#( ft. deria | int )

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@sapphireeyedprince  [  cont  ]

❝ Just what kind of thoughts were you having? ❞ smirking, he began to remove his gloves as he made his way towards her.

❝ Hopefully, they were good ones. ❞

It had not been difficult for the Martell Princess to make her way into Aemond's chambers; despite her usual flamboyant appearance, she had simply draped a dark cloak over her ochre and scarlet gown and slipped in through one of the slender tunnels Aemond had shown her. The Red Keep was pitted with the things; it was a wonder any of the foundations stood, so hollowed out with intricate labyrinths were they. King's Landing was nothing like Sunspear, and Deria's brother, the future Ruling Prince, had had little success in broaching an alliance with Viserys I...but Deria was having a rather more successful time with her own kind of alliances...

She stood, eyeing him with interest as he stripped off his gloves, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. She had discarded her cloak in a pool of dark grey wool on the chair she had been lounging in, and her gown was gauzy silk, almost transparent in the candlelight, giving hints of her slender form beneath its thin layers. She shook back her dark hair so it tumbled down her back and smiled, reaching out a hand to trace the laces of his heavy leather riding jerkin. She hummed with interest at the smell: sulphur and smoke, burning iron, and the unique scent of dragon. "They were excellent, but rather dull in comparison to the real thing." It was the sense of danger she liked. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, trying for innocence, though somewhat failing: "how was your ride, your Grace?"

[hiighhonors]

The Martell company had ridden into the city a few days prior, leaving a cloud of dust behind them on the King's Road. Deria could only thank her lucky stars that they had come by road instead of by ship; the sea had never agreed with her, while riding was one of life's true pleasures. The city was all so new, so wonderful, sprawling, with its tight, spiralling alleyways, its disapproving women, the sun glinting off Blackwater Bay; she was fascinated by every inch of it, as she always was when she visited. Even in the Red Keep, however, the stench of the city rose up to assault her, a natural artefact of so many bodies crammed in so close. There was no city even half, a quarter, of the size in Dorne, where people lived spread out in small villages. Even Sunspear could not compete, and Deria was not used to the smell; she was wrinkling her small nose as she passed through the great courtyard, drawing the gauzy silk of her ochre veil up over her nose and mouth. About to turn and make a comment to her maid, she was startled to see a large gathering of people flying the Direwolf of House Stark - and even more surprised to witness an explosion of clothes as an unfamiliar man dropped a large bag of clothes. From his bearing and atire he was a nobleman; unusual that he should be carrying his own things, let alone dropping them.

"I did see," Deria laughed, pausing her walk to stand and smile, her interest piqued. "But I promise I will not tell. I can't say the same for...well, everyone else..." She gestured around at their audience and laughed again, a giggling peal. She had heard Northerners were all dour and dull, but she had no intention of being the same. She took a few quick steps forward on the cobbles and knelt in the dust to assist with the Lord's clothes, trying to save them from the puddles and horse muck, but likely failing, and staining her pretty gown in the process. No matter, she had many more with her.

     open  starter  !

     alaric  always  feels  uneasy  being  far  from  home,  especially  when  venturing  somewhere  unfamiliar  such  as  king’s  landing.  their  good  terms  with  the  baratheon  family  where  alliances  are  concerned  is  the  only  comforting  thought.  he  feels  a  weight  on  his  shoulders,  knowing  there  are  plenty  of  important  decisions  he  must  make  during  their  stay  -  but  all  of  that  will  come  in  time.  he’s  carrying  one  of  his  bags  ahead  of  the  staff,  insistent  on  helping  at  least  with  his  own  supplies,  admiring  the  view  of  the  red  keep  on  the  way.  the  ruling  lord  stark  isn’t  paying  attention  when  the  latch  fails  and  his  bag  spills  open,  releasing  various  garments.  he  halts  immediately,  feeling  the  bag  empty,  though  his  embarrassment  worsens  when  alaric  realizes  someone  has  been  watching  the  entire  time.    ❝    oh…  you  saw  all  of  that,  did  you  ?    ❞

