#arc ii ⊱ WOMEN'S WICKED WAYS

[benjen-mormont]

𓆰𓆪 THE GOAL I WAS AIMING FOR WAS THE WRONG ONE 𓆰𓆪

(Starter with @thefallenprincesss)

The first time it happened, Benjen was five, tossing and turning beneath the heavy canopy of his bed, feeling trapped like a small, restless bird. Outside his window, an owl cut through the winter breeze, its eyes like small suns piercing the night. Benjen thought he had fallen asleep. That night, he dreamed he was that owl, wings spread wide against the frost biting at his feathers.

From then on, the dreams came and went. When he felt cornered, he was a bird—sometimes an owl, sometimes a raven, flitting through the shadows. When his parents argued, he became a wolf, bristling in defiance. If his father scolded him, he was a bear, claws bared. If his sister woke from nightmares, he was a fox, swift and clever, ready to slip between the shadows to keep her safe.

But that winter, the dreams drained him. Benjen lost so much weight the maesters grew concerned; he barely ate and spent long hours asleep, slipping into visions that seemed to wear him down. His mother tried to reassure him, but she would smooth his hair with trembling hands, speaking of bad omens. The dreams turned darker. One night, he became a beast that tore through soldiers who insulted his mother—called her mad, weak, unable to bear the lord proper children. In his dream, he ripped them apart as if they were made of paper, staining the snow crimson with their blood. He could still taste it on his lips when he awoke.

After that, Benjen tried not to dream.

His father, Lord Edryk Mormont, was more legend than man—his rage so fierce that mothers warned their children of him, a monster prowling through the halls of their own home. Lady Melantha reminded her children that war needed men like him, but her eyes always seemed wary, her words edged with dread. Lord Mormont had no warmth, no love to spare among the fires that burned in his chest.

Then came that spring night, when Lord Mormont dared to struck Lady Mormont. Benjen crept away into the woods, not to dream but to escape. There, he found a massive bear prowling in the shadows. His senses sharpened as his eyes turned white and fierce. He was aware of every stone and twig beneath his paws as he moved, one step after another, toward the keep.

That night, Lord Mormont died in anger, just as he had lived.

Benjen didn’t need to dream after that. He was wide awake. The warging—skinchanging, the Maesters called it—was as much a curse as a gift. The longer he spent in another creature’s skin, the harder it became to remember how to be human. Benjen wasn’t sure if his ferocity, his fierce protectiveness, had always been a part of him or if it was something borrowed from the animals he inhabited.

Still, he had no intention of sitting idle as doom crept across the North.

Birds, snakes, bears, seals. He wondered, briefly, if there was a limit to the shape he could take. What was a Targaryen if not a man? What was a dragon if not a lizard? The Dragonpit wasn’t difficult to infiltrate. The guards barely glanced at a the second in command walking with purpose. The dragon’s heat reached him before he saw it, rising like a furnace from the cavernous darkness. Benjen drew closer, his breath catching as he focused on the scaled beast. If he just concentrated—if he could feel it, the way he had felt the bear, the raven, the wolf—

A startled sound called his eyes up.

“Princess Rhaenya,” Benjen straightened, forcing himself to look casual despite the wild thrum of his heart. “I didn’t know you were awake, it’s quite late…”

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

Coming soon on A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood

Half a year after the coronation of Westeros' first Ruling-Queen...

Court has been called back to session in King's Landing to celebrate the wedding of Crown Prince Jacaerys and his future Queen, Princess Baela. To celebrate the occasion Queen Rhaenyra and Princess Baela have put enormous efforts over the past six moons to revive Good Queen Alysanne's "Women's Court" proceedings, and host the first of a new era where they are as frequent as they are highly regarded, lending the Crown's often overwhelmed ear to women of every strata and station so the voices of those that ground and uphold their kingdom may be given their proper due. Meanwhile, Lords from across Westeros and all the Seven Kingdoms, have found the revival to be their greatest evidence yet that Rhaenyra has far overstepped the position she ultimately holds by their good grace: To favor a sister over a brother because the King's word is law, and Lords must remain firm in their right to name their own heirs, is one thing, for that woman to ascend without seeming to spare any mind towards the precedent they have overlooked and privileges they have granted her is another entirely. Whispered judgements and quiet dissatisfaction are growing into the rumblings of a war headed by Lords who were once Kings in their own right and backed by the Faith many have begun to believe their Dragon Kings, and Queen, have forgotten holds this Realm together in ways even the beasts they're bonded to who bring them close and closer to divinity never will. As the days dwindle to her first child's marriage, and the final assertion of the last two decades she's spent continuously cementing Jacaerys oft-speculated, but never outright contestable, claim Rhaenyra is eight moons pregnant with twins, faced with her first true challenge as a ruler, and to maintain the hard-earned peace of two acclaimed Kings, will have to put not only the future of her reign but her faith in those she once considered her greatest threat and rely on the council and support of her Prince Half-Brothers and The Dowager Queen to ensure The Realm does not spiral into a civil war fueled by grudges and led by forces much greater and more powerful than any conflict that may once have been capable of dividing The Realm into Black and Green. House Targaryen must reforge old ties and relearn what it means to be not just one House but one family, it is no longer a matter of success, or stability, but of their very survival.

Arc II of A Song of GF & BB begins on September 14th.

[thefourthstormfloris]

Ours is the Fury

( a part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood )

starter with @cassandra-of-baratheon

Despite everything Floris had assumed for the royal wedding, that it would be terrible and she’d embarrass herself and things such as that, she’d ended up having fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been happy at a public gathering, and in fact, she believes she had never been. This was the first time she could be at any sort of event and enjoy herself. Between dancing with her betrothed Ser Garmund, conversing with Lady Hightower, thinking about her new dog she was promised, and being with her older sister Maris, she seemed life had no problems at all.

It was the time of the wedding ball, which were to be held in the gardens. Lady Samantha Hightower had chosen a yellow dress for Floris, and as she always eagerly accepted Lady Sam’s ideas, she ended up wearing it. It was something she has seen others look strangely at her for wearing. She had never in her life worn the color yellow, gold accents had been on her black dresses, but never before had a pure yellow dress been placed on her before. She decided she wanted to try new colors, a decision she never thought she would have made, but nonetheless she found the dress very stunning. Things were changing for her at a rapid speed, and all of it felt positively beautiful.

But, there was one thing in her life that was still confusing, and that was the relationship between her and her eldest sister, Cassandra. While Floris felt dearly close to Maris and felt positive towards Ellyn, her and Cassandra had always been cold towards one another. Cassandra was the clear favorite to their parents, at least that was the way Floris saw things. Her parents never gave her a second glance the way they did for Cassandra, and they never praised her half as much. Floris was the disappointment, and Cassandra was heir, and Floris felt the hatred in her heart like a scar that refused to fade, there for everyone to see.

So when the Baratheon family arrived to the wedding ball together, standing next to her eldest sister had felt extremely uncomfortable. They had nothing in common, barely spoke to each other, and now had to stand here and present themselves as happy and beautiful to the court. Looking up at Cassandra, Floris tried to examine how the other was feeling, but she could not. She could never read her older sister the way she could read Maris, or even Ellyn. She never knew how she felt.

But she wondered if Cassandra had noticed this change in Floris, or if she was stuck in her own world of duties for the Princess Baela, not noticing her youngest sister. For what seemed like the first time in her life, Floris spoke up. “Sister…” she started, voice soft and quiet. “It must be nice to see your Princess wedded.”

