#( wylliam ; letters )

[anastacia-templeton]

a response sealed with the ninestar seal arrives back to wylliam swann, delicately written and asked to be placed on his desk.

dearly beloved, i do quite embrace change and do enjoy the fact that we will be together in kings landing. i was definitely not expecting such change, but it is easier on my mind knowing you are by my side throughout the whole ordeal. his grace has his formal orders, and you are only right to follow those. i do hope you are well, and i await when we can see each other again. augustus & agatha find that i am an enemy at the moment, as i have acquired another feline by the name of venus. otherwise, they also await your arrival. i will take your advice and not do that again, i do quite forget that i should not fall ill before we are wed. yours, anastacia elisabeth templeton xx

anastacia-templeton​:

a letter handwritten with fine line work appears on wylliam swann’s desk once public word has been made that he is the hand of jaehaerys targaryen.

my dearest wylliam,

i hope this letter finds you well. i write this letter to you in hopes to hear a response back as to how your travels are fairing, what beautiful sights you’ve seen. i am quite interested to know your position now as hand. i find my feelings as i write this as a form of longing, i quite miss you terribly. i know your duties as hand are of most importance, so when you find the time, i would love to hear your reply. augustus & agatha hope to see you soon, as you will find their fur, unfortunately, littered across this letter. i send all of my love, and wish you safe travels back to me.

sincerely yours,

anastacia elisabeth templeton

the letter is signed with a lipstick stain.

@malcontentswanns

➳

upon receiving a letter from his betrothed, wylliam swann found himself nervous to see her handwriting. he would rather see a summons from the king than this. as he opened the letter, his breath half held, he saw the lipstick immediately. a chair skirted against wooden floorboards slightly as he moved back, in shock. he sweeps aside cat fur, mumbling about it being unhygienic. 

to my betrothed, the lady of ninestars...ana,

thank you for your letter. there is much change happening within the realm...you need not worry about it, for i will ensure it is as settled as possible for when we wed. being hand of the king was not something i was expecting when we spoke during the festivities; i don’t think anyone was expecting such change. i want to inform you, just so you know, that we will end up living in kings landing rather than stonehelm once we wed: his grace, king jaehaerys, would not have that i am away for too long. 

how are augustus & agatha?

yous sincerely, 

lord wylliam of house swann, hand of king jaehaerys of house targaryen, second of his name

also, i advise you avoid kissing  parchment my lady: you know not where it may have been. getting ill would be quite unfortunate. 

[myriamas]

A TRIAL, A LOCKDOWN, AND A LESSON IN DORNISH TEMPER;

when the party of volantis were spotted on the horizon of the dunes, they were awaited by the court of sunspear: adorned in white. a shade of peace, anywhere but dorne; for in dorne, white was a shade of mourning. the greatest of men had been cremated, his ashes sprinkled within the rivers of dorne: and yet, they awaited them in his home.

it were supposed to be a joint effort, the trial to condemn those who had been behind the brutal assassination of dorne's justiciar; and yet, when the greetings and pleasantries were spoken, the tone changed. expressions in the room changed, the air turned thick when four men were presented to the court of sunspear. chained. the agreement was a trial. now it were an execution. there came hushed whispers in the crowds as there was sudden movement by the martell prince, pulling the first minister, the second minister and the high commander to the side whilst the princess regent addressed the volantese.

she need not have looked behind her to know this was not to happen. "there has been a mistake, my lords. a trial is not an execution in dorne." only, it were painfully obvious that the dornish were not supposed to be part of the trial. how could they trust such actions taken were enough to bring justice for the death of rashid jordayne? it was then the prince of house martell stepped beside her, hands behind his kurta as he looked upon those who gave them men as though they were offerings. myriam quietly noticed the old bruising on them, the branding.

they exchanged a small glance. slaves. heated discussion went nowhere, and finally, there came the words that had been agreed by the group behind myriam should this go nowhere. "lock the palace down." came the words of the martell prince - and whilst the princess regent inwardly wondered whether they were jumping too high, too quickly, she nodded. "lock the palace down, high commander."

what happens in lockdown; (whilst myriam and the other courtiers remain trying to stress the fact dorne requires a trial to happen, including dornish judges and for evidence to be reviewed)

joy manwoody leads searches of the belongings of items be longing to the volantese in which she finds letters addressed to lord wylliam swann and lord deimos velaryon. the letters themselves remain blank, but joy is forced to restrain a man when she takes the empty letters into her custody. why did he react in such a way?