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plotted starter  for  aegon iii dragonsbane  @reiignonme from  :  deria martell

It had been a long journey from Sunspear; the first of its kind in many decades. The Martells had chosen to come across the sea, around the peak of Stormbreaker Bay, and across the Blackwater, instead of risking the long dangerous trip through the Stormlands; though the war had ended, Westeros had been ravaged, and Deria's older sister Aliandra had not wished to risk her family being caught up in border skirmishes and petty raids. Dorne had stayed well clear of the so-called Dance, and Deria's father Qoren had passed a peaceful realm down to Aliandra but now, in peace time, it was time for diplomacy - perhaps even for an alliance.

Deria did not think much of that idea. She had been reluctant to ever leave Dorne in the first place, and especially she had not wanted to travel into the viper's nest of King's Landing. All had heard of the horrors that had befallen three consecutive generations of Targaryens; like the lizards that occupied the rolling sand dunes, they ate their own young, and burned their sisters alive. But Aliandra had insisted, and Deria did not like disobeying her elder sister, especially now she was newly settling into her rule at Sunspear. So she had packed herself off across the sea - determined to dislike every inch of King's Landing and the King she found there.

The women of Westeros were small-minded and mean, in Deria's limited experience; they looked down on her and her freedoms, her lovers and her pets, her drinking and dancing and laughter; and the men were even worse, lecherous and leering, believing that just because the Dornish loved where they pleased that they could hope to touch a Princess. After only three days in the Red Keep Deria was sick of being judged and sneered at, or harassed and ogled. But she had finally been invited for her formal interview with the new King, so she composed her temper and dressed carefully, in layers of silk so fine they were almost transparent in flashing yellows and golds, with her tiara of golden suns on her head. She would not bend the knee to this new Aegon - he was not Dorne's King, and she was Dorne's representative here. She swept through the corridors, accompanied by her guards and retinue, looking every inch the Princess - even though inside she was trembling.

He did not receive her in front of the Iron Throne; she was grateful for that small mercy, surprised to find that her hands shook as the guards stood aside to allow her into the King's presence chamber. She swept him a bow when she entered, keeping her head up and her eyes determinedly fixed on him. I am no servant. "Your Grace. Thank you for welcoming me to King's Landing. I bring you well-wishes from my sister Aliandra, the Princess of Sunspear and Ruler of Dorne." He is young, she thought surprised, my age. And sad.

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                                     ❛ you carry a sword, yet you are not a knight. ❜

from  :  deria to tiathia @bruiisedpetals location  :  king's landing

The streets of King's Landing were, as usual, so cluttered and packed that It was as if Deria floated along on a sea of humanity, the flotsam and jetsam of the greatest port in the Seven Kingdoms, all here on this one day to attend the market. That wasn't true, of course; King's Landing was so sprawling that this was hardly a fraction of its population, but for Deria, who was used to (and preferred) the quiet of Sunspear and the Shadow Town, it was overwhelming - and thrilling.

Her guards were less thrilled. Paid and sworn to protect the Princess of Dorne, they could often be heard grumbling between themselves that she would be far easier to protect if she were more sensible. There was little way to keep her from harm here, when they were jostled on every side by all manner of thieves and vagabonds, and where Deria stood out like a sore thumb in her ochre and red flowing gown, golden wire twisted in amongst her many braids and curls, with the spear and sun of House Martell dangling from her neck. The necklace alone would be enough to feed half the city, and her men-at-arms were painfully aware of this fact; Deria seemed entirely oblivious, smilling gleefully at the turmoil ahead of her, picking up her skirts to avoid the worst of the muck, and letting herself be carried along by the swell. Ahead of them lay the fabric stalls, which was her destination, but her true purpose was to escape the Red Keep and its strict boundaries and see something of the city. "Princess!" called one of her guards, taking her arm gently. "Perhaps we should return..."

