#Handmaiden Elissa

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥: 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Canon-Divergence, Targ!Cest, Typical Misogyny, Hardcore Sad Daddy Issues, Typical-Period Homophobia, Neverending Doubts and Insecurities, Brief Mention of Death, Mentions of Paternal Bastardy, & Brief Mention of a Slap

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Three Main Handmaidens ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, Father!Corlys Velaryon ✘ Daughter!Reader, Teen!Alicent Hightower ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader, Teen!Rhaenyra Targaryen ✘ Fem!Velaryon!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Following into the same night, Y/N prepares with her three close handmaidens, happily discussing the surprise gifts. Turns out, Y/N is in for a rude awakening from her father, Corlys Velaryon, or rather a soft consolation from her two dearest friends.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.2k+

𝐓𝐚�� 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @username23345 @fae-the-wanderer @hippivanhan34 @harjasblog @feyresqueen @ithemaduh @poopietomuch @starless-nightz @yelenaslyubov @chittakii @flowerluzx @laiahernandeeezzz @dvrkhcld @lizzieswife101

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter! If you wanna be tagged in this book, comment below and say ‘future tag’! Also go check out my tiktok page @/localgirlie, where I post videos relating to this fanfic!

🌊 ✘ 🔥

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥

����𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖮𝗇𝖾: 𝖤𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖾

𝟏𝟏𝟏 𝐀𝐂

𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨’𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

••••

As the night draws closer, you are in your bedchambers alongside your three handmaidens, preparing for another calm night. Nights at the Red Keep are mostly quiet, with guards posted at their assigned areas and maids finishing up their nightly duties.

Humming along to a melody in your head as the handmaidens bathed you in silence, preferring the cool of night. Once you were done taking a warm bath and the tub was drained, the handmaidens hurriedly shuffled around the bed chambers as you dried off.

Alarra picked out your nightgown, a simple beige chemise before donning the soft material on the Velaryon girl in the full-body mirror.

Your three closest handmaidens have tended to you since you were zero and one. Their names are Elissa, Melara, and Alarra, their different personalities and descriptions made them special. At least to you, they were special.

Elissa is a bit chubby, exactly the same height as you, with more curves on her body and inherited caramel skin with ebony black curly hair.

Melara is a tall and slender woman, maintaining her average build, blessed with beautiful dark-skinned and luscious dark brown straight hair.

Alarra is a few inches taller than you, possessing a slim physique, porcelain skin, and dirty blonde hair.

They are five years older than you, teaching you kind mannerisms to everyone, no matter their status. Other than your mother and younger siblings, they expressed happiness when you told them the exciting news of finally becoming a dragonrider. While they were happy for you, they maintained a distance of staying inside to never accidentally see you with Silverwing. In case you might get the wrong impression ask for the company alongside Dragonback.

Elissa always makes sure your daily and dragonrider’s outfits are ready and trimmed appropriately with your family colors.

Melara admires braiding your hair, sometimes giving recommendations, always complimenting your hair texture, and claiming the uniqueness of the silver hair.

Alarra prepares your bath and bed, everything regarding your bedchambers.

“Milady, you look absolutely marvelous in this beige nightgown.”

“Every color compliments your skin, milady.” Melara dips her head slightly, acknowledging your beauty.

“Surely I’ve been blessed with the most gracious handmaidens.”

“Milady, do you think they will like it? You spent an awful amount of time on it.” Elissa asks, referring to your surprise gift for your two closest friends.

“I certainly hope so because I would hate to return it.”

“Don’t worry, milady, the Princess, and the Lady Alicent would surely love your thoughtfulness, who wouldn’t?” Alarra reassures with a small smile, gently squeezing your arms, and staring at you through the mirror.

You spun around, the faint touch of Alarra quickly disappearing, now facing the three handmaidens.

“Your services are all too kind.”

“There’s not many ladies who would express such gratitude to handmaidens so regularly,” Melara gently speaks, her voice soothingly sweet. It was no wonder how the three Velaryon siblings requested her to read bedtime stories or sing lullabies.

“Well, I hope that the three of you never plan to resign anytime soon.”

Soon after, voices of disagreement erupted and the atmosphere remained lighthearted.

“Of course not, milady.”

“And wherever shall we go?”

“Nowhere, I should presume.” You shook your head, biting back a grin.

“Shall I prepare your bed?”

“No it’s fine, that’ll be all for tonight..”

“We all bid you goodnight, milady.” They respectively bowed and left the room in a single file line, closing the door behind them. Once they left, your gaze fixated on the closed door, seemingly waiting for the arrival of your bestfriends.

Sauntering towards your vanity dresser, you sat down, grabbing the comb before using it against your hair. The hairstrokes were well-timed as you mindlessly continued, the frequent action becoming numb.

There was a knock on your door, startling you slightly from your hair brushing by the firmness. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, placing the comb on the dresser and stood up. You moved forward to the door, your brain rummaging through the many possibilities of the other person.

Whoever was knocking on your door wasn’t Rhaenyra nor Alicent, surely not, especially used with such firmness. Your friends’ knocks were timid and timed, even so brazenly if Rhaneyra was feeling humorous.

You unlocked and opened the door, wondering who the mysterious knocker was. To your surprise, it was your father Corlys, standing tall and imposing, a stoic expression smeared across his face. In all honesty, you wished anybody else was at your door, requesting their presence to be seen.

“Father?” A raised eyebrow was quickly followed by a head tilt. “What are you doing here this time of night?”

“I came to talk to you, daughter.” He replied, his tone cold and unwelcoming. Your father stepped inside, pushing past you, skeptically observing your bed chambers.

“This is a really bad time, Ali and Nyra are so–“ You turned to him, confused by his sudden appearance as a hand lingered on the door.

“Close the door, we have some more important matters to discuss than your little friendships.”

Despite your promise to your two best friends, you complied with your father’s demand, obliged by his authority. You closed the door softly, intentionally keeping it unlocked, hoping for an interruption because conversations with your father usually transpire into something greater and hurtful. You knew how much he preferred to keep up appearances even in such unfortunate circumstances, such as this time.

“What you displayed at the council meeting was deemed inappropriate. Not only have you shamed yourself, but you have embarrassed our entire family.”

“For coming late?”

“Yes, exactly.” He deadpanned.

“What’s the problem?”

“Daughter, you must be truly blind if you’re unable to decipher this simple transgression.”

“How am I arriving late to the King’s council a problem?”

“Just know that it is.”

“You don’t even have any liable reason as to why my tardiness was a problem today!” You protested, shaking your head. His ignorance was truly staggering at times, especially when being so annoyingly persistent.

“Father, it was a harmless thing! The King wasn’t angry about it, he just gave us a warning. I don’t understand, Rhaenyra did the same–“

“That’s because Rhaenyra is the Princess, she’s obliged to roam about and defy whoever she comes across! You are not entitled to the same fate!” He harshly interrupted, forehead creased in annoyance.

“I’m in the same standing as Princess Rhaenyra, we’re both from noble houses!” You argued, refusing to succumb to any overwhelming emotions.

Now, the cause of this once calm conversation transpired into a hurtful argument, as it always does.

“Should you forget your status, she is a Princess and you are a lady. I should have done this a long time ago.” He shakes his head, sending a condescending glare.

Resisting the urge to scoff in his face and roll your eyes, continually defying his orders would be worthwhile for his bewildered reaction. Right now, it wasn’t in the best interests to further infuriate your father, so you sufficed with a blank stare and an annoyed exhale.

“Father, please don’t d–“

“It is final! You will not indulge yourself further into these…renevduzos with the Princess. You will cut off any remaining connection with her and move back to Driftmark, effective immediately. You’ve allowed your mind to be poisoned for far too long and what good of a wife you’ll make, if you are…seemingly unwell.”

“She’s been one of my bestfriends since we were babes in the cradle. How could you tell me to stop interacting with her?”

Quite frankly, it was ridiculous for your father to even suggest such a thing.

“For your sake, she better remain a friend. With all this gossip around the castle, spreading viciously, looking for a weak spot to puncture.” He spat, the blazing fury in his eyes never wavering or his tensed posture. “You will reside back with your siblings and mother after the Heirs Tournament.”

“And if I refuse to move?”

“You have no choice in the matter, my word is final and you will comply with it. “Do you understand, dear daughter?”

At that, you remained silent, the words lost in your throat and the tears threatening to escape. The pressure of trying to please your father, barricades through your actions, particularly involving the Princess. Everything about your father was beyond difficult. You fought hard for his approval yet he never acknowledged it.

“I said, do you understand?”

Silence was loud, but the compliance eventually stood out. You never felt so weakened by such mere words from your father.

A single gnaw on your lips, settling down the inner turmoil occurring in your mind. “…I do, father.” Your harsh tone simmered down, refusing to further agitate him. Yet, the venom was still there, only slightly less and he knew it. You know he did.

“As it should be. Your mother and I are very disappointed in you, for having allowed yourself to reach beyond a certain extent of closeness with the Princess.” He explains, an undeniable hatred and disgust from the simple implication of your nature being unnatural. “The nature of your friendship is deemed wrongful on all accords. If someone proves the extent of your relationship to be true, you could be exiled from the Seven Kingdoms altogether.”

“And you would not help me to your greatest strength?” Tears welled in your ears, fighting the urge to wipe them away. You refused to go through with that, he couldn’t deem you as weak as he claims you are. You just wanted to prove him wrong, but he’ll never give you that satisfaction.

Why was it so hard to build a good relationship with your father? Why did he make it this difficult to open up, and give love and support?

All the qualities he needed to be a good father were surpassed by you and directly expressed those attributes to Laena. On good days, he expressed those traits to Laenor as well.

But never you. Why never you?

Wasn’t it clear to tell? You craved that father’s love, which he disregarded entirely, assuming tough love was your criteria.

He could have never been so wrong.

Much like your mother, Rhaenys, but even then she only expressed gentle love, expressing her love equally between her three children. Nothing less than gentle love.

Everyday she never fails, striving to be a good mother with imperfections. Motherhood is a beautiful gift. Princess Rhaenys never made you forget that, wishing the best for her children.

If one parent can put in the effort, why can’t the other follow through as well?

Why was it so hard for your father to love you? Why was it so hard for you to not love your father after how he treated you in comparison to your younger siblings?

Everything was overwhelming your mind, and it felt dangerous to clamor down and struggle by yourself.

Your insecure thoughts. Hysterically cry for his love and comfort. Remain the same and endure this bitter treatment repeatedly.

“What happens in the near future would be your own decisions. Don’t expect me to be a good father when you refuse to be a dutiful daughter.”

“Oh, because you’re such a good father. The same way you fathered those two bastards’ boys back in Spicetown. The ones you abandoned and ignored their entire life. I do wonder, father, who’s truly your firstborn, me or Alyn?” You spat harshly, even so wincing at your tone. His reaction was worth it, witnessing his so-perfect life crumble in a matter of minutes. A secret which he truly put the effort in, self-sabotaging never misses.

He should have known your curiosity would lead to a bitter realization. According to him, you’ll do anything to spite him, even if it means breaking the Velaryon name.

“Stop speaking foolishly, where did you hear such slanders?”

“Deny all you want, father, but I know of them. I met them and their mother.”

“Listen to me carefully, Y/N–“

“What?! You’re not going to accept your infidelity.”

“Control your mouth. Now listen to me carefully, you will not tell your mother of my indiscretions, they’re in the past and will remain that way.”

“But they’re not, you have bastard sons, who you can only ignore for so long. Soon enough, mother will be aware, whether it’s by my tongue or yours. You will not play my mother like a common fool.”

“This entire conversation will not be repeated to your mother. You will not ruin our family with such poisonous lies.”

“I have ruined this family? It is you who did this!”

“You speak utter nonsense.” He grunted, consumed by denial.

“Regardless of that, you should be a great father. I’m your firstborn daughter, please stop treating me like I’m a screwup, and that nothing I ever accomplish will truly please you. That I can never be a decent daughter, I just want you to love me and care for me, how hard is that to ask?”

“Don’t be foolish, dear daughter.”

“Do you know how your coldness makes me feel? It makes me feel unwanted like you never wished for me. How my mind wonders if Laena was the eldest and I, the youngest, would I be showered in love and affection that you so proudly display for her! Laena may be your youngest child, but I’m your daughter too, I deserve my father’s attention and love just as much as Laena receives.”

“Spare the theatrics, Y/N. I never cared for it so I won’t do it now.”

“Maybe I’m obliged to throw theatrics if it gets your attention!”

“At times, I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

Your tone immediately became defensive, the hidden fury coming to light, “That’s because you don’t. You’ve never taken the time to get to know me.” Your eyes narrowed, frustration and anger easily consuming your emotions. Closing your eyes, attempting to control the uprising fury that seethed within you, yet coming to no avail. You were a loose cannon and your father held the matches, knowing exactly when to set you off.

