  long  dead.  it  was  easier  to  let  her  just  fade  away  into  memory  than  to  know  she  may  be  violently  taken  from  the  world.  from  kesara.  it's  not  that  she  was  unaware  that  nymeria  was  capable.  she  would  more  than  likely  be  fine,  but  she  had  always  been  a  problem  for  kesara.  worries  of  the  younger  woman  existed  like  a  thorn  in  her  side;  one  she  thought  she  managed  to  yank  out,  but  she  questions  if  she  just  learned  to  ignore  it  instead.  the  reminder  that  they  seemed  doomed  by  every  god  ever  documented  returned  the  tension  and  stress  and  anger  to  her  body.  it  wasn't  their  fault  —  well,  it  may  have  been  kesara's,  but  it  was  easier  to  blame  it  on  forces  unknown.  "it  has  always  been  a  weakness  of  yours"  she  starts,  turning  to  look  at  the  woman  she  loved  years  ago.  her  words  seemed  to  awaken  a  part  of  kesara  that  wanted  a  reaction.  the  time  for  small  talk  and  pleasantries  was  done.  there  was  too  much  history  —  to  much  fire  between  the  two  of  them  to  let  it  continue.  upon  turning  her  head,  she  intended  to  speak  directly  to  her  eyes,  to  her  soul  if  nymeria  was  willing  to  let  the  message  through,  but  the  distance  had  deprived  the  two  of  them  for  too  long,  and  kesara  was  briefly  distracted  by  the  fullness  of  the  other's  lips  before  focusing  on  the  point  at  hand  once  more,  "willing  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  the  benefit  of  others  despite  being  more  beneficial  alive.  selfishness  is  a  virtue  in  times  like  these.  you  would  do  well  to  learn  that  before  you  are  needlessly  torn  from  life."  selfishness.  it  was  what  got  them  here  in  the  first  place.  it  was  an  attack  kesara  believed  she  could  use  as  a  defense;  the  question  of  its  efficacy  depended  on  who  was  answering.

╰ * for ⧽ @forgednlight.

the  ghost  of  a  smile  flickers  across  her  lips,  caught  between  amusement  and  softness.   or  something  bitter,  like  regret,  burning  on  her  tongue.   unavoidable  circumstances.   it  is  as  good  an  answer  as  she  will  get,  for  a  question  unspoken.   the  words  sound  painfully  familiar,  despite  falling  on  her  ears  for  the  first  time:   they  remind  her  of  a  past  gone,  but  not  forgotten,  of  too  many  hours  gladly spent  on whispered  laughs  and  heated  touches.   of  a  story  that  had  ended  even  before  it  began.   their  fracture  had  been  inescapable,  had  it  not?   her  gaze  drifts  past  kesara,  settling  on  the  dim  glow  of  the  forge,  on  the  smith  testing  the  balance  of  her  blade  with  an  expert  hand.   anywhere  that  isn’t  her.   the  fire  crackles,  molten  orange   —   it  is  oddly  reminiscent  of  the  light  that  had  danced  in  the  other’s  eyes  all  those  years  ago,  sharp,  bright,  and  endlessly  captivating.      ❝      i  see.      ❞      nymeria  does  not  say  that  she,  too,  knows  what  it  is  to  be  drawn  somewhere  by  forces  unseen,  bound  by  duty  or  necessity,  or  the  ache  of  history  that  can  never  be  outrun.   there  is  no  need.   it  lingers  between  them,  woven  into  the  silence,  thick  as  smoke.   at  the  question,  she  exhales  quietly,  the  sound  more  of  a  scoff,  head  tilting.      ❝      on  behalf  of  the  targaryens   …   if  you  wish  to  call  it  that.      ❞      if  only  it  were  that  simple.   and  yet,  war  never  is.            she  does  not  lower  the  hood  of  her  cloak.   perhaps,  it  offers  some  sort  of  feeble  protection,  leaves  her  not  as  exposed.   her  fingertips  brush  the  surface  of  the  wooden  table  before  them.      ❝      and  what  of  you,   kesara?      ❞      she  asks.   if  her  voice  threatens  to  tremble  underneath  the  weight  of  her  name,  it does now  show.        ❝      have  you  found  yourself  tangled  in  this  conflict,  too?   i  cannot  imagine  why  you  would  be  in  westeros  otherwise.      ❞      this  is  not  a  kingdom  where  she  would’ve  expected  to  find  her.   something  flickers  behind  nymeria’s  eyes  after  the  next  words,  something  knowing,  weary.      ❝      should  be?      ❞      she  echoes,  glancing  at  her  now.      ❝      fate  has  never  been  kind  enough  to  grant  us  the  luxury  of  should.      ❞      that,  they  know  well.   if  fate  were  gentle,  it  would’ve  never  let  them  meet.   it  would’ve  kept  them  apart  and  spare  them  the  anguish.   she  watches  her  roll  her  neck,  watches  the  tension  leave  her  hands  as  she  finally  unclenches  them.   how  many  times  had  she  seen  that  same  gesture?   when  she  was  annoyed,  when  she  was  attempting  to hide any and all emotions behind a mask.   a  part  of  her  wants  to  reach  out,  wrap  her  fingers  around  kesara’s  wrist,  but  she  doesn’t.      ❝      i  only  wish  to  protect  my  family.      ❞      swallowing  tightly,  she  raises  a  brow.      ❝      or  die  trying.      ❞

