lorduller - Tumblr blog

[lorduller]

.

it would be easy enough to write off dante's friend—to pretend he’d never seen her wandering the halls of his castle, to forget the many nights the three of them had talked into the late hours. he could wash all of that away with little effort, but he didn’t want to. and maybe that should have been a problem.

a laugh echoed from the uller lord. “ah, yes, the baby. i’ve heard those rumors—just ridiculous, really. they embarrass themselves more and more every day,” he said, shaking his head. he disliked these watchers, always complicating his work. though he did enjoy the pinched look on the northerners' faces when some rumors popped up about them.

“i am very serious about my offer. your rooms there are held for you if you wish to come and go. i have no intention of clearing them out. they are yours,” he promised her, disregarding what the watchers or others might think. it was a little unorthodox, but so were the ullers. it seemed to fit well enough. a smile of understanding, but not pity, crossed his face. he knew in part what she was going through, and he knew he was partly the reason for that sadness. although, ultimately, he would say it was dante’s own fault.

“it is yours. a gift from him. he would want you to have it, plus it would look terrible on me if i didn’t offer it,” he laughed, trying to ease the sadness and tension.

devani nodded her head. "you'll hear no argument from me on that front." when she had returned from her travels, it was dante's company she had sought first, above even her own family, although to anybody who had met devani's family, that would not be surprising. "anybody who talks to me will hear nothing but glowing praise, i assure you." for once, there was truth in devani's words. she even attempted a smile as she said it, even if smiling was the furthest thing from her mind most days.

it was difficult to put into words what dante had meant to her. he'd been a constant for her over the last few months, the two of them practically joined at the hip, the one person in dorne who allowed her to pick up where she had left off, who had loved her for exactly who she was, but they had never once looked at each other with more than friendship. "i suppose you've heard about the baby." despite her sorrow, she still found it in her to crack a joke about the pamphlet that had recently made the rounds. she didn't quite lose her gloomy aura, but the smirk on her face was genuine, saying without words that it wasn't true.

she fell silent for a moment. normally, devani was never at a loss for what to say, but this time, she was. she hated ghost hill, hated every moment she spent there, and for a long time, hellholt and dante was a reprieve from that. doran could not know what it meant to her that he had left its doors open for her to walk through. "i'll take you up on that, if you mean it. when we're home." she realised, belatedly, that it was the first time in her adult life she had thought of dorne as home. "this was his," she tapped her necklace, a gold and ruby pendant. "he hadn't noticed i took it yet. i'd like to keep it, if that's all right with you."

[lorduller]

it was part of a spymasters jobs to keep an eye on everything around him. to see what he could find. what information to sus out and when things changed in someone. since often that meant there were secrets to uncover. when he was younger he perhaps might have felt a little guilt for looking into the lives of those closest around him. but as he grew older he understood that in doing so, he often could help. help himself. help dorne. and sometimes them.

finding out about dante’s little secret certainly hadn’t helped his win in the long run. hw shouldd have listened to doran’s lessons better, should have been smarter. if he had perhaps there might have been a smile on dorna’s face as dante dug his knife into his stomach. but he had been stupid. a little boy playing a game he was not good at. one of them was going to be buried in the sand when it was all over. and he was not ashamed to be the one standing here.

but it did mean the responsibility of ensuring things werent left a complete mess now that dante was gone. 

“well it’s not a bad habit to have i suppose. i think despite what some people might think the ullers can make good company. but i suppose that is all in who you talk to.” he said. doran recognized the pained look in her eyes. “i realize i have never said it before…and perhaps this is not the best time but i am sorry about dante. i know you two were close. i imagine this is difficult, so if you did need anything my door is always open. hellholt is as well, you continue to have a spot there as you always have.”

in her time in essos, devani had learned the art of hiding in plain sight. it was easier to disappear if you went exactly where people didn't think to look for you, and more often than not, the last person people thought to look at was the most obvious place to be. still, that didn't make it easier to accept that she had no choice but to go to the westerlands. it felt somewhat akin to walking into a dragon's den and asking not to be set on fire, but not going too felt like a mistake, like she would be less conspicuous if she stood in the middle of casterly rock and screamed her confession at the top of her lungs.

so here she was. in many ways, she was doing what she did best, acting like nothing was wrong and her problems did not exist, if not for one thing. devani was doing something she never thought she would find herself doing - she was brooding.

thankfully, she was saved any more time alone with her thoughts when doran uller approached her. she accepted the wine gratefully, taking a large gulp before turning to engage in conversation. "have i?" she hadn't quite realised how much time had past, but she supposed she had been out here longer than necessary. "forgive me, lord uller. my mood has been sour of late." it didn't take a genius to figure out why, even if there was more to the story than could be guessed. "i'd welcome your conversation though. if you wouldn't mind."