No matter what, you can’t downplay your feelings, especially when your father disregards it as such.

Your father was in your life, but not how you wished it. He was there, but he wasn’t. Over time, you acknowledged the fact that he was rather a male figure than an actual father.

“How dare you imply as such? I’m your father, I know everything about you.” He retorts, a scoff passing his lips.

“No, you don’t. You never did.”

“Ask me a question, any question about you.”

“Fine, how old was I when I claimed Silverwing?”

“Do you take me for a fool, you don’t own a dragon.”

“Wrong! That’s Laena, she doesn’t have a bond with a dragon yet.”

“It’s an honest mistake, you and Laena are much alike, in more ways than one can think.” He claimed, seeking reasoning with his excuse. It was a pathetic attempt to answer with such confidence with the wrong intentions.

“I was 8 when I first bonded with Silverwing, me and Rhaenyra flew out to Dragonstone, hoping I’d get my dragon. In short, I almost died for stupidly going with an over-enthusiastic mindset and a torch shining my way through the dark depths of the unknown dragonpit. Silverwing had saved me from Vermithor’s wrath and if anything she claimed me as her rider.”

“You can’t expect me to remember every detail of your life. I have more important things to concern myself with.”

“More important things than knowing your firstborn daughter?”

Your father is a man of many obligations, putting duty over love in almost every circumstance. Was not loving you such a hard obligation that he had ignored?

“Precisely, your whole life is a duty itself. It’s time I begin seeking honorable suitors worthy even for your hand.”

“It’s my life, surely I must have some jurisdiction over my future betrothal. You just wish to marry me off for your benefit–“

“Mind your tongue, dear daughter. I do what I think is best for you, your own needs are insignificant during the marriage mart.”

“The next time you go to war, I’ll pray to the Gods that you perish there, so you won’t return to our family. Maybe then, the rest of us would be even happier–“

His right hand rose, too caught up in the moment before striking down at the young Velaryon girl. A sharp slap met your cheek, cutting off your statement, earning a surprised small gasp instead as you stumbled back. You quickly glanced at the older man, witnessing his disgruntled reaction, mouth agape in quick regret and widened eyes.

He stared down at you menacingly, breathing steadily as his hand dropped back to his side, clenching into a fist, causing him to cast his gaze aside.

He couldn’t look at you. Not anymore. Not after he struck down his own child. If Rhaenys caught wind of this altercation between her husband and eldest daughter…only the Gods above would know of Corlys’ fate.

Embarrassingly enough, he kept the tense silence flowing in the air. Your face is etched into a dark mixture of fear, disbelief, and anger, reaching up shaky fingers to your injured cheek as tears brim your eyes.

“Just because we’re behind closed doors doesn’t give you the right to disrespect me or our family. I have seen that your time here at the Red Keep has only worsened your tongue. You are my daughter and will act as such, and I demand your respect.”

During his lecture, your gaze drifted toward him as numerous thoughts immersed your mind.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He commanded any remorse or guilt that lingered in his eyes, quickly vanishing within his declaration.

Your jaw clenched in anger, the sting of the slap still lingering as you cradled your bruised cheek. Swallowing down the tears quickly, you craned your head towards your father with narrowed eyes meeting his furious own.

“Do you truly think Princess Rhaenyra would offer you a fairytale? She has duties to attend to, bigger than your entire existence. Sooner or late, she will grow out of this dalliance and you’ll be nothing but a mere memory to her.”

••••

Before you could reply, the familiar glimpses of auburn and silver hair led the conversation astray, courtesy of your father wanting to keep up with appearances. To him, it didn’t matter if he called you a big disappointment, only preferring the conversation being behind closed doors.

“Princess. My Lady.” Your father’s voice changed into a firm chuckle, dipping his head lightly before the two young ladies. He turned around, facing the young Lady and Princess, greeting with a small nod.

“Don’t let me delay your night even further,” A tight-lipped smile stretches on his face before glancing over his shoulder at his eldest daughter, a stoic gaze wavered in the slightest. “We will talk later, dear daughter. Sleep well and don’t act irrational,”

He already did ruin your night…well at least for you. Be it as may, your father knew exactly what harsh words to seep into your brain, sending your thoughts into overdrive.

Eventually, your family loyalty will overpower your love for Rhaenyra and distance yourself from her. Just like he had planned from the moment those unconfirmed rumors of your unnatural relationship with Rhaenyra reached his ears. If he’d been more sympathetic about his approach toward the conflict, perhaps this father-daughter conversation would have been lighter on the head. For once, you didn’t have to fight to reason with him or to plead for his consideration.

Was it true? Possibly yes. Will you allow his quick judgment to ruin your mood? Certainly not.

A simple wobble of your lip and unsteadiness in your posture almost cracked you. “Of course, father.” You gulped, using false pleasantries to assure.

The small smile was an added gesture of tying the perfect dismissal of your father’s overbearing words.

“Good.”

Much to your dismay, the thought of lingering around in the solitude of your bedchambers was quickly forgotten. Your beloved friends wandered inside, sending your father a respective head nod as he left, shutting the door behind him.

You turned away, wiping away your tears and leaving the faint remnants on your chemise. Unable to contain a few sniffles that escaped past your lips as more tears appeared in your eyes, blurring your vision and the right mindset to handle the soon persistent questions from your friends. Quickly, a hand shot up to your mouth, concealing the harsh sobs and mouth tremors.

“Is something the matter?” Alicent’s voice filled with genuine concern.

The Velaryon girl hesitated, her mind struggling to find the right words and her heart heavy with exhaustion. “No, I’m fine.” You sniffled, hoping neither of the girls would notice your abnormal response.

“Are you sure?”

Releasing a tired exhale, lifting your head toward the ceiling, observing the architecture, deciding to stay silent, hoping the hint carries on.

“You’re certainly not fine, what’s going on with you?” Rhaenyra insists, her footsteps padding gently across the floor moving closer to you.

So, no, they ignored the hint and continued. Well, more like Rhaenyra did and Alicent played the quiet bystander, mostly.

“I said it’s nothing, Rhae. Why must you be so persistent?”

Still, you made no movement to convince them, remaining silent.

“Because I care deeply for you,” She replies, her tone calm and collected.

Alicent’s head tilted slightly, sharing a glance toward Rhaenyra, going completely undetected by you.

“How can we comfort you if we remain unaware?” She pressed again, tone filled with a firm dedication to knowing the truth.

“…Did…your father speak harsh words to you?” She stepped toward you, cautiously reaching out a hand to place on your shoulder. Her touch made you shiver, softly gasping at the warm sensation, slowly meeting her gaze. “Right before we arrive in your chambers and don’t lie to me Y/N.”

At Rhaenyra’s statement, you shrugged off her comforting hand and sauntered closer to the bed. Sitting down on the mattress, releasing a soft sigh, covering your face with your hands, attempting to hide new unshed tears.

“Rhaenyra, please obey Y/N’s wishes.” Alicent defended, moving closer to you. “She can tell us at her own leisure.”

You sighed, shortly contemplating your options, dropping your hands into your lap. A slight wobble of your lips urged incoming tears to stream freely down your face. It was no use lying anyway.

Turning around to face the two other girls, you nodded weakly, your voice tightening upon seeing the sympathetic looks from them.

“Please stop looking at me all pitiful.”

Rhaenyra was quick with it. “What did he say?” She asked, the intensity in her voice growing with each step.

Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. You’ll never be good enough for her. You’ll never be good enough for your future husband. No matter how hard you try, her priorities will always remain first. Perhaps, your father was right, his harsh words holding a bit of semblance and truth to it.

What were you thinking? Living in your own fantasies, romantically involved with Princess Rhaenyra without any repercussions. Having to pursue a secret relationship behind closed doors and the shadows of the night?

It can only occur in dreams, so maybe it should stay in an imagination concept, fueling off of an unrequited desire that can never be rightfully fulfilled by her. The one girl you ever want and will always want. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the fiery spirit, who can never know of your true feelings toward her. There was too much at stake if those feelings went rogue, so it’s better to kill it and move on.

The longer you stayed silent, the longer the curiosity struck Alicent and Rhaenyra to figure out the full-blown argument between your father.

“What utter nonsense did he say to you?” Rhaenyra repeated, settling down beside you.

“Regardless of what Lord Corlys said, you should know it’s not true. You’re better than his depiction.” Alicent continued, trying a more gentle approach.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay, we will respect your wishes.” Alicent agreed to your statement, glancing at Rhaenyra. The Targaryen Princess stared at you, eyes filled with indignation and slight anger at your father’s words. Whatever he had spoken to you, it clearly affected you deeply. Even more so, his words made you keep silent, not even entrusting your two dearest friends with it.

“Won’t we, Rhaenyra?” The auburn girl cleared her throat before sending the silver-haired Princess a pointed stare, nudging at her side. Rhaenyra blinked once, paying no mind to Alicent’s assertive motion but surprisingly felt her heart constrict gently, observing how you anxiously fiddled with your fingers.

As if you regret saying anything in the first place. She refused to turn a blind eye to your silent suffering. She knows you’ll always do the same for her. Those many late nights you snuck into her bedchambers proved your loyalty to her.

A chance to comfort you, no matter how long it may take. She knew you were hurting inside and emotions tend to erupt at the most vulnerable moments. If she’s unable to console you now, it won’t be the last time to brush over this sensitive issue.

Holding your breath, gaze landing on her, observing every movement she portrayed. Her measured breathing, composed posture, and eyes glossed with trepidation.

She hated seeing you upset, much more crying, and not interfering on your behalf. But if you wished not to share your argument with your father, she couldn’t force an explanation.

Rhaenyra’s expression instantly grows earnest at the sound of your plea. She hated witnessing this, feeling like you were pushing away from her. “Yes, we will.” She finally speaks, a mixture of protectiveness and vulnerability, her jaw clenching at the sad mere sight of your tears.

Your shaky breath drew out into a relieved sigh, nodding your head uneasily.

“Good, thank you,” You came closer, grasping out onto their hands, squeezing their hands gently.

“Do you ever wish for us to bring up this topic again?” Rhaenyra mumbled, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then, so be it.”

A broken smile crept upon your lips, mirroring Rhaenyra’s small smile.

“Now where are the gifts we were promised?”

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent exclaimed, bewildered by the Princess’s quick change of demeanor.

“What?” She keenly asked, shrugging it off.

“You’re an impatient dragon, Nyra.” You huffed, the once tense atmosphere replaced by a wholesome one.

“Can you blame me for my bluntness, I was promised a gift so I’m not leaving without one.”

Spinning around, instinctively releasing your hands as you sauntered toward your vanity. The Velaryon girl rummaged through her drawer, using a specific key to unlock the bottom drawer.

“When I was with my siblings in Driftmark about a year ago. I had met these two brothers, no older than me and holding a sparking resemblance to my father, and paid them to make these. The younger brother, Addam, was so sweet and easily trusting…his older brother Alyn, not so much. Anyways, they spent their days fishing for gold in the sea while their mother was a shipwright, Ms. Miranda. She wasn’t married–“

“All unnecessary information, tell us what you got.” Rhaneyra interrupted firmly, scoffing slightly.

You apologized for hopelessly rambling on, seeking out the two hidden jewelry boxes.

“I gave them two bags of gold in compensation to create matching bracelets for us. I asked them to show me how to make the bracelets since it was our friendship anniversary, it’d be a great gift.”

You handed both girls a small box, squealing in excitement when they opened their respective boxes. Inside each box was a box chained gold bracelet, carved beautifully with several ornaments.

“Each one has all of our first names initially designed with a few assortments of seashells by me.”

Each engraved heart initial shone underneath the moonlight, written in cursive, a beautiful piece of penmanship. The three bracelets had three first initials, caterogizing ‘A’, for Alicent, ‘Your First Name Initial’ and ‘R’ for Rhaenyra.

Their silences gave you the wrong impression, feeling a frown overtake your lips.

“Do you guys not like it?”

The Hightower girl was the first to reply, “I love it!” She bashfully smiles, attaching the jewelry around her wrist in adoration and dangling the mini additional trinkets. “The little seashells are so adorable.”

“Originally I had planned for it to have our mother’s house sigil…but I didn’t want to go overboard.”

“Either way, I love it.” The auburn girl nodded in confirmation again, easing your doubts.

“What about you Rhaenyra?” Your attention is focused on your other friend. Holding your hands together in anticipation, a giddy expression plastered on your face, waiting for her opinion. However the more she stayed silent, mindlessly observing the gold-plated bracelet, your hope was quickly replaced by desperation, then slowly followed by dread. The giddy expression disappeared slowly but surely, disregarding your held breath.

