levirkarstark

[levirkarstark]

Damn. Levir was actually looking forward to that bread. It was rare to find a good dark bread, something was common in the North. Here, he had to search all day for it. And then a seagull flies off with it. Levir muttered out a dark snide comment, something that could have easily flown off his cousin’s Delphine’s lips. “Those sky rats should not exist.” He looked at the man who was seated outside the tavern he was passing. “I would not say it’s earned it, they don’t fly as far North as where I live. Easy target, then.”

the day had been as long as any other, and as evening made its way through the world, erik sat outside an inn which felt very much like nowhere, and thought of nothing of consequence. it was getting colder, and he wondered if he ought to go in and have a drink, but just as he’d been about to stand up, there was a commotion in the corner of his eye. he looked over just in time to watch a seabird flying away, bread clutched in its beak, and snorted. “too quick for you, eh?” he shook his head, smiling after the thief. “i suppose it’s earned that bread.”

[levirkarstark]

The tunic on the man’s body showed himself to be one of the more famed residents of Westeros, the shimmer hounds threaded in gold. The Golden Dog, Lord Clegane. Levir almost backed off the balcony, surprised that he had wandered into the presence of possibly the richest man in Westeros. But the Golden Dog was already speaking, and Levir was trapped. “The sea from the Blackwater? I much prefer the Grey Cliffs near my childhood home. More remote and... pristine. Colder too.” There wasn’t much else to say, Levir didn’t care for golden sunsets or warm King Landing’s evenings. “Is this view similar to your home?”

Ah, King’s Landing… It was always as beautiful as he remembered. After arriving into the kingdom with his yellow banners and dog head helms, and after settling into his quarters in Maegor’s Holdfast, he decided it was time to see the beauty of the kingdom as he could. Going to one of the many balconies that overlooked Blackwater Bay, he leaned against the railing as he watched the ships in the distance, could feel the sea-breeze brow through his hair, and he couldn’t help but smile lightly when he heard footsteps against the stone walkway behind him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

[levirkarstark]

Levir had been drawn by the sound of fists and their impact on skin and bone. It had always drawn him, like a moth to a flickering candle. And now Levir found himself in a situation he would have never expected himself to encounter. An Iron Islanders fighting ring. Sure, there were the Greyjoys of Winterfell, his cousins by marriage, but these were the true reavers, those feared riders of the waves, and raiders who wore their scars proudly. And at their center was a man Levir had heard hushed and drunken talk of. Rodrik Pyke. Bastard of Yara Greyjoy. Iron Hand. Levir studied the man, his scarred body, how it twisted and bent, channeled force behind his famed hands. He could find no fault in the form, no defect in his build. He had the unpredictability of a street fighter, and one who knew his own strength and how to best use it. Levir, as loathed as he was to admit it, was envious of this man. Levir should have been born a bastard of the Iron Island, that would have made far more sense for his temperament. Or at least taken back to the Free Folk. Instead he was sitting here, an outsider among men that shared the same screaming fury in their blood. Time to change that. He leaned forward, throwing his voice to reach the man’s ear. “Will you humor an outsider, Rodrik Iron Hand, and fight me?”

With the Iron Fleet sitting safely in Blackwater Bay - or, at least, the majority of it as he doesn’t at all wish to leave the entirety of the Iron Fleet in one location for the Dragon Queen to order her dragon to burn them all - Rodrik and the ironborn found themselves growing restless in the large castle walls. Deciding to make their time worthwhile, a large crowd of the ironborn - as well as many others - gathered in one of the courtyards, circling around the center to watch and gamble over who may or may not triumph in the test of combat. And right in the center was the bastard child of Yara Greyjoy, tunic long discarded and scar-littered torso on display as he squared up against another Iron Islander. The people were cheering at each jab that was thrown, each dodge and each flip as the two men showed off their strength and skill at fighting.

