#House Toland

[askmeaboutmyoctopustheory]

participating in the challenge(?) crusade(?) that @grandkhan221b has started against ai art on the asoiaf wiki with sisters Valena and Teora of House Toland, some of Arianne's allies in Dorne! With their not-at-all ominous sigil!

[coldraindropsss]

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Am i the only one seeing that the dragon of the targaryens banners is this 👌 close to cannibalize his own tail? Perhaps is a coincidence of the design but idk it could have been made differently

Maybe he didn’t realize it initially, but GRRM agrees with you:

The arms of House Toland were originally a ghost, but changed it to a dragon swallowing it’s tail after they tricked Aegon I into dueling their fool in green-and-gold motley rather than a champion, giving Lord Toland time to escape. The Tolands quickly recaptured Ghost Hill after Aegon left. Basically it’s saying “it hurt itself in confusion” regarding the Tàrgaryens’ attempted conquest of the Tolands and Dorne in general. The difference is that there’s only one head and that head isn’t breathing flame; the Tolands are turning the symbol of Tárg terror into a powerless mockery.

As for the Tàrgaryen sigil itself, it does look close to eating its own tail, with the leftmost head nearly swallowing it. But then the rest of the tail appears behind the rightmost head, almost as if all the heads have eaten/at least chewed on the tail, despite somehow breathing flame. All the heads are looking at the tail/the other heads rather than looking outward like the Stark direwolf. Again, maybe it’s not intentional, but it does fit in with the Tárgaryen’s worst enemies historically being themselves, in addition to being dangerously self-centered.

[princessnysar]

Rhaenys Ladies in Waiting:

In the Year 296: 

Lady Jynessa Blackmont, heiress, born in 276 

Lady Sarella Sand, daughter of Oberyn Martell, and born in 280

Lady Vashti Gargalen, eldest daughter of Eliana Gargalen, her heiress, and born in 284

Lady Cecilla Arryn, daughter of Jon Arryn and wife of Viserys Targaryen, mother of Rhaerys and Shaera Targaryen, born in 274 

Lady Valaena Toland, heiress, born in 277 and is here to gain trade routes for their growing port and alliances to be made 

Lady Jeyne Fowler, heiress, born in 274 and is sent to increase trade passes over through Fowler controlled routes to supplant the Yronwood as the second most prestigious house 

Lady Mariah and Mairona Drinkwater- younger twin sisters of Gerris, born in 281 and are here to keep an eye on interest for house Yronwood 

Lady Nikita and Nyssa Uller, twin daughter’s of Kerenza Uller and born in 285- fiercely loyal and as mad as any Uller could be. Both crave excitement of any kind such as wandering through dangerous places to training with curved sabers- eager to be ladies in waiting to see places outside of Dorne 

Lady Wylla Manderly, born in 277 

Lady Alia Hightower born in 286 

Lady Sansa Stark born in 286 

Lady Talia Blackwood born in 289 

Lady Johanna Baratheon born in 285 

[telestoapologist]

have some more homenoodled memes. a couple may be reposts but idc skdfh sorry

[devanitoland]

ghost hill / house toland lore dump

key history

the tolands were a lordly house of some strength by the time of nymeria’s conquest, some thousand years ago as one of the main allies of mors martell and princess nymeria (a shrewd move on nymeria’s part to forge an alliance with a key landing point on the sea of dorne). it is not noted whether they were orignally first men or andal in origin, but as mors' house was founded by an andal, i like to think they were andal. however, the tolands' origins have been lost to time thanks to marrying into rhoynish families, and the tolands of today are considered to be rhoynar.

the tolands successfully resisted the dragons of aegon the conqueror during the first dornish war. the lord toland at the time sent out his champion to face aegon. after aegon slew the man, he learned that the man was lord toland's mad fool, and that lord toland himself had escaped.

once a mighty house, house toland has suffered through two generations of poor leadership. devani's father was rather uninterested in the life of a ruling lord, and his wife, devani's mother, is known to overreach her position and regarded as a social climber. once he passed, lordship fell to her brother aditya, the current ruling lord, who has made a sequence of poor decisions including a feud with the jordaynes. devani's sister, pallavi, married doran uller and was later executed for her role in trying to assassinate him. aditya's current heir is devani, who has spent most of her adult life missing after running away as a teenager and has only recently returned.

devani's paternal aunt married into house manwoody and is the mother of joy manwoody and her sisters. joy's position in court gave the toland's some protection, but after her death, they are once again in a precarious situation.

castle

their ancestral seat, ghost hill, lies on the southern shore of the sea of dorne, near the broken arm.

located atop a hill, ghost hill has chalk-white walls that shine against the deep blue of the sea of dorne. there are towers at the corners of the castle, which has a great central keep.

despite the name, ghost hill is a bright, welcoming castle with beautiful architecture and overall a pleasant place to be, if you can tolerate the ruling lord and his mother. devani toland is rarely found within the walls of ghost hill, as she is one of those who cannot tolerate their company.

sigil, words and values

prior to the dragon, the toland banners displayed a ghost. in later days, the tolands would take a new banner, showing a dragon biting its own tail, with the colors green in gold in memory of the motley of their brave fool - a mockery of the targaryens’ vain attempt to take the Toland seat

there are no canon words for house toland - however, i like the idea that their words are "the spirit is stronger". the word spirit has a double meaning - both in the literal sense of the spirit of the tolands, and a reference to their ancestral seat of ghost hill.

house toland is known to value wit, trickery, creative thinking, and unconventional solutions to problems, and is incredibly proud still of their history in doing so.

climate & geography

the ghost hills region takes its name from a series of hills and mountains in the area, inspired by the eastern ghats of andhra pradesh. the hills make up the most striking features of the landscape and are shaped by several rivers that flow through the area, emptying into the sea of dorne. the castle of ghost hill is atop one of the hills.

toland lands border that of the martells to the south, and the jordaynes to the west. north east lies the broken arm of dorne, with the sea of dorne serving as their northern border. most of the land is generally fairly fertile, with small amounts of desert at the inland border where the ghost hills meet the tor.