You had really hoped she had adored it, just like Alicent did. But it seems it won’t be the same with Rhaenyra. After all, the Princess was harder to please, making your chosen gifts to be more meaningful toward her. The Princess hates insensitive gifts, another reason why kind consideration when picking her gifts is crucial.

Keeping your eyes on the bracelet in the tiny box, “…Do you not like it, Nyra?” Your voice trailed off, not even hiding the disappointment in your tone.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, an embarrassment to wonder if your friends had overhead the anxious heartrate.

Her neutral expression sent no ounce of ease, only alleviating your anxiety. You hated this. You hated not knowing her current thoughts on the gift.

“It’s something different than what I’m used to,” She started, sparing glances between you and the bracelet still in the tiny box.

“…Is that all?” You trailed off, hesitantly to even continue speaking.

“Therefore, I love it even more because of your dedication and effort.”

“So, you love it?”

“I could never lie to you.” She claims, a small smirk creeping up on her lips.

“Never?”

“I swear it on the Gods.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Is that not what us Targaryens are known for?” She rhetorically asked, tilting her head.

“That doesn’t mean we should take their kindness for granted.”

“I suppose so.”

Alicent strolled toward your bed, not disrupting the organized pillows and new bedsheets while Rhaenyra settled on your vanity chair, staring at the round mirror. She observed the several paintings adorning the dresser, smiling at the sight of your alluring presence in each one.

“Perhaps we should wear our bracelets for tomorrow, it’s perfect timing.” The Hightower girl chimed in.

“I agree.” Rhaenyra nods her head, giving a last glance at the jewelry.

“Good, that way we can all have a piece of each other, no matter our distance.” You hummed, intrigued by the glistening moon peering down outside your window.

“Where ever shall we go, Y/N?” Alicent overlooks Rhaenyra’s reaction to your sudden interest in the moon.

The Princess slowly gulped away any admiration, a rosy blush burned across her face as the cold realization settled in. She glimpsed downward at the floor, attempting to admire the architecture but miserably failed. With an flustered yet hidden expression, tightly clenched hands before relaxing them at her sides and collecting her sense of mind.

“I don’t know..” You shrug, focusing your attention back to your friends. “When me and Alicent get married, we might move to our husbands’ homeland.”

“This night was meant to be fun and men-free and to avoid upcoming nuptials, everything regarding adult life. Why bring it up now?” Rhaenyra scoffs at the harsh reminder of life, awaiting them as highborn ladies.

“We all know it’s gonna happen soon, why ignore it?”

“Because that way I can spend more time with you two.”

“Eventually, we’re all going to be married and have kids of our own.”

“Maybe I wish to escape this world; where duty values moreover love. I want to marry someone who my heart desires, not to strengthen a bond between houses.” Rhaenyra explained, her lips tugged into a frown and with a tone of heavy heart, “Obviously, my title as the Princess will remain, I will never give up my royal status for anyone.”

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

“Yes, I can, I’m a Princess and I can willfully share it with you and Alicent.” She mused, a hint of wonder in her voice, beaming at the simple possibility.

“You’re impossible at times,”

“How else would I be certain I have your attention?”

“You always do, even without trying.”

“I’m quite remarkable, aren’t I?”

“The most remarkable Targaryen Princess indeed.” You replied, enjoying the little banter.

She stepped closer, now at arm’s length. “As you are the most enticing Velaryon lady.” She tilted her head, gently biting down on her lip.

Alicent cleared her throat, interrupting the small moment between her friends.

“Can we please forget about men and marriages for one night? This is all about us three.”

“You’re right, I apologize for dampening the mood of discussing men and marriages.”

“Good, all is forgiven.” A warm smile slyly appears on her face, now recognizing the little gap between the two. Her gaze slowly rises, focusing on your reaction to the close proximity.

You hummed, clutching at your own wrists behind your back, blissfully unaware of her forthcoming statement.

“Although there is another way to properly confirm your apology if you wish it. It’d be beneficial to both our strengths and possible unknown interests.” Her combined sultry tone and cocky smirk made the butterflies swarm in your stomach. All of your words got stuck at the back of your throat, silencing your speech.

The heat rushed to your cheeks, very grateful that blushes weren’t visible on your melanin skin, but rather by your frantic and flustered actions.

You took a few steps backward, distancing yourself from the Princess’s grasp much to her dismay. In all honesty, Rhaenyra didn’t expect your unusual cold shoulder, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and a defeated expression on her face. Surprisingly, she made no protests to your subtle rejection and brushed it aside.

Just when it was getting entertaining and thrilling, there was an obstacle. Even if your sudden movement, is aimed with the best of intentions because the Princess lacked restraint regarding you. If you had come any closer, she’d render you speechless, stealing your first kiss, finally gaining the glorious moment of tasting your lips.

Seemingly, you missed Rhaenyra’s temptation of reaching out to lure you back in, retracting her hands tentatively, contemplating between her mind and body.

She fought against the urge, withstanding even the strongest temptations, which was you, your presence…oh your perfect soft lips. Oh, how she dreamt of many nights such as this to feel your lips upon hers and wonder how your lips taste.

Dreaming of adoring and kissing your beautiful brown skin, glistening underneath the bright moon or scorching sun, peeking through her window in the comfort of her chambers. No one would disturb her quiet alone company with you, she’d made sure of it. If they did, someone would be relieved of their duties, she wouldn’t risk it.

Not herself or her status. Definitely not you.

Yet, she didn’t mind the idea of having you all to herself, no husband to be jealous over and no nuisance kids to be bothered with.

She’d wake up, kissing and tracing your beautiful brown skin tone, speaking fondly of her admiration of the familiarity. As it would on a bestowed night with her last reminder, hypnotizing her into a peaceful slumber.

You were beautiful, your skin tone was stunning and your lips were addictive.

How could she possibly resist your magnetic charm, especially if your greatest quality was loyalty? The most powerful trait that you flawlessly flaunt about everyday, how could she not love you?

Everything about you was too alluring, she’d be stupid to think otherwise, your power over her held strongly, whether your awareness lacked or not.

Your head hung low, expressing a sheepish manner. A small muttering left your lips, finally meeting their understanding gazes. “It is not entirely your fault, I was just fearful of the future and the lingering effects of our friendship.”

“Let us hope the Gods are in our favor for such a lifelong friendship.” Alicent remains ever so optimistic, despite the unfair circumstances placed on highborn women.

“When are the Gods truly so kind?” Rhaenyra recalls with an eye roll. Her attitude was not directed at Alicent, but rather at the Gods.

“We must promise to remain together, no matter what.” You suggested.

“No matter who we marry.” The auburn girl states quietly but assertively.

“Or how far a distance we are,” Rhaenyra adds on.

The trio of girls nodded in agreement, interlocking their pinkies together, whispering a silent plea to the Gods above.

••••

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© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[crumbledstatues]

TALIA FORRESTER

Talia Forrester is the fifth-born child and second-born daughter of Lord Gregor and Lady Elissa Forrester of Ironrath, located in the Wolfswood in the North. Born in 284 AC, Talia has two older brothers, Rodrik and Asher, one older sister, Mira, a twin brother, Ethan, and a younger brother, Ryon. She also has two half-siblings: Josera and Elsera Snow, who live beyond the Wall in a mythical place called the North Grove.

The Forresters are vassals of House Glover in Deepwood Motte and have been loyal to the Starks for centuries. They are most sought out for their Ironwood forests, as well as the Ironwood they produce. Ironwood is heavily sought after for its strength and durability. House Forrester has been the only ones to maintain and strengthen the realm's supply of Ironwood.

Talia has seen a life of tragedy. Her father had been killed at the Red Wedding, her brother Rodrik presumed dead, her brother Asher exiled to Essos., and her sister off in King's Landing as a handmaiden of Margaery Tyrell. It is then her twin brother, Ethan, must take up the role of Lord of Ironrath. Young and inexperienced, he is slain by Ramsay Bolton in their own home in an attempt of protecting Talia from being taken as Ramsay's ward. Even with this loss, her younger brother Ryon, is taken as a ward of their rival house, House Whitehill, who has been destroying Ironwood for centuries. With loss after loss, Talia is forced to pick up the pieces after a garrison is set up in their home of enemy forces.

With her brother Rodrik's sudden appearance, they must do everything within their power to secure Ironrath, its Ironwood supply, and House Forrester itself.

Talia is good-willed, family-oriented, determined, and stubborn to a fault. She holds great pride for her House and her family. She will push for what she believes is right and seeks justice and revenge on those who have done her and her family wrong. She is a songwriter with a voice said to be like "Summer rain". She has been taught to properly wield a sword by Ironrath's Master-at-Arms, Royland Degore.

wiki | gameplay

[atopvisenyashill]

how do you think alysanne would feel about gay targcest? because while i can believe the conqueror trio and jaehaerys see their incestuous traditions as a means to establish dominance over non-valyrians and produce pure-blooded dragon riders, alysanne always came off like she bought into the "romance" of it all. like if baelon ever came to her and admitted that he loves aemon more than he ever could alyssa, would she internally accept that as real love (even if not a politically convenient love) or would she insist that real targcest makes inbred babies and two brothers fucking each other is just a step too far for some reason?

okay first of all. fuck george for never giving us explicit mm targcest. i love rhaena the lesbian i think she’s a fascinating insight in valyrian gender roles and also she’s just a wildly interesting character. but she’s not enough dammit we need more queers. george stop being such a jersey boy and write anal. stop being afraid of penises george you're a grown ass married man.

second of all and keeping in mind i don't have f&b in front of me bc it's always checked out on libby. okay see i need to caveat this bc obviously there are different reactions to gay women vs gay men. but our only frame of reference here is RHAENA. (and laenor but alysanne didn’t know he was gay bc he was only like 4 when she died, LAENOR probably didn’t even know he was gay yet) and the thing is. they all know she’s gay! and no one seems to…care? alysanne & jaehaerys are happy when rhaena married androw but that’s bc it means she gets to live with ELISSA forever now. j&a aren’t like androw stans they don’t give a shit about that dude. they all seem very aware of who rhaena’s various girlfriends are! there’s no report of alysanne ever having a problem with this! it’s not like she showed up after the poisoning and was like “well maybe if you bedded your husband more often this never would have happened” does she? her problems with rhaena are all rooted in their PERSONALITIES in their TRAUMA like she’s not even recorded to have made some sort of nasty comment about any of Rhaena's lovers. in fact, the people who had an issue with Rhaena's lovers were a) the fathers of her girlfriends or b) Rhaena's own husband. Alysanne (and, to be fair, Jaehaerys) seems to view this whole ting more as like. Well that's just Rhaena, she's a bit odd. I think it adds to the almost Inhuman Beauty of Rhaena in a way - she's so larger than life, even her love can't be confined to the simple dichotomy of husband-and-wife, no she prefers her ladies instead (I was thinking of like, Lady Hideko from The Handmaiden - how the con artist mentions that there's a coldness to her that she could never be seduced by a man. An almost ethereal beauty there that is tied to the fact that she is not attracted to men).

What I think is key here is that a) they're both Valyrians b) Rhaena is her sister and Alysanne loves her despite the issues they have c) Rhaena "does her duty" and has a child by her Valyrian brother. SO. In my opinion, I think the specific scenario of Baelon coming to her and saying he doesn't love Alyssa, he loves Aemon, I think she would buy into the romantic nature of it. I think she would absolutely insist that he marry Alyssa anyway, if only to protect him from rumors and keep it like, ~in the family~ the way Rhaena and Aegon did, but if they only ever had Viserys, I think she would be okay with that. I think she would paint Alyssa as his "protector" in her mind - that fondness she saw between them wasn't her and Jaehaerys reborn after all, but perhaps more of the dynamic Rhaena likely wanted with Aegon (but reversed). Which isn't to say this won't devolve into a weird dynamic - the thing about this is that Alysanne isn't just projecting her own relationship onto her kids, she's projecting Rhaena & herself as well (imo Viserra gets the brunt of this) and Alysanne wanting her kids to playact a scenario where Rhaena is happily brother-married and living her best lesbian life still has just, so many openings to get really deranged. I think Jocelyn would face a lot of issues here. I think Alyssa might be allowed a level of GNC-ness that she isn't allowed in the books, but there's a trade off here where Alyssa is essentially playing Aegon the Uncrowned's role - and if she isn't happy with that, Alysanne would get upset. I think it's not unlikely Baelon doesn't get that "the Brave" epithet because he gets very force-femmed as a way to protect Aemon's reputation.

If Baelon was in love with like, some random household knight, that imo would upset Alysanne. But in love with Aemon? I do think she could make herself happy projecting onto that one.