later on, joy is walking back to the main great hall when she finds a volantene in an area of the castle that should be locked off, close to the entrances of princess loreza martell's apartments. what would the man have wanted with the former wife of rashid jordayne?

baashir dayne finds a heavy pouch of westerland gold, imprinted with the symbol of a lion upon within the belongings of a man who resorted to violence. the moment his blade drew, baash was forced to cut down the man. why would they have westerland gold on them? what are they being paid for?

amaia sand sees zahra sand speaking with a woman she does not recognise, dressed in volatene fashion, outside the main halls of sunspear's hall. the conversation appears tense; but this woman is a paramour of one of the lords of volantis.

@baashirdayne / @joymanwoody / @lorczamartell / @dancingshores / @ofsandandblood

[briannabrackens]

who: @mintharaestermont when and where: the mouth of the rock, upon the arrival of the dragon court to the westerlands. brianna heard word of minty being questioned some weeks earlier by lord wylliam swann, and for some reason, has been worried it was to do with minty's link to brianna.

"when are they arriving? you said…" the sound of horses cut off her words. the words uttered to her by lady mariela egen continued to ring true in her ear, whilst clutching onto some simple gold band; how her fingers grew white and imprinted with the force. not one brother, but two who looked for him; both loyal men of the lion king.

and then, for some reason, she received a letter from her dearest friend complaining of the lengthy questioning process she had undertaken for hours. did kings work together about matters such as this one? tyland and jaehaerys were allies, all one needed to do was looking at the golden haired queen who sat to his left to see that. but why would jaehaerys targaryen, the dragon king, care about a missing marbrand?

a servant had informed her that the court would be arriving soon, and amongst the rows of servants who waited to take their belongings, brianna waited for minthara.

mostly because she wanted to see her, but also because she would rather not be at the welcome feast beneath the watchful gaze of lord eren marbrand. a sinister look, that reminded her of fire for some reason. fiona grafton had not been in the room, and gods knew where she was. gin was…well, she did not even want to think about that. but brianna did not feel confident, or comfortable, having to put on the show whilst sat beside her brother and her queen.

she heard the door of the wagon click open, and she pushed herself forward to seeing minthara; there was a shout of her name, and excited waving.

she stepped forward, waiting for the woman to catch her gaze, before letting out a small noise of happiness. "minty!" brianna called, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the other woman. not her favourite nickname, but her nickname among the girls, nonetheless. "look at you, escaping from the rooms of the red keep. were you with the velaryon?" she asked, taking hold of something and passing it to the servant absentmindedly.

"there's a welcome feast going on. shall we get you freshened up then we can grab our seats?"

[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."

[anastacia-templeton]

a letter handwritten with fine line work appears on wylliam swann's desk once public word has been made that he is the hand of jaehaerys targaryen.

my dearest wylliam,

i hope this letter finds you well. i write this letter to you in hopes to hear a response back as to how your travels are fairing, what beautiful sights you've seen. i am quite interested to know your position now as hand. i find my feelings as i write this as a form of longing, i quite miss you terribly. i know your duties as hand are of most importance, so when you find the time, i would love to hear your reply. augustus & agatha hope to see you soon, as you will find their fur, unfortunately, littered across this letter. i send all of my love, and wish you safe travels back to me.

sincerely yours,

anastacia elisabeth templeton

the letter is signed with a lipstick stain.

@malcontentswanns

[malcontentswanns]

who: @celtigxr where: stonehelm, the seat of house swann; this is set prior to the courts gathering in the reach for the wedding of king cedric tyrell.

there was a profound comfort in hearing the sounds of a storm beyond the confines of the historic seat of house swann: whilst for others it may cause disruption to their sleep, or only heighten feelings of uncertainty and general gloom, wylliam swann never thought more clearly than he did when it poured outside. only this time, he were sat within one of the smaller chambers off the great hall of stonehelm, within one of the older parts of the castle: upon it had a variety of specimen that had been hunted by his brother, and their father before him.

and a rock collection, beneath the antlers of the stags.