the ghost hills sees a decent amount of rainfall and occasional monsoons, usually blown across the sea of dorne from the stormlands. clean drinking water is not scarce in this region.

flooding is not uncommon closer to the coastline, but the more arid areas nearer to the desert occasionally suffer drought, and are forced to move towards the rivers and ocean.

population

the smallfolk are mainly organised into small towns and villages that operate as communities, and are usually part of extended family structures. once a year, the communities gather in the town at the foot of the ghost hill keep in a large festival that is primarily focused on marriages between the different communities.

music, dance and the arts is important to each community, who have their own different, but related, dances and songs. artists are highly revered.

most smallfolk are illiterate, and possess no formal education. those who can read, write, and perform mathematics are usually employed as traders around the port.

those who live in the ghost hills speak their own language, which is equivalent in the real world to telugu, often as their first language with hindi as a second. the smallfolk in particular are more likely to speak only telugu. around the port town, small amounts of low valyrian is not uncommon due to the essoian visitors. devani herself is fluent in telugu, hindi and common tongue, though she picked up many more languages in her time in essos that she keeps in her back pocket.

flora & fauna

birds: jerdon’s courser, blue flycatcher, jerdon’s baza, bustard, spot-billed pelican, hoopoe, spotted owlet, crow pheasant, pied cuckoo, pitta, brahminy kite, myna, spotted eagle, vulture, whistling thrush

mammals: grey slender loris, blackbuck, civet, treeshrew, mongoose, sambar, bison, boar, muntjac, small population of leopard, dhole, hare, tufted grey langur, flying fox, macaque, smooth-coated otter, reed cat,

reptiles: geckos (golden gecko, granite rock gecko, and slender gecko), skinks, snakes (shieldtail snakes, sharma’s racer, beaked worm snake, rock python, coral snake, bamboo pit viper, king cobra), mugger crocodile, turtles (black turtle, flapshell turtle, tent turtle, softshell turtle), star tortoise, psammophilus, sitana, chameleon, monitor

amphibians: rock toad, frogs (cricket frog, bull frog, burrowing frog, tree frog, golden back frog), caecilian

flora: acacia concinna (soap pods, used to create hygiene products particularly for hair), goldenleather fern, plants in the ginger family, neem (used for medicinal purposes), mosquito fern, periwinkle, turmeric, hiptage, club moss, jasmine, mango, cobra saffron (used for medicine, fragrances, and psychedelic effects), bullet wood (fragrant, used for oral hygeine), murraya exotica, lotus, holy basil, amla, serpentine wood, sandalwood, ashoka (a sacred tree, believed to be linked to fertility), teak, bamboo, orchids

industry and economics

the ghost hills are a fertile area with a great range of flora and fauna, as well as natural mineral resources found in the mountains. this includes granite, iron, limestone and quartz, with limestone being the primary material for buildings in the region.

farming is a huge part of industry in the ghost hills, both in terms of pastoral grazing and crop growth. traditionally, the tolands have sustained economic growth by exporting crops to less fertile regions of dorne.

other notable goods produced in the region include pottery, woven baskets, items crafted from bell metal, and lumbar (primarily for construction).

due to its proxemity to the ocean, the keep of ghost hill and the town surrounding it houses a small port, though it has no ships of its own, it conducts trade through visiting ships from other regions. it was these ships that varun toland sailed on in his youth and devani toland would use to escape dorne as a teenager.

the ghost hills are economically a little backwards, and money is not generally used apart from for taxes and by the toland family. instead, a bartering system is used by the majority of the smallfolk. the notable exception is in the town at the foot of the ghost hill keep, due to its importance in trade matters. the bartering traditions means poverty does not exist in a traditional sense. most smallfolk live within extended family units, ensuring basic needs are met and cared for by their own. whilst this provides a comfortable life for most of the smallfolk, it does make moving to other areas more difficult.

government, crime, and the law

taxes may be paid with coin, or in the form of agricultural products that would then be sold on.

the line of succession is as follows: 1. aditya toland (the current ruling lord) 2. devani toland (the sister of aditya) 3. kheerat toland (the son of devani, whose existence is unknown) 4. slya manwoody (the sister of varun toland, devani and aditya's father) 5. the twin infant sons of armaan yronwood and joy manwoody (slya's grandchildren) 6. the other manwoody siblings

both varun and aditya have taken a hands-off approach to the smallfolk, allowing them to largely self-govern within their own villages and communities and remaining distant figures. in contrast, devani enjoys spending time amongst the small folk since her return, and often can be found weaving baskets, visiting their communities, taking part in their music and dance, and is generally well-liked by them.

the ghost hills have endured two generations of lax leadership from varun toland and his son, aditya. as such, crime has gone less punished in recent times, and theft, smuggling, and other acts of criminality are common. criminals are usually handled by local communities, to varying effects. mob justice is not uncommon, and punishments are often decided by the elders of the villages. more serious crimes, such as murder, may be passed along to the tolands for judgement.

martial & defence

there are a series of forts within the peaks of the ghost hills, primarily used for defence in the past, but today more commonly used as marketplaces.

soldiers of the ghost hills are part of a small land army, primarily infantrymen, numbering roughly 2500 men. primary weapons are clubs, spears, bows, and firangi swords. there are an even smaller number of cavalry men, but they are expected to provide their own horses. the army is split into six ranks. in times of need, the smallfolk are expected to volunteer, though there has historically been no punishment for not doing so.

as is dornish tradition, the people of the ghost hills favour sneaky tactics and guerrilla warfare, utilising the features of the hills and mountains in order to get the upper hand.

death and mourning

a notable custom of house toland is in their mourning practices. after a body is cremated of a family member, or other significant person, a chalk ghost is made to represent them and left in the grounds of ghost hill, open to the elements. the mourning period can only end once the ghost has eroded away. tolands of the past have been known to strategically place the ghosts depending on how they felt about the deceased - due to the shame devani's sister brought upon the family, for example, her ghost was positioned so it would constantly feel the spray of the sea of dorne, and thus was eroded within months. in contrast, devani's great-grandfather built an alcove in the walls of the castle for the ghost of his daughter, and it still stands to this day, almost a century later. the latest ghost to be installed in ghost hill is a memorial to dante uller.