"drinking wine with an uller," there was an attempt at flippancy, but it didn't quite land. her expression was a little sadder that usual, her eyes a little more pained. "nobody can say i'm not a creature of habit, can they?"

[lorduller]

banter starter for @devanitoland

where and when: on route to the westerlands for the celebration being held there. the group traveling has stopped to rest for the night at a smaller lords estate.

it wasn't difficult to discern that something weighed heavily on devani toland.  over the years doran had observed her countless times with dante, witnessing the effervescent energy that enveloped her in her day to day life. yet now, there was a palpable shift in her demeanor, a heaviness that cast a shadow over her usual carefree aura. he couldn't help but ponder whether it was solely due to dante's passing, or if there were other underlying factors at play. he knew how close the two of thm were up until his death, so it would make sense if that was truly th sole reason. but somehow something was biting at the back of his mind telling him there was more.

despite their last unusual conversation, during which devani implored him to send dante to essos with her—a notion he staunchly rejected, knowing his son's true intentions to kill him and take over as ruler of hellholt— felt compelled to check in on her. it would be easy enough to leave everything be. let her be and just walk away. not when it looked like she had barely slept at all, or like she was looking for ghosts over her shoulder every second.

so instead he walked up to her, two glass of wine in hand, hoping this wasn't a poor choice. "it seems like you might need this," he remarked, offering the glass to her with a gentle smile. "i hope you don't mind the intrusion, though. it appears you've been standing out here alone for most of the night. thought maybe a little company might be nice."

[lorduller]

THE LAST OF US 1x01 ◆ “When You’re Lost in the Darkness”

[lorduller]

.

"old bones? what is with you and dante lately calling me old?—have i sprouted more silver since we arrived?" he chuckled, eyeing his reflection in the mirror with a hint of amusement. shifting his focus back to his daughter, he absorbed her words with keen attentiveness. despite how dorne viewed bastards much more favorably than anywhere else, he still harbored a fervent desire to shield her from condescension. he wished for her to carry on his last, he understood the significance of her autonomy. if she wished to remain sand he would not push her, for now. but she was deserving of it. more than some of his other children. she was an uller through and through. there was no doubt on that. an indisputable fact ingrained in the minds of all who knew her.

"ah, the compassion you hold for the smallfolk is truly heartwarming," he quipped, his laughter ringing out as he sipped from his glass. he ensured to take a sip of his own glass of wine first before handing the cup over to amaia. a habit from hellholt to ensure the other did not believe they were being poisoned, even amongst his children the habit was hard to drop. but it was always a sign of respect.

"we revel in the spectacle of downfall, especially when we wield the power to expedite its descent. perhaps a little push in the right direction" he mused, a conspiratorial smile gracing his lips.“but as always we need to be smart about these things. i know you are smart, but all of us have eyes on out backs. not a time to be taking too many wild risks. we are new here and people will not trust us, unless we make them trust us.” he said.

sitting himself down on one of the seats, he smiled at amaia's candidness, her forthrightness a welcomed trait within their familial dynamic. here was no need to hold secrets from a family of those who made it their mission to find out everything they could about everything. and why dance around with their words with one another. "good, i have faith you will do everything in your abilities to do so." he affirmed, a hint of pride coloring his tone. "forging connections with the velaryons holds paramount importance. you will have the opportunity to reunite with him soon, i suspect, amid the festivities heralding the ascension of this new…eccentric targaryen monarch." he said. “each new king they have makes me tempted to haul out those old targaryen bones and put them on display. maybe a nice treat to cheer up the court.” he laughed.

location: doran's chamber in sunspear, shortly after the death of mors martell

@ofsandandblood

voices wandered down the sunlit corridors of sunspear, doran could discern the cadence of his daughter's voice engaged in conversation with one of his paramours. it seemed like all of them were adjusting to their new home within these halls. new roles were being carved for his children, an evolution that swelled his heart with paternal pride. change was inevitable, and as the court grappled with mourning the loss of their prince, doran sensed the fertile ground for growth amid the ashes of grief. a stronger court was sprouting forth, sturdy and strengthened.

"amaia, may i speak with you?" doran emerged from his office, seeking a moment with his daughter. his paramour gracefully acknowledged the request, drifting away as he closed the door behind them, ushering a sense of privacy into the room. "how are you finding your new position in the court? we have not had nearly enough time to talk about it all," he inquired, the deep red hue of dornish wine cascading into two awaiting glasses.