Floris looked at her dress, remembering who had gifted it to her. “I am not sure if our parents passed the news onto you, but I am betrothed to Ser Garmund Hightower now. I’m not sure where I will be going after the wedding, perhaps to Oldtown, I do not know…” She stopped suddenly, unsure why she revealed her confusion about her life after the wedding to Cassandra. Perhaps she wanted to give something to Cassandra that she could understand, share a small part of her heart to her that she had never done before. This wedding had been a time of firsts and Floris was ready to face a first with her sister.

[oscartullyofriverrun]

Words of Darkness; Words of Light: with @davos-allyrion

Oscar had gotten himself in many strange situations over the years due to impulsivity and because of his sister’s pamphlet Of Court and Kingdom.  Oscar had traveled to odd places and spoken with various strange people to gather information to pass back to Abby, so when the Dornish delegation had swept into the Red Keep with whispers of brutality and murder all centered around a single person, it had seemed only logical to reach out and learn the truth for himself.  There was a delicacy in doing so.  Few were willing to admit their secrets to a stranger and besides, it felt wrong to develop a sense of trust with someone only to abuse it later.  Usually, Oscar used these writing relationships to learn a person’s personality, ask about the rumors that naturally stirred up and judge based on their reaction how likely they were to be true.  At times it could be difficult, but Oscar liked to think he’d become quite good at it.

Except for when it came to Davos.  Each new letter brought a tale wilder than the last.  Whenever Oscar asked about a new rumor, Davos was quick to confirm it and spin the tale into something even more exaggerated.  Normally, Oscar would have assumed the other man was messing with him and simply playing up the rumors that surrounded him for his own amusement, except there was often a twist of cruelty that crept into Davos’s words that made Oscar feel like some of the things Davos told him were true.  It was clear the other man hadn’t done everything people whispered about, but even if he’d done a quarter of it, that was enough to make Oscar a little scared.

Any logical person would have cut off the relationship by now, gradually dragging out the space between letters so as to not cause offense. Yet, Oscar always found himself ripping open Davos’ letters with a dark sense of curiosity and writing back in a timely fashion.  Davos had a way of learning strangely accurate information about people from all across the Seven Kingdoms, sometimes things Oscar himself hadn’t even heard a whisper about.  It made him feel a little sick to think that Davos had probably heard all the rumors about him as well, but Oscar did his best to ignore that.  He often told himself he kept writing to Davos for Abby’s sake in order to gain these random bits of information, but if he was honest with himself, Oscar was too interested in whatever strange things were happening at Godsgrace to quit writing quite yet.

Dear Lord Davos, 

Your last letter was, as always, very interesting.  I would have you know the rumor you heard about me almost killing another boy in the training yard for insulting my brother is mostly exaggerated.  I only broke the boy’s nose and frankly, I believe he deserved it.  I suppose I should not even bother asking if the stories you’ve told me about your own training days are true or not, though I can’t help but want to ask again anyway.  Perhaps if I ever journey down to Dorne we could spar together, though maybe that is a dangerous proposition if I want to keep all of my organs where they belong.

I imagine you have already heard, in the way you always do, that a marriage might be in my future.  It is a perfect match in its own way, and my father is so relieved he has started speaking to me again.  You’re lucky your murderous infant gaze was vile enough to strike your father dead on the spot because many fathers don’t like it very much when you turn out differently than they’d hoped.  Yes, I’ve heard that rumor about you and no, I do not think it’s true though please feel free to try and convince me it is if you so desire.

I hope you are well.  I hear much about your murderous rages and evil blood spells, but less on your happiness.  I have spoken with a man whose mother is from Dorne and apparently she always says the most beautiful stars hang in the skies of Dorne.  I don’t know if that’s true, but sometimes here in the Riverlands I enjoy sleeping on the balcony of my room underneath the stars.  Before you say anything, yes I know that’s a wonderful way to get murdered by assassins or thieves, but as a lord, surely you’ve felt the weight of your position and wanted to escape it all just for a moment.

I do not know what it’s like in Dorne, but even for me as a second son the weight of expectation can be crushing.  I apologize if I’ve admitted or assumed too much but it has been quite a tumultuous time lately.

Your (potential?) friend, 

Oscar Tully

P.S. If you haven’t spent much time lately watching the stars, you should.  At the very least, you’ll be able to appreciate the darkness more after seeing them shine.

[doranyronwood]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Starter for @davos-allyrion

Doran was excited, a rare emotion but a most welcome one. He’d finally done it. He’d gotten everything in order and planned it all just so. Now he could set off, enjoy some time to himself. Become re-acquainted with the land around him. He planned to camp within the Stone way better known as the Bone way. The steep inclines and treacherous rocky terrain made it an ideal spot to avoid other people. House Yronwood sat at the southern end of the bone way, protecting the pass. Doran knew the land like his own skin, he’d spent years traversing the ground and learning its secrets.

Mounting his horse, Doran set off on a familiar path. He wanted to drop by a hidden creek. The twisting and winding passages would be impossible for any other horse to navigate but his horse, a dornish punch, was made for traversing in a lithe manner. Not that that meant the beast was small, he weighed more than a castle stone. Weaver was chestnut brown all over except just before his hooves and the tip of his tail, both of which were a sandy cream color. Despite his sturdiness and width, weaver had never been stuck before. As his name indicated, he was rather adept at weaving through passages smoothly.

The sun hung low in the sky, turning the canyon around him into a dusky mix of pinks, plums and reds. The sand glittered like a million diamonds beneath them and he took a deep breath before exhaling. He felt alive again, his sword hanging at his side ready for any danger. A gentle breeze blew past ruffling his hair and Weaver let out an appreciative snort. It wasn’t easy to get away from his duties anymore. Since becoming lord of his house he’d had no time for anything besides ruling. He didn’t mind that aspect, it felt good to look after his people. He’s been doing it all of his life anyway. But he did yearn for freetime.

He heard sand dogs yelping from a distance, probably a tangle of youths fighting in preparation of the hunt. He knew they were of no consequence to them, the sight of the weaver's massive body would drive them away quickly. He also had a fondness for the reckless animal, crashing through the rocks and mindlessly nipping at whatever was closest. They were like much of Dorne, carefree and dangerous. Doran loved playing the political game or rather he loved disrupting it. Much like a sand dog he would lose all tact and outright attack, nipping at his enemies heels. It was reckless, sure, but exhilarating as well. Some day he might miss the mark but that was part of the fun. He liked thinking on his feet and he liked the energy of chaos.

Which brought him back to the present. Doran hadn’t had a chance to spend any quality time to himself because he’d been too busy disrupting corruption in his own lands. He could’ve done it faster but he enjoyed the whimsey of it all. With everything settled and secure he’d turned to a friend. Doran wasn’t close to many people, there were just so few who genuinely connected with him. He did have Edric, the head of the Martell guard. But that man was even busier than he was so most often they wrote to each other. But Dorab longed for a closer friendship, a true one where he felt welcome.

As he approached the small creek he dismounted his horse. After tending to Weaver he began to set up camp, still thinking of his companion yet to arrive. He’d packed enough to supply a small garrison, a perk of Weaver’s massive size. As he worked he hummed a tune to himself and kept an eye out for his friend. They had plenty of time to reconnect and maybe cause some trouble before he needed to return. The sun was nearly nonexistent now deep within the boneway. The only sound is the small trickle of the stream.