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Chapter 6

Daeron’s main suspects are all gathered in the same place.

Lucky for him Helaena was going to call on their sister’s household because her sweet nature doesn’t see them for the treacherous vipers they are.

Helaena had visited Dragonstone in recent years, she and Aegon had gone for Visenya’s anointing and the twins’ namedays ---Jace and Aemma as well as Rhaena and Baela’s--- in father’s place and corresponded frequently with them.

You worry for nothing, they are harmless, she had said as she had the children readied for their playdate with their cousins and asked the handmaiden to set two or three places at the table as she expected Daemon’s daughters and Aemma to come to dinner.

They are vipers, he had said shocked that she’d invite them over to dinner with their family.

The only vipers are over there, Helaena had said looking at the Tower of the Hand where grandsire and the lords of the Small Council were gathered for a meeting.

Perhaps she was right, there is nothing fiend-like in them, he notes as they ladies laugh over some anecdote over tea. None of the women here where the bloodthirsty monsters mother had said they were after Aemond’s loss of his eye.

Aemma gave a frustrated huff as she gave up her embroidery, Rhaenyra talked with Helaena about the virtues of having the children’s hatchlings remain with them to foster their bond and the twins seemed perfectly capable of holding their violence.

Rhaena sketched on the seat beside him, and Baela posed with a book in her hands and a foot hanging off the side of the couch in front of them.

“Out with it, Daeron the Daring, what is it that has you looking at us like we are bugs Helaena is planning to pick apart for her boards?” Baela the Bold asks without breaking her pose. Rhaena the Radiant paused to look at him with as much curiosity as she did at the ball.

They were pretty, though Baela was the one who stood out with her boldness, Daeron preferred Rhaena’s subdued and more ladylike nature.

“The Morning Scandal. Seeing as my niece’s words are apparently frequent guests in the sheet, I would like to know which one of you is the gossipmonger who insults so many under a pseudonym.” He is as blunt as Aemond in hopes it gives him a result. Aemond can get all that he wants with a blunt sentence and a bored look in his face, a power Daeron has yet to develop.

“I am three years older than you, Daeron. I would rather you call me Aemma than niece, makes you sound like an old man.” Aemma the Adored points out and he bites his because he knows Helaena is only ten moons older than her and doesn’t mind when she calls her niece from time to time. “And no, I am not the writer, I just happen to be one her favorite subjects.”

This she says with a look of annoyance, as if she hated the attention her words got. Reminds him of Aemond when he is sought by every girl who finds his and rudeness to their liking ---which is all of them.

Then again she is their half-sister's daughter and some resemblance was expected.

“Neither am I nor is Rhaena, before you ask. I can’t be bothered to care about gossip, if it were Rhaena it would be extremely complimentary about Ser Corwyn in its latest issue. He danced with her twice and came to call earlier.” Baela shot down his accusations with ease. It was annoying to say the least.

Perhaps he can study them closely at dinner. If they accept Helaena’s invitation, that is.

“I think they would suit.” Helaena says to her spouses as they wait for their guests to arrive.

If you saw her ---heard her too--- you would assume she was this overly sheltered

“Aemond is too resentful for her. Likely thinks its her fault father didn’t let mother maim Luke in revenge for his eye.” Aegon made a face at the seating arrangements.

“Oh, I disagree. He would’ve let Lyonel ruin her if believed that. They are evenly matched, besides most of her suitors are intimidated by her height. She is as tall as you, husband.” Elissa said as she moved Baela’s name with Rhaena’s thus changing her partner from Daeron to Jace.

They are much happier now that Elissa is theirs.

They had wed the Valyrian way in Dragonstone last summer, Daemon and Rhaenyra had been so kind as to officiate for them and give them the bridal suite to take sweet Elissa’s maidenhead that night.

Soon they would be retiring to the newly built Summer Hall claiming to need fresh air and privacy for the birth of their third child.

They love Elissa, Elissa loves them and if Targaryen Exceptionalism had included polygamy, they would have happily married her and poor little Maelor wouldn’t have to be passed on as Helaena’s to hide the truth.

She hopes he has hair as red as Elissa's, a perfect blend of his mothers and fathers. Even if he takes after his mother, no one will dare call him a bastard.

Not when those who love to harass their sister and nephews are those who want Aegon king. And the Morning Scandal wouldn’t publish anything on it, Helaena knows the writer and has been supplying her with every miniscule detail of court and the parties she was too young to attend.

“If Aemond weds Aemma, mother gets her assurance Rhaenyra won’t kill us. We only need to make that happen so when the dragons dance, we don’t die.” The Dreamer revealed the reason she wanted her brother to find his helpmate in Aemma.

They do not wish to usurp Rhaenyra, and they won’t, they only wish to live in peace with their wife and three children.

But mother believes all that her father tells her, and Ser Otto says they must start a war and kill everyone they love because he wants to rule through Aegon.

He will never get his wish; Helaena has seen the future and refuses to let it come to pass.

“That dream again?” Elissa asked softly and the princess nodded.

It is incoherent, pieces of death and fire and terror and ends with her being pushed out the window by Lady Misery.

She sees her babes die, sees Aemond kill Luke and die by Daemon’s sword, sees Aegon destroyed and murder their sister while her only living child watches. It is a nightmare that grows longer and clearer as their father weakens.

This morning when they held court and mother sat on the Iron Throne, she saw her mother sit on piles of headless corpses and holding Jaehaerys’ head on her lap.

She had told Aegon and Elissa about it, and both had decided their silent defiance of mother and grandfather must become louder and impossible to ignore.

If Aemma weds Aemond and one of the twins marries Daeron, mother would see reason and the war will never happen.

This dinner doesn’t need to be a success, the Dreamer only needs for the One Eye to truly see the person beside him.

[foundershq]

WELCOME to the Village of Elissa, TESSIA KAERNYN! We ensure that you will enjoy your time here and look forward to having you.

ANA DE ARMAS is now TAKEN. Please submit your character account within 24 hours.

[ TESSIA KAERNYN ] is a / an [ ONE HUNDRED AND TWO YEARS OLD / APPEARS 37], [ WITCH ], they work as a / an [ HANDMAIDEN OF HOUSE HELIUS] in Elissa’s Village. [ SHE / HER ] is / are awfully [ ASSIDUOUS ], but be careful, they’re also [ PUCKISH ]. They often remind me of [ ANA DE ARMAS ], in a / an [ STRAY TENDRILS OF QUELLAZAIRE SMOKE DIPPED IN OLEANDER ; LABYRINTHINE GAZE, FAMILIAL LOYALTY OVER FAMILIAL BLOOD ] type of way. {BAUBLE, TWENTY-SEVEN, CST, SHE/HER, NO TRIGGERS }

[heroineimages]

Writing a lesbian warrior queen

(Art by @mjbarros)

This startles a lot of people, and it’s weird to think about in retrospect, but Queen Viarra wasn’t a lesbian when I was initially developing her character. When I first started figuring out Viarra---before I even knew that the story was going to have an ancient-world, Greco/Roman setting---I’d planned for one of the tragedies of her character to be that she has a true love who she’s never able to marry because of politics. Among other ideas, I’d considered giving her some dashing army officer who catches her eye or a kindhearted serving boy who adores her or even a slightly older mentor figure who she comes to care deeply for: someone she loves deeply but is never able to marry because she’s a princess and has to marry a king or prince. 

In retrospect, I’m really glad I took a different route. (Lengthy discussion to follow.)

When I started writing the story’s prologue for NaNoWriMo in 2013, Viarra’s beloved Elissa didn’t even have a name. She was just the skinny handmaid who happened to survive the attempted regicide on Viarra’s family. Upon revision, I realized a close handmaid could provide interesting perspective on Viarra’s character, so I gave Elissa a name with the intent of making her sort of the Watson to Viarra’s Holmes. But while working on an early scene from Elissa’s POV, I noticed that some of her feelings for her queen bordered on lust. There was this weird moment of clarity and a powerful realization of my own heteronormativity where I asked myself, Why does Viarra’s true love have to be a man? 

In terms of my writing, this might be the best and most game-changing question I’ve ever asked myself.

Initially I made a couple of stabs a writing a coming-out scene between Viarra and Elissa, but neither attempt felt right, and given the pacing of the story I felt it best to establish them as having been lovers since before the story started. Instead I have an early scene where they reminisce about the first time they made love (nsfw warming for foreplay and racy dialogue). At first, Viarra is reluctant to make Elissa her regular mistress, knowing that as queen of a relatively weak city-state, she’ll eventually need to marry a king from a stronger nation to solidify a strong political alliance. 

When Viarra takes over the Hegemony of Andivel, later in the story, Elissa gets injured by an assassin sent by envious political rivals. The incident makes Vi rethink her priorities, and, realizing that she’s now approaching any political marriage from a position of strength, she declares bugger-all on keeping her relationship with Elissa hidden. She promotes Elissa from handmaid to royal concubine, keeping her beloved close at all times. 

Somewhat later in the story, Viarra ends up with a harem of loyal slave girls. It occurred to me that once her fellow monarchs and allies discover that the queen prefers women bedfellows, many of them are likely to kiss up by gifting her attractive slave girls to keep her entertained. (Don’t worry, Elissa uses the harem, too.) Vi maintains her ladies’ loyalty by making exquisite love to them and promotes camaraderie between them by encouraging them to make love to each other. Ever a pragmatist, Viarra is hardly the sort to keep a bunch of women around whose only purpose is for her to fornicate with. Instead she trains those who are willing as courtesan ambassadresses/spies, creating an extensive diplomacy/espionage network throughout her hegemony. 

Perhaps more interestingly, Viarra’s lesbianism ends up becoming a part of her power as queen and hegemon. Where it’s not unheard of for dark-queen figures in literature to use seduction as a means of forming alliances with rival kings, Viarra’s character throws a bit of a twist on that by sleeping with queens and princesses instead. In fact, many of these kings encourage their sisters, daughters, or even wives to sleep with Viarra in order to incur the queen’s favor. This in turn creates opportunities for all manner of politics, coercion, intelligence-gathering, and other subterfuge that a cunning queen can get up to when she’s got access to the women who know the king best. 

This whole story has been such an interesting ride and has gone so many places I’d never expected when I started. One of these days I’ll hopefully get it finished and published. Until then, thanks for reading, folks, and any thoughts or feedback are welcome! 

[fifthbornforrester]

i asked about clothes .... now what about hair 👀

Trying to kill me, I see. Alright, well, strap in. 

Let’s start out with her canon hairstyle. This is the only one seen with her. 

The hairstyle is incredibly basic and honestly makes me a bit sad. The world of ASOIAF and GOT are filled with such beautiful hairstyles that seeing something so simple can be a little disheartening. Still, it makes sense. House Forrester is not the one to have handmaidens. Their House is too minor for that. So unless her mother wishes to do her hair, Talia does it herself. She still wants to look put-together but something simple and quick can let her spend more time outdoors and with her family instead of help up in her room doing her hair. She opts for keeping most of her hair down with a fringe parted from her left and sweeping right. With an extra strand of her hair behind her ear, she 3 strand braids it all the way down to the ends and lays it across the crown of her head, securing it with a pin. 

Her hair is wavy, so if it is not frizzy by rubbing against her pillows, it ends up looking pretty good. 

With the North, there seems to be a pattern of hair styling regarding braids. Many of the hair is either pulled from the crown of the head or the temples to begin the braiding and styling process. This can be seen in a variety of Northern styles. Here are some examples with Sansa, Alys Karstark, her mother, Elissa, and Gwyn Whitehill, another Northern character in the game. Lace braids are incredibly popular when it comes to the braiding style on the scalp. Taking inspiration from both the Northern style, she will mimic looks like these when she is more inclined to spend more time on her hair.

During times of celebration, her mother definitely helps with her hair. The styles are incredibly intricate and boast both Northern pride and possibly showing off. Braids upon braids are put into her hair and overlapped with one another. 

These style will return once she reclaims Ironrath post-canon. With this newfound leader role, showing she means business means wearing her Northern braids with pride. 

Pre-canon, I see her hair remaining the same besides with the celebrations I just mentioned. She may experiment with more intricate styles more often due to the fact that she allows her older sister to practice braiding on her hair. When it is up to Elissa doing it, the down style with the braid we see in canon and two lace braids at the beginning of the scalp feeding into one three-strand braid are the casual looks, seen on Alys Karstark: 

Post canon, I see her going on a strange hair journey. For a while, she tries her best to keep her hair long. But with trying to stay alive, taking time to brush out and do her hair every day is a waste of time. I can see herself cutting her hair to at least her shoulders willingly. It gives her even ground with fighting so no one can reach to grab for extra long hair. Late at night, she’ll lay with her arms aching from braiding a shorter strand strand over and over in remembrance of her previous life. It still can be braided, but it is the least of her worries if she braids her hair for the day or not. If requested, she will cut it super short in means of disguising herself, but that is only if it is necessary. 