"change is sweeping through the realm, and some families are being overwhelmed in the whirlwind. but not us. i want it to remain that way," he mused, his gaze intent on amaia. pouring the crimson elixir, he delved into a matter closer to his heart. "i wanted to ask you, daughter, if you've had any further communication with that stormlands velaryon? has he written to you? or do you have any plans for further... involvement with him?" there was a knowing in his eyes, an understanding that their initial discussion hadn't pertained to the whimsical dance of romance but something far more intricate

[lorduller]

doran stood before the bloodroyal and let him talk, keeping his face calm. neutral. others expected the ullers to fly off the handle at the slightest moment of provocation. to let that anger they are so well known for to explode out. but he had learned long ago how to hold it all in. how to control it. and when was the best time to let it out.

however he couldnt help but let a dismissive laugh escape him. the man was acting like a child in his eyes. defensive so quickly. dismissing anything he might have to say. but he was not here to really find out what was happening with armaan’s coin. he did not have a reason to press the issue further away right now. but given how he was acting he filed it away in his mind that perhaps he should look more into it. would be nice to have someone like armaan yronwood’s secrets in his pocket. dangerous but something of great value.

then his chance was presented to him. armaan stood from his seat and walked into the other room to yell something out. he had 20 seconds at max. that is all he would need. doran moved silently, like a trained assassin. like he father had taught him. move in silence and your enemy will never see the blade coming. he moved to joy’s chest and opened it. not locked.

how foolish.

twenty seconds was all he needed. and before armaan was even back in the room doran uller had the letters tucked away safely in a pocket. he came back to the room and doran was where he had been standing before, waiting for his return. “i think we are finished here then. wish we could have cleared things up but i understand how young men can be with talks of money. i will take my leave then.” he smiled at him. “hopefully our next conversation can be more of a pleasant one. have a good day lord yronwood.”

꙰

there was a growing impatience that was beginning to show within the features of the bloodroyal, no doubt a response to the careful nature in which the master of whispers seemed to choose his words. one which only indicated toward a double face, and a double meaning; there was a lack of directness which was expected from a master of whispers. and it angered him, as it went against everything armaan believed a dornish noble should be. he was not the one for games, for dances to be made from words.

even if there had been some trace which had been picked up regarding his choices and associations across westeros, that was of less consequence to him than it would be for the lady of raventree hall. as much as there was nothing personal between himself and his partner, he stood by his word; especially when it came to matters such as coin. "who is we?" armaan responded, his tone now clearly dismissive. the bluntness had gone, and had transformed to a sense of judgement that came in his words. were master of whispers not supposed to have their facts together in one place?

"where i invest coin from my coffers is not for you, or any of you other fucking ullers to involve yourself in." armaan responded, the dismissal clear in his voice. the reminder that he once sat upon the council as master of whispers only irritated him further - it was known that armaan was hardly willing with such a position, as it went against his core strengths. he was not a politician, and placing him as a spy had only backfired in regard to the security of the realm.

"there is no us in this situation. there is only yronwood, and those who can only wish." he responded, speaking with the arrogance of centuries of a title - that of the bloodroyal. armaan stood from his chair now, his movement brash: for a moment it appeared as though he were readying himself to get into a physical altercation with the master of whispers. and perhaps there could be - eventually. now though? he walked toward the threshold of the room, flinging his door open. "parvati, get the chronicler. lord uller wishes to learn how to make gold." he then turned back toward the master of whispers.

"there is nothing wrong with learning from the best."

[lorduller]

there were many things that could be said about armaan yronwood. many things that could be held against him as his faults. but no one could say he did not know how to play the game. others might fly off the handle with such discussions. jump to a defense faster than doran could even speak. but he had a way to keep his composure. he couldn't read anything from his face, couldn't pick out any loose thread to pull and pull at until it all unraveled. truly, if armaan hadn't already disliked him, doran might wish to be better acquainted with him. he did love a friend with a good poker face.

"i still believe we would be better off not having so much invested within the shores of lys but i do not know if that will be changing any time soon. so if we are going to, we might as well be careful with what happens." he offered. from the corner of his eye he spotted on the servants bustling into the room to quickly grab something. his eyes trailed their path, an excuse to get another look around the room. and as quickly as he spotted the chest, his eyes kept moving to follow the servant out.

"misunderstands find their way to fester. they start as something small but they always have the ability to get bigger until there is no controlling it. i like to squash them before that can happen. part of my duties which i am sure you understand seeing you once held the same title." he smiled. he listened to armaans carefully picked words, giving him nothing. no hint of anything at all. no new information to even pick at. the master of whispers face remained neutral as he listened to him. "our allies keep an eye on them yes, but there is more to it than that surely. or else whispers of it wouldn't have reached my ear." he said. "i am not trying to pry into your business just for fun, but only to ensure things are not going to come back later and bite at us."

꙰

"you've forgotten." the topic of choice was one that armaan had not expected to hear addressed, at least, not in the view it had been addressed to him as: matters regarding the security of lys and the impacts their actions were having on this side of the narrow sea. "last i remember, you were sat opposite me agreeing with the fact lys provided more for dorne." armaan spoke, his tone remaining blunt, and flat; there was not an inch of the attempt of cordiality, or even civility, that the master of whispers used in his words: such people were able to wrap their words with something else, to mask their true intentions beneath it.

and yet, armaan yronwood was possessive of one thing in his life: his coin. the prospect of another beginning to involve themselves in his business was the easiest way to lose the favour of the bloodroyal; and then, there was no doubt that sparks would fly. he found himself leaning back slightly in his chair, continuing to watch as the lord of hellholt stood over him: the master of whispers was doing something here. he did not speak to him for no reason, and if armaan did not want to lose a valuable connection who was literally putting her neck on the line, he could react as impulsively as he wished to.