[karamellisokeri]

Dislyte dump

I tried drawing toland from memory and with a help of my friend's description

Also this old chinese song remind me of feng xun + the person who sang this version just sound lowkey like cn dub feng xun 😭 he is 2002 baby, but i bet his family still play this song in his house everyday lmao

This is raw scanned file of intisar piece and accidental bi intisar is so funny for me 😭😭 (ALSO I LOVE HOW VIBRANT THE PINK AND THE BLUE IS ARGHH, LOVE LOVE ECOLINE WATERCOLOR AND WHITE NIGHTS(even tho i ended up toning the pink down abit digitally)

[weirdlookindog]

Laura La Plante in The Cat and the Canary (1927)

"Universal had made “old dark house” pictures before, but Paul Leni revolutionized the whole look. He established the style for Universal’s classic horror pictures and director James Whale acknowledged his debt. And not only that. The Cat and the Canary is one of the first films in which one can glimpse some of the revolutionary elements Orson Welles and Gregg Toland would use in Citizen Kane..."

quote source

[coldraindropsss]

My two favorite houses in asoiaf

House Toland of Ghost Hill

House Dayne of Starfall

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 15 - Together

Read it on AO3

. . .

Fall air filters into the sunroom through open windows, cool enough to chill metal and send a comfortable shiver through Eriana-3's sensors. She curls silicone fingertips around the hot mug, gathers her legs beneath her to capture more of hers' and Wei's body heat. 

The titan lays across Eriana's lap, head on her robed thighs, one leg crossed at the ankle over her knee, scrolling idly through her data pad. Eriana takes a sip of tea and sets it down on the arm of the couch, hand free to comb through Wei's short hair. 

"Mm, right there," Wei says as Eriana fingers over the crown of her head. She scratches a little more, until Wei gives a rumble of contented approval, one hand raised to caress across Eriana's side. 

The moment is mundane enough to be boring, but Eriana-3 clutches it to her heart as she would a priceless treasure. The memory of the Great Disaster haunts her — the mad panic in the trenches, the sulfurous stench of soulfire over top of smoke and ozone and gunpowder and death. So many dead strewn across the battlefields of Mare Imbrium, Wei Ning almost among them. She'd landed a near-killing blow on the Hive Prince, and he'd returned in kind, almost cleaving the Light from her injured body. But she, and Eris, managed the rescue in time. Wei escaped with only the loss of an eye. More scars, and more stories, to add to her collection.

She didn't think anyone would get out that day. Instead, all three of them and their Ghosts returned home. Battered, scarred in ways the Light cannot heal, but alive. 

How close she was to not having the privilege of an uninteresting life. Her hand clenches on Wei's shoulder. 

"You okay babe?" Her eye is wide, brow furrowed with worry.

"— Yes. Sorry. Just thinking." 

She takes a gulp of tea, and stock of the room, grounding herself. Hers and Wei's house was the hangout for their friend group, and today is different only in the addition of newer faces. Eris and Sai would often gather around the breakfast table, working together on beadwork and leather-craft for hours on off-days. Today they are joined by Omar, a colleague of Eriana's, and Vell, an old friend of Eris', in a lively game of cards. 

Eriana hasn't been paying attention to their chatter, but can tell from Eris' sudden departure from the table — dramatically folding in mock-affront to a good natured round of laughs and jests from the others — who isn't winning. She struts away to Toland, hunched in the corner with a pile of books, crouching down to join him in quiet conversation. 

Toland had been Wei's idea. He was an old teammate of hers with whom she bonded through a shared love of hurdling headlong into danger. Yes, their fireteam was already full, but six to a team was just convention. And to Wei, "convention" is a place where fans of the crucible gather to dress up as their favorite players. She correctly pointed out that the teams who'd tried, and failed, to kill Crota had all lacked a hive expert. They'd also uniformly been six-stacks.

And so the rest had relented, and accepted the exiled Warlock into their fold. 

The presence of the notorious Toland the Shattered did cause complications when they went to the Vanguard to ask permission to break Lunar Interdict. Zavala threatened to exile them all on the spot, but Ikora and Andal were willing to hear their case. The Vanguard was compelled by their plan, and the team was granted a never-before-issued, one-time permit to enter. 

And so the date was set. 

Eriana knows life will not stay boring for long, at least for a while. She holds onto this moment of happiness. Tries to imprint the sounds and sensations and pictures in her mind.

Despite the hardships ahead, she has an overwhelming sense of inner tranquility. Her fireteam is not desperate and reckless, hungry for vengeance. They will use their collective expertise and the data gathered by those who have gone before them to end the ailing Prince once and for all. To finally secure justice for all the Lights extinguished in the Disaster. 

Gently, she rests her arm across Wei's chest. Wei responds by lacing her fingers through Eriana's, giving her hand a soft, encouraging squeeze.

There will be peaceful moments together after this. She knows it.

[thefirstknife]

Rewatching bits and pieces of Destiny 1 Year 1 campaign and thoughts occurred during the introduction of the Sovs. Everything looks a bit run down, and the Uldren's armor is a far cry from the fancy duds he had in D2. Do we know if the Dreaming City already existed at this point, or is their anything in the background talking about how this was some kind of deception/bluff to hide the Awoken's capabilities from the Vanguard?

The Dreaming City was made fairly early on, so it existed at the time, just hidden. It was mostly hidden because it's a sort of sacred place to the Awoken, but also because it was Riven's prison as well. The run down vibe of the Reef is definitely a part of the whole secrecy that Mara always projects; it's best if no one knows everything the Awoken have at their disposal, especially as they were coming closer to the confrontation with Oryx.

Also consider that the Reef was the first home of the Awoken as they returned from the Distributary. They made it with what little they had in terms of technology, in an inhospitable and barren place. The vibe definitely reflects that as well, life in near vacuum on asteroids and debris. The construction of a settlement began right away as soon as they got to the Reef, so the place is old:

Mara calls a caucus of elected representatives in the Sacred Fire, one of the largest hulks in the reef of derelicts. The Fire was built to support habitat construction on 4 Vesta, where Mara hopes to one day anchor the entire flotilla and set down roots—but the hopeful, fearful faces before her make Mara afraid that it'll never happen.

