#( threads ) alysanne

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 1/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

The Wall is an edifice created, best guesses conclude, some 8000 years prior to the events of A Game of Thrones; it was constructed by some combination of the First Men, led by Bran the Builder, those they called ‘Children of the Forest’, more rightly known as those who sing the song of earth (hereafter ‘singers’) and giants. It is patrolled by the Night’s watch, who protect the realms of men from what lies beyond; notably the Others, although this mission has been forgotten until very recently, with the so-called ‘Wildlings’ (Free Folk) taking the place of the great foe.

It is commonly accepted that the Wall is a net good, both in-universe and without, and that any distaste we may have about the necessity of the Night’s Watch pales in comparison to the horror that will occur when the Wall comes down.

I propose differently; I propose that the Wall is sickening and weakening the world, and it coming down will be one of the greatest moments of the tale – and moreover that the Wall was potentially always intended by its makers to be thrown down.

Magic Lingers

ASOIAF takes place in a world where magic is waning, to the point that learned men will insist magic is gone from the world entirely – and many of them consider this a good thing. The disappearing of magic is largely attributed to the death of the last dragons, and the revival of magic following Daenery’s miraculous rebirth of dragonkind seems to be proof of that.

However, the truth is more complex; we learn from several sources that magic is not entirely gone from the world, even prior to the dragons’ cradle-pyre. It is simply gone from the west of the world following the Doom of Valyria – further east, we are told, magic still exists and its practitioners endure, and even thrive in places such as Asshai.

More intriguingly is this from Maester Luwin, that supposes magic was fading even before the Doom, describing Valyria (a magical empire lasting thousands of years) as merely an ‘ember’. It cannot therefore solely be the death of dragons that caused magic to fade in the West.

The Sad Fate of the Singers

Westeros was once home to a large number of magical beings; unicorns, mammoths, direwolves, ‘great lions’ and, of course, the giants and the singers. All of these are now believed to be extinct, as per Maester Luwin above. Those who venture or live beyond the Wall know that this is not the case; these beings cling on, albeit in scant numbers.

We know that the singers fought and lost a terrible long war with the First Men, and that they retreated to the deepest forests upon the Pact that saw the end of the war. We know also that they were still present in the South in some numbers when the Andals arrived.

However, common wisdom says the singers have been extinct for thousands of years; we know they still linger beyond the Wall...but why? The North remained a bastion of the Old Gods, yet even the northmen believe them gone. Why did they not remain in the deep forests of the North? Why did their numbers continue to decline even after the wars? Why go beyond the Wall, closer to the Others?

The Evil of the Wall Magical and Mundane

The Wall is made of ice. This is an obvious statement to make, but its curious to consider what it means in the context of this world, where cold is the enemy and ice represents death, darkness and crucially – the Others.

If we take as given that Bran the Builder built the Wall, why was it made of ice, when his other claimed works are all of stone? The magic of the singers likewise is in earth and tree and water. So why is the Wall made of ice, the very symbol and strength of the enemy the Wall was built, allegedly, to keep out?

The Wall has its own collection of spooky, disturbing myths that have grown up around it, many of them centring around the Nightfort, formerly the seat of the Night’s Watch. The one that concerns us here is that of the Night’s King, allegedly the 13th commander of the Watch who took to wife a woman commonly been believed to be one of the Others – and from the description of her, that’s highly likely.

However, observe that the Night’s King brings that woman back beyond the Wall to his fortress – it does not keep her out, any more than it keeps out the two wights that awaken in Castle Black in AGOT.

But the Wall was created to keep the Others out, no? Coldhands indeed asserts that he, almost certainly some kind of dead man, cannot pass beyond the Wall due to the spells it is imbued with, presumably those created by the singers; but there is a gate.

The Black Gate, situated beneath the Nightfort, is itself a source of much theorising; it is magical, made of weirwood, and a sad construction that sheds a tear as Bran passes beneath it. The use of weirwood – and the face especially – suggest that this is the work of the singers, who made a door that only the Night’s Watch could open.

It seems unlike that the singers, aiding in the building of an anti-Others defence, would create a door that an Other could pass through; Bloodraven’s cave seems thus warded, so far successfully. But why is the Gate blind? Why is it described as resembling a corpse? This could be a function of the sheer age of the Gate, but I believe it to be more significant than that.