Deria ignored him cheerfully. No one would dare harm a Princess of Dorne, let alone one with such notorious brothers; in Sunspear the people would have ripped apart anyone who tried, and she saw no reason why King's Landing would be any different. Besides, her attention had been caught by a fascinating young woman who stood apart from the crowd, a heavy blade hanging from her side; Deria's eyes widened and she stopped in the street, ignoring the calls of irritation from those who had to shove around her, parting the crowd like a rock in the sea. "You carry a sword, yet you are not a knight!" she exclaimed, shading her eyes with one slim hand so she could see the lady better. She was not Dornish, Deria thought, squinting against the warm sun. How fascinating. "Where are you from, my Lady?"

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Deria had been warned about the younger Targaryen Prince. They said he was even more unpredictable than his older brother the heir, cruel, vicious, violent. She had seen little cruelty in him, but the violence was always there, just under the surface, threatening to escape. Of course, every warning she had received only made her more curious, and once they had met she had pinned him in her mind, pictured him in her bed, the sort of power play she did best. This stuffy Crownland court had disliked her from the beginning, but she had expected that; her and her ladies refused to change, did not step aside to let the great Lords pass, and enraged the Queen with their laughter, their gambling, their paramours. There was no shame to be had in the bedchamber in Dorne. Sometimes Deria amused herself by imagining that she could take Aemond back to Sunspear with her as her own paramour, set him up in a manse in the Shadow Town, buy him jewels, watch Vhagar swoop and soar over the bay. She did not think he would enjoy being so owned; it might teach him a little humility.

She watched the thin material of her gown slip through his fingers and smiled, showing sharp teeth. She liked having his eyes on her, knowing how much he wanted her - that he likely only cared for her because of her beauty mattered little to Deria, or so she told herself. There were plenty of men who would declare their love for her given the slightest chance, write her poems, songs praising her grace and elegance, her laughter and her dancing. Aemond would not do such a thing. Perhaps a more sceptical nature might see ambition in his rapid seduction of her, but Deria cared little for politics. Whether Viserys chose to ally with her brother or not, she would have her fun; if Aemond hoped for power for himself, he would have to find it elsewhere. She began to undo his laces, one thread at a time, and leaned back into his arm about her waist, gazing up at him as her fingers worked, almost casually.

The thought of mounting Vhagar made Deria shudder. The huge dragon frightened her, but the fear was almost a pleasant thing, like looking down from a great height; a sweep of vertigo that made her press herself against him. Oh, protect me. She wondered if he would like to see her like that - afraid. At his mercy. She could play that part. "I don't think dragons like the Dornish," she said lightly, as she reached the bottom of his jerkin. She touched the light shirt underneath, slipped her hand underneath at the waist so she could feel the warmth of his skin, the hard plane of his stomach. "Vhagar may still hold a grudge for that unfortunate business at the Hellholt. I wouldn't want her to try and settle the score." She touched his cheek with her other hand - the unscarred side, of course. She had once asked about the sapphire, and his angry reaction told her inquiries in that direction were not welcome. Her light fingers moved down to his mouth, brushed over his lower lip, and she smiled. "Not that I don't trust in your ability to control her, of course..."

The alliances between Dorne didn't seem to be going in anyone's favor, and Aemond had found himself enjoying the presence and time of the princess. Showing her around King's Landing. The secret passages through the Keep. The young prince had often wondered if he should visit Dorne to secure a more solid alliance, but there would be no love for Vhagar's return. Deria had been more interesting than most of the ladies at court and captured his attention soon after arriving here. His chambers were always open to her and had told her which passages to take if the hour was late.

Her dresses had always caught his eye, never like the ones the ladies wore her. They were bright and flowy, but the one she wore now. Aemond couldn't help but look her up and down, eye trailing her form. Fingers gently touched the silky fabric as he hummed in approval. ❝ Rather dull? That simply won't do now, will it? ❞ Smirking, he couldn't stop himself from admiring her. Deria was beautiful. There was no doubt, and he wasn't the only one who thought that. Aemond was captivated by her, but he wouldn't stay out loud yet. Not sure if he was ready to admit such things. Boldly, he snaked his arm around her waist to bring her a little closer. ❝ It was relaxing, as always. I think you should join me one day... Not many can say they've ridden a dragon. It could make so many jealous. ❞