The early Awoken settlements are all around or near the asteroid Vesta, with the Vestian Outpost being a sort of a port of entry to the rest of the Awoken space. The Dreaming City must've been constructed on or partially from Vesta, due to the location names; Rheasilvia is a crater on Vesta, and Divalian Mists is named after another feature on the asteroid (irl!)

Here's Mara telling Uldren to go find her something that will help her make a proper city, so that her people can live on something more than just the debris and asteroid space of Vesta (this also hints at the secrecy of it all, as she specified needing a power no one would know about after Uldren suggested that making one city would be a vulnerability):

"Brother," she said, "never again can I allow my people to be divided. We must offer them more than shielding ice and cold habitat cylinders and the warrens of Vesta. We must make a culture, a thread that binds us all in pride and wonder at the mystery of ourselves. Nowhere does culture flourish better than in a city." "Gather in one place," Uldren warned her, "and you make yourself a target." Mara had considered this, and found an answer. "Go forth and find me a power unknown to all the other powers of this world. Return it to me, and I shall make of it the cornerstone of my new city, where the Awoken shall dream of all they have been and all that is yet to come."

He returns with Riven! This is shortly after the Awoken were divided into Reefborn and Earthborn. It's not super clear when this is all happening, but it's relatively early after their return from the Distributary and definitely long before the events of the first game. A sort of rough timeline of events is mentioned here, if it can be trusted:

Later would come Eris Morn, Osiris, Toland, and all the other accessories of the majestic suicide. Later would come the Reef's tentative entanglements with Vex and Cabal, Fallen and Hive, and the fateful decision to intervene when the House of Wolves turned Earthward to conquer the Last Human City. Later, there would be stories here untold, the Ahamkara and the subcreation of the Dreaming City, the shatterstone fury of the Reef Wars, brother Uldren's journeys into that fell garden...

This would put it at some point around or before the Twilight Gap and the Reef Wars. It's definitely been around for a while, but well-hidden to prevent anyone from getting too close to that sacred space, and to hide Riven's existence. Secrecy was a major component of the look of the Vestian Outpost and other Awoken spaces in the Reef, but the look also reflects their age too.

[princessnysar]

Lady Aliana Toland 

[elia-nymmeros]

i’ve got a bit of a speculative ask for you but how many friends/companions & ladies in waiting, etc do you think elia had as she was growing up (other than her brothers and ashara) and if so which houses would they probably be from?

Yay, I love Elia asks! Personally, I think Elia had more companions once she grew up a little and people were assured she wasn't going to keel over and die suddenly. Oberyn tells Tyrion that she was of delicate health which had never permitted her to travel much; Doran admitted he didn't think she'd live as a baby:

"Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die."

So I think the other Dornish noble houses probably felt the same hesitancy about Elia as she grew up sickly (my headcanon is that she had a wheelchair as a young girl which Oberyn liked to push too hard until he almost broke her neck once or twice); I imagine Elia played with both noble and lowborn children in the Water Gardens, but everyone knew she was delicate and probably was not allowed to do many strenuous exercises/activities. Once she came of age, I think some canonical lady-in-waiting or companions apart from Ashara could've been Delonne Allyrion (born before 252, some 5 or more years older than Elia), Larra Blackmont (no known age), and Nymella Toland (no known age). I don't have any other female, Dornish canon character of her age :(

It's almost criminal how little info we have of the current and past members of Dornish houses. Going a little more into speculative mode, I think Dorne in general may have thought Elia's marriage could bring a new era of prosperity in a similar vein of Myriah. Just like Myriah's marriage brought opportunities in King's Landing for Dornishmen ("[...] for Daeron II brought many Dornishmen to his court, some of whom were granted offices of note"), I imagine many noble Dornish houses thought they could send relatives with Elia to King's Landing so they could have important positions/gain influence/support their princess. It's remarked that some of Rhaegar's companions and supporters were the Dornishmen who had come with Elia after their marriage ("the Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle"); I don't think it's that much of a stretch to claim that Elia brought with her a circle of Dornish allies, including the ladies-in-waiting, and plotted to put them in important positions in court so they could be her confidants once she became Queen.

I would really like to know about more female Dornish characters of Elia's generation, especially of House Yronwood who were clearly offended after Edgar' and Oberyn's duel; maybe a Yronwood daughter was sent with Elia too as lady-in-waiting, as another effort to appease their most powerful bannermen? And if you send a Yronwood daughter then you probably have to send an available Fowler daughter too, you don't want to show that much favor to a House unnecessarily, but this is most of the speculation I have; I don't know how many ladies-in-waiting does a noble woman have on average, so I hope Elia had lots of Dornish women with her who consoled her and were her friends at Dragonstone and KL. At this point I would beg GRRM for more info about Dorne, but I'm afraid of what's waiting for us in Winds of Winter...

Sorry for the long answer! I love rambling about Elia and Dorne ^^

[devanitoland]

house toland - a family tree

the history of house toland and the ghost hills

varun toland brother of slya manwoody, husband of amara toland, father of aditya, pallavi and devani toland

varun toland took little interest in his children. a sailor aboard an essoian ship before he was a lord, and a second child himself who became heir upon his eldest sister's death, some of the few conversations he had with either of his offspring were lamenting the loss of his glory days at sea. he passed away during devani's time in essos, a fact she learned upon her return to dorne.

slya manwoody sister of varun toland, mother of joy manwoody and the other manwoody siblings

when varun became the heir of ghost hill upon the death of their eldest sister, slya was married into house manwoody, giving birth to several children including the deceased joy manwoody, mother of the current ruling lord, the infant ishaan.

amara toland wife of varun toland, mother of aditya, pallavi and devani toland

amara toland was a demanding mother to both of her daughters, with ambitions of advantageous marriages or small council positons for both pallavi and devani. an overbearing woman, she came from a very minor house, and is regarded as a social climber. despite her high expectations for her daughters, she has always doted on her first born and eldest son, aditya, who in her eyes can do no wrong.