Of Silverwing

Queen Alysanne Targaryen made a visit to the Wall and visited the Nightfort in particular. The castle gave the Queen such bad vibes that she arranged it to be abandoned – immediately – paying for the replacement herself.

That’s quite a reaction, and one that should be contrasted with Stannis, who plans to make the place his seat (and note that Sam considers the possibility that the Black Gate is not permanent – which is very intriguing).

More interesting than Alysanne’s reaction to the Nightfort is her dragon Silverwing’s reaction explicitly to the Wall itself. She is disturbed by the winds from it – and I reject the notion that this was solely the cold, as the cold at Winterfell makes Vermax ‘ill tempered’, not disobedient and disturbed.

It is suggested that the Wall is anathema to creatures of fire – and yet Melisandre is seemingly stronger at the Wall than she is Asshai!

It is also suggested that Silverwing feared not the Wall but what lay beyond – but the Others had not yet begun to stir, so what was she sensing? I posit that the Wall was drinking in the magic that Silverwing generated, effectively draining her.

Also pertinent is the fact that Jon Snow loses all sense of Ghost when the Wall is between them. An unbreakable powerful bond that endures over great distances is rendered inert due to the Wall. This could be a matter of inexperience on Jon’s part, but it is worth bearing in mind.

Waning of Magic

Taking everything together, I propose that the Wall is draining the magic from the world. The magical peoples and creatures of Westeros exist only beyond the Wall, having died out everywhere else, notably the singers who have disappeared even from presumably safe strongholds.

Dragons, whose mere existence makes magic stronger (and possibly what is actually empowering Melisandre), mislike and possibly even fear the Wall, to the degree that Alysanne was deeply disturbed for long after. It needs must be noted also that the dragons of the Targaryens did not reach the size and strength of their forebears in Valyria, dwindling ever more with the years. Perhaps this was due to the Dragonpit, to the betrayal of the house’s women, tied so completely to its dragons. Perhaps it was something more insidious.

Where magic does exist still, it exists in the further East; in Qarth, Asshai and so forth. These places also had a lack of dragons post-Doom, also endured the Long Night, so it cannot be solely these factors. But they are much further away from the Wall; their magic is weakened but endures.

To touch also on the seasons as an aside, WOIAF offers some further credence to the Wall-as-problem. The seasons used to be normal, we are told, only in the most ancient tales. Tales presumably predating the Wall.

If the issue of seasons were solely one of balance between Ice and Fire, when why were there no world-ending catastrophes when Fire was ascendant? The Doom impacted only Valyria, after all.

We must return to the symbolism; where Ice is death, silence, darkness and inhumanity and Fire is life, song, light and passion.

TBC

[alyofraventree]

Dreamer & Lady - A Starter with @helaenasdreamfyres

Alysanne had arrived at the royal court with a mix of trepidation and excitement, her eyes and ears taking in every sight and sound as she walked the halls of the Red Keep. She knew that this was not going to be her permanent residence, as she was soon going to head off with the Hightower branch of Targaryens to Dragonstone, but she figured it was good to take in what she could while she was here. 

She was already a little late to her planned meeting with the Princess, but she had been distracted by her personal quest to visit the Godswood and its Weirwood tree. Back in Raventree Hall she liked to visit the Weirwood at least once a day, to pray and listen to the cawing of the ravens that filled its branches. She may not be planning to be in King’s Landing for long, but she would continue her habit of visiting the weirwood and leaving offerings of seed or shiny pebbles for the raven’s of the tree. 

Her visit to the hearttree definitely made her more calm and centered, but had also made her late, which was why she was not quick walking the halls as fast as she could while staying in the realm of acceptable lady behavior. If she was in Raventree her skirt would be hiked and she would be full running at this point, but the look on her brother’s face before he left kept her skirts in place. She was sure that her brother would get a letter about her behavior at some point, but perhase not her first day she arrives. 

As she turned another corner she saw an ornate door with two knights cloaked all in white standing at attention. Alysanne paused her rushing feet into a more respectable walk and changed her face to one of worry into her ‘good lady face.’ She approached the door with an introduction, the knight on the left smirking only a little after clearly seeing her sudden change of  to the Kingsgurad before being let in. 