[forgednlight]

stelsa  narrows  her  eyes  at  the  alcohol  and  chalices  in  her  sister's  hand,  dramatically  sighing  before  speaking,  "must  i?  are  you  preparing  to  get  drunk  with  me  at  least?"  she  jokes.  it  was  no  secret  that  stelsa  did  not  particularly  excel  at  handling  alcohol  well.  even  if  you  had  not  seen  her  drunk,  just  a  brief  conversation  with  her  would  tip off  even  the  most  socially  unaware  that  she  ...  wasn't  the  type,  to  say  the  least.  still,  it  was  just  daeryssa,  and  if  there  was  anyone  was  safe  to  have  loose  inhibitions  in  front  of  it  was  her  sister — this  sister specifically.  "have  we  stolen  this  from  the  kitchens?  paid  the  iron  price  like  proper  krakens?"  she  giggles  at  her  own  lack  of  seriousness,  looking  at  daeryssa  expectantly,  "regardless,  you  have  come  all  this  way,  it  would  be  a  shame  to  send  you  back.  i  will  pour  us  a  cup."

closed starter for stelsa @forgednlight

there were rare moments in daeryssa's life where she got to relax and act like a typical girl. she didn't like being a lady and was no where near as proper as her younger sister, but perhaps at times it was good to relax for just a moment. perhaps tonight would be that night. before orders were given and daeryssa would board her ship again and retake the gullet while stelsa stayed safe here on land. with some wine in her hands, she went to her sister's chambers with a smile on her lips. she doesn't spend enough time with her family thanks to her travels and definitely doesn't spend enough time with stelsa thanks to their differences. there was no better time than now. "i hope you are not busy, because i wish to get you thoroughly drunk and let us make up for years apart."

[forgednlight]

my  dear  shaera, soon.  i  swear  this  to  you  on  my  family's  name.  i  am  working  diligently,  day  and  night,  to  ensure  this  truth.  worry  not  for  me  while  i  am  away,  focus  on  keeping  you  and  your  family  safe  and  fed.  in  the  face  of  enemies,  good  health  is  a  powerful  tool. on  a  lighter  note,  i  have  been  making  note  of  my  days,  stories  i  have  been  reading,  facts  i  have  learned  and  anything  else  interesting  that  you  may  like  in  a  journal.  when  it  is  safe  to  do  so,  i  can  give  it  to  you  so  the  words  may  fill  the  gap  of  darkness  between  then  and  the  last  time  we  were  together.  i  fear  life  on  driftmark  is  rather  dull  compared  to  yours  in  the  capital,  but  it  is  comforting  that  to  know  that — even  so  far  away — you  will  be  part  of  that  life. the  library  here  is  lacking  and  company  is  mostly  busy  politicking.  i  spend  time  alone  most  days,  but  i  know  this  brief  period  of  loneliness  is  temporary.  that  knowledge  is  motivating.  i  have  learned  to  make  friends  with  it  in  your  absence.  or  is  it  my  absence?  it  is  hard  to  tell  these  days. yours  truly, s.g.

a letter: addressed to lady stelsa greyjoy, sealed with a blank red wax seal.