"you are very concerned with misunderstandings." armaan uttered, thinking whether that was what the ullers seemed to shape their sneaky antics as; misunderstandings. matters that had been overcomplicated. to behave with a spark would be an obvious sign of attempting to hide the truth. perhaps he ought to behave the way these politicians did, with a smile, and a tone that implied something was not as major as it truly was in essence. but armaan yronwood never talked in such a way, and to do that would only be a dead giveaway.

"do you expect me to not have people protecting my investments?" he asked, a slight smile crossing his features now - and as much as he knew he should not, his arrogant ways no doubt showed here, now more than ever before. "gold is valuable in more ways than one. once you understand, i'll be happy to sit with you and clear up any misunderstandings." such was the nature of armaan yronwood - and he remained looking at the gaze of the master of whispers. "yes, our allies keep an eye on where i have invested my money, in exchange for a cut."

[lorduller]

.

doran did not miss the way armaans eyes flickered over him as he too called armaan by his first name much as he had him. he could laugh at the man's reaction. surprised maybe. upset, perhaps. there was a distane in the man's eyes towards him. it was not something new for the uller lord. in fact he could say there were many lords who would look at the ullers that way. as if they were not one of the more powerful houses in dorne. as they had cemented their place in the dunes. and now here they were in the court, three of them sat on the council. men could sneer at him if they'd like, that didn't mean he was moving from his spot any time soon.

at least armaan had a way of masking it just a little. his wife hadn't been good at it. didn't seem like she was good at the marriage thing either. now she wasn't good at anything.

"it is my understanding you still have much of your interests and businesses still within lys. it seems the tensions between them and the rest of the regions is only growing and growing with each passing day. i want to ensure no more of those tensions and problems find a way to creep its way into the court." he said. from his understanding, the bloodroyal was not a man who enjoyed small talk, so he got right to his point "i have heard rumors that you have someone who is protecting your businesses and interests within lys. and these things tend to get so….messy. so much room for misunderstandings. i was hoping you might be able to clear this up for me."

there was little doubt in doran's mind that armaan would not be answering any of his questions. but it was a way to accomplish a few tasks at once. get himself in the same room as that chest and hope he had a chance to strike. and also let armaan yronwood know that he had people watching. that all of them needed to act with more caution these days

꙰

condolences were no doubt endless, and he found himself wondering how long he would continue hearing the same words in different phrases; people who were not truly sorry, and people who maintained a strange intrigue in armaan's own personal reaction considering many knew he did not maintain close relations with his wife. she had lived in a separate keep until they had come to sunspear, and there was no plans for them to be beneath the same roof. the words would keep coming, he assumed; until they were no longer relevant.

lord uller was not here to give his sorry, and there was something that momentarily changed in his expression as doran called him by his first name. it did not suit coming from the man's face, and soon, armaan found himself remembering: it was about liking or disliking an individual, not when they could be used. helpful. indifference was key. his arms remained crossed over his torso as he looked the man up and down with a beat of silence following the uttering of his name, the silence clear as it was tense. and he looked at the uller as though it were a cockroach that had crept up from hellholt, rather than the ruling lord.

and his focus was entirely hyper-fixated when the matter of lys came up. he found himself needing to remain neutral and unbothered, his face expressionless - but yes, it was known the bloodroyal had interests and trade within the free city of lys. that which was being preserved not only by his own involvement, but also in gold; for there was a traitor within the land of rivers that needed that gold of her own. possible misunderstandings, was what caught his attention; and armaan looked, wondering whether doran uller usually acted so civilised. as though he and his people were not glorified kinslayers. "then let us help you clear up these misunderstandings."

[lorduller]

.

a master of whispers never truly rested. there was no time to rest not when there were more secrets to collect. more information to gather to hold over someones head. something to hold in your back pocket until the time comes to use it. little favors and blackmails to dole out like candy. doran's job was never done. partly what made it so exciting.

word had gotten back to him about a particular chest that the previous lady manwoody kept close by her in her chambers. previously the chambermaids who came in and out of the room never had a problem with cleaning it. however, not too long before her death, she had become very insistent that none of the chambermaids needed to touch it anymore. just that thought alone sent alarm bells ringing in his head. he wanted inside of that chest, he wanted to know what was hidden inside.

however now that chest was in the midst of the yronwood apartments, near armaan. which was why he had arranged for this little meeting today. he was sure the conversation would be brief. but he only needed a small window of time to get what he wanted.