house swann remained a tightly knitted family; his mother giving him an extra load of things just to send forward to elenda until they saw one another again. the name swann was synomous with power in the stormlands; power, and wealth, and yet in recent months it had always developed a sense of suspicion within the walls of kings landing. for wylliam and elenda were the exceptions in their family; his mother had refused numerous invitations to court, as had his brother as ruling lord and his lady wife.

the matter had caused tension within the family, though all of that came to a cease upon the news the maesters brought.

it was not a matter of if tragedy would strike within the walls of stonehelm: it was a matter of when. how difficult it was to look upon his eldest brother, a true man of the stormlands; everything wylliam was not, and grieve for him as he continued to live, breathe and be present amongst his loved ones and his chief circle. the brothers had spent an ample amount of time alone over the last few days, in which arthur swann advised his brother of a multitude of matters. the slayne, the trade that was so vital upon it, the tensions with the dornish borders.

wylliam was sat upon a velvet recliner, his foot up upon the small table before him as he looked upon the list his sister had etched suggestions for marriage. and he saw the name right at the very top, the one that had been bolded; the very woman that was only some halls away in the guest chamber. if there were any he would be comfortable sharing his life with, starting his new journey with, it would be her. he knew not when the lady of cracklaw point had crept up on his affections, and yet, he found himself quietly looking in her direction as they sat upon the dinner table. he found himself thinking of how her smile felt like enough to vanquish the ever-present clouds of the stormlands. why was he thinking like this?

he hoped she was able to sleep through the sound of the storm, before looking up at the sounds of the floorboards creaking ever so slightly. just as though she could hear his thoughts, she was stood in the doorway, hand resting upon the stone archway that led into the entrance of the small, cosy chamber he was sat within. "...i should have told you the storms are this loud, right?" his mind went directly to the list that was in his hands: that which included her name, bolded. in a split moment, he panicked, tossing elenda's list into the flames, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

why did he do that? throwing away a letter in the face of the mistress of whispers? as if she was not naturally suspicious by nature itself? but what if she saw her name bolded? he would rather die. "not that i don't think you would've known yourself." his words came out in a ramble, hands crossing over his torso as he stood before the heath he chucked the letter into: almost as though he were guarding it from her eagle gaze. "hello."

[malcontentswanns]

who: @sunglxss​ where: the crownlands lodgings, during their time in dorne, shortly after lyra’s letter written to him.

the note remained within his hand as he walked the darkened corridors he had come to know like the back of his hand, within this lodging of the ullers within the bustling city of sunspear; he found the accommodation entirely ugly, enough to cause a headache from the musty smell, but it was what they were stuck with until he could return to his own. he thought of stonehelm often, how it were not truly so far away.

just over the border and he would find himself within the sloping valleys and caverns he knew so well, with the thunderous rain and the storms he had come to know and accept and love.

wylliam had always been able to accept storms; come to understand them. but the emotions of others, when his dry nature seemed to upset them? that was another storm he was still coming to terms with, his new position requiring him to speak and socialise with others regularly. it was easy for a dry quip of his to come with a bite he was not expecting, and that was all it took to shake someone who was still in the process of building himself up.

he didn't even know what he wanted to say to her? that he never once thought of her genuinely, even after their altercation? that he was able to let things go so easily, perhaps too easily, and that was an issue he needed to work on himself. suddenly her guards were alerting him of his presence, and he still did not even know what it was he wanted to say; when did he ever know what he wanted to say? as she came into the audience room of the sunglass chambers, he merely raised the letter slightly.

'you didn't need to do this. you know that, yeah? i forgot about it the minute you walked off."

[malcontentswanns]

who: @falcxnprince​ where: the stormland settlements, barrowtown

lord wylliam of house swann looked upon the parchment at his desk in the godforsaken settlements the stormlands had been allocated in this small bustling town, far in this frozen wasteland - and yet still, it was a change from the constant soaking he would face from the stormlands infamous tempests. everything in the man's body language gave his obvious reluctance to be in such a role away, considering the fact the letter his family had sent him was soon crumpled into a mere ball in his fist, leaning forwards to throw it directly into the fire from where he sat before leaning down upon his desk with a slight groan of annoyance. it appeared as though his older brother's injuries, no doubt a result of his own impulsive idiocy, was still yet to fully heal and thus he would not be able to take wylliam's place as a representative of the stormlands.