my  dearest  stelsa,

i  miss  you  more  than  words  can  explain.   receiving  this  letter  was  a  balm  i  did  not  know  i  needed,  though  i  curse  the  war  that  makes  ink  and  parchment  a  poor  substitute  for  your  presence.  books  have  been  unable  to  provide  me  with  an  escape  during  these dark  times.   i  have  tried,  and  yet,  my  mind  will  not  be  quiet  enough  to  let  me  read  in  peace.   it  certainly  does  not  help  that  i  think  of  you  every  time  i  turn  a  page.   i  find  myself  wishing  we  could  spend  peaceful  afternoons  in  the  library  again,  scribbling  in  margins,  reaching  across  the  table  to  show  the  other  a  particularly  interesting  fact  or  story.   i  was  not  aware  of just  how  much  i  appreciated  those  moments  until  we  were  forced  to  part.  as  for  my  sister   …   i  will  not  lie  to  you.   there  is  anger  in  me,  a  fire  that  yearns  to  see  those  responsible  burned,  crumbling  into  ashes.   but  you  are  not  the  one  who  stoked  it, and  you  should  not  be  apologizing  on  your  family’s  behalf.   helaena  is  safe.   that  is  all  that  matters,  and  the  rest  will  play  out  as  it  must.  i  hope  you  mean  it  when  you  say  you  will  see  me  soon.   i  am  holding  you  to  that,  stelsa.   letters  will  never  be  enough  to  fill  the  voice  our  distance  has  left  me  with.

yours, shaera

[forgednlight]

"an  old  friend  from  pyke,"  she  assures  with  a  nervous  laugh  and  a  flick  of  her  hand,  "it  is  nothing  interesting  i  assure  you,"  hoping  her  poor  excuse  is  believable or at least  dull  enough  they  can  move  past  it.  she  looks  down  at  jaenara's  hand  on  her  arm  before  resting  her  own  hand  on  top  of  it,  running  her  thumb  soothingly  before  moving  her  arm  away.  "it  would  be  an  honor  to  help  you,  my  friend,"  she  offers,  quickly  moving  to  the  abandoned  desk  and  stuffing  the  letter  into  the  first  drawer  empty  enough  to  hold  it.  later,  she  rationalized,  she'd  deal  with  whatever  threats  or  promises  of  an  easier  life  in  the  capital  the  parchment  spoke  of  when  she  was  alone.  she  turned  back  to  her  friend — one  of  the  only  ones  she  got  to  see  everyday,  quickly  grabbing  her  arm  and  pulling  them  towards  the  door.  it  was  almost  like  old  times;  sitting  on  her  bed,  talks  of  dresses  and  weddings,  starry-eyed  about  what  the  future  holds  into  the  late  hours  of  the  night.  it  was  easy  to  miss,  the  nostalgia  so  defined  it  made  stelsa's  stomach  turn.  "shall  we  go  now?  i  have  ideas,  already."

jaenara smiles inquisitively, eyes going from the letter back to stelsa's face. curious.

"i didn't know you had many acquaintances outside of those present on driftmark," she comments, hoping her friend will divulge an interesting secret. a lover, perhaps? that would be wonderful in such bleak times. "but worry not. i shall not pry if you don't feel comfortable sharing with me yet. please know, stelsa, i'd keep any secret you may tell me. my mind is a chest locked tight to outsiders."

she carefully eases herself up from the desk chair and approaches stelsa, resting a freshly calloused hand on her arm.

"i've been seeking you out all morning, actually. i was hoping you'd accompany me today while i seek out fabrics for a gown for my wedding. of anybody here, i know you'd have the best taste for such a task."

[forgednlight]

she  pauses,  deciding  on  if  their  relationship  had  already  reached  the  point  of  satirical  jests  being  appropriate.  her  eyes  glance  around  the  library  for  one  final  sweep  to  ensure  they  are  alone  before  she  dramatically  bows  her  head  and  lowers  her  eyes,  "of  course,  princess  shaera,  i—as  little  but  a  humble  subject  to  the  crown—will  happily  accept  all  recommendations  from  our  beautiful  and  gracious  princess  of  the  seven  kingdoms."  it  felt  nice—freeing,  how  easy  it  was  to  speak  to  the  targaryen  woman. "sincrely,  i  think  you  for  the  recommendation,"  this  time  she's  genuine  in  her  manners,  "there  are  few  opportunities  for  me  to  read  about  old  valyria  outside  of  the  most  popular  works.  in  return,"  she  proposes,  biting  the  inside  of  her  cheek  in  concentration  as  she  looks  at  the  texts  covering  the  table,  hovering  her  hand  over  them  all,  almost  as  if  one  will  eventually  call  to  her  through  physical  means,  "i  will  recommend  this—only  if  it  is  still  unread  by  you,"  she  holds  up  the  book,  thinner  in  comparison  to  its  company,  before  passing  it  to  her  companion.  "a  compilation  of  illustrations  of  blade  styles  from  around  essos." 