[robingrafton]

confrontation brewing

( a part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood )

starter with @benjen-mormont

After the wedding of Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela, Robin finally felt he could relax. While he never truly felt relaxed in his life, endlessly worrying over duties he himself had to manage and the problems of others, sometimes he felt a night out alone helped him to feel at peace. While preferring to be in the company of others, sometimes a lonesome journey could set his mind straight.

So this night, he chose to travel to the same tavern he had taken his best friend Jacaerys to for his bachelor party, only days ago that was. It was a nice place, full of people he knew and was friendly with, but not overly close with to where they would not bother him tonight.

He settled in his seat, a table by himself and his glass filled in front of him. His drink was a sort of mead, something the lady serving him knew he liked but he had never quite asked what it exactly was. He had gotten through one serving when he felt as if he was being watched, making him tense once again.

His brown eyes wandered around the tavern, anxiously looking at those who he knew. None of the others seemed to be looking at him, and he would have passed off this feeling as irrational if it were not for the man his eyes settled upon. Finally placing the person who seemingly could not keep their eyes off of Robin, it was a man who Robin somehow recognized, but could not place...

He stood up abruptly, leaving his table and glass behind, long forgotten. Moving closer to the mysterious man, his memories finally gave him an answer of where he knew this other. At Jacaerys bachelor party... he stared at me the whole time as well!

While Robin was open to making friends with anyone, he would not tolerate rudeness. He had put the staring aside the other day as to not ruin his friends party, but this night he would not. Walking faster now, he strode towards the man's table, ready for answers.

"There seems to be a problem between the two of us that I have not figured out yet. Care to share it? Or will you continue to stare me down, hoping your eyes will do damage to me? Who are you?" He could not help himself as the questions poured out, not giving the other a chance to answer until he had asked all of them. Examining the other all while his words tumbled out, he noticed that the man looked familiar in a way that was more than just some random person at a tavern. As if he was someone of a great house... but Robin ignored that feeling for now, waiting for answers to his inquiries.

[gysellablacktyde]

character challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

challenge: write a scene of your character either in the direct lead up or aftermath of the wedding, women's court, and all related celebrations.

collaboration with @lady-of-knives

The day of Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela's wedding was getting closer, and Gysella decided to look for flowers to use for her hair within the gardens of the Red Keep. Her dress for the wedding celebration was going to be green, as that was a color representing her house. Well, her house before she was married, that is. She was on the look for flowers that were black, as black was another one of her house colors as well as her husbands house. Black flowers seemed rather a rarity in this vast garden of brightly colored plants, so Gysella had been searching for quite some time.

Her searching began to feel dull, so she took her eyes away from the flowers to look at others who were around her. Many faces she did not know, as well as some she did. Her eyes eventually fell on a woman around her age, a lady she instantly recognized as Berena Bolton. The two of them had met before, but it was brief as well as uncomfortable. She was a Lady in waiting to Princess Baela, just as Alannys was. Gysella was still wary around those not from the Iron Islands, and Berena was a Northerner. Gysella could not remember how many Northerners she had known in her lifetime, but it was very few.

Curious, Gysella walked closer to the Bolton girl. What was she doing out in the gardens? Suddenly Gysella felt curious about more things. What do Northerners wear to weddings? Does this girl act as she has heard Boltons act in many stories before, flaying and torturing their enemies? Perhaps there was something to learn from talking to her, so Gysella made her way closer towards Berena. Once she arrived in front of her, she tilted her head to the side, examining the lady in front of her.

"Berena Bolton. Do you remember me? I am Lady Alannys' friend." Gysella gave Berena wary eyes, continuing to look at her outfit. She barely gave the other girl a second to respond before continuing to speak. "I have a question I was wondering. I am out here in the gardens today in search of flowers for my wedding outfit. What do Northerners wear to an event like this?"

[sirenalannysgreyjoy]

Respect cannot be demanded, only earned: with @black-queen-rising

Alannys didn’t know what to make of this meeting.  She should have expected it.  Now that she and Joffrey had been courting for a significant amount of time and their affection for each other had only grown, it was obvious Queen Rhaenyra would want to ensure Alannys would be able to fit into her family, though perhaps more importantly, into court life.  She’d invited Alannys to her rooms to look through gowns for Baela’s wedding festivities, a kind and normal gesture from what Alannys had been able to gather.  The Queen was one of, if not the most, fashionable women in the kingdom and she seemed to be more than happy to share that knowledge to anyone who asked for it.  Alannys hadn’t asked, but she imagined being allowed into the family required she be deemed presentable.  The idea annoyed her, but she told herself she could endure it for Joffrey.

She was torn on how to feel towards Queen Rhaenyra.  She didn’t know her well, but she knew Joffrey adored her.  Despite having such a demanding position, it seemed she did her best to be present in her various children’s lives.  Alannys knew from her own family that was no small feat and it said a lot about Rhaenyra’s character that she’d made it a priority in her life when so many other things could have taken precedence.  Yet, Alannys felt wary of her.  While she had grown a bond of trust and friendship with Baela and a love for Joffrey, she couldn’t help but feel wary.  Alannys wasn’t the most knowledgeable about court life, but she knew a predator when she saw one.  Whatever others may wrongly think, Alannys had quickly recognized Rhaenyra to be every bit of a dragon, just as dangerous as any of her ancestors had been.  

One of Rhaenyra’s ladies let Alannys into Rhaenyra’s rooms and she froze, knowing what she was supposed to do and suddenly finding herself unable to do it.  She had practiced curtsies in one of the Red Keep’s various ballrooms with Jynessa Westerling, laughing and throwing their gowns out in dramatic sweeps as they lowered themselves slightly towards the floor.  Though Jynessa had taught her the movement in preparation for this very meeting, Alannys realized she had only been playing pretend.  Now that she was facing the Queen, she couldn’t make her knees bend.  Greyjoys did not bow and respect couldn’t be demanded, only earned.  Every captain had to prove themselves to their crew if they wanted their loyalty and despite custom, and perhaps even her betrothed, demanding that respect simply because of Rhaenyra’s position as both Queen and Joffrey’s mother, Alannys could not force herself to bend.  She supposed there was still a will of iron inside her after all.

However, despite what most greenlanders may have thought, Alannys had been raised with some manners and she smiled as calmly as she could despite her nerves.  “Queen Rhaenyra, thank you for inviting me here today.  Joffrey was very pleased we would be spending time together.”  Alannys hoped Joffrey would be a safe topic as one of the only things they had in common.  “He speaks highly of your knowledge of fashion.”  Alannys could only hope Queen Rhaenyra wouldn’t try to insist on Alannys wearing a highly ornamental gown with layers of fabric and lace.  While Alannys had often admired such dresses, she didn’t think she would ever feel like herself wearing one.  She may have adjusted to court life in many ways, yet her fashion still remained quite simple except the various accessories she enjoyed putting into her hair.

[helaenasdreamfyres]

Precious Time

( a part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood )

Starter with @shrykosjaehaerys

Any time that she was able to spend time with her beloved children, Helaena would take full advantage of it. With all of the wedding preparations finally paying off for the royal wedding that was tomorrow, she knew her and her family would be more than busy and less able to spend private time together. So, today her and her sweet son Jaehaerys decided they would fly Dreamfyre and Shrykos together.

Jaehaerys was her child that was most similar to her, their personalities and faces matching in such an extreme way that it was commented on by others often. It seemed she passed on her shy and timid demeanor to her eldest boy, and her other children were all their father in their lovable social ways. It brought her and Jaehaerys closer it seemed, that they could always understand one another and loved nothing more than to fly their dragons together in the peace and quiet of the morning.