aditya toland son of varun and amara toland, brother of pallavi and devani toland

the first-born child of house toland, aditya became the ruling lord after varun's death. spoiled and coddled by his mother, he is weak-willed and entitled, often referring to amara whenever he needs to make a decision. he has very few friends, and has made an enemy of house jordayne after taking liberties with one of the sisters.

pallavi toland daughter of varun and amara toland, sister of aditya and devani toland, wife of doran uller

pallavi toland was the second born child of house toland and an ambitious schemer, moulded by her mother to aim high. she was married to doran uller in a political match and would later be executed for her part in trying to assassinate him - a plot aditya and amara were in on. this occurred whilst devani was in essos, and she would not learn of it until her return.

devani toland daughter of varun and amara toland, sister of aditya and pallavi toland, estranged wife of bennaro nogarys, mother of kheerat toland

the youngest child of varun and amara, devani was always the more rebellious of her siblings, clashing dramatically with her mother until she eventually fled dorne at sixteen. she did not return until fourteen years later upon hearing word of her brother's issues, knowing that she stands to inherit ghost hill should he be killed during his trial by combat.

bennaro nogarys estranged husband of devani toland, father of kheerat toland

a sellsword, bennaro nogarys met devani toland as devi the bard, during her time in essos, and the two married when devani was twenty-three. upon learning of his wife's true identity, bennaro changed in the way he treated devani, becoming more controlling and more combative. after giving birth to their son, devani would disappear from his life, leaving him to raise their child. bennaro is recently deceased, succumbing to infection from a wound.

kheerat toland son of devani toland and bennaro nogarys

six years old, kheerat was born on his mother's twenty-fourth birthday and abandoned by her three weeks later. raised by his father, kheerat was given his mother's name at birth so that he might have a claim to ghost hill. an intelligent, kind, sensitive boy, he has been secretly transported to dorne in the wake of his father's death, and is currently being hidden by his mother in the kitchens of ghost hill, awaiting her next move.

fcs used (happy to change if needed)

nitin ganatra

meera syal

yami gautam

himesh patel

[prince-rhaegar95]

Nymor Letter Explained

It's very likely Rhaenys survived her fall, it is stated that Meraxes crushed the tower and the curtain wall of Hellholt in her mortal agony, she didn't crush immediately on the ground. (Aegon II survived the Battle of the Rook Rest and the battle against Moondancer, he was burned, crippled, severely injured, but he was alive and Corlys Velaryon used poison to get rid of him). Meria and Ullers tortured Rhaenys , Deria and Nymor hired assassins to rescue her, the four consecutive Ullers died because of Nymor assassins, it is stated that only two assassins survived to receive the ransom:the assassins of Lady Toland and Lord Fowler.

(Some members of House Martell turned against Prince Morion during the First Dornish War:"Although Morion had hoped to take Jaehaerys unaware, the king on the Iron Throne had spies in Morion's own court, and friends among some of the Dornish lords, and was therefore warned far in advance of the plans made by the Dornish prince", probably the same happened before) .

So they rescued her and she was shipped to Dragonstone to receive the gift of mercy by Aegon himself, Rhaenys convinced Aegon to stop the devastation that almost annihilated the entire dornish population, the purpose of the Conquest was a united and strong Westeros to have the necessary manpower to face the Others in future,to Rhaenys it was more convenient to have an Indipendent and populated Dorne rather than a desert land with plague and famine.Then I don't think the Queen was glad her siblings were destroying an entire civilization because of her fall at Hellholt, she is described as a kinderhearted person, so she was not the kind of person that enjoyed sufferings of civilians. She wrote the letter herself and she was smuggled to Dragonstone in secret to hide her mutilations from Orys and Visenya, it was the only way to avoid a further escalation.

The theory must explain the following points that I used as clues to elaborate my reconstruction of the facts:

1.Aegon had good relations with Deria, he and Aenys celebrated a feast for peace in Sunspear just after Rhaena birth.

2. Aegon clenched the letter so hard his hand is bleeding (the letter reveals Meria, who is dead, tortured his sister who was alive).

3.Aegon flies to Dragonstone for some reason. (Rhaenys shipped to Dragonstone, she was in a brutal state, however she is able to explain her journey in Dorne to Aegon).

4.Her body was never recovered. (she is euthanized by Aegon and her body is burned as tradition)

5.The ransom strategy was effective against the Ullers. It has no sense that an entire Tyrell army was no able to catch them and some people hired by the Iron Throne were able to murder 4 consecutive Lord of Hellholt in the desert. It was effective against the Ullers that were the lords that could have Rhaenys alive.

[desiresiwant]

𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4.2k~

warnings: mentions of war and death, strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 3rd chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black!OC. Her first time visiting King’s Landing and meeting royalty (OC members of House Targaryen). If there’s a warning I forgot to add let me know.

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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴

              𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑺 along the ship’s ledge as they approached King’s Landing. A city her mother longed to see with her two eyes, together as promised, now forced to experience this moment by herself surrounded by knights loyal to the crown and others who’ve known this city by heart. A thrilling but anxious feeling she struggled to bury. As well as vomit that refused to vanquish with constant swallowing, remembering how unkind the sea was during long nights.

        Outlooking the city of cluttered buildings hidden behind a red wall taller than any known height, as though the Gods embraced the land that it molded within its structure, a majestic castle came closer into view as they traveled through the city by carriage. It reached the skyline at this angle. The city was far livelier than Toland with more people than she could count on her fingers; more land, more green, more water, more color. And although it was hot, there wasn’t a lingering dryness that left her throat parched, but humid with a wet earthy taste that kept her saliva wet enough. 

        But while its differences were known, it wasn’t Dorne. Home.

        The people pointed and waved at the traveling carriages—at Sylvia as she gawked through the velvet curtains, taken aback by the people and their cultural differences, and a lingering stench. To process a world existed beyond the sea outside of deserts and sandstorms was exhilarating. She wondered if it snows here too having not seen it before.

        Mar’kel and Jorio split ways once landing ashore. He had no choice but to accompany the journey to King’s Landing given their boat was taken by the current, and assured Sylvia he would find good work to provide for his family.