"armaan" doran greeted back to the bloodroyal in the same fashion. "thank you for meeting with me today, i am sure you are a busy man." he said, glancing around at the bustle of people coming and going. "my condolences on the loss of your wife. i hope your twins are doing well" he said, offering the polite condolences for a woman he was pretty sure hated him. "i am sorry to have to interrupt you in your time of…grief but i am sure you can understand that certain things are on a bit of a clock." he said. "i wish to discuss your connections in lys. some information has come my way and i wanted to clear up any possible misunderstandings with you."

who: @lorduller when and where: armaan yronwood's apartments within sunspear, set following the dornish return to dorne from kings landing. at this point, joy manwoody has died - set before doran uller's current thread with myriam allyrion.

some years ago, armaan had come to the understanding that it did not matter whether he liked or disliked a person within dorne: considering what truly mattered would always be the ability they had to be able to do something for him at some point in time. every person had a price, a catch, a condition, some values they would skewer themselves for; split themselves open in two, if they would.

and so, armaan had never looked toward the ullers of hellholt and attempted to work out whether he liked them or not - but he had decided they could be, and would eventually be, of some sort of use.

the master of whispers was a shadowy figure in each realm, but there was no doubt that the ullers of hellholt had another reputation entirely: twisted. all had heard of their inheritance system, the kinslaying which he had been made a pariah for in his early youth. it was less about the master of whispers himself, but rather, who else seemed to come with him: the other ullers had too snuck their way from their dunes, and decided to make sunspear home. there were strange new faces within the halls, in a time where the sun of dorne had finally set - and gods knew armaan had been waiting for this day.

doran uller had requested to see him, and so he waited for the man within his office chambers - an unusual move, and yet, there was a great deal of movement happening around the large yronwood and manwoody apartments as items were looked over by servants. the atmosphere was bustling as many walked around them, and armaan looked - wondering what it was the master of whispers could, or would, want from him.

"doran uller." armaan greeted, with an expression that remained as insufferable as it always was; this man was not his friend, and yet, he decided he would not use titles. why? simply because he did not care to. "what is it i can do for you?" armaan asked, standing on the other side of a room as the yronwood guards brought the master of whispers into the room, again with many people moving in and out.

[lorduller]

location: sunspear, in lord doran's study chambers. days after the death of joy yornwood. @myriamas

as the afternoon sun ascended high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the land, doran found himself grateful to be back in his homeland once more. time spent among the stuffy lords of the north had its merits, primarily in the acquisition of valuable information. but today, his purpose was not to relay intelligence on external matters to the court; rather, it was to divulge information concerning someone who had operated within its very confines. doran's network of little spies had unearthed concealed documents within the chambers of the recently departed commander. it was a  discovery he relished, one he would have delighted in revealing had joy still been breathing. alas, he savored the triumph of outmaneuvering her even in her demise.

"your highness," doran greeted with a respectful bow of his head as myriam entered his chambers. "thank you for meeting with me at such short notice," he added courteously, waiting until she settled into her seat before taking his own. with practiced grace, he poured them both a cup of chai. "oh, uh, i suppose condolences are in order for the passing of your lord commander, joy yronwood. i am sure we are all….sad. or something" he remarked casually, though his tone betrayed a lack of genuine remorse.  doran had never held any fondness for the commander, and the feeling had been mutual. doran had always perceived her as an individual who flaunted her supposed superiority, despite her own murky past as a kinslayer—a hypocrisy that grated on him. she judged the ullers yet she was so very similar. he was just glad that nature ran its course instead of him having to get his hands messy.

"as… tragic as her passing is, there is something i wished to share with you," doran continued, retrieving a letter from the pocket of his jacket and passing it to myriam. "joy was holding onto these. they were discovered among the belongings she confiscated from the volantese—an assortment of letters addressed to lord wylliam swann and lord deimos velaryon. though they may appear blank, i highly doubt they are truly devoid of content," he explained, taking a sip of his tea. "given the manner in which they were concealed, i surmised that you may not have been made aware of their existence."

[lorduller]

location: doran's chambers in sunspear

@dante-uller

a warm smile adorned doran's face as his son entered his chambers. "i think we are due for a little celebration," he declared, a nod directing a servant to uncork a favored bottle. pouring generous glasses for both, doran settled into his seat, eyes filled with pride as he regarded his son. every step of the way dante had surpassed any expectation he might have for him. and every step he surprised him in a different way.

"it seems you're settling well into your role in the court. i've received nothing but commendations for your work. i'm very proud of you, you know," he expressed, lifting his glass in a toast. there were moments in a father's life when he glimpsed at his son and felt an overwhelming sense of pride, a hope that he might surpass him, learn from past mistakes, and evolve into a better man. but there was something about being a son of an uller that added a new layer. knowing at any moment a knife could be driven in your back by the very son you are so proud of.

observing dante now, there was no premonition of betrayal.