After they finished their flight, the pair dismounted their dragons near the dragon pit. Helaena pet Dreamfyre, feeling her hot scales. Dreamfyre was an extremely protective dragon despite her calm nature, and she often moved herself to shield the people and dragons she cared for, even if there was no danger near. At the current moment, she stood right in front of the smaller dragon Shrykos, shielding Helaena and Jaehaerys from the sun it seemed.

“Dreamfyre is protective of you and your dragon, sweet one.” Helaena said to Jaehaerys, smiling and laughing. “She loves you both very much.” Helaena then walked away from Dreamfyre’s head towards her son. “Are you excited for the royal wedding tomorrow? I know it will be a lot of people to be around at once, but you will have your siblings and Visenya by your side, it will be fun I am sure! Your father and I will be there with you as well, if you ever feel you need a break from the crowds please don’t hesitate to tell us.”

[jeynearrynvale]

Challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

Pt. 1 leadup to Jacaela wedding

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Jeyne sat in the main hall of the Eyrie, it was quiet and cold. A deliberate setup on her part, she wanted the atmosphere to be just right as she made her announcement. The prince Jacaerys and princess Baela were to be wed soon; she would not be missing out on the festivities. It had been too long since she’d seen her family and longer still since she had been at court. Jeyne was dying to know what was really happening there, to get a sense of the city’s atmosphere. As such, she needed to name someone to rule in her stead.

The logical option was her cousin, Ser Joffrey. He was perfectly capable and more than qualified to rule in her absence. However, the man was insistent that he not be left behind. She’d left him in charge when she had made her way to the Queen’s coronation. And she could understand his jealousy, the capital was splendid with all of the talented Targaryen women organizing things. So reluctantly, she had written him off as a possible option. She knew there were those who were salivating at the chance to seat up here and gaze down at the Vale beneath them. To feel the warmth of power that washed over one as the moon doors creaked open, the wind rushing up to steal your balance as you gazed down, down, down.

No, it would never do to have anyone who genuinely craved the power and prestige of the seat sit it in her absence. It would only cause her more problems down the line and Jeyne had enough problems. She just wanted to have a nice, smooth journey to King’s Landing. Then she wanted to relax and enjoy herself. She didn’t want to worry about another idiotic coup attempt while she was gone. Jessamyn was coming with her along with a gaggle of young ladies and Jeyne was determined that it be a time of joy and wonder for all of them. There was only so much warmth she could bring up to the Vale. It would be splendid to spend a moment basking in the glow of the red keep. It would be buzzing with life, exploding with grandeur. Just the place to be for anyone who knows anything about parties and Jeyne was an expert in them.

So she sat stone faced and still, her back stiff and straight. She wore a cream gown and the shorter sleeves caused gooseflesh to raise on her arms. She’d ordered the moon doors be thrown open for this announcement. All of the lord and ladies of the Vale were gathered below her, anxiously throwing glances towards the open pit. She fought back a smirk at the pale faces. It was showtime after all.

“I’ve called you all here because I’ve decided who is to rule in my absence.”

She paused and gazed around the room at them. The tall white pillars of the room made them all look tiny in comparison.

“Anyone wishing to lodge a complaint can throw it in the suggestion box.” She then gestured towards the moon doors.

“Right.” She smiled at them. “Let’s get on with it. I have decided that the lady Amanda will rule in my stead.”

A harrumph of protest went up around the room, muted but still there. Jeyne raised an eyebrow and subtly signaled to her guard to push the crowd forward. Ser Joffrey was nearly beside himself with laughter at the panicked expressions but the crowd did fall silent.

“I know what you’re thinking, but the suggestion box is there for a reason! Really, if you have an issue-“ she tilted her head towards the doors, clicking her tongue. Indicating where they should voice those suggestions.

It was then the Redfort woman stood and made her way to the doors, standing just mere feet away as she bellowed down below. “Can we get a fucking fire going?”

Jeyne watched in amusement as the crowd parted to allow the lady to step back. Clapping her hands together she ordered the doors closed and a fire lit.

“Now, does anyone else have anything to say?”

She could see ser Arnold slipping out of the back of the hall. She knew he was fuming but when she cut her eyes to his son, she saw Eldric was enjoying her theatrics. She mentally shrugged, rather the son anyway. He was much better company. She saw various lords eyeing each other up as if mentally conversing about their lady liege who’d lost it all. Jeyne sat giddy in her seat, it was time to pack.

[ladylaceyvance]

Group thread for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

Lacey sat in Rhaena’s chambers surrounded by familiar faces and some newer ones. She was just bursting with excitement and joy to be here. Things had been so chaotic and hectic during the wedding celebrations, so it was nice to take a moment with all of the ladies. She was especially glad to see Lady Cerelle was present. Lacey still hoped her brother would stay on the more polished track he’d been pursuing lately. She wanted her future sister to have a happy and fulfilling marriage and she hoped they would be good friends as well.

Lacey was also happy to see Rhaena, of course. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day for them to spend quality time together. She knew Rhaena was always busy developing new beauty products, like the one they were using now. It was a beautiful and ingenious invention to dye the nails different colors. While that was impressive in and of itself, the real showstopper was the shimmery iridescent flakes in some of the colors. Lacey had never quite seen anything like it, reminiscent of firelight playing off a jewel. It made her heart swell with pride for her friend.

She was so happy for Rhaena, it was time she had something special and just for herself. She knew the lady loved to share but Lacey was glad to see the love between the pair.

The six of them were gathering together, all in various forms of dress and readiness.

Rhaena raised her glass and said “To us! And to our very own little Court of Love and Beauty!!”

Lacey picked up her own glass and held it aloft, giggling along with the rest of the ladies. “To us! And to our gracious host, Westeros’ best beautician!”

Rhaena continued talking, making jokes but demanding answers. Quick and to the point she inquired about various aspects of their lives. Pinpointing each person with something vital and recent in their day to day. Rhaena was thoughtful and present. No matter how busy she was, she always had time for her friends.

After her rapid fire questioning she went into the business at hand, hair or nails? It was a comfortable atmosphere. So when Rhaena asked her to continue their conversation from the previous night, she did.

“You asked about our wedding planning. And well to be honest, I could use some help. Robin mentioned wanting to make our day grand and special.”

Lacey brushed her hair as she spoke, keeping her anxious fingers busy and away from her nails.

“I do want a special day, but I suppose I was thinking more of our vows. I just always see the wedding as an event to get through, one last barrier before we’re together.”

She sighed softly, thinking it over. She wasn’t the best at aesthetics, what if Robin really did want something as grand as Princess Baela’s?

“I told Robin we could be wed anywhere, I just want to be wed.”

Looking around the room she laughed at some of the expressions on the other ladies' faces. “Alright, alright. That was a bit dramatic! The only thing I’m confident in are the flowers, beyond that I’m hopeless!”

Lacey didn’t want to linger on her own problems so she tried to swing the conversation elsewhere.

“Enough of my nonsense, I’m sure Robin will love whatever I come up with. Lady Gysella, what about you? Any romance filling up your time?”

Lacey wagged her eyebrows, trying to keep the mood light and get the attention off of herself at the same time.