she  hums  in  approval,  tilting  her  head  as  she  considers  this  so  called  compromise.   lips  purse  almost  involuntarily,  though  there  is  an  air  of  amusement  to  her,  mirth  lighting  up  her  gaze.      ❝      princess  shaera.      ❞      the  title  rolls  off  her  tongue  with  grace,  and  after  a  beat,  she  offers  her  companion  a  smirk.      ❝      i  suppose  it  will  have  to  do   …   when  other  people  are  present.   i  would  hate  to  see  you  dragged  away  for  treason,  and  lose  good  company  so  soon.   but,      ❞      shaera  continues,  raising  a  brow.      ❝      if  it  is  just  the  two  of  us,  however, you may use my name.      ❞      with  that,  she  leans  back  against  her  chair,  enjoying  the  conversation  between  them.   friends  are  few  and  far  in  between  in  court,  real  ones  even  rarer:   it  excites  her  to  think  that,  maybe,  the  lady  greyjoy  could  potentially  become  one  of  them.        fingers  tap  on  the  table  as  she  watches  stelsa  with  open  curiosity,  noting  how  delightfully  she  seems  to  settle  in  her  presence.   she  does  not  seem  annoyed,  or  bored,  or  even  that  she  remains  here out  of  mere  respect.   and  she  does  not  approach  her  with  pretense  or  expectation,  matching  her  wit  without  hesitation.      ❝      a peculiar combination of books.      ❞      the  princess  muses,  the  curl  of  her  lips  turning  into  a  grin.      ❝      a  but  not  a  bad  one.   did  you  enjoy  them?      ❞      moving  forward  slightly,  she  studies  the  stack  nearby  before  plucking  a  tome  from  it,  turning  it  over  in  her  hands  before  she  slides  it  towards  her companion.      ❝      if  you  favor  lesser  known  texts,  the  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  this  one.   it  is  a  rather  obscure  collection  of  letters  stolen  from  the  court  of  old  valyria.   if  you  enjoy  poetry  and  history  alike,  i  suspect  you  will  find  it  interesting.      ❞      suddenly,  shaera  bites  down  on  her  lower  lip.   there  is  a  certain  shyness  in  her  features  that  she  tries  to  mask.      ❝      and  if  not,  well   —   perhaps  we  can  continue  this  habit  of  exchanging  recommendations.      ❞

[forgednlight]

(  davika  hoorne  ,  thirty  ,  cisfem  ,  she/her  )  :  ANNOUNCING  !!  𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀  hailing  from  𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆.  she  is  known  to  be  𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  &  𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒  but  also,  𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍  &  𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄  across  the  realm.  she  is  currently  𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓  in  𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒  𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆  (  mitzy  ,  25  ,  cst  ,  she/they  ,  n/a.  )

NAME :   LADY KESARA THAWAN OF TURRANI   /   KESARA OF LENG  NICKNAMES, TITLES  &  EPITHETS :   SERGEANT OF THE GOLDEN COMPASS ( FORMERLY )  AGE :   THIRTY ( 30 ) GENDER : CISGENDER WOMAN  SEXUALITY :   BISEXUAL LOCATION :   TURRANI ( ORIGINALLY )   /   KING'S LANDING ( CURRENTLY ) NAME DAY :   NOVEMBER THIRD STRENGTHS :   SKILLED FIGHTER   /   CUNNING  &  TACTICAL   /   PRAGMATIC   /   CHARISMATIC  &  WITTY   /   AMBITIOUS  &  OPPORTUNISTIC WEAKNESSES :   LACKS LOYALTY   /   MORALLY GREY   /   PRONE TO PUSHING HER LUCK   /   LIMITED POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE   /   SHORT-TERM THINKER   /   UNREFINED  &  OVERCONFIDENT ALLEGIANCE :   THE HIGHEST BIDDER  RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION :   LOOSE DEVOTION TO THE MANY-FACED GOD