he had been told that it was politics he needed to involve himself in, and yet as he arrived he found some lunacy regarding prophecies, pirates, myths and fables and all the other shit he really was not expecting to have to deal with. as his door seemingly swung open, the man looked to the side of his desk to find the familiar features of a certain falcon prince; he who was made for the role of socialising, of diplomacy, of all the other meaningless shit that gave him a headache. “pirates. fucking pirates and lunacy, your highness. seriously?” he asked, his tone ringing with a sense of annoyance; as much as he was happy to see rhys arryn, upon getting his letter urging him to join him north, he had not mentioned any of this. mostly because, he knew wylliam would tell him where to go. and still, there was a sense of relief he felt in seeing the presence of one of his oldest companions, considering all that had been shared between them. 

"okay but ... how much would you have to bother your sister to persuade one of her in laws to let me approach their direwolf?" wylliam asked, a slight grin coming over his features; for a man who loved the study of creatures and animals, it was an opportunity he would not just let pass. 

[malcontentswanns]

ellievswann​:

location: will swanns chambers in highgarden

@malcontentswanns

ellie’s eyes glanced over the letter in her hands, her mind going a million places at once. thinking of all the outcomes that could come from this letter. but only one settled in her mind as the strongest possibility. one that she was sure will did not wish to hear at this moment but one that they needed to discuss. making her way to her brother’s chambers, she kept the letter in hand. as she entered in the room, she dismissed the guards there with a simple wave of the hand and a quick “leave us.” once they were gone she glanced back to her brother. “i’ve received news from our good sister. unfortunately, the child she was carrying…” she paused, frowning. “he is gone. she has miscarried earlier this month. it seems her health has taken a toll from this.”

➳

the master of laws had remained within his chambers for the majority of this day, moving between the various rooms from the audience chamber to his personal bedchamber, almost as though that was enough of a change of setting. there were days where he did not necessarily feel the urge to want to socialise and be in the company of others, not from a place of melancholy,  but from a place of needing to be simply left to regather himself and his energy. he had promised to meet with the lady of tarth later on in that evening, not only for dinner, but for going over what plans she wished to push out and develop for tarth. 

at the sound of familiar footsteps approaching the other side of his door, wylliam swann's warm dark gaze looked up from the collected revenue from tenants belonging to the lands of stonehelm. 

he felt as though he barely was able to register his sister's presence before she began to speak on the other issue regarding the family. there was a part of him that felt his jaw hardening, clearing his throat: no doubt their older brother was a source of tension within their court. but he was their brother nonetheless.  "is that why he did not travel to highgarden? at least, one of the reasons?" and what of his health, was the question that truly defeaned any form of steady silence that hung in the air. "they can try again, in time, when she has regained her strength."

[malcontentswanns]

➳

the natural eagerness and excitement that came from the aura of the second son of gulltown only helped ease the awkwardness that seemed to radiate from that of wylliam's - it did not take long for lord grafton to find himself hugging wylliam back, and wylliam could not help but allow a genuine grin to cross over his chestnut features, his hand naturally coming over to pat the back of norbie's back as they embraced.

"both our faults old pal, you know how focused we both get on things. and time passes so quickly." of all the things he seemed to second guess and overthink with all the great changes of his life, he was thankful that his relationship with his childhood friend had not seemed to change either.

and so when wylliam pulled away, he was more relaxed than he had been in weeks; all of his worries and stresses regarding the tensions of the dragon court, the worries regarding his older brother's health and his good sister, and finally the trauma his feelings for lyra celtigar had inflicted upon her - it all seemed to quietly ease as he looked upon the features of his friend. he began to realise why elenda stressed how important it was for him to leave the stormlands, and maintain connections with people; see them, have conversations that were beyond written letters.

"but tell me why your life has been busy and i'll tell you mine?" he offered, almost as though it were a branch of some sort - any who would have passed this conversation who knew wylliam well enough would be astounded to see him conversing in such a way, being willing to open up and share his thoughts.