//OOC Group thread order

@rhaenaspearls

@ladylaceyvance

@gysellablacktyde

@tyshara-the-lioness

@cerellelannister2

@myrielle-of-goldengrove

Best Believe I’m Still Bejeweled

(Starter @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood Girlie Time Group-Thread)

There is a certain comfort between a group of young women, unafraid to speak freely, taking comfort in one another’s presence, and shameless in a vanity that was expected to be a ever present and perfectly hidden. An intimacy only allowed around one another, in mind, body, and spirit, muscles unbound from the tension of propriety, and lips loosened to speak thoughts long restrained. A particular kind of divinity held within walls free from judgement, indiscretion, fear, and expectation, where a maiden’s fullest, truest version of herself could peek out from its hiding place nestled in the ribs behind her heart like the first flash of sunrise, and remind them that if there really is a touch of The Gods in each of us, they are far from the exception; those who seek to pry holiness from them only do so because they are the rule.

Rhaena was not a firm believer in any Faith, and unsure if she thought reverence served any point at all, but she had long since known that if deities existed their presence was most tangible in the the brightest pigments and dyes turned gowns the color of butterfly wings, the winks of glitter in crushed pearl powder, and the way her friends’ faces lit up when they were told they looked beautiful. She had long understood that amongst her family of politicians, schemers, power players, and leaders, she was not “special” in so far as excelling at any of the pursuits they considered most important, and yet she provided something none of the rest quite could; a pillar to hold the house of cards steady, a mender to sew back the pieces split apart by obligation and duty, and above all, a soft place to land.

“To us!” Rhaena raised a glass of rosé to the girls gathered in her chambers after she was sure the dye on her nails had hardened to a reasonable degree. “And to our very own little Court of Love and Beauty!!” She giggled at this, then tossed back a gulp of her wine, taking the moment to marvel at how there was nowhere else in the world she’d rather be right now. With her dearest, longest friend Lacey, and her quickest, perhaps now closest, Cerelle, her barely younger sister, Tyshara, seemingly happier and more at ease to be by her side than she had in months, Gysella, far and away the girl she was happiest to call her good-sister, and one of her favorite new fixtures at court, Myrielle, whom she had invited in specific hopes today would be the reason she could truly call the Lady-Regent of The Reach’s younger sister her friend.

“Now, my darlings, my lovies, considering my love is reserved for later in the day, and I have provided some rather spectacular returns on the element of beauty,” she laughed softly at this, gesturing vaguely at all the girls gathered in various states of half dress, hair setting in pin curls and other pre-styles to last throughout the night, nails, brows, and every other conceivable cosmetic detail in process, and every one of them given the run of her gray-market beauty stocks for the day, “I think it is officially in order to hear the updates on all of yours!”

Rhaena turned towards Lacey and Cerelle with a mischievous glow to her smile now, “And don’t think you two get a pass just because you’re both betrothed now and already help with all these potions. I want to hear wedding planning details, I want to hear how that little brother of yours is doing with that lovely little Templeton lady—we really should invite her next time someone please remind me to make a note of that—I need to know if we have a set date yet. Of course speaking of younger siblings I’m simply dying to hear how your latest visit to Fair Isle, Tyshara darling, and perhaps Lady Myrielle has something juicy up her sleeve with all those siblings of hers; although I really must admit what I truly wish to hear about is any intel on Lady Hightower’s own rumored wedding gown!”

“Now,” Rhaena snapped her fingers, signaling to all present they had things to do and she intended to make it all happen, “Gysella sweetling have you decided which color you want to use on your nails yet or shall I leave you to agonize while we see about getting Cerelle’s curls in order first?” There was a brief silence after Gysella was finally spurred to choose between her admittedly dizzying collection of nail dye shades, then Rhaena’s eyes flitted back towards Lacey. “How about we start with you and dear Robin, we could’ve talked half the night away from the sounds of just what we were able to get into yesterday! Would you be so kind as to humor me darling and pick up where we left off?”

// OOC: Group Thread Order (Mark your blog @ with a color if you’ve just written your turn) —

@rhaenaspearls @ladylaceyvance @gysellablacktyde

@tyshara-the-lioness @cerellelannister2 @myrielle-of-goldengrove

[benjen-mormont]

ﾒ THE GIFT OF PATIENCE ﾒ

(Starter with @garmundhightower)

Benjen wasn’t quick to anger. No, like a bear filing its claws on oaks to cradle a cub, he’d taught himself patience. A patience his blood rebelled against. A patience that kept him standing. He couldn’t hold back the rage; he could only bury it beneath his skin, where it boiled. Only one thing shattered his fragile calm: just hatred. Benjen hated two things in all the world—his late father (may devils gnaw his bones) and men who acted just like him.

Edryk Mormont had been a cruel man. His tongue cut sharper than his sword, his touch scarred more than his blade. He couldn’t laugh without snarling, couldn’t speak without wounding. Benjen prided himself on being his opposite—tempered, deliberate, soft when needed, like steel shaped into shield.

But even steel bends under pressure.

He caught sight of them across the courtyard: two lords draped in silk and self-satisfaction, laughing like circling hyenas. They weren’t hunting for sport; their prey was right in the middle of their little game—a lone man, standing stiff and silent. Lord Garmund, if Benjen wasn’t mistaken. A soft-spoken lordling. Decent enough.

The laughter reached him first. Cruel. Dismissive. He closed the distance slowly, each step sharpening his focus, letting the tension coil.

“What, embarrassed to answer us directly?” one lord sneered, his voice as slick as his hair.

Garmund’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“A little jest scares you, does it? Or are the rumors not true? Perhaps you prefer dueling swords to... swallowing them.”

The other lord wheezed a laugh, the kind of sound Benjen’s father used to make after gutting a deer.

Benjen moved before he could stop himself. “Perhaps the two of you would find better occupations in a brothel than in court,” he said evenly, his tone the edge of a blade. He gave a curt nod to Garmund, whose knuckles whitened on the pommel of his sword. “Though I hear ugly whores like yourselves rarely get work.”

The soft snort from Garmund was almost worth the trouble that followed.

The silk-clad lord’s hand flew to his sword, but Benjen was faster. In a flash, the man’s blade clattered to the dirt as Benjen had him twisted in a headlock. The gasp of the other lord turned into a strangled gurgle of outrage.

“What’s wrong?” Benjen chuckled, his grip tightening. “Not so funny when you’re the butt of the joke, is it?”

He smiled grimly as the man flailed, his face flushing red. Patience was his strength, after all. And he’d wait, just long enough, until the bastard turned blue.

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

Six moons subsequent to the coronation of Westeros’ first Ruling-Queen, ravens have once more been sent to summon every caliber and shade of the kingdom’s noble families back to Court at The Red Keep...

...This time to celebrate the wedding of Queen Rhaenyra’s heir, Crown Prince Jacaerys, and his cousin, step-sister, and betrothed of nearly twenty years, Princess Baela. They have flown out, however, to meet a Realm steeped in far more tension, ambition, and gossip than most could have dreamed half a year ago.

The soon-to-be-newlyweds are, of course, a source of much of the whispers and more, many speculating the only reason such a pairing has only lasted so long because of the new Queen’s desperation to restore favorability towards her family’s Valyrian looks in her son’s progeny after her own poor luck in the matter, the Prince held only by his duty to a union made when he had hardly learned to walk, and the new Princess wholly satisfied with such an otherwise suspect arrangement because of her own intent to rule not with but through her blushing groom. Another couple amongst the Targaryen Royals, Prince Aemond and Princess Rhaena have set gossip of their own aflutter, with a courtship lasting all these past six moons and no proposal seeming to dawn on the horizon, spectators have proposed the second son may have been more infatuated with the chase than its subject, while others murmur the proclaimed Pearl is only using him as a shield until someone better comes along…or comes of age.