The guard pushed the door open and Alysanne stepped into the chamber, her gaze immediately drawn to the woman seated by the window. Princess Helaena was bathed in teh soft glower of the afternood sun, adding an extra layor of warmth to the woman already dressed in yellow like a welcoming sun. The princess did not seem to notice her entrance, focused as she was on the embroidery in her hands. 

“Your Grace,” Alysanne dipped into a curtsy, her voice steady, “I am Lady Alysanne of House Blackwood, it's an honor to serve you.” She stayed low, waiting for a word, command, or acknowledging hum, but head nod. Eventually, Alys looked up from the floor to see the princesses’ eyes on her, filled with kindness and wonder. 

“Ummm,” At the continued silence, Alysanne rose and held her hands together to stop any awkward fiddling. She had never been a Lady in Waiting, and Raventree Hall had not had a Lady in Waiting since her mother’s passing, so she was not quite sure what she should or should not be doing. “Is there anything I should do Your Grace?”

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[imaginarianisms]

Setting: Dragonstone; afternoon. Weather: Beautiful & sunny for an autumn day. Characters: Alysanne Targaryen, Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen (@burninghils), Saera Targaryen (@brokcncrowns) & Silverwing (bonded to Alysanne; NPC). Plot Summary: Alysanne Targaryen invites Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen from Oldtown & Saera Targaryen from Volantis to Dragonstone on behalf of the Blacks to discuss personal matters and on matters relating to the Dance of the Dragons.

The gardens of Dragonstone were ever growing, with new flowers into bloom each season. Silverwing enjoyed lying here in the sun, her great wingspan splayed out as she rests on her back, only to immediately roll around causing flowers and grass to fly about in her haste at a distantly familiar scent. Grand Dowager Alysanne Targaryen was an incredibly patient woman, and had the resilience to see her house through both the golden ages and the darkest of days for their house, but waiting for her two remaining children to arrive, Alysanne Targaryen could barely contain her excitement. Although the days were dark and dire, at the very least, she was pleased to be able to reunite with them. She had summoned her only remaining son from Oldtown to counsel the Black Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her only remaining daughter from Volantis as an ally in the hopes of aiding her house in its darkest hour. Dark wings, dark words, Lord Alaric Stark used to tell her once when she was feasting at Winterfell so many years ago, and now that time had finally come. The Good Queen had done her best to reconcile the Green and Black factions at court but not even the wife of the Conciliator was able to reconcile this feud. And so it came to blows. And the realm would burn for it. Every night she prayed that her mother the late Alyssa Velaryon would forgive her for not being able to bridge the void between the factions. Because the gods know she wouldn't. But perhaps she could make it right, this once.

Long ago she had sent her son to investigate the Citadel for her and the good of the realm on the matters of prophecy relating to the Others and the prophecy known as The Song of Ice and Fire that Rhaena Targaryen had told her all those years ago to see what he could find where she could not on the basis of her gender. Her daughter had exiled herself to Volantis and made a name for herself there as a wealthy woman. Upon seeing the two familiar faces, Alysanne rises from her place on the dais, dressed to the nines in the Targaryen black and red, her snow white locs cascading down her back and steps down, a pleased grin making its way onto her lips as one arms reaches out while the other drags herself along with her cane made of mahogany, onyx and ruby. Nearby, Silverwing croons, tail lashing excitedly upon seeing the two remaining children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and the elderly woman makes sure to greet both with an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a warm embrace before pulling away, her hands weaving signs as she speaks, her hearing having mostly been lost with age. She'd hoped that just in case Saera did not understand that Vaegon would translate if her voice was too low as she still had difficulty regulating her volume.

❝「Vaegon. Saera. I am so glad that you've arrived. While I wish that we'd have reunited under less dire circumstances, alas... here we are. We have a duty to our house and to the realm if House Targaryen is to remain on the Iron Throne with its rightful queen.」❞

Alysanne looked at the both of them for a long moment, her throat beginning to choke up as she stared at the two of them, oceanic blue eyes alight with maternal pride: they were both fully grown adults now with vastly different legacies of their own, but they would always be her babies. Saera was just as clever as Vaegon in her own way, and she was entirely aware that in their youth, they hadn't exactly gotten along the best, but she'd at least hoped that with time such things had fallen away. The Grand Dowager then beckons the two close to where she'd originally been seated on the dais overlooking Blackwater Bay and into the rose gardens of Dragonstone.