"a shame…she seems okay though. truthfully, i think he had her bored and she was at her wits end. different sorts of people to us, you know? velaryons, targaryens, celtigars."

there was a slight chuckle that came from wylliam's lips as the man opposite him spoke on the dragon of the mountains of the moon; he truthfully thought jaehaerys would be on a rampage to obtain it back, and yet, deimos had voiced more of a concern about it than any other individual. he wondered if it were because jaehaerys was not even risking being told no. "you say that now, but your family are on the rise. hey, even your bastard cousin has somehow ended up as hand…in the vale?" wylliam spoke, it going from statement to question - almost as though he was wondering how that ended up happening.

"...how's that happened then?"

"soon they'll have you doing something too." the pair of them, working for the two most unhinged rulers on the continent. it was laughable. "how are jack? fiona?" he asked, his hands coming down on either side of his armchair. "i see her with her friends sometimes. ominous."

and for a moment, the years that had driven a wedge between them seemed to melt away, and norbie felt like a boy again who, perhaps for the first time in his life, had found a friend. he was blessed with plenty of those now, but his childhood had not been an easy one, always out of place with the other boys. it was not until he had met wylliam that he had felt truly what it was to belong somewhere.

"oh! yes, of course!" his reaction to the hug was enthusiastic, even if the action was unexpected. he'd never been the most tactile person, but he supposed this was a special occasion, after all. despite that, there was little reservation as he threw his arms around wylliam, clapping him on the back as he did so with none of the awkwardness that his childhood friend seemed to have. he didn't take that to heart. the years may have changed them both, but norbie felt like he still knew wylliam well enough to understand him.

"far too long, my friend," norbie agreed. in his excitement, he had quite forgotten the book he selected, and he placed it carefully down on a nearby table now, close enough that he could grab it again when it was time to leave, though he hoped that would not be too soon. "likely my fault. i can scarcely remember a time when life didn't feel so busy." his business interests took up most of the time that wasn't dedicated to hobbies, taking the grafton gold and seeing it grow something he had found he was very, very good at.

his eyes followed the book as it was tossed over shoulder, and if it were anybody else, he might have chastised them. "ah. a tactic i know well." and knew it was of mixed success. "oh?" his interested response at the news that ellie was well. "oh." his dejected, slightly concerned response to the fact that she was widowed. "ah. well. do send her my sympathies. that's... ah... a shame?" he did not know ellie's late husband, though something in the back of his mind reminded him that he had been a velaryon. whether his death was one to be mourned remained to be seen. he would let wylliam set the tone on that one.

"bah." norbie flopped into the seat, batting a hand dismissively. "that infernal dragon. no i have not taken a ride on it, thank you very much. i rather like being alive." the discovery of nettles was of course a topic of conversation, but one norbie had very little to contribute to. he was curious, of course, in a scientific way, but he'd rather dissect the beast than hop on its back. "truth be told, the whole thing is a little beyond my remit. i mean, nettles." it was a name better consigned to history. her and dragon both.

[myriamas]

❂

the cup of chai that steamed before her kohl lined orbs was taken with a small comment of gratitude, remaining sat upon the velvet recliner; inhaling the scent of the cardamom and the masala that had been used, she found herself ignoring a growing gape in the pit of her stomach at the memories that wafted forward to her mind at such a small scent. three siblings of house allyrion, now dwindled down just to two; there was no knowing what had happened to her sister, regardless of her brother's actions within kings landing: and the scent itself was enough to remind her of a childhood that felt like a lifetime ago. there was no time for such consideration, no time to take a moment to process what had happened: because the realm continued.

the realm always continued, and her inability to full fixate herself on matters of state only made her feel entirely more out of her depth. like she was drowning; only, those who were drowning did not open their mouths to ask for help - or rather, they could not.

she had not been listening - and it was prevalent in the way that there was no reaction in her when it came to the words that were uttered regarding the passing of lady joy of house manwoody. succumbing to childbed fever following birthing two healthy sons for the bloodroyal's lands as well as her own. "…what?" myriam asked, in a tone that was not snappy, but clearly showed distraction and a lack of grace and poise that had been put upon her the last time she had spoken with the master of whispers. he had introduced himself to her, in those weeks prior to the murder of her husband: and now, she found herself wondering if that was all too coincidental. as though he knew, in some weeks, it would be her that would be regent. she swallowed hard, lowering her cup of masala chai from the fullness of her lips.