        Haron Baratheon—Lord Hand, as stated to address him—was kind enough to allow Sylvia to join his carriage. His eyes would linger in her direction and she would catch him staring without break as if Sylvia was a mystical creature, but she didn’t mind his curiosities. Forgave him even since he took her in, informed her of the castle up ahead, and spared her life.

        The Red Keep.

        A line of knights dressed in white armor and golden cloaks awaited the return of Lord Hand with Sylvia following behind like some lost puppy still yet a stranger to this new region. Though he was kind to allow sanctuary, she knew better than to trust a helping hand with blind eyes because the price weighed heavier.

        Lord Hand advised Sylvia to wait outside the guarded bronze doors until she was announced, and anticipation grew with every passing second. Because she had never met her father before, only heard through countless stories her mother shared, Sylvia was unable to create an expression appropriate toward her arrival. The one created out of her naive imagination, hoped he’d smile gracefully and acknowledge her existence. Fathers back in Dorne did. Without shame too.

        “Father, how was your travels? We heard war broke loose again across the sea, but hope to hear good news with the Martells and the arrangements made the hundredth time.” Said a woman whose voice was carried by gracious echoes.

        Two passing servants carrying a basket full of sheets were caught sizing Sylvia down, their noses riled in disgust as they picked at her filth. It wasn’t until one pointed out her hair that regret followed by fear flashed. They offered a bow before hurrying off, eyes glued to the floor. Whatever that was about. But they weren’t the only avoiding attention; the knights paid Sylvia no mind but they were intimidating. Everything was.

        “Rather interesting, your grace.” Lord Hand responded to the woman, assumedly his daughter. The Queen. “Aside from matters that should be privately discussed, in my travels along the border of the Narrow Sea, I made a mild discovery sure to be the talk of the day. Perhaps weeks. Come on out, girl.”

        Sylvia’s head perked realizing that was her cue.

        The chatters of council members and lords and ladies of the Royal Court were silenced once the large doors opened and there Sylvia stood, gawking at the view. High ceilings bleeding in light from the sky, held with humongous pillars. Colors so vibrant it was blinding. Lord Hand cleared his throat and gestured his head to the spot next to him. She hurried down the red carpet stretching from the doors toward the throne made of an asymmetric monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal made of swords still sharp enough to cut.

        It was where an older man—King Aul Targaryen, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, as proudly announced—with silky white hair pinned from his old face where a crown of gold sat. His slouched position straightened upon the girl’s entrance. Just as a beautiful black-headed woman—Lady Queen Alice Baratheon, as announced—stood beside the throne, glaring at her husband.

        Sylvia kept her gaze to the floor, fidgeting with her dirty fingers when reaching Lord Hand’s side. The carpet tracked her wet muddy boot prints. She never stood before royalty, a king and queen of the realms, and possibly her father somewhere hidden. Their customs were foreign, but knew when greeting high-borns—or in this case, royalty—one should show respect as customary.

        So, Sylvia lifted her chin and lowered her body with a curtsy as her mother taught her. With grace and beauty…or so she believed it to be. And since she wore no dress, had to improvise with her loose-fitting shirt that was given by the cook on the ship. It smelt of sweat and sausages but it was better than her other shirt still covered in Yanis’ blood and dirt from home. 

        “Oh God,” said Lady Queen Alice, unimpressed by the gesture. Lord Hand included by his lips pressing together with a sigh deep from his chest. 

        Sylvia started feeling a bit silly especially when a snicker erupted the gossiping crowd on her left. There were too many faces scrutinizing her existence down to the soul, but only one who made their laughter known and didn’t care to hide it. Only his silver hair registered before the Queen spoke up.

        “Have you fathered another bastard, husband?” Lady Queen Alice rubbed between thinly arched brows, looking at the King with low eyes. Despite her disappointment, it seemed nothing new to her.

        “I would remember if I did.” The King motioned toward Sylvia’s awkward stance. “What is your name, child?”

        Lord Hand spoke before she could. “This is Sylvia, Sands of Dorne, and takes claim as daughter of the late Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

        The room erupted in a collective of gasps and gossip with people squeezing between one another to get a better look at the bastard. The Queen noticeably sighed with relief. Possibly for the fact she wouldn’t have to provide for another bastard the King presumably has.

        King Aul scooted further in his throne, careful not to knick his hand along the sharp blades. Violet eyes widen with shock they could bulge out of his sockets. “Impossible,” though said to himself, the echo carried his voice across the room. His eyes were on Sylvia but his words were directed toward the Hand. “Daemon would have told me if he seeded a bastard especially one of her grown age. How old are you?”

        “Nine-and-ten years,” Sylvia answered, her accent far different and distinctive than everyone here.

        “That is long before his marriage with Lady Vana, my king.” The Queen mentioned. “During the—”

        “Yes. I am well aware of my brother’s travel as it was I who sent him to tarnish our enemies for the crown and won the battle that gave him the title I bestowed. A war of many, and a war that has come bite me back in the ass.” King Aul interrupted his wife who bit her tongue, still never letting Sylvia out of his sight. “Nineteen years is quite some time. My brother, as sneaky as he was, confined me with his secrets and there has been not a word of the existence of a child born on Dornish soil.”

        Perhaps her father was ashamed of Sylvia. Or he didn’t give a rat’s ass to acknowledge a bastard across the sea when his life and legitimate children was right where he’s needed. She didn’t hold it against him, but she would be lying if she didn’t want a proper answer. All those letters sent and not one response? Coming all this way for a false dream her mother fed, and he dare not show his face? 

        “Prince Daemon was known to enjoy common acts of pleasure and relish in an arm’s length of lovers to keep him company. There is no doubt in me to believe he wouldn’t find company of his own during his long stay in Dorne, a world free of imagination. And in such actions, resulted in the birth of Sylvia Sand. Perhaps without his knowledge.” Lord Hand defended.