"as everything falls into place here in sunspear, i believe it's time to ponder future plans," doran proposed, leaning forward to replenish dante's drink, it seemed like they might need it for this conversation. "i know i'll sound like every father out there, but... i think it's time to discuss marriage." the words lingered, loaded with a blend expectation, and the weight of tradition but also the hope that he may already have someone in mind.

[lorduller]

location: doran's chamber in sunspear, shortly after the death of mors martell

@ofsandandblood

voices wandered down the sunlit corridors of sunspear, doran could discern the cadence of his daughter's voice engaged in conversation with one of his paramours. it seemed like all of them were adjusting to their new home within these halls. new roles were being carved for his children, an evolution that swelled his heart with paternal pride. change was inevitable, and as the court grappled with mourning the loss of their prince, doran sensed the fertile ground for growth amid the ashes of grief. a stronger court was sprouting forth, sturdy and strengthened.

"amaia, may i speak with you?" doran emerged from his office, seeking a moment with his daughter. his paramour gracefully acknowledged the request, drifting away as he closed the door behind them, ushering a sense of privacy into the room. "how are you finding your new position in the court? we have not had nearly enough time to talk about it all," he inquired, the deep red hue of dornish wine cascading into two awaiting glasses.

"change is sweeping through the realm, and some families are being overwhelmed in the whirlwind. but not us. i want it to remain that way," he mused, his gaze intent on amaia. pouring the crimson elixir, he delved into a matter closer to his heart. "i wanted to ask you, daughter, if you've had any further communication with that stormlands velaryon? has he written to you? or do you have any plans for further... involvement with him?" there was a knowing in his eyes, an understanding that their initial discussion hadn't pertained to the whimsical dance of romance but something far more intricate

[lorduller]

.

doran welcomed baash into his chambers as there were many subjects to discuss with gravity of what was at hand. their prince was barely cold in the ground before the lords and ladies of dorne were scrambling to ensure all the needs were met. it was good at baash and him got to meet so early. some amount of trust needed to be built between them if they were to work so close together. though he doubted either of them would fully trust one another.

as the candlelight cast a warm glow, savored a sip of his drink before speaking. “the dragon king knows how to make his people happy. he’s given the stormlands a new sense of purpose. he’s allowing his valyrian men to marry multiple women, making them believe they are like gods. it seems ridiculous but it is working. you are right he is no fool, but dangerous nonetheless.” doran knew the peril that lurked beneath the surface of a man not to be underestimated. he was the type of man to steal a kingdom right from under his cousins nos, turning her lords and ladies against her nearly overnight. a true fool would underestimate someone like that. but he had heard talks of his demeanor and they had all seen his actions in time of war. the gods could only guess when he may snap as most targaryens tended to do. 

“i have spies in every kingdom you could image lord dayne.” doran said, relaxing back into his chair. “i will have them organized and moved into the crownlands and stormlands soon. some in and out of the courts…a few favors i could cash in i suppose.” he said jotting down a quick note to himself, before tucking it away in his jacket.

| @lorduller | | setting :: wasting little time, baashir dayne meets with the spy master to discuss a plan with him regarding the dragon king on their boarder | | banter length |

"Thank you for meeting with me, Lord Uller." Bash rose, greeting the other before taking a seat and resting his arms on the chair, then he reached forward and took his cup and took a drink. He didn't enjoy this. Baashir Dayne didn't enjoy the part of being a lord that required this and he disliked the duties of first minister even more, but, it was required. They needed to have eyes everywhere and hands on everything and one of the threats closest to them was the dragon king. There were talks of him in Alayim and that worried him.

"The dragon king is making an impression in his realm and it is concerning to me. While I believe no man fool enough to attempt crossing the marches or into Dorne, Targaryens are known to be fool. And they've ships to attack us at weak points while we work on making purchases." Bash took a drink from the goblet again, the cool fruit juices relaxing him as he continued.

"Do you have any spies you can send into the Crownlands? Servants? Bards? Unsuspecting people to fit the...Dornish type they think of...unsuspecting."

[lorduller]

.

the spymaster, arched an eyebrow at her words. did she assume mockery so readily? perhaps the harsh currents of suspicion had worn away any inclination for trust. he assumed that this defensive stance might be a consequence of frequent encounters with those who reveled in derision.  it was a shame really.

"i do not mock you, my lady. merely because i find no offense  gazing at a beautiful woman doesn't imply others share my sentiment." he articulated, his tone a measured cadence. in the westerlands, where customs held a firm grip, the mere act of a man casting eyes upon a lady could be misconstrued as scandalous, as if such a gaze was a flagrant transgression. gods only know how they all survived their time in dorne.

doran let out a laugh but not one directed at her. but at the thought he may simply wish to pass her over because of the gossip of others. or that somehow he was wrong in his choice to ask her. "“if i wanted to dance with one of them i would have asked one of them. i wish to dance with you tonight," he continued, his words laced with an inherent charm that effortlessly danced on the precipice of diplomacy and allure.