❝Come, we have much to discuss, my darlings.❞

@brokcncrowns @burninghils

[machiavxlli]

Closed Starter

Alysanne rolled her eyes. "You believe this is the time for jests?" The blonde questioned, eyes never leaving his armored form. His legions stood behind him, and hers did the same. While Alysanne did not want a battle, she was prepared to do what needed to be done. 'I want you to kill him, if he does not surrender.' The Empress had told her before leaving. 'You would do that for me, wouldn't you?' Alysanne did not give an answer, because the mere thought of harming Jacques made her sick.

Alysanne took the first step towards him, her own armor clicking as she moved. The terrain was in favor of her husband, she knew that. "I come bearing a message from Emperor Gaius." Her eyes cast a glance towards each soldier, before landing one again back on their commander. "You surrender your swords and abandon this foolish crusade, and his Majesty is willing to let you live." Alysanne felt like she was spitting venom, and it was burning her mouth. "Or, you die." Her eyes told a different story though. As she looked at her husband, her eyes pleaded with him to just...stand down. Cont from here // @mcnarchs

[unbeleveable-archive]

@wcrriorhearts gets an aly starter for aemma

"What do you think, dear one?" Alysanne asked as she set Aemma down before the array of jewels laid out on the bed. "Which should I wear for the feast tonight?"

[bcbliophile]

@wcrriorhearts Alysanne & Aemma

"There you are sweet one-- how are you finding your way around the keep?" Queen Alysanne greeted Aemma with a kiss to the cheek, her hand cupping the other. She was rather proud of how well she was taking to being a wife, she did hope she was also settling in well, she would have come to her sooner, but business had taken her up North and she only just returned.

[ofhumanvoice-a]

@timpahura gets a starter from Alysanne

The Queen cupped her granddaughter's face in her hands, giving her cheek a gentle pat and smiling at her. "What a radiant bride you make, Rhaella," Alysanne said, dropping her hands again and clasping them together. "As lovely as your sister on the day she wed Lord Corlys." Blue eyes twinkled a little as she added, "And, dare I say, just as happy."

[unbeleveable]

Alysanne Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon have been added to the roster.

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 2/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

Why Do We Build The Wall?

There are three possibilities I would offer regarding the nature of the Wall on the basis of these observations. Firstly, due to the sheer age of the Wall and the scarce-remembered events, one tantalising possibility is that everyone is wrong, and the Wall was not built as a defence against the Others, but BY them as they fled North from the powers of the Last Hero, Azor Ahai, the monkey-tailed girl, the choirs of the Rhoynar and every other half-remembered hero.

This seems absurd, but the Wall is made of ice, and described often in the same terms as the ice-swords of the Others.

It plainly does not keep out the Others or their servants, as we have indisputably seen, but does potentially cut off the magic of a skinchanger, blocks the agent of the 3EC (allied to the singers) and drains and distresses dragons.

In short, it has a negative effect on all those who could feasibly be described as the enemies of the Others. And yet, when Jon Snow sees it, he is seized with the necessity of keeping the Wall up.

He knows that if the Wall falls, the world falls; but what, famously, does Jon Snow know?

This may be a magical compulsion to ensure the Wall remains, whilst the enemies of its makers are drained by it, weakened to the point where they cannot thwart another Longer Night. It is often asked why the Others woke now, why are the dead marching now? Perhaps it was simply finally time; the dragons gone, the singers and giants barely a memory (and forced closer to the Others geographically than to anyone who might help them). The last great greenseer old, fading and unable to flee.

If Azor Ahai took dragons to war against the dark, if the singers aided the Last Hero...those things seemingly could not happen this time.

Another option is that the Wall – which does have foundations of stone, even if it is largely ice by now – was not initially thus but became corrupted. And we have a ready-made candidate for who may have done that. The Night’s King is a contemporary of Joramun, whose horn can allegedly bring down the Wall (more on him in a moment), married an Other (so they must have still been there) and held the Night’s Watchmen in thrall.