        After a beating moment, King Aul beckoned Sylvia closer where he may view her better. The red stones beneath her feet were so clear that she could see her reflection, her dirty clothes and matted hair. She’d even caught the reflection of nobles standing in wealth from head to toe, wrinkling their nose at the stench of the slums that clung to her. She was nothing but scum to them. Undeserving of this opportunity to be presented before their King, defended by the Hand, and bastard of a war prince.

        But Sylvia knew avoiding their vile opinions and cowardly within her skin would do no better but give them more to talk about. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and kept it high, and allowed the King to look at her. The Queen didn’t bother to dignify Sylvia’s presence with so much as a quick size-down, as she was no child of the King, and therefore, no threat to her or her problem to deal with.

        “And you are sure your father is Daemon Targaryen and no other man?” He added quickly as Sylvia opened her mouth to answer him, “Don’t you lie. It is a sin to lie to your king.” He spoke in a tone only a father would on a child, but Sylvia was no child nor a child of his from the looks of it. The feminine growth of her body held proof of her womanhood, yet it was hidden behind shapeless clothing.

        “My mother is no liar nor did she raise me as one; Daemon Targaryen is my father. During the Blood War, my mother kept him company before he left to fulfill his duties to his king where I was then later conceived.”

        “Why wait until now to stake your claim?”

        “It’s not in my intention to stake any claims my father withholds. I was perfectly fine living in my little village with my mother without knowing my father or him knowing me, but because of certain circumstances, here I am.”

        “Here you are, yes. But for what reason? What compensation do you seek from the crown?” He asked.

        Lord Hand stepped forward. “The bastard—”

        “I want nothing from the crown,” Sylvia spoke over him with a confession that intrigued the King to hear more, but not so much the Hand. She ignored his burning glare. “From my father. From this house. From anyone. My only wish is to remain in King’s Landing so what was lost shall be found. But. . .the other half of me can’t ignore the opportunity I have to learn about my lineage and how my features came about. This world was just stories when I was young, but now that I’m here, I wish to explore it.”

        As the King observed the girl once more, Sylvia saw the look in his eyes had softened with contentment. Perhaps he saw the prince in her, a face he knew better than anyone else. Certainly better than Sylvia. She may be a bastard but enough of her father’s blood, this house’s blood was in her veins; evident from the scales along her skin, the color of her hair, and purple in her eyes. It’s not of Dornish traits nor did her mother share any—that was all them. And frankly, coming this far across the sea in a world unknown, brought by Lord Hand who decided to take bring her to court, some recognition would be nice.

        “Very well, then. It seems you’ve caught me in a good mood and on a lucky day.” King Aul sat back on this throne but not too far. “I hereby affirm Sylvia, Sands of Dorne, be known as Sylvia Targaryen, eldest daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen. I shall send word to Drangonstone and inform Lady Vana of my royal decree."

        Sylvia was just as stunned as the next, even more than Lord Hand. This was not what she asked of him. Nowhere near her desire to remain in the city, yet it was exactly what her mother wanted. No longer known as a bastard but legitimized in the eyes of the law and given more than what had been given in her entire life in just a few days, and all it took was an outbreak of a civil war.

        She dropped to her knees to thank King Aul. She had no words. No one else did either.

        Lady Queen Alice almost lost her posture at the degree and sought to question his decision. “My king, don’t you feel you are being too generous? You have always been fond of Prince Daemon, rigid with guilt after the following of his death—” Sylvia lifted her head. His death? “—but we don’t know the girl. She is all but a stranger. What if this decree inspires more bastards of Daemon’s or yours to come forth and ask more than we provide?”

        My father is dead?

        “Then we get to know the girl. My brother has only one child in his lifespan and the Gods have brought us another. Not only will I honor him and his services to the realm, but I shall hope his bloodline strives another hundred years to come.” King Aul addressed and stood from his throne. “Someone see the girl to a bath and proper clothing. I need a fucking nap.”

        The Queen chewed her bottom lip pink, glaring in the direction of her father as she and the entire court bowed as King Aul took his leave. Sylvia stood off to the side not to block his path, next to Lord Hand, and met his empty stare. There’s no telling if the outcome of this arrangement went in his favor or against his consciousness. Following behind the King, he ignored his daughter’s glower.

        A brown-haired woman with big round eyes rushed before Sylvia upon the Queen’s request. “My lady, if you’ll please, follow me this way.” She motioned after the King had cleared the room, trying to sneak a glimpse of her scales.

        Instead of replying, Sylvia peered around for the silver-haired individual who laughed at her earlier. She had hoped to catch a proper view of him before everyone cluttered together to exit, but he was nowhere to be found. Or he was hiding.

        “My lady?” The servant called again, closer than before, and Sylvia almost thought she’d mistaken her for someone else until it settled. “Shall we take our leave?”

        She would never get used to that. My lady. A proper title than bitch, boy, bastard, and aye.

        “Sure. Yes, we can go.”

————————-

                    𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑨 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳-𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹 consisted of many colors but blue and browns and reds were popular. Deep blue couches with three-headed dragon embroidery stuffed pillows. Brown bricked fireplace burning low, gleaming against the detailed oval rug. Red curtains pinned from the wide windows almost as big as the wall, framed with a series of paintings and banners of the same three-headed dragon. And many bronze decorations of items unknown to Sylvia as she never owned any of them before. Like this room that was about three to four rooms combined back home.

        “This is my room?” Sylvia asked, peering over her shoulder toward the woman following behind. She couldn’t keep her fingers or excitement to herself, touching everything in her path like the wet leaves of watered plants as tall as her and the quilted cloth slung over the couch.

        “Yes, my lady.”

        She went over toward the table where a basket of fresh-picked grapes and bright red apples sat. Plucked it but didn’t complete the next step. “And this?”

        “Yes, my lady.”

        She plopped the grape in her mouth, sloshing around its sweet with a tint of sour juice. Madam Marget reserved fruits—aside from apples—for her high-paying guest and whores and Zaal the cook, would notice if a stem was broken or someone blew their breath too close. Her mother was the house favorite and together would eat a hoard of grapes, raspberries, peeled oranges, and chugged rich wine until their heads grew heavy and their finger tingled.