All the while halfway-reliable reports that Prince Aegon the Younger has been spotted on many an evening gallivanting through the streets of Fleabottom, his younger brother Prince Viserys has grown fond of playing kissing games with his own, male companions, and their sister Princess Visenya has been all but neglected during her Queen-Mother's latest pregnancy, causing the girl in turn to act out with uncharacteristic misbehavior and grow sour towards the nearing arrival of her new siblings. More worrying still, in the five moons since his betrothal to Lady Alannys Greyjoy, Prince Joffrey has spent more and more of his time with the Ironborn. Some say this is his way of rejecting the Faith of the Seven, leaving the Gods for the Drowned God, becoming more barbaric because of their influence on him, and leaving behind the kind and courtly boy he was in trade for the temperament of a Greyjoy.

Queen Rhaenyra herself has, unsurprisingly, sparked even more whispers throughout her court and across the kingdom than all her children combined. After the very first weeks of her reign were marred by an attempted poisoning, a speculated miscarriage, a shock pregnancy announcement, and even more shocking political appointments, her Grace could not be faulted for attempting to draw the public eye anywhere else, but she has not. While her supporters and detractors alike found the new installation of stained glass in the high windows of the Red Keep's Throne Room honoring The Seven unveiled during her coronation to be impressive, it was not hard to notice the wrought iron seven pointed star which had hung above The Iron Throne for nigh on two decades had been replaced by the Targaryen sigils that had not hung there since Septon Barth became Hand to King Jaehaerys.

Meanwhile the new Queen's closest ladies have caused gossip of their won to fly between loose lips and the cracks in the Red Keep's walls; Lady Roslin Vance believed to be conspiring with the head housekeeper and whispered witch of her brother, Lord Larys', stronghold at Harrenhall to kill him via magical means after a long string of failed assassination attempts in vengeance for her assertions he was behind the deaths of their father and older brother. The interim hand of the Queen and her lead Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Calla Celtigar has further drawn rumors that she has soured since Queen Rhaenyra's coronation at odds with Her Grace over her pregnancy, others speculating she dislikes the public attention she receives as Hand, and the boldest claim that she was scorned in illicit advances by one of the Lords of the Small Council. These murmurings accompanied by whispers that the Lady Celtigar has been taking keen note of powerful Lords of the Realm, especially those who seek high positions on Queen Rhaenyra's council, and her judgment as thorough as it is fierce.

As the Dowager-Queen Alicent has all but entirely absented herself from Court in favor of spending her days on Dragonstone and tending to the affairs of her children and grandchildren, speculation has grown that the new Queen's disregard towards The Faith showcased in everything from her change of heraldry, to the appointment of Dalton Greyjoy to her small council, and now the invitation of a Dornish Envoy to attend the wedding and restart diplomatic negotiations between the two kingdoms has driven Queen Alicent to flee her own home of the past three decades over the hostility. Although, those less charitable in their views on the Dowager claim she has done so not from Rhaenyra's hostility, but out of self preservation, as to spare herself the prying eyes of the continuing investigations into who was behind the attempt on her stepdaughter's life the night of King Viserys' funeral. All the while, the head of the aforementioned party from Sunspear, Ruling-Princess Aliandra, is believed to have arrived looking for a Westerosi groom of her own, perhaps even from the long time rival-Kingdom's royal family itself.

Speaking of Dragonstone, the elder Prince Aegon has been causing his own, characteristic share of speculation; most pressingly that he has been harboring several aggrieved parties in familial disputes between fathers and their daughters and wives, slowly building up his own harem for Seven only know what ends, without a care in the world as to what Lords he angers in the process. Meanwhile, since Queen Rhaenyra ascended the throne, Princess Helaena has been involving herself in the ruling of Dragonstone more often than noticed before causing claims this is because Helaena feels she is robbed from her right to be Queen, and she is making up for this by ruling Dragonstone. Or, worse yet, she is readying herself for the duties of being The Queen. Princess Rhaenya too has been acting most unusually spending long hours on the island's sept and eliciting rumors that she has already lost her tongue as punishment after a secret admire made her with child, though the Princess herself did finally come to threaten any more slander against her would be met with dragon fire. Her twin, Prince Daeron, on the other hand, who has spent the past half year serving as the commander of the City Watch for his older sister's new reign, has casually confirmed but not yet to which one it has seems that the Prince Daeron has gotten over his fear of the sea and been traveling on many days to Storm’s End to see his future wife, whoo he's been heard calling his "shining light". Even one of the youngest amongst the family, Princess Jaehaera is whispered to be dabbling in Valyrian blood magic, seeking to use ancient and forbidden practices to enhance her connection with dragons, some claiming even to resurrect a dragon long believed to be dead whilst conducts strange rituals in the dead of night, and using her own blood in these experiments.

Across the bay on Driftmark, the most unexpected news was announced by Princess Rhaenys, that the five and fifty year old is pregnant once more, causing speculation of dangerous treatments from Asshai, a plot to produce a new heir for Driftmark over Prince Lucerys, and turmoil within the Princess' and Lord Corlys marriage. The Sea Snake himself has recently been making frequent appearances at court without his wife, which while catalyzing rumors of turmoil in and of itself, has now become fuel to a raging fire of gossip and conspiracy over whether he has set off on a voyage to Qarth against his own will on orders of the Queen, or in a purposeful attempt to absent himself from his wife's potentially perilous labors. Meanwhile—the so-called "White Worm"—Lady Mysaria, has purportedly welcomed home her own bastard daughter with Prince Daemon, once believed to have died in her cradle, Zhaerina, after many years spent away from the Crownlands. And in the midst of it all, whispers are growing that a girl from Spicetown has claimed the wild dragon called "Sheepstealer" on the isle's shores, perhaps a royal bastard claiming a perceived-denied inheritance, perhaps something even more dangerous.

Throughout the Kingdom the most widely remarked upon matter has quickly become the negotiations to maintain peace between The Iron Islands and The Reach. While most of the conditions are expectedly concerned with safe passage and trade agreements, wards, though some have claimed hostages, have been exchanged on both sides in the form of Lord Dalton Greyjoy's youngest daughter by one of his "salt-wives" Alla Florent, the legitimized bastard Penny Greyjoy, and the Castellan of High Garden and late-Lord Lorence's eldest cousin Jon Tyrell's son, Henley. The Lady-Regent Clarice Tyrell, for her part, has seemed significantly more pleased with this arrangement than either Ser Jon or Lord Dalton, leading many to believe the once gentle and fair image of the Lady Regent of the Reach has soured through using these children as her pawns. Not least of all because by taking away her greatest detractor’s heir, the highborn and common folk alike speak on the evilness of her ways in which she ensures that Jon Tyrell is brought to heel. A seemingly never-ending source of gossip as of late, however, the Lady-Regent has also drawn many judging eyes for the long visits she's taken with Lady Sabitha Frey over the past half year, and while both women's supporters claim it is simply Lady Clarice supporting her newfound friend through a twin pregnancy, the boldest amongst their opponents claim Lady Sabitha's pregnancy is a sham all together to hide that she has truly fallen in love with The Golden Rose.

The little Lady Penny has even sparked gossip of her own, reports highly divided in claims that she brought an entire boat of wild animals she claimed to be "pets" in accompaniment to her wardship at High Garden, rebuked by glowing praise she is stunningly poised for a girl her age, much less one of Iron Islander origin, and has won the hearts of all those who reside in and visit her new home with her compassion and sweet wit. Lord Dalton, in turn, has been spending a remarkable amount of time on the island of Dragonstone with Prince Aegon after the pair first grew close around Queen Rhaenyra's coronation, sparking many a rumor that all of his salt-wives are, in fact, simply a facade to true his true amorous feelings; rumors not assisted by the fact Princess Helaena has begun to grow most wroth at the Lord Greyjoy's presence. Further, The Lady of House Hightower and wife to it's elderly head, Lord Ormund, Lady Sam, has purportedly been evading her own embarrassment that—while one of the harshest voices at the table in the peace dealings between The Reach and The Iron Islands—her eldest sister, Lady Sansara Serry, has grown near-mad with love for Lord Dalton, going so far as to beg to run away with him in secret before she and her husband left court after the Coronation.