[levirkarstark]

If there was one thing Levir could not let go of easily, it was his habit of mixing with the common folk. Where ever he went, he visited their brothels, their taverns, their inns, their fighting pits. He could say it was acquiring the lay of the land, what consumed the commoner’s daily lives, which would tell him where the threat might arise—a shortage of bread or drink, a distrust of the fighting pit masters of the guards they paid off, an outbreak of sickness within the houses of pleasure. However, he wasn’t half as clever to think of that as the ultimate goal. The information he picked up was just a byproduct of Levir simply indulging in his vices. And the vice of the hour was drink. A homely tavern, that could have been located in the North for all its sameness. Ale was served in plenty and that was all that really concerned him. The woman beside him was complaining? Despite the over-generous pour of the owner, and the relative quality for the price? Levir was shocked, but then again, it didn’t sound like she drank ale as an all occasions drink. “Perhaps you should try and find some wine elsewhere. You’ll be begging to the Gods until you die of thirst if you want an unclouded ale. I’ve never encountered such a thing.”

𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐢𝐭  differently.  she  could  have  sworn  king’s  landing  had  been  far  brighter  in  her  memories.  a  place  that  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  life.  a  place  that  had  caused  wide  eyes  to  only  somehow  widen  further  with  ever  corner  she  had  taken.  but  then  again,  she  had  been  half  the  size  and  full  of  a  type  of  innocence  that  only  a  child  untouched  by  anything  could  possess.  not  to  mention,  she  hadn’t  exactly  meant  to  be  there  which  always  aided  in  making  anything  seem  far  more  exciting  than  it  truly  was.  she  wished  she  could  still  view  the  city  the  way  she  had  as  a  child,  but  the  ugly  side  of  it  all  had  crept  in  and  clouded  whatever  brightness  she  remembered.  now  she  understood  everything  that  had  been  said  about  the  place.  though  exploring  the  streets  had  been  a  far  more  welcoming  idea  than  being  cooped  up  between  four  walls,  at  least  she  could  breathe  at  little  easier — no  matter  if  there  was  a  certain  aroma  that  hung  in  the  air.  but  there  was  only  so  much  she  could  take  before  she’s  retreated  into  some  relative  comfort  of  a  tavern,  which  had  led  to  her  starring  unimpressively, nose  scrunching  tightly,  at  the  cloudy  beverage  that  filled  the  mug  set  before  her.  “  if  there  is  one  thing  in  this  world  that  i’ll  never  be  able  to  wrap  my  head  around,  it’s  the  fact  that  people  prefer  this  over  wine.  i  will  never  understand  the  appeal  of  ale.  nothing  you  drink  should  be  this — murky. ”

[levirkarstark]

The walls of the Red Keep were the only place a breeze would form, to blow away the stench of King’s Landing. Levir was spending more of his free time up here, trying to remember the freezing wind that would whip Winterfell, and escape the heat found in the more Southern environment than he had ever traveled to before. While it gave him a place of respite, the color was an omnipresent reminder. It was a grand monument to, and built by, generations of conquers. The woman near him seemed to have forgotten that. “Beautiful? The color is that of blood.” He caught himself looking with something akin to distaste at her finery. “Something you have never spilled yourself. It was built by generations of men who killed my ancestors with dragonfire, and I can’t forget that. Maybe you have.”

         THE CROWNLANDS WERE NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM THE REACH. both of the kingdoms had a comfortable amount of sunlight, a light breeze that disheveled livya’s golden CURLS in a soft moviment & both of them had a lot of common folk. however, livya found king’s landing a UNPLEASANT view. her artistic side spoke louder & she found the city to be dirty & dark. being locked at her chambers in queen daenerys’ castle wasn’t in her plans, however her father did not want any of his daughters wandering around the city. livya wanted to see the true BEAUTY of king’s landing & she knew it would be hide in te depths of the city. contenting herself to wander in the halls of aegon’s fort, her blue eyes scanned the wall in front of her, outisde the castle, delicate fingers feeling the wall material. “ it is such a waste of a beautiful color to be in such UNSIGHTLY walls. ” she spoke to no one, a soft tone accompanying a disappointed frown.

[levirkarstark]

musingmemes‌:

a historical / fantasy / period / medieval friendly character survey.

reblog and bold your muses preference.

roses / cherry blossoms / orchids / tulips

winter / summer / autumn / spring

thunderstorms / sunshine / snow 

indoors / outdoors

meat / fruit / sweets

extravagance / traditionalism / minimalism

god fearing / non god fearing

cats / dogs / horses / birds

sunrise / sunset

day time / night time

fire / earth / water / wind 

reading / writing

rising early / sleeping late 

wine / ale / neither

fur / silk / satin / lace 

rubies / pearls / sapphires 

horse back / walking / carriages 

love / power

having company / being alone 

lakes / rivers / oceans 

knife / sword / bow / poison 

gold / silver 

[levirkarstark]

Scratch a Karstark and you’ll find a Stark.