Perhaps his great sin was building or infecting the Wall to begin with, and once it began to drain the magic, magic was not strong enough to throw it down. This man, an enemy of humanity in much the same way as Craster and Euron, chose his side and aided it well, if so. And this may explain why the Black Gate, a creation of the singers, looks decayed, has been blinded and appears to be grieving.

Giants and the Horn of Joramun

However, if either of the above were true, then we should have heard of it by now from someone, surely? We have met some surviving singers, and a greenseer who all have access to the knowledge and memories of their ancient comrades. Surely this would have come up?

So suppose the Wall was build as described and is functioning as designed. Does that mean it isn’t draining magic, and this is all just very coincidental? I think it still is draining the world, because such an enormous ward must require something to power it.

But let me offer a solution: the Wall was always intended to come down.

Joramun was a King Beyond the Wall who joined with the Starks in throwing down the Night’s King. His Horn, sought by Mance, is allegedly capable of bringing the Wall down.

Now, Mance found a horn, which Mel burns, but that horn was assuredly not THE Horn. Its suspected that the actual horn maybe somewhere Old, soon with a side helping of squids.

But why was the fake horn convincing? Tormund tells us that this was because the fake horn was found in a giant’s grave – and the Horn brings down the Wall, we are told, by waking giants from the earth.

The ‘horn that wakes the sleepers’ if you will. My contention is therefore that Joramun was a giant, one of the very ones who helped build the Wall, and that his horn was fashioned as a failsafe to destroy what was made when it was no longer necessary.

Perhaps the hope was, with the singers and giants and First Men closer than ever, with dragons in the East and heroes aplenty the world over, the threat would be held at bay and the gifting of their combined magic to keep the defences strong was a willing sacrifice on all parts. But men forget, and war destroys records, and Doom came upon the dragons.

Conclusion

We are shown at length that, from a humanitarian standpoint, the Wall is evil. The Free Folk are demonised in ways that cannot possibly be true, they are hunted like beasts and left in horrible danger when the real threat arises. What are they if not the men the Night’s Watch swear to defend, as Jon comes to ask? What original sin did they commit, other than living on the other side when it was built?

The Wall also dehumanises and destroys those who serve upon it. The world would be better without the Wall, physically and magically. GRRM has said that the seasons will be restored to normal by the end, and whilst we don’t know the details of what is going to happen, but we all agree – that wall is coming down.

JRR Tolkien posits, through King Theoden, that ‘oft evil will shall evil mar’; if Euron Greyjoy, the Night’s Pirate King, does indeed bring down the Wall and lets winter in, perhaps he shall have done a greater good than he would ever had intended, and given us a chance for spring thereafter. Let’s not thank him for it, though.

Original thread here: https://x.com/BranwynHlfwitch/status/1768776863961243700

[alyofraventree]

Ladies of the Riverlands - A Starter with @sabithafrey-asoiaf-rp

Alysanne’s fingers deftly nocked an arrow, her focus unwavering as she aimed at the distant target. The training yard of the Red Keep was quieter than usual. Alys had become used to the hum, whispers, and sidelong glances she normally received during one of her training sessions, but today was quieter than usual. She drew the bowstring back, her muscles straining with the familiar, comforting tension. With a breath out, she released, watching as the arrow flew true, embedding itself just off the center with a solid thud. 

“Ah fuck.” She said with a sigh before remembering that her brother was very clear that ‘ladies in the capital do not swear.’ Alys took a pause going to retrieve her arrows to take a look around and see if her slip was heard. 

She turned, her eyes scanning the yard until they landed on a vaguely familiar figure leaning casually against a pillar. It took her a moment to scan through the faces in her mind until she landed on a name, Lady Sabitha Frey. The two had met in passing, both being noblewomen from the Riverlands, but nothing more than bows and introductions at crowded Riverland gatherings. But Alysanne was not deft to the rumors of the Lady Frey and found herself breathing out in relief, as she was confident the lady would not be as taken back at her brash language as other ladies might. In truth, the sight of Sabitha Frey brought a small smile to her lips. Perhaps there was someone who might understand the restlessness she has felt since being shipped off to the Red Keep. 