There has been no shortage of rumors concerning the young ladies of Court either. Lady Cerelle Lannister was claimed to have been buying poisons a few moons ago, and only a fortnight before the ravens were sent was accused by the Red Keep's chief ratcatcher of kidnapping many of the castle's cats for hereto unknown purposes. Meanwhile, Lady Maris Baratheon was recently speculated to have wed in secret to a rich man and possibly taken the spot as the heir of Storm’s End though Princess Rhaenya has finally spoken and defended her close friend on this rumor, alongside Lady Maris reaffirming she will not be the heir. More recently, however, she was caught seen holding hands, with the Lady Elaena Snow while the two were extremely close, embroidering beneath the Red Keep's heart tree while Princess Rhaenya was away from her ladies' side and purported to have been out with the yet to be identified man she's whispered to be hoping to marry soon.

The third Baratheon sister and Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaena, Lady Ellyn, has been noted to be away from court interactions for an advance of a moon's time, a rarity for the Baratheon daughter, who was most seen at court. Reportedly, Lady Ellyn had a public spat with her elder sister Cassandra that caused her lord father to withdraw her from public outings and causing her not to have spoken to her family and friends except her elder sister, Maris, the Princesess Rhaenya and Rhaena, alongside her Lord Father. The two Baratheon sisters have reportedly been in each other's company for an abnormally advanced time, even for sisters. Though, the most scandalous whispers have been elicited from two of Princess Baela's Ladies in Waiting, Lady Alannys Greyjoy and Lady Teora Grafton. With their recent betrothals to Prince Joffrey and Ser Petyr Mooton respectively, the notably sharp witted, cunning, and some claim wild young women have given many cause to believe they intend to secure their unions with an heir or two as quickly as possible, and then—one way or another—dispose of their grooms to live in comfortable widowhood where no may question their notoriously strong wills.

The young Knights and Lords of Court may still outdo them, however, Lord Cregan Stark's continued frequenting of Court combined with his distaste for it's politics showing no signs of fading has caused must speculation he has continued to be drawn back to the so-called nest of vipers by a woman who has earned his heart's affection. Amongst the Manderly sails, sailors speak on the position and strength of the Greyjoy fleet among the ships of Westeros. They question the Queen for Lord Dalton Greyjoy's position as Master of Ships and the favor offered to his children. Torrhen Manderly shares their words and often speaks of concern over the strengthening of House Greyjoy. Torrhen himself, however, has been a recluse at court, more often found at the docks of King's Landing. He only comes to the castle for his lady sister and accompanies his liege lord, Cregan Stark, but most believe Torrhen himself wishes to be away from the 'nest of vipers' known as King's Landing. He is in turn, not the only young heir who has turned their ire towards the Lord of the Iron Islands, Joss Westerling earning the court's attention for over a moon in his show of uncharacteristic bravery in defending his House and home from the Lord's seeming carelessness for other's hard earned gains.

Amongst the prominent Rivermen in King's Landing, Oscar Tully caused quite a scare amongst the Court disappearing for a fortnight with no trace and drawing speculation of kidnapping or even an accidental death before returning unharmed, gossip only sparking further when it was discovered his older brother and heir to Riverrun, Kermit Tully, was mostly unconcerned with his disappearance, and only moderately pleased when Oscar returned. One of Crown Prince Jacaerys' closest friends Ser Willam Vance has drawn speculation he is carrying on a secret affair with a highborn lady already married to a powerful lord. Several witnesses claimed they have spotted the two meeting in secluded corners of court gatherings, exchanging stolen glances and secret notes also that Willam has secretly been considering renouncing his position as heir to House Vance, wishing to free himself from the responsibilities and pressures of nobility, to flee with his forbidden love. All the while the heir to the Iron Islands himself, Toron Greyjoy, has spent the past half year under the command of Ser Steffon Darklyn, learning the ways of the sword of mainland Westeros as a way to inconspicuously remain at King’s Landing. However, voices have begun to grow in the claim that he is preparing to assassinate Daemon Targaryen if the need to meet the mainland’s biggest military asset with force draws near should the Iron Islands go to war with the Crown...

...And so begins Arc II of A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood.

[oscartullyofriverrun]

Creating a Home: with @lord-kermit-of-riverrun

Oscar sat on a low stone wall by the gates of the Red Keep, scanning the road ahead for any sign of his brother’s approach.  According to the last letter he’d received from his brother, he expected to arrive today but anything could have held him up from a muddy stretch of road to a tavern filled with beautiful women on the outskirts of King’s Landing.  Oscar didn’t mind waiting though.  He had brought a book outside with him, a tome with an in-depth look into warfare. There was battle strategy involved of course, but the book also stressed the importance of things lords often overlooked such as morale, sanitation conditions, and the level of trust between the various men called from different areas of the region.  Usually the book easily kept his attention, but he couldn’t seem to focus and instead kept rereading the same lines over and over again.

Lately, Oscar had been thinking more about the future.  His conversation with Lady Sabitha had allowed him to see he might actually be able to take charge of his own future and shape it into something he wanted.  For the past six moons, Oscar had been stuck in a cycle of grief, frustrated with his father’s coldness, his mother’s complicity, and his brother’s aloof nature.  He’d been searching desperately for a place to call home without ever realizing he might have the strength to create one himself.  What he wanted more than anything, what he had always wanted, was to improve both the Riverlands and his house.  He’d spent the past few days drawing up plans on different policies he wanted to try and he could only hope his brother would be open to talking about them once he arrived.

A part of him yearned to go wait for Kermit at the training yard, forcing his mind to clear of everything but the steps of his opponent and the weight of his sword in his hand, but he was worried if he missed his brother’s arrival he wouldn’t see him until he decided to seek Oscar out. He didn’t want to wait until his brother got around to deciding he wanted to grace Oscar with his presence.  Kyle’s attention had always been difficult to catch and even harder to hold. Oscar had long since learned how to best make himself unavoidable when he wanted Kermit to pay attention to him, though what should have felt familiar felt frustrating and tiring today.  Despite everything though, Oscar was excited to see his brother again.

The moment he saw a familiar looking horse approach the gate, Oscar leaped to his feet and ran to stand beside the guards as they let Kermit inside.  Distantly, Oscar realized he probably should have let his brother get further inside before he started talking, but his excitement to see Kyle overtook his common sense.  “I was beginning to worry you had been taken by bandits.  Actually, I’ve been reading and I think we should be working on improving our agriculture.  We’ll never catch the Reach, but if we can provide our people reliable food throughout winter, less of them well have to turn to robbery,” Oscar paused to take a breath and to give his brother a bright smile. “How was your journey?”

[sirenalannysgreyjoy]

Alannys had not been expecting to see her father when she opened the door.  Usually, it was Joffrey, Baela, or one of Baela’s other ladies-in-waiting who came directly to her rooms to speak with her.  If anyone from her family wanted to talk, they usually caught her down at the docks or in one of the common areas of the Red Keep.  Alannys hadn’t even been aware her father knew where her chambers in the Red Keep were located.  Still, despite the unexpectedness of the visit, Alannys smiled.  She had missed him over the last few months and while he had finally come back to King’s Landing again for Baela’s wedding, Alannys hadn’t seen him as much as she had wanted.