The chop seems to be a one or two time thing. Once allies are secured, she allows herself to grow her hair out again. With time, her styles grow more intricate, matching those around her while also bringing a flair of her own. She takes inspiration from all over, including those around her and memories of her mother’s style. These are also seen with Ironrath is reclaimed along with her celebratory styles.

and that is all I can say!

[stilestiliinski]

i was tagged by the lovely @davidlynch to make a list of ten favorite period dramas, thank u elissa 🥺💗

roma (2018) / pride and prejudice and zombies (2016) / pride and prejudice (2005) / emma (2020) / portrait of a lady on fire (2019) / pan’s labyrinth (2006) / a little princess (1995) / the handmaiden (2016) / my week with marilyn (2011) / elisa & marcela (2019)

tagging: @esterexpsito @hardytoms @daughtersofthanos @beaniefeldsteins @gregory-peck @wonderwomans @lizziebennet & anyone else who wants to do this feel free to say i tagged you 💓

[me-up-blog]

Details for my ASOIAF RP search

Hello everyone! I'm 20+, live in Europe, and am looking for a 1x1 RP set in Westeros/Essos. I have read and loved all the books and I watched the show up until season 4. I have many plot ideas, some detailed and others vague, and have been interested in playing this for a long time. The play need not to be ship-centered, but I find that it always helps to develop a gripping plot.

I play lit only.

The length is flexible depending on the scene. I usually write 200-400 words in a normal post.

I like some communication about the plot, but also the freedom to do what we want to.

I like and offer semi-regular posting. I don’t need and cannot deliver daily posts.

Now onto some of my ships and concurrent ideas! Characters with a * are characters I'd like to play.

In general, I like prequel stories. I can set a story in basically any era in Westeros. I’m also very interested in Essosi-based stories. Some times I would especially like to play in: Robert’s Rebellion, the Doom of Valyria, the Dance of the Dragons. I also like AU settings of the current time, e.g. “what if Robert’s Rebellion had failed” or “what if Rhaegar had married Cersei” or something like that. I’m curious what other ideas you might have!

Canon characters I’m fond of playing

Female: Cersei, Arianne, Sansa, Dany, Melisandre (!), Asha, Rhaenys (daughter of Rhaegar), Myrcella, pretty much all historical Targs - open for other characters too, as long as they’re not characters I won’t play (see below) Male: Theon, Oberyn, Jon, Stannis, Loras, Young Griff/Aegon VI, JonCon, pretty much all historical Targs - open for other characters too, as long as they’re not characters I won’t play (see below)

Characters I won’t play

This does not mean I dislike these characters - I just don’t see myself having fun playing them. Rhaegar, Ramsay, Balon, Euron, Sandor, Tyrion, Robb Brienne, Margaery, Meera, Missandei, Ygritte

Canon characters in ships

f/f Rhaena*/Elissa Farman Arianne*/Dany Sansa*/Asha Elia*/Lyanna* (!) Melisandre*/fOC (!) Dany*/fOC* Myrcella*/fOC

f/m Cersei*/Jaime Cregan Stark*/Alysanne Blackwood* (!) Arianne*/Aegon VI Baelon*/Alyssa* (!) Daemon*/Rhaenyra*

m/m Theon*/Viserys (!) Oberyn*/Willas* Young Griff*/Jon* Loras*/Renly JonCon*/Rhaegar JonCon*/Oberyn* Daario*/Hizdahr (!) Daeron*/Ser Jeremy Norridge (!) Kermit Tully*/Benjicot Blackwood* Laenor Velaryon*/Joffrey Lonmouth Jon*/mOC JonCon*/mOC*

I have concrete ideas for: Arianne/Dany, Melisandre/fOC, Elia/Lyanna,  Cersei/Jaime,  Daeron/Jeremy, Loras/Renly, Theon/Viserys and Young Griff/Jon. But I would still love to play all the others too!

Ships I won’t play

I’m generally open to any ship you suggest to me, even crack ships. There are some ships I’m not interested in playing, however. Not because I don’t like them, or because I think they’re uninteresting - I’m just not interested in playing them specifically. For some of these, I even hope they’ll be endgame, but I still don’t wanna play them. Arya/Gendry, Lyanna/Rhaegar, Brienne/Jaime, Petyr/Sansa, Robb/Theon, Margaery/Robb, Margaery/Tommen, Joffrey/Sansa

OCs

With OC/OC ships, I usually only play f/f or m/m unless you blow me away with your idea, haha.

Generally, I'm very interested in playing m/m in one of the men-only communities: Night's Watch, Kingsguard, a sellsword company, even the Citadel. I can play at any point in time. I'm also interested in two lords or something similar, of course.

I have 6 male OCs I'm interested in playing, the first 3 are lowborn, the latter 3 are highborn: Morgan, a peasant orphan from Dorne who grew up to become a skilled archer and warrior; Ser Gwayne Waters, bastard son of Lord Celtigar, an honorable and idealistic knight; Ser Symon of the Sea, son of a thrall and professional liar; Valerion Targaryen, a prince and dragon rider; Tymor Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock, proud and able; Ossyfer Tully, Lord of Riverrun; Vorian Royce, who prays to the Old Gods.

Regarding f/f, I’m interested in a play set in Dorne or at the royal court, between a ruling lady and one married to someone, or her handmaiden, or something like that. I’m also very interested in a play with a Targaryen princess. Generally, I’m very open here.

I have 4 female OCs I’m interested in playing: A female Targaryen princess, dragon rider; Lady Aliandra Dalt, ruling lady of Lemonwood, a Dornish beauty; Hazel, a spearwife and warg of the Free Folk;  Cerelle Serret, to be married to Lord Lannister.

They all have distinct characteristics and I'd love to talk about them with you if you're interested in a OC/OC play.

Please send me a PM to get things started! I'm most comfortable with Discord, but I'm also open to other platforms.

[allisondraste]

Temperance (12/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Liss knows she’s in trouble when her father uses her full name. 

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:18, Dragon

Liss was to be on her best behavior.  That was what her father told her, and he had used her full name, so she knew that there would be serious consequences if she did not obey.  Still, she wasn’t quite sure what her best behavior was. She always tried to stay out of trouble, to do good, to be kind, but somehow, it never quite worked out for her.  The only reason she hadn’t spent most of her summers scrubbing pots was because Fergus and Nate came to her defense more times than they probably should have. She just liked to have fun, and sometimes that meant breaking the rules.  Sometimes, it meant convincing Delilah Howe to sneak into the Great Hall with her to see the arrival of King Maric and his entourage.

Glittering and golden, Maric walked with an air of easy confidence one would have expected from a rebel hero and now King of Ferelden.  He was exceptionally tall, but his loose posture and gentle smile made him seem far less imposing than the taciturn man at his side. Teyrn Loghain walked next to him with hard, clanking steps and a scowl upon his face.  In many ways, he reminded her of Arl Howe, but in many ways he didn’t. There was a soft admiration in his eyes when he looked at Maric that became even softer when he looked at his daughter. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Howe look at anything with admiration except his own reflection in the mirror.

Lady Anora was everything Liss had imagined her to be, tall and graceful with hair as golden as the king’s armor, braided into an intricate design at the back of her head.  Teyrna Mac Tir had not accompanied her family on this trip, so Liss wondered if Anora had a handmaiden who did her hair, or if she’d done it herself. It would have certainly been a surprise if the grumpy teyrn knew how to create such elaborate braids.  She stood quietly, with perfect posture, and Liss was completely enamored. She had never seen someone so beautiful in real life.

Then there was Prince Cailan.  He was shorter than his betrothed and lanky, with hands and feet he hadn’t quite grown into yet, much like Nate.  In fact, Liss remembered reading his birth year in one of the books Aldous had given her, and she thought they were around the same age.  Yet, the prince could not have been more different than her friend. Like his father, Cailan carried himself with a swagger and a flare of irreverence and disregard for the fact that his father and the other adults were engaged in a very formal introduction.  He fidgeted and looked around the Great Hall boredly, whistling the tune of Andraste’s Mabari. He had no sense for the rhythm, but she’d recognize the notes anywhere.

“The prince is so… handsome,” Delilah giggled beside her and Liss turned to look at the raven-haired girl, who abruptly brought her hand to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  Liss joined in her laughter but refocused her eyes on the scene before them.

“I don’t know, he’s alright I guess,” Liss whispered, disinterested, but watching Anora’s every motion.  

“Oh, right,” Delilah said with another laugh, elbowing Liss in the arm, “You like my brother.”

“Don’t be silly, Delilah.”  Liss rolled her eyes. “I already told you I don’t think of Thomas like that.  I know everyone thinks we’ll be married someday, but that’s dumb. Papa says I don’t have to marry anyone I don’t want to, and that I’m too young to decide right now anyway.”

“I wasn’t talking about Thomas.”

Liss froze even as her face grew hot, that final comment enough to finally draw her attention from the scene before them.  “ What ,” she hissed, causing an uncharacteristically mischievous grin to cross her friend’s face.

Her smile deepened as she sang her brother’s name, playfully. “Nathaniel.”

Liss huffed and turned her nose up at the suggestion.  “That’s even sillier than Thomas.”

“You’re only saying that because it’s the truth.  Your rosy cheeks are giving you away, Liss.” Delilah reached out and pinched Liss on the cheek.  

“Even if I did,” Liss snapped, swiping Delilah’s hand away, “Nate doesn’t think about me like that.  I’m just like an annoying little sister to him.”

Delilah opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time her eyes locked onto something across the room.  Liss turned to see Cailan leaning around Anora, and looking directly at them. A smile stretched across his face and he winked.  Anora turned to scold him, but her eyes flicked toward Liss and Delilah too, and she frowned, her pretty brows pressing together.  She elbowed Cailan, who grumbled under his breath, catching the attention of both the king and the teyrn, as well as Liss and Delilah’s fathers.  

Liss’ stomach twisted into knots, and she knew what was going to happen.  She tapped Delilah on the arm repeatedly. “You have to go,” she whispered urgently, “Go.”

“But you’ll get into trouble.”

“Not as much as you,” she urged even more desperately, pushing Delilah out of the line of sight. “My father won’t be as angry as yours.”  The other girl seemed to understand what she meant and hurried away as quickly as she could.

“Cailan,” Loghain barked, “Is there something you’d like to share?”  Liss was shocked by the impropriety with which the man spoke to the prince, as well as by the lack of response from the king.

Cailan was flippant in his answer.  “Not particularly.”

“Cailan,” Maric scolded, eyes still kind beneath serious eyebrows.

“Not particularly… ser?” Cailan laughed despite Loghain’s obvious seething and Maric’s forced attempt at a stern, fatherly expression.  

Uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation was headed, and fearful that Cailan might divulge Delilah’s presence there as well, Liss stepped from behind the pillar where she hid and out into the open.  She curtsied as low as she could and kept her gaze down at the floor until she heard her father speak, or rather, sigh. “Elissa.”

It was her full name.  She was in trouble.

“I know I’m not supposed to be here,” she explained, trembling, eyes still locked on the floor, “But I was so excited that the King would be visiting.  I just wanted to see. I hid, but Prince Cailan saw me, and I distracted him. I’m sorry.”

A hand fell upon her shoulder, and she looked up expecting to see her father, but instead it was Maric who towered above her, an amused expression painting his face.  “Tell me, dear girl,” he said, bending down slightly so that he was closer to eye level with her, “Now that you’ve seen me, am I worth all the excitement?”

“No, your majesty,” Liss blurted, without thinking.  She could hear Arl Howe gasp in the background. “You’re just a person… with pretty armor.”

“Elissa!” Her father’s voice was more stern than she’d ever heard it, and she knew she had messed up.  She’d be doing worse than scrubbing pots. She’d never see the light of day again.

Then, to her surprise, the king began to laugh, a hearty roar of a laugh that filled the entire hall.  Liss’ father and Arl Howe wore confused expressions that seemed to echo what Liss felt in the moment, too.  Behind Maric, Teyrn Loghain stood and watched, an amused smile perking up at the corners of his mouth as his eyes darted from Maric, to Liss, and then back to Maric.

“I like this one,” Maric said as he straightened his posture and looked at her father, ”Bryce, this must be your daughter.  She is just like Eleanor.”  

“Yes,” Loghain said in a manner that Liss could have sworn was playful, “It is good for the king to be reminded that the only thing that separates him from the common man is a suit of ‘pretty armor’...  Lest his head become too big for his shoulders.”