        She ate another. Then discovered a bed big enough to fit five or more people, dressed with thick embroidered quilts and stuffed pillows shoved in designed cases. She never had her own room. Her own bed. Her own space. It was all too big that she missed her small room, where it was just her and her mother.

        “And this?”

        “Yes,” the servant repeated, barely hiding her annoyance well. “My lady. All of this, the room, is yours. In your name, as your birthright. If you would follow me this way, I may introduce you to Meya, your handmaiden.”

        From behind a bamboo panel where multiple women stood filling the tub with boiling water, a woman with deep auburn hair draped into a messy braid down her back revealed herself with a bow. “My lady, it is a great honor to serve you and this house. I intend to serve you well.” Her lips were so thin that when she smiled they were nonexistent, and beneath the red dress she wore—quite similar to the woman who escorted Sylvia and few who passed them—her breast filled every open space.

        Sylvia knitted her brows as she faced the servant beside her. “Are you not my handmaiden?” She asked, unsure how this went about and what exactly a handmaiden would do for her at her side already used to fending for herself.

        She laughed as though Sylvia said something funny, but it was a modest laughter. Very light and airy, hidden behind her hand not to offend her. “You flatter me, my lady, but I serve the Queen. I am here only to guide you to your chambers. Meya is well qualified and shall help you adjust and become a proper lady of the court. Should you need anything more, Meya is at your arm.”

        Another question touched her lips but the woman was already gone.

        When she took her leave, Meya guided Sylvia behind the thick panel to rid herself of clothes connected to an identical she once was. She kept the boots because the pouch of money and jewels remained, in close proximity should anyone get any ideas. Then, with offered help, eased herself in the water dusted with rose petals, hot enough to burn off her skin.

        The air smelled of spiced salts and perfume, foreign scents and fancy oils she wasn’t accustomed to. Sylvia soaked further in water steaming off her skin with a deep sigh, allowing her aching muscles to relax. But what followed next gave no prior warning to such torment. Under the care of servants, her skin was rubbed red and raw with a rag determined to change her tone or peel off her scales, her nails shaped and picked of dirt and dried blood. 

        Washing her hair required the help of many hands struggling to work through mats and knots with wide-tube combs, fingers, and horse-hair brushes. Sylvia’s cries were ignored until every stand was free of tangles and dirt. By the end of the process, the milky-like water had turned brownish-red with floating twigs and leaves. 

        Sylvia had never been pampered with such torment and washed with the help of multiple hands touching intimate parts. It wasn’t something she could get used to.

        She tugged her wet curls free from her nightgown shoved over her head and stood before the mirror—at the woman, a lady, a legitimate child of her father—as Meya recorded her measurements to send the seamstress for a whole new wardrobe.

        “Is this necessary? All the. . .extra hands?” Sylvia finally brought up. Everywhere she looked there were hands on her body, in her hair, reaching for her when she wasn’t looking.

        “It is, yes. You are no longer who you were before you stepped foot in King’s Landing. You are Sylvia Targaryen, eldest child of Prince Daemon Targaryen, royal blood of the leading house in Westeros. You must look your best even while you sleep. That is the way of a lady.” Meya replied, telling another a number to record. At a closer view, she was quite young but not as young as Sylvia, but graced with years before her first grey strand would grow in.

        “I’m not sure how to be one. A lady of the court. Or a lady at all. There aren't many examples where I'm from.” Sylvia admitted. A few giggled at her response but not in an antagonizing way but like a puppy barking for the first time. 

        With a firm look from Meya, they fell silent. She stretched the numbered strip from her shoulder toward her wrist, a warm smile on her young face. “You need not worry, my lady, that is my job to bear. I will guide you every step of the way. The world is slightly different from Dorne but I believe you’ll learn quick.” She hugged the strip around her slim waist, passing more numbers to record. “I suppose it will take some getting used to.”

        Sylvia took in the room as though it would be taken from her with a blink of an eye and she’d awake in the boat heading toward Yronwood. This was everything her mother ever wanted for her and it’s a shame she wasn’t here to witness it. But the plan remained the same; I will stay and wait for my mother’s quick return.

        Meya caught Sylvia yawning once again, her eyes fluttering and heavy head swaying back and forth. Her lips tugged upwards and with a wave of a hand, sent everyone away. “It’s been a long day for you, quite the journey across the Narrow Sea on top of your given status the King bestowed. Why don’t you rest for a while? Should you need anything else I will be here at your side.”

        She didn’t even have to ask twice. Sylvia climbed into the bed—the pouch hidden under her pillow, which she placed shortly after getting out the bath when no one was looking—and drew the sheets to her chin. Her head was thick with exhaustion as she drifted off into a deep slumber.

        But it wasn’t long until a voice of worry called from her sleep and Meya was hovered over her, inspecting Sylvia as she had gone somewhere. She rubbed her eyes while sitting up in bed that had molded her figure. Eyeing the room confirmed this wasn’t a dream but her reality. She was a lady of status.

        “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Sylvia inquired and her pulse spiked at an older man at her side, mashing herbs in a bowl to pour in a steaming cup.

        “You slept like the dead, unmoving the entire day through night and day again. Then you were burning in your rest so I called the physician to assess you.”

        The physician handed the cup to Sylvia to take. It smelt strongly of ginger and an unknown substance.

        “What is this?” She took the cup but didn’t dare sip it.

        “Mild supplements to get your blood pumping, my lady.” He gathered his tool and little-tied bags of herbs and shoved them into his brown bag. “Nothing to worry about, you are as young and healthy as a dragon. After your long journey, it is only natural you would sleep through days until it wears off. Should another fever arrive, do call for me.”

        Her nose scrunched in disgust at the bitter taste warm down her throat. She remembered how long it took the physician back in Toland to see her when she was bedridden with sickness and puking her guts red. There were so many cases of the sick going around that it took days for one to see Sylvia, to the point her mother had to pay differently to secure a visit and proper medicine. They were not at her beck and call as they were now, and for minor disturbances.

        Meya walked the physician out and lent her ear to another servant who entered the room while Sylvia struggled to swallow the rest. Her eyes grew wide with shock, bowing to the messenger, and rushed over. "My lady, the king has requested you join him for supper."

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read HERE