The reason why she hadn’t sought him out quickly became apparent at her father’s next comment and Alannys did her best to keep the displeasure off her face.  She knew her father hadn’t meant it as an insult, but it still stung all the same.  “I assure you I’m as sharp as I have always been, though court life demands I be more subtle than I might have been before.  Not that it matters much, whispers about my violent nature seem to be on everyone’s lips more often than not.”  That had been another frustrating part of this entire situation.  Somehow, Alannys had ended up in some strange middle ground where she was suddenly too soft for an iron islander, but also too harsh for a lady at court.  It seemed no one was ever satisfied, including herself.

She stepped to the side to allow her father into her rooms, feeling a bit more relaxed as he took in the decorations.  Alannys had a similar looking room on Pyke, but she was proud of the atmosphere she had created here with Joffrey and Baela’s help.  “Joffrey gives me gifts often.  I fear by the time we’re married I’ll have run out of space on my walls to display everything.”  Alannys supposed the room around her also lacked the simplicity and childishness that still lingered in her rooms on Pyke.  There were sentimental items there she hadn’t quite been able to get rid of and perhaps even the memories that lingered in the space gave it a sense of the little girl Alannys had once been.  Her rooms here had started to become a testament to the woman she would become.

“I don’t think there’s any rule against discussing what happened, but I’m not sure a lot would interest you.  Lysa was granted Fair Isle as you know, but a lot of the conversation revolved around women’s concerns in Westeros.”  It had been an interesting conversation to listen to, though it had made her angry.  She had already heard throughout court that there were men who were angry by the mere idea of women discussing such issues, much less that the women of court were choosing to do something about them.  “I might want to institute a similar type of meeting on Pyke one day.  The situation is much better under your lordship, but there are still lords and men who don’t want to respect their wives or daughters' freedom.  I think one day I might be in a position to help continue to change that.”  Before, Alannys’s only idea for how to bring about that sort of change would have been with a well placed thread and while those still had their place, she was starting to see these discussions and bonds also paved a path forward to achieving goals.  

Alannys was unsurprised that Queen Rhaenyra had threatened her father at some point.  From the moment she had first laid eyes on the Queen, she’d had the sense she would not hesitate to use her dragons to her advantage as Aegon the Conqueror had once done.  While she certainly wasn’t happy about the threat, it was her father’s admission that the threat was what had caused him to ask, or perhaps agree, to her and Joffrey’s betrothal that had her slightly simmering with anger.  “I thought you had chosen that betrothal because you thought it would be a good match, not because you were under threat.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep her face calm, but she couldn’t help her biting tone.  “Well, I’m unsurprised.  What use do I bring to you besides as a marriage offering?  Certainly none when it comes to helping you further the cause of the Iron Islands because that task seems to fall only to Toron.  He is furious with me for accepting this betrothal and I can understand why.  I had always thought that at least you had understood what you were asking of me when you proposed it, but I suppose that wasn’t true.”

Alannys turned her back on her father, gazing out at the doors that led to the balcony beyond.  She wanted to be angry, but she mostly felt resigned.  She had started to realize there were some things she could never change, no matter how much she tried.  Her father’s regard for her skills seemed to be one of those things no matter how much or how little she proved herself to him.  “You’re in luck.  I love Joffrey dearly and I trust him when he says he loves me.  There’s never been any need for me to take his heart, so do not worry father.  The dragons won’t be coming to burn our shores.” She paused, glancing back to meet his eyes.  “But understand this, I will always be ironborn no matter what clothes I wear or what man I marry.  If I desire violence, I will find it for myself.  I will not become some pet of the capital.”  The words were almost meant more for herself than they were for her father.  She had long become frustrated with Toron’s anger and her own indecision about who she wanted to be.  It was only in this moment that she decided it didn’t matter.  Playing either side had given her nothing, so she may as well speak and act as she wished and ignore what those around her thought.

w.— @sirenalannysgreyjoy

Dalton was so used to Alannys visiting any time she wanted to see him. It turned her absence into an obvious whole inside their home. It was odd to be the one looking for her now. He searched in the shores, the port and in her ship, but no clue of her daughter to be found.

He tried his luck on the Red Keep, got lost twice, but eventually found her chambers. He knocked before opening the door

—You look softer... —Most ironborn would take the words as insult, but Dalton meant words he wasn't ready to say outloud; you look relaxed, calm, safe. You look like everything you didn't have back home.— I don't think you ever had this many decorations on Pyke.

«You didn't pay attention to her room when she was there. » Perhaps he missed more than he'd ever admit.

—Did you enjoyed the women's courts? Am I allowed to know if anything interesting happen? —Lysa left the court with a smile. After Rhaenyra officially named her Lady of Fair Island, they went to celebrate and anything else that happened that day left Dalton's mind soon after.

He sighed. There's was another reason he was there. Dalton refuse to let any of his children's marriages turned bad. He was so proud of himself when he saw their relationships turned into blooming romances. It was good. Too good. Suspiciously good. If he was honest with himself, he was specifically skeptical with Alannys' betrothal. The circumstances were too good.

—The Queen said she would burn Pyke. Make it a second Harrenhall. —He didn't look at her at the eyes as he spoke.— Everyone knows I propose marriages when I panic, I didn't expect her to agree. You once told me you will give me their heart if the man you married wasn't of your liking. You cannot do that. Killing that boy would kill our own family.

« Who would know a complain about Otto Hightower could get your whole family under death treat? » Dalton left the room that day feeling like an idiot. The marriage to a prince should be a victory, not a defeat. Rhaenyra asked for Alannys hand, then she demanded Penny to be sent away. Who else would she take? Dalton himself?

—You've been quiet... I know you have more duties to attend now, but... Are you distant because you want to be or because you are forced to be?

« Did I made my own daughter a hostage? » He might desire their relationship to bloom as much as he could, but it would never be enough to endangered her.

[robingrafton]

as your brother

( a part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood )

starter with @teoragrafton

Robin stood near the door of his sister's chambers, rolling his shoulders back to try and relieve some of the tension he felt. He knew Teora would be upset at the plot he was about to pull, but he would do it anyway. He cared for his sister, and as her elder brother he felt it was his responsibility to keep her health in check at all times.

The pair of siblings had been having a busy week... More accurately a busy month as they had been endlessly fussing over the wedding between Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela. This gave Robin an incredible amount of anxiety towards his sister, as he did not want Teora to push herself into making herself ill. Her health was fragile, and he would protect that the best he could, even if she tried to fight with him. He would not allow anyone in their family to let their health fail, especially not when they had already suffered the loss of Hugh.

He knocked on the door twice before allowing himself in, examining her room quickly before speaking. It was clean and neat, much to his approval. While the siblings had their fair share of differences, the both of them had always been good at keeping things tidy. When his eyes finally found her, he stood up straight and spoke.

"Teora, I am here to eat supper with you. I have a maid who is going to bring us dinner, your favorite meal. I say we lie on your bed to eat! Who needs to eat a table when your bed is so comfortable, anyway?" He did not outright say the reason for why he wanted them to eat on her bed, but it was clear enough. He wanted her to lie down and rest for the remainder of the day, and he would stay in her room and keep her company while he made sure she was feeling well. Robin thought that perhaps if he did not specify his reasoning for this evening together, Teora would not be upset with him.