Arl Howe continued to look horrified, and her father still looked disappointed in her.  Not even the king’s approval would keep her from her punishment. “Forgive me, your majesty, but I specifically told my daughter she was not to cause a commotion,” he bit down on the end of his sentence as he approached both Liss and Maric, “She has to learn that there are consequences for her actions.”

“Cailan could stand to learn that as well,“ Maric said, darting his eyes to the prince, who just shrugged, “So could I, come to think of it.  Very well!” He backed away from the two of them, and moved to stand by Loghain and the others.

“Pup,” her father said, lowering his voice, “How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just do whatever you want, whenever you please?”

“Sorry, Papa.”  Tears brimmed in Liss’ eyes, even at her father’s gentle words.  She hated disappointing him, and she seemed to do it so often.

“Nothing happened this time because King Maric is a kind man.” His voice became more stern. “But most people are not.  Your reckless behavior and your tongue are going to get you into trouble.”

“I know, Papa.” She hung her head. “I’ll do better.”

He placed a large, rough hand on her cheek, and wiped away a tear before bending down to kiss the top of her head. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, pulling back to look at her directly in the eyes.  “Why don’t you show Lady Anora to her room, and you and I will discuss your consequences later?”

Liss perked up at the opportunity to talk to the older girl, but tried her best to not show it.  She wasn’t even sure she would want to speak with her after the events of the past few minutes. She’d made an utter fool of herself, and graceful Anora wouldn’t and shouldn’t want anything to do with her at all.

As it turned out, Lady Anora had no such reservations about following Liss to her room.  In fact, she appeared to be relieved when Liss approached her. It must have been hard to stand with her back so straight all the while putting up with Cailan -- Not that Liss had any problems with the prince, of course.  She had eagerly nodded and accompanied Liss out of the great hall and toward her room.

They walked in awkward silence for more time than Liss thought she could bear, or at least it felt awkward to her.  Lady Anora smiled gently beside her, seemingly unbothered by the lack of conversation. The way she carried herself was so mature, it would have been easy to assume she was an adult.  Liss would have thought so, had she not known the girl to be her brother’s age.

“I am sorry that Cailan got you into trouble,” Anora said finally, breaking the silence.

“It’s my fault, my lady.” Liss answered with a sigh, “I was told to stay out of trouble.  I wasn’t supposed to be in there. I knew better..”

“There would have been no trouble if you had not been seen,” Anora smiled, blue eyes sparkling.  “And there is no need to call me ‘my lady,’ unless you prefer such formalities. We have the same status, do we not?”

“For now,” Liss said with a shrug, “But I am not betrothed to the prince.”

Anora laughed with a sadness that Liss could not quite place.  “Is my relationship with Cailan to be the only thing notable about me?”

Her words were little pinpricks, poking holes into Liss’ view of the world.  She had never thought about what it might be like to be betrothed. All of her stories told her that it was the most important role a woman could play, to be the backbone to a powerful leader.  She never thought about how it would feel to be forced to play that role. She had never imagined that Anora was anything but happy about it.

“I didn’t mean to -,” Liss began, but trailed off, not sure what to say. “I am sorry.”

“You didn’t know better,” Anora assured her, “No harm done.”

They continued on without a single word between them for some time, and Liss could have sworn the hallway that led to the guest wing had gotten ten times longer since the last time walked down it.  She was both eager to speak to the older girl, but also afraid of shoving her foot into her mouth again. Finally, something came to mind.

“I like the way you wear your hair.”

Anora’s face brightened, and a smile not unlike her father’s twitched on her lips. “Thank you.”

“How did you learn to make it look like that,” Liss asked, pleased that her statement had not caused offense, “Do you do it yourself? Or does somebody help you?”

“My mother taught me,” Anora explained, “But my father actually helped me with this one.”

“What?” Liss halted briefly, stunned, and then continued to move forward again “Really? Your father? Teyrn Loghain?”  She mentally scolded herself for babbling.

“Mhmm.  According to Father, it is an old Alamarri tradition for warriors to braid their hair before going into battle.  He says that it’s still common among the Chasind and Avvar, but that it has fallen out of practice among Fereldans.”

“How did your father learn about it?” Liss was enthralled by the new information.  It wasn’t something she’d ever read about, or that Aldous had mentioned.

“My grandfather.” Anora smiled fondly. “I never met him.  He died during the Rebellion, but Father says he was a good man who taught him everything he knows.”

“Even braiding.”

“Yes,” Anora chuckled, “Even braiding.”

Liss slowed to a stop as they reached the door that led to Anora’s room. “This one is yours.”  She motioned to the door with her hand.

“Thank you being my guide, Lady Elissa,” Anora said, bowing her head slightly.

“Liss.  You can just call me Liss, er, I mean… If you want to.”

“Thank you, Liss.”  She turned to enter the room, but paused when Liss called after her.

“Anora?”

“Yes?”

“Just so you know, you’re not important because you’re going to marry Cailan,” Liss said, matter-of-factly, as if her thoughts should be common knowledge, “You’re important because you’re going to be Queen.”

Anora blinked, appearing to search for an appropriate response.

“The Queen with the Warrior Hair,” Liss added playfully.  

“I… thank you.” Liss just nodded and offered her the brightest smile she could muster, before leaving her to her room.  After all, she figured the longer she hung around, the more likely she was to say something else to upset the other girl.  It was only inevitable.

The walk back to her own room felt much shorter without the impending sense of potentially saying something embarrassing.  Even so, she dreaded the conversation with her father that awaited her once he finished up with the esteemed guests. She imagined what it might be like to be confined to her room for the remainder of the summer, her only interaction with the world being someone sliding trays of food through a slit in the door.  Of course, her father wouldn’t do that to her. He’d just give her that sad, disappointed look that broke her heart into tiny pieces and make her work in the kitchens with Nan for three hours a day.

Guilt bubbled in her stomach.  All her bad behavior ever earned her was chores.  Nate never did anything bad, ever, but he seemed to always be punished for something.  Liss didn’t know how Arl Howe punished his children, but she didn’t think Nate, Delilah, and Thomas would all be so afraid if it were just scrubbing pots.  She would be thankful for whatever punishment Papa chose to dole out.

When she reached her room, she opened up the door to see Fergus lying on her bed, muddy boots dirtying her newly washed coverlet.  He mocked her with his deceptively genial grin.

“What are you doing in here?” She tried as hard as she could to make her words sound sharp.

“ Oh, just catching up on some reading,” he said as he held up her journal, “Last time I saw this, it was just stories and drawings.  Now there are secrets in here, too.”

“You read my journal?” Her blood turned to ice.

“Shall I tell Nathaniel that you think he’s the,” Fergus paused turning back a few pages, “Most beautiful person you’ve ever met.”

“You wouldn’t,” she stomped over to stand beside her bed, looming over him, “You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, but now you’ve written it down,” he laughed and shrugged, “So it’s official.”

“Stop it,” she ordered, frustrated and terrified tears filling her eyes as she reached for the journal, which Fergus held out of her reach with his stupid long arms. “Give it back Fergus.”

“When is the wedding, Lady Howe?”

“I hate you,” she shouted, throwing a punch that landed with a smack against her brother’s shoulder.

“Was that supposed to hurt,” he teased, tossing the journal aside and standing up so that he towered over her.  He was so much taller than he used to be, but he didn’t scare Liss.

Taking a few steps back, she yelled and charged at Fergus, throwing herself against him hard enough that he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, pulling her along with him.  She moved to sit atop him, swinging her fists wildly as she did so. She landed a few blows to his chest and shoulders, but he didn’t even seem to feel them, and he blocked the rest with his large hands.

Just as she was about to hit Fergus again, the door to her room swung open abruptly, slamming against the wall.

“Liss! Are you oka--”  It was Nate, and he stopped, frozen as his eyes moved skeptically from Liss to her brother.

Fergus smiled deviously, and Liss warned -- no, pleaded -- him with her eyes to not do the thing she knew he was thinking of doing. “Oh hey, Nate,” Fergus said nonchalantly, as if he weren’t being assaulted, “Mind giving me a hand with my sister?  All I said was that I thought Lady Anora liked me better than her, and she just went mad!” He darted his eyes back to Liss and winked.

Relief washed over her, and she played along. “She’d never like someone as ugly and stupid as you,” she shouted, smacking at him with open hands this time.  “She’d be disgusted because you put your muddy boots on the bed!” It wasn’t entirely untrue, and she managed to swipe him across the cheek.

“At least she doesn’t think of me as annoying, sticky little kid,” Fergus said tersely, pressing a hand against her shoulder to hold her as far away from him as he could.

“The only person annoying and sticky here is you , you big… mean... arse!”

Fergus feigned a gasp. “Elissa, you said a swear! What would father think?”

“He’d agree with me.” She pulled her fist back to strike him again, but she was stopped by a hand grappling at her wrist.  She looked to see Nathaniel holding her back, keeping her from potentially breaking Fergus’ nose. Maker knew she was still mad enough.  

“Let go, Nate,” she warned, furrowing her brows at him, feeling more than a little betrayed despite the fact that they were supposed to be having a pretend fight. “He deserves it!”

“I know that’s probably true.  I want to hit Fergus a lot, too,” Nate said calmly, “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to break your brother’s nose on the same night you insulted King Maric.”  He raised his eyebrows.

“But I -” She deflated, and moved to stand up, allowing Nathaniel to help her to her feet. “That’s not what happened.”

“You did what now?” Fergus, still lying on his back,  began to laugh so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath.

“My father seems to think that’s exactly what happened.”  He smiled, but it was sad. “He said that if he were the king, he would have ordered you flogged.”

Fergus sat up. “Liss, what did you say?”

“He asked me if he was worth me being so excited that I snuck into the Great Hall when Papa told me not to,” Liss explained, “I said no.”

“Maker, sis.  You can’t just talk to the king like that.”

“He thought it was funny, and said he liked me,” she said proudly, “He told Papa I remind him of mother.”

Fergus rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d luck out like that.  If you’d said that to anyone else, you’d be dead.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful.”

“I know.” Liss hung her head, ashamed, once again.  Fergus reached forward and tousled her hair gently, and then looked over to Nathaniel.

“Thanks for saving my nose, Nate.”  Fergus tousled his hair, too, before walking out of the room, winking at Liss one last time before he closed the door.  She scowled at him.

There was a long, heavy silence that Liss had never before experienced with Nate in the years she had known him.  Of course, she wasn’t really surprised. Due to Arl Howe’s vulture-like circling around the castle for the past two weeks, they hadn’t exactly gotten to talk.

Nate’s eyes darted around the room uncomfortably before they settled back on her.  “Delilah said you saved her from getting caught.”

Liss nodded. “It was my fault she was there anyway.”

“I figured,” he said bluntly, but it was accompanied with a fond smile so she decided to not let it hurt her feelings. “Still, thank you.  I don’t know what Father would have done.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was another pause in the conversation, so tense Liss could barely stand it.  She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

“I should… probably go,” Nate sighed, pointing to the door.

Liss’ heart sank at his words.  She knew he was right, that if his father found him in her room he’d probably never get to come back to Highever.  Nathaniel was always right. That didn’t mean she had to like it. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face into his back.

He tensed noticeably at her touch. “Liss.  I can’t stay… if Father --”

“I know,” she interrupted, voice muffled against his shirt, “I just missed you.”  Liss released him, and he turned to look at her briefly and sadly, before walking out of the room without saying a word.

There was no punishment her father could give her that would feel worse than that.

[noblesorrow-archive2]

WARNING: This blog/muse deals with childhood sexual abuse, its themes and issues. If such is triggering to you, it would be best to unfollow me, and look elsewhere for your RPing needs. Posts concerning the above stated issue will be tagged as (trigger warning: child abuse) in order to avoid triggering anyone who may have had issues with the disorder before.