"there are things in this life that frightens mee. their judgment, however, does not."  he said motioning towards the general crowd. they could think of him as they wish, they already had. they already would. why stress himself to try to please the notherens? he could not blame her for her hesitation. but he held out his hand, offering a warm smile. 

undeterred by the potential judgmental whispers, he extended his hand with an affable smile. "if you would indulge me in a dance," he offered, a request wrapped in the velvet of a charming of his smile.

The red lioness' emerald eyes stayed on the man as he bowed, studying him with care. A Dornish lord he was. From the time spent in the desert lands of the Martells, Calla had gathered that what could be considered “audacity” for Dornish folk wasn't quite the same as for the rest of the Westerosi. They could embrace much more scandalous behavior than the rest of them without so much as batting an eye. “Do not mock me, Lord Uller, we both know that you wouldn't truly deem staring as an offense,” she stated in return, her tone not accusatory but merely factual.

Calla's dance card remained empty for the rest of the evening, something she had expected considering the very location of this wedding. She was, after all, somewhat of a persona non grata in the Reach in the same way the Hightowers garnered disdain from Westerlanders after the messy annulment of her marriage to the cripple of Oldtown. “There are plenty of other dance partners that won't garner you scrutiny, Lord Uller,” the redheaded lady replied, curious to see if the Dornishman would remain interested in having a dance with her. “The judgment doesn't frighten you?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Earlier in the day she had spoken to Lenora, voicing out some of her concerns about this event and the cruel judgment she was sure to face when surrounded by Reach folk and everyone else who saw her as little better than a whore. She'd have judging eyes on her no matter what she did or didn't do to enjoy this evening.

[lorduller]

maniac | 1.02 dir. cary joji fukunaga — "windmills" (2018)

[lorduller]

.

after days of arduous and jolting travel, doran had managed to arrive in the reach, just in time for the royal wedding. it was an opportune place to be seen and gather fresh information. he was grateful for this stroke of luck. the night, though still vibrant, was gradually winding down. yet, some persisted, seeking to prolong the revelry through ceaseless drinking and dancing. doran was happy to be amongst them, the rowdiest and drunkest group were the best to get information from.

amongst the crowd, her fiery red tresses stood out like a beacon. she was no riverlander, that much was clear from her face and manner of speaking. doran's mind raced through the roster of known personalities, striving to place her. then, in a sudden revelation, it clicked. the red lioness, the eldest lefford daughter. he had gathered whispers of her "indiscretions" from sources that funneled into dorne. frankly, he failed to fathom why such deeds were deemed disgraceful or wrong. but that was the westerlands for you. swift to tear down a woman for simply daring to exist among them. did they expect them to cower in the shadows forever? unlikely, especially considering the exploits of their own princess.

"forgive me, my lady. it is terribly impolite of me to stare. i was unaware of my own… audacity," he offered with a bow of contrition, though his eyes returned to her with a gentle smile. "i am lord doran uller. i don't believe we've had the pleasure of a proper introduction. if i may be so bold as to request the next dance? that is, if your dance card hasn't already been claimed for the evening." the dances here were so tedious and stiff, unlike the lively affairs he was accustomed to back in dorne. a part of him wondered how she might look dancing with true passion and exuberance.

Closed starter for @lorduller Setting: Following the grand wedding season of the Reach, some of the guests that remain gather in the great hall for dinner. Soon enough, there's some drinking and dancing taking place.

There were musicians in the great hall, playing their delicate tunes to make for a pleasant environment for the guests at Highgarden. Initially, only the sounds of cutlery and cordial voices were heard, but after Arbor gold and red wines were consumed, the atmosphere began to shift a little. It was still appropriate, of course. Calla never expected any of these people to let loose in a way that would be frowned upon, but the environment had certainly become more lively.

The music shifted too and some of the lords and ladies got up and danced. Calla felt a little more light-hearted than she had in weeks, it was perhaps the first time she breathed more easily since arriving in the Reach. She smiled and she laughed. She actually enjoyed herself. If there were people judging her, sending her displeased looks, at least they were more subtle tonight than they'd been during the grander events of the past days.

She did feel a pair of eyes on her, however. Whether they were judging eyes or just intrigued eyes, she couldn't tell. The red lioness recognized the man from the time in Dorne, though she couldn't frankly remember his name. Her mind had been in a daze of grief and heartbreak for much of the time spent in the lands of House Martell. “Is there something on my face, my lord?” the Lefford lady asked after a moment, slightly arching an eyebrow. “Or is there something you wish to say but have not dared to. Out with it, please, and spare us the silent looking”.