Sabitha stood there, arms crossing and what seemed to be a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. Her presence was a stark contrast to the rigged courtly airs that surrounded them, a reminder of the wild freedom Alysanne missed so dearly. The structures and expectations of the Red Keep felt suffocating at times, a far cry from the forests and open fields of her home where she could ride and hunt to her heart’s content. 

The grandeur and intrigue of the city were both exciting and overwhelming. She enjoyed the company of Princess Helena and her children, but there was still a sorrow for the life she left behind for the sake of ‘being a respectable lady.’ Not to mention, the gossip and sideways glances when she practiced in the training yard were starting to wear on her. It was not so much that she minded, it was just distracting. She missed the familiar comforts of home, of her actions not being constantly questioned by those around her. 

Lady Sabitha’s presence stirred something in her. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she too was known for her unconventional ways, or maybe it was just the comfort of seeing a familiar face from the Riverlands. 

Taking a deep breath, she decided to reach out.

“Lady Frey,” she called out, lowering her bow but keeping her stance relaxed and open. “Care to join me, or are you content to just watch?”

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[astormofsilk]

‘ the gods give just as the gods take away. ’ / for aly asked by @cregn

"Then we should endeavor to enjoy all of what the gods have given us while we are allowed to enjoy it." Alysanne said as she drew back her arrow, voice low not to startle the deer they were trailing. "I plan on enjoying my life, not wasting it pining of what could have been." The arrow flew and buried itself heart of the stag, a quick kill and food for them.

[adreamofsilk]

@denydefeat liked for a starter

Alysanne was only half listening as her brother spoke to the new King. Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell and now declared King of the North and the Riverlands. The war was brutal from the start and so many had lost members of their family all to gain revenge on the murder of Lord Eddard Stark. The Blackwoods were originally Northern and they maintained that status even with their move to the Riverlands. So Tytos was immediately on the side of the Stark boy, ready to help him in any way he could. Her nephews were being assigned to duties and her good sister and niece would be minding the home. As for her…

“𝘼𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙. 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡.”

She tilted her head in acceptance of her brother’s words, shifting as she drew herself to full attention. Alysanne had been called in from a hunt and was still dressed as such, all leathers and chain mail. Her bow was slung over her shoulder and she wondered how what he thought of her. “𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬.” No one seemed to agree on what they should be calling him, so she settled on the more common phrase she had been hearing. “𝘈𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘈𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.” She was barely older than her first nephew, born a little over a year before her parents died and her brother became lord.

Tilting her head again she smiled widely at him, wrinkling her nose as she glanced around. “𝘚𝘰…𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧? 𝘐’𝘮 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.” The boys had told her about it, but she wasn’t sure if she should believe them.

[leschanceux]

@queenifice​ wanted a starter! -

"How's your wound?"

[unbeleveable-archive]

@bronzebtch liked for an Alysanne starter

"How is my grandson treating you, dear?"

It was the queen's first visit to the Vale since Daemon and Rhea's wedding and specifically made to visit the young couple. Of course she would have to pay a visit to the newly installed Lady of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn, but Runestone was her first top. Upon arriving, Alysanne had found that Daemon was out flying, but that only gave her some time alone with Rhea.

"With affection and respect, I hope."

[bcbliophile]

@nvrqn Rhaenys & Alysanne

"Come sweetling, I want you to join me for the women's meeting today, it's high time I started training you to take over for me when I pass on" hopefully not for a long time, but she wanted so much for her sweet one to succeed and one day be crowned Queen. Rhaenys was by far a favorite of the Queen and she was working night and day to make sure her husband would name her his heir once the time came, she only hoped he would listen to her.

[ofhumanvoice-a]

@asoulunbound gets a starter for Visenya from Alysanne

The little maid was not usually one prone to sulking. She had always been known to be the cheery child, prone to smiles and high spirits. But imprisonment had dampened Alysanne's spirits, leaving her somewhat gloomy. Her only solace had been that Jaehaerys was there with her along with their mother. Had she been entirely alone, she would have sunk into a deep depression.

As it was, when the Dowager Queen Visenya summoned her and her alone one day, the princess was most agitated. "Your Grace," Alysanne greeted her elder with a curtsy, her words courteous enough but said in a monotone. When she rose, her expression, too, was flat. "You wished to see me?" Her mother had advised her to be on her toes around Visenya and that was advice she would heed.