"please do repeat yourself, lord uller - i found myself distracted looking upon the letters." she asked; a smile now crossing her features as she tilted her head slightly, her hand resting upon her cheek - an obvious attempt to smooth over any tension or offence he may have found in the fact her mind was clearly elsewhere. and elsewhere it was, truthfully; anywhere but here. beneath the table, she toyed with the threads of the shawl she wore over the curves of her body, toying with each tassel, twisting it. her words were about joy in this regard, though as the letters were put down before her, she found herself leaning forward them. with one hand she lifted it, looking at the names on the empty letters - lord wylliam swann and lord deimos velaryon.

no doubt it was a chord struck too close to home, in the aftermath of the disappearance of lady mayya allyrion within the keep of hayford. crownlander lords, the current hand and the previous hand; and if any other were in the room, it would have been painfully obvious that myriam allyrion was not in the best of headspaces. no doubt because of the goblet of dornish red which had been refilled as she looked over report after report. masala chai and wine did not mix. "…but how were you made aware of their existence?" she asked. the question blurted out of her. asking the master of whispers of his tactics. she almost realised what she had done, her hand remaining on her chin.

"how can you tell if there is anything on it? is it some sort of ink?"

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."

[malcontentswanns]

➳

wylliam finds himself looking at the letter again, half tempted to ask either his sister elenda or the wylde brothers what 'xx' seemed to mean. he wonders if it were some sort of code, and spends at least two hours trying to work out if she were trying to convey some secret message in the letter.

lady templeton,

i do not mean to try and force you to live somewhere you are not entirely fond of; when the betrothal was verified, it were suggested you would live in stonehelm alongside me. kings landing is not entirely the same…it definitely smells much worse. i understand if you need time to rethink things.

i would promise you would not be pulled into courtly politics, however if the king expects me to be his hand, i do not think such a thing is even possible. please take the time to consider whether a life in kings landing is what you would prefer. unless you wish to be alone in stonehelm whilst i am in kings landing. which you don't need to do, unless you want to.

i do intend on trying to visit ninestars as soon as i can. i need to speak with your brother, lord percival, on such matters. i hope he does not think i am trying to wed you without speaking with him. and i want to see your geode collection...though that's not the only reason.

i am sure venus will soon find herself at home, and the other two will warm to her. i don't know much of felines. will locking them in a room together work?

wylliam swann yy

it is not until after he sent the letter did he ask elenda about the 'xx.' he was mortified upon realising he had sent 'yy' back thinking it were some inside joke.

a response sealed with the ninestar seal arrives back to wylliam swann, delicately written and asked to be placed on his desk.

dearly beloved, i do quite embrace change and do enjoy the fact that we will be together in kings landing. i was definitely not expecting such change, but it is easier on my mind knowing you are by my side throughout the whole ordeal. his grace has his formal orders, and you are only right to follow those. i do hope you are well, and i await when we can see each other again. augustus & agatha find that i am an enemy at the moment, as i have acquired another feline by the name of venus. otherwise, they also await your arrival. i will take your advice and not do that again, i do quite forget that i should not fall ill before we are wed. yours, anastacia elisabeth templeton xx

[malcontentswanns]

celtigxr​:

the lady of cracklaw point willed herself to believe that the one thing that kept her awake in the late hours of the night was sound of rain. lyra stayed in the chambers allotted to her, tossing and turning in a bed that was not her own. she wondered how she ended up in this castle. like she was not the architect of this whole endeavor. at least a part of it. stonehelm had a peculiar beauty. it stood out, without the brilliance that was more closely related to her own home. claw isle basically screamed money and power, priding itself on the bloody path that made it all possible. stonehelm was rooted to the land, as ancient as the house swann itself. she wondered if she found the place beautiful on its own, or if the kinship was connected to the man she visited for.

she was done with the tossing and the turning. jumping up from the bed, the lady of cracklaw point reached for the light on the table near her. lyra did not truly now what she was doing, but the sound of rain and the rush of her thoughts offered her no peace. her sister was sound asleep in a chamber right next to hers. was this a mistake? would her brother fume and rage upon hearing the news, his precious valyrian sisters staying in the castle of the lord paramount of the stormlands? if she were completely true to herself, she would admit she did not care. not right now, when it all felt so right. lyra did not know these people or their ways, but she could learn, she could try. for him she would. the reality of her thoughts frightened her, but she was always a determined person, letting nothing she wished for escape her grasp. she was more alike the brother who would soon resent her.