FACECLAIM :   DAVIKA HOORNE  EYE COLOR :   BROWN HAIR TEXTURE  &  COLOR :   DARK BROWN  &  SLIGHTLY WAVY SKIN TEXTURE  &  TONE :   CLEAR  &  SLIGHTLY TAN VIBE :   THE GUY PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT IN MOB MOVIES WHEN THEY SAY “I KNOW A GUY”   /   SURVIVOR FIRST, SELLSWORD SECOND, NOBLE LADY WHEN IT'S CONVENIENT HEIGHT :   FIVE FEET  &  NINE INCHES BUILD :   SLENDER  &  TONED HER OPINION ON HER APPEARANCE :   UNCONCERNED

PARENTS :   YENGKO THAWAN ( FATHER )   /   KHIARA THAWAN ( MOTHER ) SIBLINGS :   SARINA THAWAN ( YOUNGER SISTER )   /   OLAN THAWAN ( YOUNGER BROTHER ) MARITAL STATUS :   SINGLE  &  UNWED CLOSEST FRIEND(S) :   TBD ENEMIES :   TBD

MBTI :   ESTP ALIGNMENT :   CHAOTIC NEUTRAL CHARACTER ARCHETYPE :   ROGUE   /   ANTI-HERO WHO SHE PRETENDS TO BE ON THE OUTSIDE :   WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET WHO SHE ACTUALLY IS  &  HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT THE MASK :   ON THE SURFACE, SHE APPEARS CAREFREE AND DETACHED, BUT BENEATH THAT SHE'S SHARPER AND MORE AMBITIOUS THAN SHE LETS ON.  IF THERE'S ANY MASK SHE WEARS, IT'S THE ILLUSION THAT SHE'S JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE.  IN REALITY, SHE'S ALWAYS ANGLING FOR MORE. REPUTATION :   FAIRLY UNKNOWN, KNOWN MOSTLY THROUGH RUMORS AND TALK AS AN ANONYMOUS AND PROFICIENT MERCENARY LOOSE IN THE CAPITAL ( IN WESTEROS )   /   A RUTHLESS, CUNNING, AND HIGHLY SKILLED SELLSWORD RESPECTED FOR HER FIGHTING SKILLS AND WIT  &  SERGEANT IN THE GOLDEN COMPANY ( IN THE FREE CITIES )   /   A LOST NOBLEWOMAN MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE IS DEAD ( IN LENG ) BAD HABITS :   PUSHING HER LUCK   /   CUTTING CORNERS   /   RUNNING HER MOUTH

LANGUAGES :   SOUTHERN LENGII DIALECT OF YITISH ( NATIVE )   /   BRAAVOSI ( FLUENT )   /   TRADE TALK ( PROFICIENT )   /   THE COMMON TONGUE ( PROFICIENT ) SPEECH :   QUICK-TONGUED, SHARP-WITTED, AND KNOWS HOW TO TALK HER WAY OUT OF ( OR INTO ) TROUBLE ATTACK  &  DEFENSE :   FAVORS SPEED, AGILITY,  &  DIRTY TACTICS OVER BRUTE STRENGTH OR KNIGHTLY TECHNIQUE   /   EXCELS AT ONE-ON-ONE COMBAT   /   DEFENSIVELY RELIES MOST ON EVASION  &  COUNTERATTACKS HOBBIES :   FIGHTING ( FOR FUN  &  PROFIT )   /   GAMBLING ( WITH DICE  &  LIFE )   /   DRINKING  &  DRINKING GAMES

WHEN  SHE  WAS  TOLD  SHE  WAS  TO  MARRY  SOME  PRINCE  IN  THE  NORTH,  kesara  thawan  made  the  decision  right  then  and  there  to  leave.  her  heart  was  set  on  defending  her  homeland  with  a  sword  and  vengeance,  not  with  words.  she  refused  to  be  a  wife—especially  a  wife  to  a  yitishized  second  son.  they  knew  she  was  serious  in  her  defiance,  though  none  could  have  anticipated  that  she  would  vanish  so  swiftly  after  the  betrothal  was  announced.  within  hours,  she  had  arranged  passage  to  volantis;  to  vanish  into  the  depths  of  the  free  cities.  to  be  used  as  a  bargaining  chip  to  show  good  faith  between  turrani  and  leng  yi  was  something  she  was  unwilling  to  do.  