NAME: Tristan NICKNAMES: Tris AGE: 19 GENDER: Male NATIONALITY: Marionian SPECIES: Human SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Verse dependent, single by default

tristan edmonde desroisers is the eldest child of lord milo desrosiers and lady christina meurant, and is heir to the traevelyan estate and surrounding lands of lyrath of the kingdom of mariona. he was born in 614 and is four years his brother, hector desroisers' senior. before his birth, his mother had suffered the lose of three children and had the cursed cradle-vessels burnt to prevent further calamity to the line of desroisers. 

despite near-constant fussing over the surviving child, nothing could be done to address the increasing complaint of nightmares being reported at the hem of the lady's skirt. 

tristan was brought up and educated alongside the only child of the vassal house of fortesque with their son named laurence. being trained at arms from a young age by a former knight left the deep impression further advancement into knighthood would be made, but this was never so.

despite no formal vow taken to defend the weak and innocent, tristan is set on protecting his younger brother by whatever means necessary. on hector's twelfth birthday tristan gifted him a wolfhound pup. firstly to invest a sense of responsibility over another living creature and secondly to provide a lifelong companion to remain at his side for those times tristan might most unwillingly have to spend away.

growing into a young man tristan continued to face building pressures of emulating his lord father's perfect heir, as well as the son that would bend to his perverse whims. oftentimes tristan would drink to set aside his woes, or to simply forget his disturbing nights. as the years have worn on, he has become more restless and finds little comfort in the bottom of a glass.

he takes some pleasure in the time spent with several of the estate's maidservants. none so as much as two in particular: tanya , his mother's handmaiden and his first in many sexual affairs. and elissa, sharp-tongued mother-to-be by way of a careless accident. ,the issue of which is tristan's own, but it is not one he would ever go on to formally recognise for fear of his fathers retribution and the ever present demand to maintain the family reputation.

once the heartbreak of the lose of elissa and the child he could never know had dulled to an ache, there was comfort to be found in the arms of the lordling's best friend laurence fortesque which lasted well beyond the years of his father's death, and well into his marriage to former lady-in-waiting elenore montmorency. the betrothal was finally settled after years of procrastination and renegotiation on lord milo desroisers part. despite the setbacks, tristan and elenore had five children together. from oldest to youngest being margaret, annaliesse, diana, laurence and henry. 

past hardships have made tristan strive for only ever seeing the continued happiness and safety of his loved ones.

[forrestcrss]

  ♔  →  westeros  presents  MIRA FORRESTER,  the  LADY  of  IRONRATH.  a  raven  sent  word  that  she bears  the  resemblance  to  JENNA COLEMAN.  the  TWENTY SEVEN  year  old  FEMALE  was  STRONG WILLED  &  OUTSPOKEN  before  the  dawn  of  war,  but  have  now  become CUNNING  & DECEPTIVE .  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  ARROWS WHISTLING SHARPLY THROUGH THE COLD AIR. OF BEAUTY. ICE AND IRON &&. DEADLY CURSES SEALED WITH A SAPPHIRE GAZE. whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with THEMSELVES,  but  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.  (  belle,  19,  gmt,  she.  )

As the first born daughter to House Forrester, she was her mother’s pride and joy. There was no arguing that she was Elissa Forrester’s favourite. Mira had a delicate beauty which was rare for the steely hardness of the north, but the bright blue in her eyes was said to rival even the purest winter rose. She had all of her mother’s Southern beauty, but her father’s straight forward Northern nature. Such beauty came with great expectations, especially from being the favourite daughter. 

It was unsurprising that her mother wished for her to be fostered in the South so that she could learn the grace and style that was absent in the North. So she found herself travelling down the map of the world, to Highgarden, to serve as a handmaiden to Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, a position which she liked well enough. Despite her blunt Northern manners, it did not take long for her to befriend the other handmaidens and Margaery herself. 

The quite young girl who left Ironrath changed and even the Northern twang of her voice was barely detectable by the time she was six and ten. Highgarden was her home, she loved the people and the customs, it almost made her forget of her loyalty to her Northern family. But she began to receive letters from them, asking for Margaery to put in a good word for her brother or sister, anything to ensure the house of Forrester thrived.

King’s Landing was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It changed her. Her time at court taught her to be cunning, and as Northern born girl she was always under the watchful eye of Queen Cersei. Very quickly Mira found herself drowning in court politics, she was being questioned on House Forrester’s loyalty to Lannister, and her own loyalty to King Joffrey. Meanwhile, she was sending letter’s in her Lady’s name, forging the signature of a person who’s trust she’d once cherished. Mira was torn between loyalty to Margaery, and loyalty to blood. 

Things escalated once she killed a Lannister guard. They tried to get her, to murder her all because of an Ironwood contract. Ser Rickard Morgryn had dressed himself up as a friend, a charming snake, and then revealed his true nature. He had her chained up in irons for the murder of a guard that he’d hired and the only way out was to marry him, to give him control of Ironrath since her own family had fell into despair. 

“ You’ll give up your ancestral home. But you’ll be alive. “ The Forrester lady accepted Ser Rickard Morgryn’s hand so that she might live to fight another day. Watching Tom be executed for her crimes was the most horrific and soul-destroying thing that she had ever seen, but she knew the importance of ensuring that House Forrester prevailed. It was the only thing that made her want to keep living. All the plotting that the deceptive man had done against her made her blood burn, and she vowed to make him pay for all that he had cost her. From the severed friendship with Lady Margaery, to the vile whispers of her nature of taking Lannister guards to her bed and murdering them, every word that had been said about her, oh she vowed to make him suffer for it.

In the months which followed her marriage to Ser Morgryn, she was rarely allowed to leave Ironrath. With the remaining members of her family scattered, Rickard had take a hold of her ancestral home and kept her prisoner in a place that she’d had fond memories of. But she held onto hope, hope that her family was not lost, and that she could find the strength to end Ser Morgryn. The monster thought that he had won, but she knew better.

Many months after her unhappy marriage to Ser Morgryn, Mira thought that she was with child and her resolve quickened. There was no way that she was going to allow that dishonourable man to have any influence over her child. Her state had made her husband more content and less concerned by his fragile position as acting Lord of Ironrath, and it was all that she needed. She had been practising her archery, making it appear as though she had no talent with a bow, and then she struck him with several arrows and then blamed it on a deserter from the Watch. And when questioned on her whereabouts, she merely responded. “Iron from ice.”

With the realisation that she was not expecting, Mira threw all of her time into supporting the cause against the Lannister’s. It may have been Ser Morgryn who paid off the Lannister guard, but Queen Cersei had treated her so poorly while she was there, and she had her own family to think of. If the Lannisters won, they could still make a call for her head.

Fearful for her safety in Ironrath, Mira travelled to Winterfell to seek sanctuary until she came under the protection of SmallJon Umber, who had agreed to marry her. It was important to the remaining members of her family that she was married into the safety of a strong house, so that no one could touch her. But until her marriage she was content to aid the Starks in any way she could, even if that meant pulling out her bow and arrow again.

[agameoftragedy]

Thoughts on F&B and Violence

CFS has forced me to stop 100 pages before the end, but I’m loving Fire & Blood, yet I will acknowledge what I’ve heard people are saying: it’s brutal at points and there are more instances of sexualised violence towards women, etc. Various instances and thoughts below the cut

- The First Dornish War was so much worse than I’d realised, and especially what happened at the Oakheart wedding D: Felt a bit nauseous with that whole section

- Coryanne Wylde’s story sounds sad, poor girl

- There was an assassination attempt against Alysanne! (HVDU?!) Women fighting women... Explains Jonquil Darke’s later employment though

- Androw Farman, you dark horse. Though I can kinda understand how he snapped, but still...

- What happened to Aerea. Yeah, I’m pretty sure Euron never went to Valyria, or not properly anyway...

- Every rat catcher in KL being killed after Blood and Cheese. And poor Helaena :(

- Bloody ironborn making off with hundreds of women the first chance they got...

- Poor little Maelor :(

- Ugh, the Sack of Tumbleton >.<

But having said all ^that, we do get more interesting ladies and their stories as well:

- Melony Piper with Rhaena Targaryen <3 (it’s either light wlw or some very old dedicated female friendship, and I am happy either way)

- Lots more mentions of handmaidens and companions to the Queens/Princesses at court, with what sound like good friendships formed

- Rhaena’s dedication to her daughters despite what had happened

- I like that there was an Alayne Royce who was a close companion to Rhaena (*Sansa/Myranda shipping intensifies*)

- 13 year old Alysanne entertaining huge numbers of noble ladies for 7 days before her mother’s remarriage

- Jonquil Darke trying to become a kingsguard as a mystery knight (echoes of Brienne)

- Alysanne and Jaehaerys may be incest but they’re really fricking cute, and looks like they didn’t consummate until she was at least 15/16 (when she insisted they consummate!)

- Man, Lucinda Tully seems to get everywhere

- Elissa Farman! Elissa X Rhaena! “The Four-Headed Beast”! Doesn’t end happily though...

- Poor Elinor Costayne rose to become the mother of a large motherhouse in Lannisport

- definite midwives at Alyssa’s bed (page 216) as well as a maester

- Sabitha Frey! “fond of killing men and kissing women”!

- Cregan Stark might have inflicted thousands more deaths through battle, but for the acts of various women, it seems...

- Black Aly seems a very interesting woman...

- The Winter of the Widows!

- I wondered what had happened to Alys Rivers and she does come back into the story...

Miscellaneous:

- Rogar Baratheon sounds like he was reincarnated as Robert Baratheon...

- Following the rebellion against Aenys for marrying brother to sister, Jaehaerys’ councillors were afraid of marrying him to Alysanne and planned otherwise, but it was the siblings who sorted it themselves. And since she was only 13 THEY DID NOT CONSUMMATE IT *confetti*, but that meant the councillors thought they could undo it... but they did not reckon with our young BAMFs.

- The Widow’s Law! Alysanne fought for more than abolishing the First Night

- Even when Alysanne couldn’t go and hold Women’s Courts, she sent a trusted woman who could

- Ho shit, Elissa Farman stole dragon’s eggs! And they wound up in Braavos...

- Exceptionalism as a Doctrine, ah man, the politics

- Ohhhh, Harrenhal’s Widow’s Tower is named for Rhaena

“The queen’s fountains”! Good Queen Alysanne strikes again!

- Badness about the Nightfort, Alysanne confirms

- I don’t like Mushroom, or whoever’s writing in his name. There’s so much bullshit thrown in that I barely trust the bits that could be true :/

- Mysaria/Misery was involved in Blood and Cheese

- Blackwoods despoiling septs in the Dance v.v So much for them being the clear good guys

- Lord Tarly declared for Rhaenyra - either they weren’t as misogynistic as Randyll or maybe they were taken up with Daemon...

- Corlys Velaryon seems to be one of very few sensible people during and following the Dance. Larys Strong is an interesting enigma

- “The Lads”! As a British person, this sounds hilarious to me, even though it probably shouldn’t be

- Cregan Stark did at least get a large recruitment for the Wall in his time...

I’m sure there’s more, but I’ll have to come back to it another time.

[heroineimages]

Anyone else have this problem?

Anyone else ever create a character that they love dearly but have no idea what to do with? I wrote a character for my novel who has been great fun to write, but I have no idea what her future role in the narrative will be. Her name is Liani, and she’s a slave/assistant/lover to a retired courtesan named Senyara. With her growing harem, Queen Viarra hires Senyara to help train her slave girls as courtesans, with the intent of creating a network of spies posing as courtesan emissaries. Senyara, however, has a only a year or two to live due to a heart condition. In return for her service, she makes a deal with Viarra to keep Liani safe and among people who care about her once Senyara passes on. 

Liani is one of my favorite characters I’ve made, because she’s a grown woman but is silly and simple-minded, with this child-like earnestness in everything she does. At the same time, she’s surprisingly perceptive of other people’s moods and emotions. I love her character, but I have no idea what to do with her in the long run. In the following scene, Queen Viarra’s lover Elissa sits under a tree, fretting after Viarra has to sail south without her. Liani sits with Elissa and helps her feel better, just by listening and being herself. 

Elissa sat against a tree in the atrium of her majesty’s harem estate, staring past the branches at the stars. Her majesty, her love, her everything, she was gone. Queen Viarra had left aboard the Myrmidonian Harpe and sailed south without her. Yes, Elissa understood their need for haste, that there’d been no time to return to Kel Fimmaril before sailing south. But she’d never been left behind before. She’d never been apart from her love for so long.

She felt an emptiness in her guts, a hopeless feeling that something was going to go wrong. And there was nothing she’d be able to do about it. What if her love never came back? What if something happened while her majesty was in the south, and Elissa never got to say farewell?

It was irrational, gods knew it was. Her majesty was strong and intelligent and always surrounded herself with loyal, capable people. She was sailing on a powerful, well-built warship, and the Vestic’s winter storms had ended weeks ago. There was literally no probable reason why Queen Viarra was in danger of not returning, and yet Elissa couldn’t shake the empty, lonely feeling in her guts.

The sound of a poorly muffled giggle interrupted Elissa’s fretting. She could hear Liani trying to sneak up on her—that strange serving woman who’d traveled with that courtesan woman, Senyara. Senyara was here to help train her majesty’s harem girls as future courtesans, but Elissa had no idea what Liani’s role in all of this was.

“Boo!” Liani shouted, bursting around the tree at Elissa. “Hi, Elissa!” she chirped, giggling. “Did I scare you?”

“Um, maybe a little?” Elissa answered, still uncertain of how to respond to the strange, tall brown-haired woman. Apparently Liani was practicing sneaking up on people?