her slippers made small noises as she walked down the corridor. she knew exactly where she was going, but she did not think much of it. it was almost on instinct. standing in front of the door lyra took a small breath, steadying herself before the entrance. it would be thought to be improper, if the meeting was found out. it was improper. but she believed it was worth it. entering the doorway, she gave a small smile as she saw wylliam seated near the fire. how she hoped he did not think her intruding upon his space.

lyra had opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his motion. flicking the letter into the fire, lyra could not help but to laugh, the smile mixing with an expression of surprise. “did you just feed a letter to the flames in front of the mistress of whispers?” removing herself from the doorway, she walked closer to the hearth containing the incriminating letter. “please tell me the contents didn’t involve treason in any way. it would signal my failures as a member of the queen’s council,” she hoped he understood the comment was playful. she had noticed the family dynamic - the elusive elder brother who seemed to be worn out by the title of ruling lord, their mother evading any mention of court activities. lyra wished ellie were here to bring a certain lightness she always carried with her.

watching him as he rose, she could not help but notice how tall he was. taller than most men at court. more handsome as well. “hello.” she mirrored his words, looking at him. “the storm is restless tonight, isn’t it? i guess you born into it pay it no mind,” why was she talking about storms? she could find no reason, except to make him understand she appreciated being here. “claw isle has harsh winds, and you have to get used to the waves, but nothing like this.”

a simple display caught her eye and she drifted away from the warmth of the hearth. the game and the trophies were commonplace for lords’ chambers. but the shiny collection beneath it, contained in glass, was so unlike anything else she witnessed. but so much like wylliam swann. “how pretty,” lyra remarked, leaning in so she could see the rocks, beaming unconsciously. “it’s lovely seeing you here in the stormlands. you seem at peace. more than at king’s landing. but then again, this is your home.”

➳

the brief feeling of tension that seemed to fill within the air as the sound of the letter began to curl up and dwindle within the scorching flames of the hearth beside him seemed to evaporate the moment her laugh seemed to ring out across the walls of this small, cosy chamber. there were suits of armour and various bookshelves stocked around the room, in what was his favourite nook within the entirety of the ancient keep of stonehelm: where it felt as though one would always hear something go bump in the night, or the sound of the wind whistling that made one's hair at the back of their neck stand up. there was never anything there, and the only ghosts that seemed to linger within these rooms were the memory of what would become of his eldest brother.

"entirely treasonous. laced with treachery. listen carefully and you'll hear the screams of my evil plans in the fire." there was utter relaxation around her, as though she appeared in those moments he needed her the most - even when he did not realise how badly he needed some sort of company in that moment. and here she was, no doubt ready to face some sort of consequences for when she returned to her madman of a brother; all knew of his thoughts of stormlanders. he wondered whether she shared any of his same sentiment; surely not, after seeing their lands and his family firsthand. they were truly that, a simple family wrapped up in a noble name and a heavy legacy to continue to ensure.

he found it difficult to come to terms with beginning the process of grief for someone who currently remained alive, breathing in, breathing out, no doubt laying somewhere within this castle comforting the wife who had been ready to spend the rest of her life with him. "nothing like this." he agreed quietly, taking note that he had never been to claw isle: had never heard anyone speaking of visiting claw isle. it made his eyebrows furrow for a moment, thinking - no, he were right. he had never heard such a thing. "there are times when it is comforting...and there are times when it is like this." as though it mirrored the swirling feelings of the souls who lived beneath this roof.

it was not right for parents to ever have to bury their own child, and he watched as his parents struggled to put aside their emotions for the sake of ensuring there was some sense of normality within the walls of stonehelm. something for elenda to be able to visit and come home to when she wanted a break from the court of dragons, and wanted to be herself once again; was all marriage a mask? was marriage itself simply a mask, needing to put on a certain face to please the person you are spending your life with. he wanted to do it correctly, and he wanted to do it right if he ever did. when he did. the news of the maesters had made that abundantly clear.

her next words made him freeze ever so slightly, though he felt his heart thumping at them. he seemed more at home here. how would he tell her he would have to permanently return here, and leave behind the council. why did the thought upset him, or rather, the idea of her reaction upset him. why did he think her reaction would even be upsetting? "do you like it here?" he asked, half amused. half joking. as though he wanted to hear something. what did he want to hear? "mud suits you. especially on the nose." should she even be in here? would he offend her? this was not proper; even wylliam knew that, as much as he did not necessarily care for social expectations and norms. 