(requested by karsnark)

[levirkarstark]

( MICHIEL HUISMAN, 38, CISMALE, HE/HIM. ) did i hear whispers of the arrival of ( LEVIR KARSTARK ) in king’s landing ? apparently the ( SWORN SHEILD ) is known to be ( VALOROUS ) and ( HONEST ), however they’ve also been seen being rather ( STUBBORN ) and ( POSSESSIVE ). they hail from ( THE NORTH ), and it’s said that they are loyal to ( STARK/KARSTARKS ). only time will tell if that will last.

Y’all I’ll apologize from the get-go, my writing/formatting/icons/graphics are gonna be ugly compared to y’alls. But I’m excited to be here! It’s been so long since I’ve been a part of a GoT rp. I’m Cai, 22, from the PST ( west coast is the best coast ), and this here is my fight-y son Levir. Hmu on discord at #8975cai. 

Name: Levir Karstark Nickname: Lev ( Delphine, and only Delphine. If anyone calls him that, he’ll cut you. ). Titles: None Age: 38 Gender: Cisgender Male Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual Place of Origin: Karhold Current Residence: Winterfell Allegiance: House Stark, House Karstark, The North. Skills: Sword, spear, archery, horse riding, melee, hunting. Grandfather: Harrion Karstark Father: Robb Karstark ( legitimized after Battle of the Bastards ) Mother: Kriritte ( Free Folk, died in childbirth ) 

Levir is the black sheep of the Karstarks. He’s the dirt on their good names, the wild and uncouth one who will track his dirt everywhere. His father sired him on a Free Folk woman he took after his first wife died. The late Lady Karstark had four children, all perfect images of Lords and Ladies... But Levir. Levir came from the womb already with his first kill, squalling and covered in his mother’s blood who died on her birthing bed. He was born of death and desperate battle, in a time of peace. The fight must have infected his blood, because the youngest son was a hellion.

Levir grew up closer to the butcher boy, the fishmonger’s son, and the stable hands than the proper future Lords who reluctantly called themselves his brothers. He fought and drank and wrestled and fucked the common folk, learned how to fight dirty when the teachers weren’t drilling the proper forms into his head. His brothers might have been loathe to admit it, but Levir was a better fighter than them in any weapon he laid his hand on.

He grew up knowing he would amount to nothing more than a mistake in his father’s eyes, and might only win glory for himself on a battlefield. His surname was given to him only through the letter of the law, he might as well had been a Snow. So when he was shown his newborn cousin, a perfectly quiet and delicate little girl and told he was to protect her, he knew he had to follow his father’s directive. He wasn’t too put out by the new direction of his life. He would be a Sworn Shield, and the idea had a shine to it for a fourteen winter old who slept out in the stables more often than not.

Delphine grew up, and Levir knew he had found a good match for his fire that burned in his belly. Delphine was taught to be a Lady, like his sisters, but she had something... More. Delphine didn’t chide him when he walked behind her with flaking dirt on his legs from an unplanned horse race, or sigh when he spoke with a rude tongue. She didn’t hold him back when his fists flew as channels of his anger. In fact, it seemed like she relished it. Having an attack dog on a short chain, that she could turn on anyone she desired, it fit both of their desires.

When Delphine married Lord Stark, Levir was suddenly thrust into a higher position than he ever expected. He was now the Sworn Shield to the ruling Lady of House Stark. Yet Levir doesn’t let that impact his barely concealed anger, his crass mouth, his un-Lordly deeds. He’s not about to change his entire character because he now resides in a fancy hall. He’s not anything more than what he’s always been.

Levir worships the Old Gods and they’re worshipped with blood. He wouldn’t accept a Knighthood, and he certainly won’t be offered one in his lifetime. But that hardly matters to him. Levir is ready and able to defend Delphine Stark, and that’s his only purpose in life. Everything else? Everything else is just the little bit of hell he raises along the way. He’s owed that much fun.