[lorduller]

anticipation moved in doran's veins, a kinetic energy born of the prospect of conversing with princess myriam. this tête-à-tête would certainly be more than just a ceremonial introduction or a check-in about their living arrangements. the knowledge of her influence, the potency she wielded in the royal court, added layers to the occasion. and so, he found himself eagerly awaiting this moment of exchange, where words might dance with purpose beneath the dappled light of possibility.

her presence was a manifestation of grace and authority. a sunbeam filtering through the palace's ornate windows seemed to choose her as its muse, casting a shimmering halo upon her presence.  he gave a respectful bow of his head as she entered the room "your highness, thank you for inviting me here today." he smiled.

"yes thank you. you and your husband are too kind with the space given to us all. i am sure my family will be adjusted to life here very soon." doran's words flowed, a river of gratitude winding through his thoughts. doran thought mostly of amaia and dante getting the chance to live within the halls of sunspeare. he thought of the advantages it gave to them,and the chances to gather new information. amaia certainly would make quick work of settingly herself in amongst the crowd, he would need to keep an eye out for any accidental poisonings. with the pesky wonder healer fowler running around the last thing they needed was for that to be figured out. dante would find his place as well, he always was very good at that. and perhaps it would be a good time for him to find his first wife, he was a lord of a castle after all.

a soft chuckle, akin to the music of a distant song, graced doran's lips. "it's no secret that the mantle of lord yronwood was not the ideal fit, and i hope to at least  to fill the void left behind by his departure," his words carried the weight of responsibility, gently interwoven with a trace of self-assuredness “i have information and people in many places in many kingdoms. i hope i can help to make dorne safer for all of us. better to know what our allies and enemies are doing. i do not like to be surprised and we have been surprised too much" he was a man of strategy, a collector of whispers and secrets that enshrouded the realm's corridors of power.

a fleeting veil of curiosity brushed against his thoughts—a flicker that had been borne from the ever-active currents of rumor and whispered intrigue. like the stealthy wind whispers reached his ears, bearing news of the princess's diplomatic dalliances with representatives from afar.

doran's voice was a velvet murmur as he traversed this conversational labyrinth. "i've heard of your parleys with envoys from the far reaches of the realm.” his thoughts flowed seamlessly into a delicate query, his gaze sincere as it met hers. "your highness, have these interactions been as fruitful and respectful as one would hope? it's clear, your highness, that our path is laden with the looks of scrutiny from other realms. yet, as ever, judgment seems to be the currency of their courts and chambers."

who: @lorduller where: the apartments of myriam allyrion; upon the arrival of lord doran uller to the court of sunspear, myriam arranged for a scheduled presentation to her following his appointment as master of whispers. this is something she has done for all appointments to the small council.

myriam allyrion had remained within the personal quarters of her chambers, the smell and smoke of incense thick in the air as she heard various messages being delivered to her chambers. as she heard the healer visit and inquire as to her health, more specifically her courses; the end of the conversation seemed to confirm that the small glimmer of hope she felt had been ultimately dashed. it was the reason there were more offerings given to the shrine of the seven within her chambers; more diyas lit surrounding them, flower garlands of saffron and fruit.

perhaps she gave such offerings to the mother because she felt a sense of guilt for the feeling of relief that came over her shoulders in knowing that she was not with child.

she had dedicated herself reverently to dorne: putting it before her own time and time again, including the cultural values and the reality that was dornish society. there was a part of her that was surprised to feel a sense of relief in knowing her womb remained empty, as she had silently predicted it would; she was no longer in the childbearing prime of her years, and even when she was, she had always struggled with such matters. she would serve dorne in every way she could; an heir had been provided, one they needed to safeguard and protect.

there were siblings of house martell that would step in, should the gods decide to bring her to her knees and have anything befall her daughter.

she heard the sounds of heavier footsteps enter her chamber, and an familiar voice state his presence to the ladies and the guards that had seen him enter. he would be seated upon a velvet recliner, with velvet cushions and ladies to attend on him as myriam crossed through the dark curtain that separated her sleeping quarters from the main seating area. "lord uller." her voice extended across the room to greet him, the sound of anklets jingling as she walked; there always came sound with her wherever she walked so it seemed. the man had slithered from the dunes of hellholt to the court of sunspear to take the seat the prince's troublesome cousin had left, and she wondered why it had taken so long for the ullers to decide to come to the fortress of sunspear at all.

this was a matter of tradition for her: all knew that upon appointment to any council of her husbands, there would be a meeting with the princess soon afterwards. not to speak politics, but to understand; she believed it vital for her to understand the strings that tied members of the dornish court together, strings that could be set aflame and had many consequences to deal with should it do that.

"i am inclined to believe you have found your apartments within sunspear appropriate for yourself and your family." she spoke; always more at ease and confident when speaking to those of the dornish court. her accent never wavered. "and what of your new position?"