[malcontentswanns]

anastacia-templeton​:

a letter handwritten with fine line work appears on wylliam swann’s desk once public word has been made that he is the hand of jaehaerys targaryen.

my dearest wylliam,

i hope this letter finds you well. i write this letter to you in hopes to hear a response back as to how your travels are fairing, what beautiful sights you’ve seen. i am quite interested to know your position now as hand. i find my feelings as i write this as a form of longing, i quite miss you terribly. i know your duties as hand are of most importance, so when you find the time, i would love to hear your reply. augustus & agatha hope to see you soon, as you will find their fur, unfortunately, littered across this letter. i send all of my love, and wish you safe travels back to me.

sincerely yours,

anastacia elisabeth templeton

the letter is signed with a lipstick stain.

@malcontentswanns

➳

upon receiving a letter from his betrothed, wylliam swann found himself nervous to see her handwriting. he would rather see a summons from the king than this. as he opened the letter, his breath half held, he saw the lipstick immediately. a chair skirted against wooden floorboards slightly as he moved back, in shock. he sweeps aside cat fur, mumbling about it being unhygienic. 

to my betrothed, the lady of ninestars...ana,

thank you for your letter. there is much change happening within the realm...you need not worry about it, for i will ensure it is as settled as possible for when we wed. being hand of the king was not something i was expecting when we spoke during the festivities; i don’t think anyone was expecting such change. i want to inform you, just so you know, that we will end up living in kings landing rather than stonehelm once we wed: his grace, king jaehaerys, would not have that i am away for too long. 

how are augustus & agatha?

yous sincerely, 

lord wylliam of house swann, hand of king jaehaerys of house targaryen, second of his name

also, i advise you avoid kissing  parchment my lady: you know not where it may have been. getting ill would be quite unfortunate. 

[malcontentswanns]

ellievswann​:

there was a melancholy that had hung around her brother for a time now, completely understandable. she had been there to hold him as he cried. she had seen his face and could almost hear his heart breaking at the news. but will was tough, tougher than anyone may give him credit for. he had found the strength to move forwards to continue his duties as master of laws. to perhaps find another happiness, at least she could hope.

ellie hated that she must be the bearer of more bad news to him. she wished it had been joyful news of their nephews birth but it had to be this. “i think we both know why he could not travel to highgarden will.” her words were often careful as she danced around the subject of their brother, but this was no time for that. no they needed to be direct. that time had finally come. ellie put down the letter from their goodsister ontop of his work.

“i…i don’t think he is getting any better. will…. i don’t think there will be another child.”

➳

what reason was that exactly? the fact the very name of their brother was not entirely in the good graces of the targaryens in this very moment in time, rumours of possible treason and snubbing of a new power. or the fact that handkerchief after handkerchief seemed to be stained with blood after each cough, or blood stains on the bedsheets of every failed pregnancy that seemed to haunt the ancient walls of stonehelm. 

it were too easy to claim that the swanns of stonehelm were easy to work out; an open book on the lap of the girl that once followed after her older brother on the banks of a mighty river. for the secrets that had been wrapped up within them continued to live with them. 

“because he is aggravating them more, or because he has a point?” the velaryon master of ships in nightsong. an inland house. it was laughable. 

there was weight to his words. daeron dondarrion, as much as he appreciated and respected the man, seemed to be a piece in a wider game of chess; feigning acceptance and inclusion. it were obvious to see who held the reins of power within the court of kings landing. and if stonehelm were soon to end up being in his hands, being his responsibility to handle and continue securing along the dornish borders, he knew the targaryens would seek to secure it in ways that were more than merely wylliam’s good word. for wylliam would be dead in some years, and of what the generations to come? 

“..neither do i.”

there was a low exhale as he looked upon his sister, his expression and his eyes saying more than he could ever say. he and his family were more than simple parts on a chessboard - he would not be pressured into marrying a targaryen or velaryon to secure their presence within their own lands. any future ruling lady of stonehelm would need to understand the sentiment of the stormlanders. 

“i will arrange to return to the stormlands soon, and see the family. see to it.” the line of succession, was what they referred to.