“I did scare you; I can tell,” Liani laughed, plopping down to sit beside Elissa. “I’m a sneaky kitty, like Corsair!”

So she was pretending to be a kitty? Elissa frowned again, trying to recall everything she knew about Liani. Two days ago, one of the harem singers had sang a story about nymphs, which lead to Liani pretending to be a nymph by running around “seducing” fair maidens—which to her apparently meant awkwardly hugging the other harem women until they either hugged her back or asked her to go away.

Liani cocked her head as she watched Elissa. “Kitty says you smell kind of sad,” she observed, leaning in and making sniffing noises.

“I guess I am,” Elissa sighed, tucking her knees against her chest. “Her majesty sailed away to the south, and I’m left here without her. I mean, I know she’ll be alright, but we’ve never been apart this long, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I understand. You’re worried about your mistress, huh?” Liani frowned, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “I worry about my mistress all the time, too. She’s dying, you know.”

“Wait… what?” Elissa turned to her sharply. “No, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, she has something wrong with her heart,” Liani confided, sniffling and looking up at the stars. “The physicians say she only has another year or two. It’s why mistress asked Queen Viarra to keep me safe after mistress dies.”

“Gods, I had no idea, Liani,” Elissa apologized, scooting over and wrapping her arms around the strange woman. Liani leaned in to rest her head atop Elissa’s. “I feel bad now,” Elissa admitted. “I was worrying irrationally over my love, even though I know she’ll be fine. But you, you know that your time with your love is short. I… feel kind of selfish by comparison.”

“My mistress has always been so kind to me,” Liani sniffed loudly, weeping. “My past master and mistress weren’t kind. They’d yell and hit me when I made mistakes. I know I’m not as smart as the other slaves, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t trying.” She sobbed again. “And their son and daughter… they were both so horrible. They used to make me have sex with them, and it was awful. I always felt sick after. Their son, he–he said he was practicing for when he got married. I always felt so bad for that girl who had to marry him. I hope she’s okay.

“But Mistress Senyara, she rescued me,” Liani continued, looking at Elissa behind earnest tears. “She bought me and took me away from those terrible people. She’s so kind, and she’s always patient when I make mistakes. And she’s so gentle when we have cunny-sex. She cares for me and wants me to be happy. And I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy.”

“And I want to spend the rest of my life making Queen Viarra happy,” Elissa assured her, feeling a sudden kindred spirit with the strange woman. Liani gave a grateful smile as Elissa reached up to wipe her tears.

“I really like Queen Viarra,” Liani said, nodding. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Have you ever had cunny-sex with her? She’s not as soft and gentle as mistress, but she’s really, really good at it.”

It felt like a minute or two before Elissa could make herself stop laughing.

“I’m serious,” Liani insisted. “She is really, really good.”

“I know she is, Liani,” Elissa said, trying to regain herself. She leaned in, mimicking Liani’s conspiratorial posture. “She learned everything she knows about ‘cunny-sex’ by practicing on me,” she whispered.

“Wow,” Liani whispered back, staring at Elissa in awe. “You’re really lucky.”

“Yeah,” Elissa decided, thinking it over. “I guess I am pretty lucky. Thank you for helping me realize that, Liani,” she said, leaning up to kiss Liani’s cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Liani answered as Elissa leaned against her shoulder. Liani lay her cheek against the top of Elissa’s head in return. They sat together for several comfortable minutes.

“Do you want to go have cunny-sex?” Liani asked suddenly, her tone completely earnest.

Elissa just started laughing again.

[heroineimages]

A happy Saint Valentine’s Day to my readers who celebrate it, and a lovely Wednesday to those who don’t! Here’s @mjbarros‘s wonderful depiction of Viarra and Elissa, my warrior queen and handmaid OCs.

[heroineimages]

Queens, ships, and a bastard niece

Queen Sita of Illara is another character I’ve introduced in a few scenes who I look forward to using more extensively later in First Empress. Sita is a former colleague of Queen Viarra’s father and grandfather, and is hegemon of the second most powerful empire on the Vestic Sea. Her land army is nearly twice the size of Queen Viarra’s and (counting privateers) her fleet is possibly five times Viarra’s. Sita is currently locked in a stalemate with the Empire of Pellastor that fluctuates back and forth between cold-war status and open warfare. 

The initial conflict between Viarra and Sita is basically that Sita would love to drag Viarra’s army into the conflict with Pellastor, while Viarra would much prefer to remain entirely neutral in said conflict. Thus instead Sita has to content herself with distracting her enemy with phantom threats from Viarra’s direction. In the following scene, Sita visits Viarra, offering the gift of a quinquereme, a new type of warship that Vi’s shipwrights have never had access to before. While on the surface it comes across as a generous gift, its true intent is to make Pellastor see a phantom alliance between Sita and our protagonist. 

Elissa found herself staring in awe as the largest warship she’d ever seen rowed into the harbor of Kel Fimmaril, taller, wider, and longer than the pair of triremes escorting it. She could tell her awe was shared by everyone present as Queen Viarra’s entourage made their way to the harbor area.

“I’d heard about these ‘quinqueremes,’” General Derron commented. “But my understanding was that only Pellastor knew how to build them—that their construction was a closely-guarded secret. Clearly Queen Sita’s people managed to capture one and reverse engineer it.”

“What do you think: a hundred and fifty feet to the trireme’s hundred and twenty?” Ronnius speculated.

“I’d say all of that,” Derron agreed. “The deck looks to be at least thirty feet wide, and I count three tiers of around thirty oars on each side. From what I understand, the top two tiers have two rowers per oar.”

“Ferra’s breath,” Ronnius swore, “so we’re talking as many as three hundred rowers per ship, plus deck crew and marines. That can’t be cheap to keep afloat.”

“They don’t have a full complement of marines,” Queen Viarra observed.

Derron frowned as their delegation stopped up the beach. “You’re right,” he agreed, turning to her majesty. “They could carry as many as six-score hoplites between the three ships, but that doesn’t look like even eighty. Why would Sita travel with diminished security?”

“Because they’re not planning to return home with the quinquereme,” Queen Viarra answered. “I suspect she means it as a gift.”

“The intent of which is probably to spite Pellastor,” was Ronnius’s comment.

“Or at least make them nervous,” Viarra agreed. “Andivel’s navy is less than a quarter the size of Illara’s and possibly as small as a tenth the size of Pellastor’s. Even so, Emperor Orvandius is scared shitless of the possibility that we might ally ourselves with Illara and attack his empire from the north while Sita hits him from the west. Beginning production of our own quinqueremes would increase that paranoia a dozen-fold. Yet at the same time, we’d be stupid to not commission quniqueremes of our own to enhance our navy.”

“Sita was always a shrewd politician,” Derron nodded as the quinquereme’s crew beached the huge dreadnought along an empty stretch of sand. “She’s a consummate manipulator and has been the power behind the throne of Illara for twenty-odd years; she’s in a class of her own when it comes to getting into her enemies’ heads.”

“Or her allies’,” Queen Viarra added grimly.

The triremes waited until the larger ship was secured before beaching on either side of it. A pair of sailors lowered a ramp from the side of the quinquereme, allowing Queen Sita’s entourage to disembark. First came her honor guard, twelve swarthy Illaran men and women in black armor with crimson capes and plumes. Next came Queen Sita of Illara and her servants and entourage, including at least one woman who Elissa recognized as one of the Illaran princesses.

Queen Sita had aged well, to Elissa’s estimation. The grey in her dark hair gave her a distinguished look, and she had excellent curves for a woman in her forties who’d borne eight children. Or was it just seven? Elissa couldn’t remember. The Illaran queen wore an elegant dark blue dress with a violet shoulder cloak.

“Viarra, my darling, it’s been far too long,” Queen Sita hailed, striding forward to embrace her fellow monarch.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear Sita,” Queen Viarra laughed in return. The queens held each other fondly for a long moment before stepping back.

“By Nyrus’s teeth, you look so grown up, dear,” the Illaran queen said appraisingly. “You were what, ten years old last we met?”

“All of that,” Viarra smiled.

“I was sorely grieved to learn of your brothers’ murders,” Sita told her, voice quieting, “as well as your father’s death, for that matter. I may not have always agreed with his administrative policies, but I know he believed he was doing what was best for his people.”

“Thank you for your condolences, your majesty,” Viarra replied somberly. She turned to her retinue. “You remember General Derron of course,” her majesty introduced the commander of her island forces.

“Of course I remember the old flirt,” Sita smiled, stepping up to embrace the grizzled general. “You’re looking well, all things considered,” she said as she stepped back. “Where is that Verleki woman you married? How is she holding up?”

“Wonderful to see you again, your majesty,” Derron bowed. “Vola is doing well, despite a leg injury that didn’t heal properly. At the moment she’s on the mainland working on expanding and integrating our hegemony’s cavalry troops.”

Sita nodded appreciatively.

“This is Ronnius, my second in command and Steward of Kel Fimmaril when I’m away,” Viarra introduced next.

“Majesty,” Ronnius bowed.

“Steward,” Sita nodded in return.

Viarra turned to introduce Elissa next. “You may remember Elissa, my handmaid and now concubine.”

“No doubt there’s an interesting anecdote behind that,” Queen Sita smiled lopsidedly. “It’s lovely to see you again, my dear.”

Elissa curtsied, feeling herself blush.

“And my more recent handmaids, Naddie and Gwynnet.”

“Ladies,” the older queen nodded to each in return.

“And, lastly, I’d like you to meet Princess Juda of Valos.”

Queen Sita barked out a laugh—a surprising breach in her silky demeanor. “By Nyrus, that’s delightful. What did dear Xafod do that you need to keep his daughter under wraps?”

“He bankrolled several small privateer task groups operating within my territorial waters,” the younger queen explained, “claiming blackmail as his motivation.”

Sita looked surprised. “Do you believe him?” she asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Queen Sita laughed again. Princess Juda fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Not to worry, dear,” the older queen reassured the princess. “I’m sure your father is wise enough to not cross Queen Viarraluca again.” She patted the girl on the cheek briefly.

“Queen Viarra, my dear,” she continued, taking Queen Viarra’s hands, “my purpose for visiting is twofold. Firstly, I wanted to express my gratitude. You may not realize it, but you did my people a great turn by overthrowing the Tetrarchy of Andivel. My enemies in Pellastor were using the payments from Andivel to buy privateers to counter the privateers I hired to harass their supply lanes. Though inadvertent, it was your intervention that forced Orvandius to sue for peace last summer. And for that I wished to repay you in kind.” Sita turned and gestured dramatically at the dreadnought beached before them. “As a token of my thanks, I present the Myrmidonian Harpe, one of the newest quinqueremes from the shipyards at Descal. She is yours to do with as you wish.”

“She’s magnificent,” Queen Viarra smiled, appraising the great warship and doing an excellent job at acting surprised. “She’ll make a fine flagship, thank you, your majesty. I’ll have to ask your captain to take us on a full tour later—and I very much look forward to seeing what she can do on the open sea.”

“I’m sure you’ll know exactly how best to integrate her into your fleet,” Sita told her. “Secondly, I wanted to introduce you to someone very important,” she continued. “Landra, bring Tila here, please. You remember my daughter Landra, of course.”

“Of course,” Viarra said as the Illaran princess led forward a young girl with golden-brown hair. “I’m pleased to see you again, your highness.”

“You as well, your majesty,” Landra replied, her civil tone nearly masking her annoyance at having to be here at all. The shy-looking girl with her looked to be about seven or eight years old, with light green eyes and facial features that seemed eerily familiar to Elissa.

“Come here, darling,” Queen Sita commanded gently, taking the small girl by the hand and leading her before their hostess. “Viarra, my dear, I want you to meet my granddaughter Tila, daughter of Landra and your brother Arrol.” Elissa gasped at the revelation, placing a hand to her mouth. She could tell her shock was shared by the others present. “Tila, say ‘hello’ to your aunt Viarra.”

“Hello, your majesty,” the girl said, blushing as Queen Viarra knelt before her. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“And I’m very pleased to meet you, Tila,” Queen Viarra said in return, embracing her niece with tears in her eyes. “I hope we get to know each other very well during your visit.”

Elissa just covered her mouth, feeling stunned. The little Princess Tila looked hauntingly like the late King Arrol: similar facial features and identical shade of golden-brown hair. There’d been rumors that Arrol had seduced Princess Landra during Sita’s visit eight years ago—though Viarra had always suspected it was the other way around—and Elissa vaguely remembered hearing that Landra ended up pregnant not long after. But she’d never heard if there were efforts to confirm those rumors.

Looking down at the pretty little princess in Queen Viarra’s arms, Elissa felt no doubts that she was Arrol’s daughter. She could only imagine the joy and wonderment her beloved queen must be feeling at the moment.