in  the  free  cities,  it  was  simple  to  shed  the  titles  of  noble  birth,  to  erase  the  name  that  had  once  tethered  her,  but  more  tempting  still  was  the  chance  to  earn  new  titles—this  time  through  bloodshed.  there,  she  lived  solely  as  kesara  of  leng,  a  mercenary  whose  craft  was  honed  by  countless  battles.  the  pay  was  fair,  the  danger  certain,  and  the  glory  addicting.  she  roamed  west  essos,  until  braavos  called  to  her,  a  city  of  shadows  and  silent  promises.  seven  years  she  spent,  killing  by  profession,  exiled  by  choice,  until  she  joined  the  golden  company—a  mere  mercenary,  opportunistic  as  the  next.  her  past,  so  distant  and  remote  as  to  seem  a  lifetime  away,  did  not  follow  her,  for  leng  was  hidden,  eastward—its  secrets  safe.  in  time,  kesara  climbed  the  ranks,  earning  the  title  of  sergeant.  she  commanded  a  squad  of  those  like  herself:  survivors,  wanderers,  the  forgotten. 

but  fate  never  rests. 

when  the  bounty  hunter  showed  up  at  her  door  that  evening,  informing  her  that  she  was  to  be  taken  back  to  leng  she  had  no  choice  but  to  kill  him,  truly.  with  little  to  her  name,  save  the  weight  of  her  own  resolve,  she  left.  she  was  there  when  certain  members  of  the  golden  company  talked  about  their  true  home  in  westeros,  always  thinking  it  sounded  quite  boring  compared  to  the  places  she'd  lived  in  throughout  her  life  but  further  west  was  her  only  option—her  last  option.  king’s  landing  accepted  her  as  it  did  all  newcomers:  without  question.  the  air  was  thick,  the  streets  suffocating,  but  they  were  the  perfect  cover  for  a  woman  like  her.  she  learned  quickly  that  the  people  of  westeros  tended  to  hate  each  other,  and  were  willing  to  pay  gold  for  any  manner  of  ill  deeds  to  be  done.  

and  so  she  found  her  place  once  more.

[forgednlight]

my dearest no name, do not fret over such trivial matters! you are much busier than i, it is only natural to assume correspondence will take longer. many in king's landing write to me these days. it makes it easy to forget i am not among such friends in my daily life. i am mostly safe. i have some concerns, but i hold them like secrets close to me. my family is mostly safe as well. rhea suffered moderate injuries, though i cannot say i have missed her overbearing presence that constantly looks to keep me in a box she's constructed for me. she will heal in time, but until then i'll enjoy the freedom i've granted myself. i fear that someone on the mainland has misunderstood my intentions, somehow. have you spoken to anyone of our letters? they send ravens to me, and their words make me nervous. when i return the ravens, they fly in your direction. i am not accusing you or your peers, but should their words reach the wrong person i fear that my mail will be withheld from me or searched. as we are on 'opposing' sides, i am sure you understand why i am worried. i am afraid that our meeting will come sooner rather than later and for the wrong reasons, though i have continued my devotion and faith that the bloodshed will come to an end soon enough.  your friend who longs for home, juline

To my dearly missed Juline,

I offer you my sincerest apologies for the delay in my response to you. My days became preoccupied with the unfortunate series of events that occurred at Rook's Rest and I found myself bereft of time for correspondence. My dearest friend, I pray that this letter finds you well. Once the results of combat returned in favor of the Queen, my immediate concern was your safety.

Tell me, Juline, how fare you and your family? This unnecessary bloodshed has tested the tightest of bonds and there is rarely a safe place to talk about unhappiness when all are living in such tight quarters. There is plenty of news here that I wish I could share more openly, but please be reassured that once we meet I will update you on all of the betrothals, marriages, breakups, and scandals that have occurred since you left.

I hope to hear from you in shorter time than it took for you to hear from me. Tell me what rests in your mind these days, of troubles or happiness, of stories, of truth. I await to read your every word.

Always your dear friend, No Name