#c. varyn lannister

[prodixal]

@fyrebrandd || helaena targaryen

Varyn is relatively sober as he enters the confined dining chambers and sits himself across from the other with ease. "So, I hear you were the recipient of the other letter a certain wench, pardon, lady, had left behind." brows rise and yes, he was most certainly here to inquire into its contents and convince Helaena he was not the total cunt his non-wife made him out to be. "I got one too. Suppose Karstarks have now established themselves as the most proficient kidnappers in all of Kings Landing. I mean, one stole the precious information from your mothers council. The other stole your sister, and the cherry on top is the cunt who stole my son. My son." a scoff and his eyes will roll "And to think we associate the northerners with honour. The lot of 'em have as much honour as a toothless street whore." servants pour his cup for him, without so much as a word, and he'll throw a single grape in his mouth as his eyes search for hers. "I hear you're in love and soon to be wed. Congratulations. If anyone can make that man crack a smile it is you and -- if you ever need me to break his skull for whatever reason I will do it. Begrudgingly, mind you. -- I quite like the man, there's a trick he does with a sword I've yet to figure out."

[prodixal]

"I am your brother. It is my job to worry for you, and your safety." he speaks frankly, taking the first sip of cold wine as it is delivered to him. There are many guests around them, engaged in their own little conversations, so Varyn does not shy away from his truths. "Sometimes I can't help fear you might be too sweet -- to see the many dangers lurking in the shadows of this place you've grown to consider home. And these people you've grown to consider...family."

He never did understand why his lord father sent the young girl away at such a pivotal age. Though he assumed it may have had something to do with the passing of their mother. Telessa was a stark reminder of the woman who had birthed them, and perhaps such reminder weighed too heavy on the old mens sickly chest. There was no way to truly tell, and Varyn never asked. -- But one thing was certain, lady Telessa would have been safer in Casterly Rock. And had she remained back home, she would not have developed this deep fondness for the royal family.

"That is certainly a benefit to my new position. Getting to see more of you." he nudges her gently, but does not wish to discuss this matter further. Varyn had yet to decide if the benefits of this entrapment, outweighs the disadvantages. "Brother has given me no indication of your prospects. But I should assume there are many. Do give it some thought, dear sister -- I would hate for your wishes on the matter to be overlooked. Especially for the sake of politics."

telessa tilts her head slightly with curiosity. why would varyn need to make this place a home? she lets the comment slide for the moment, and moves on to what he says next. she nods her head but reaches forward to grab his hand, giving it a gentle but reassuring squeeze. "do not worry about me, brother, i promise that the dragons are not as menacing as they may seem." okay, maybe the queen is, but that is different.

"ridiculous? varyn, this is wonderful news! master of coin... what an honor it is to be appointed a member of the small council. and this means i will be able to see you now," she says excitedly, grinning. "a match, yes... um. perhaps not as much thought as i should?" she says sheepishly. "i know that i must marry eventually, though, and i will do my duty without resistance when the time does come. has brother given you any indication on who he wishes to give me away to?"

[prodixal]

@crowndgods || ashara lannister

Varyn had a choice, and between the tavern with his friends and his desire to see Ashara -- he had chosen the latter. There was something in their way -- something preventing him from truly embracing their sudden and strange circumstances. And it was his fault entirely, and it was his to fix. So he walked fast, and he was only somewhat nervous as the wine calmed his nerves. He dismissed the guards at her door then, and entered her chambers with no announcement. "Forgive me." he says, a smile is gentle on his face and he approaches to place a kiss upon her hand. "May we have a word?"

[prodixal]

@crowndgods || ashara lannister

With the declaration of war now fully realised, there was all the more need to rush over to the training yard. He swore to protect her, to protect their son -- but his duty was also to the kingdom, and there may yet come a day he is tasked to join the bannermen and enter the battlefield. Such a thought would be welcomed, exciting even -- had it not been for his family. He was not keen to leave them behind, to leave them defenceless. So she would have to learn. And she would have to learn quick. "Lady wife." his smile is warm on his lips, a spark of adrenaline born into his blood. -- He circles her like an animal, eyeing her posture, her composition, her stance. "Very good." he'll mutter to himself, before taking a hold of a wooden sword and handing it out. "Let us see what you can do." he stands before her then, no weapon in his arms, nothing but a smirk to await the following. "Strike me."

[prodixal]

Her tone indicated a struck nerve, and her words showcased a true Northern spirit. Varyn smiled, equal parts impressed and annoyed. And he would have taken her up on the offer had it not been so tasteless only a bastard would dare propose it. To sully such a cheerful event with theatrics which would likely result in him being reprimanded by the queen for killing her high white cloak, and the extra work it would take to find a new one -- no, he would not stoop so low. "Perhaps another time. Would hate for you to lose what little respect you hold, in front of such a large crowd."

He scoffs at the following. It is an insult to queens guard to be greeting noble ladies and lords. They were warriors, fighters -- not servants and footmen. "The queen knows best. Though I should remember to have a word regarding this matter. Perhaps offer a new perspective." -- "You cannot seriously be pleased to stand here and accommodate these esteemed members of the great houses? It is below you. Surely."

alson was not usually so easily provoked, but varyn lannister always had a way of getting under her skin. perhaps it was because of the way he looked at her as if she was the shit beneath his boot. she was used to being around high born and feeling like an outsider but thanks to having vaelora by her side, at times she could forget how cruel people could be because of her birth. varyn lannister was always one to remind her of such.

his words did not phase her, however, because no matter how much he pushed, she would always be above him. captain of the queensguard since vaelora had stepped down, she could easily have him removed, either from the capital or from the plane of existence. though the latter would perhaps cause more problems for the crown. "as far as i can see, my lord, your practices don't seem to compare. unless you wish to put your words to the test out in the yard." there was a flicker of a grin in her lips. it was dangerous to suggest such a thing. varyn was twice her size, but size wasn't everything when you can move a blade quicker than your opponent. "all guards are on duty as the keep fills with the queens guests," she says politely. "it would not look well to have a commoner to be greeting such esteemed members of the great houses."

[prodixal]

@ironlamb | cersha lannister

Varyn had requested a private section in the garden, to be served breakfast away from the conflicted crowd. People struggled discerning if one should be consoled or congratulated, after the many news of the previous night. And he struggle to cover complete lack of patience he had for either. "Curious." he says to the sound of his sisters steps, looking out onto the sea, playing with the gold Lannister coin that belonged to their lord father. A precious item he had stolen, long ago, and kept close ever since. He was pretty certain a servant had lost a hand for it. "That the Queen shared such dire news over such a...joyous event." it would have been wiser to wait, to hide the truth as the crown often did. If anything, it showed the lack of trust between the Valyrian houses. "And how did your betrothed take the news?"

[prodixal]

@fyrebrandd || helaena targaryen

He reaches her chambers to find guards so planted he could have sworn they were growing roots. At the refusal to let him in, he laughs for a good minute before his face turns serious and he grabs one of them by the throat while the other pushes the door open. He need not say a word, truly. A smile spreads wide as he sees her, and he bows -- taking her hand into his to place a kiss upon it. "You should know when they were all plotting war strategies I was the only one shifting the focus back to you." he shakes his head then. "No need to thank me, but I feel it is no longer a secret who my favourite Targaryen is." He brings out the rolled up herbs next, sitting himself down to her right as his eyes pass over, ensuring her well-being. "Quite an adventure you had, or so I hear." he passes the herbs for her to light and leans gently in. "You must tell me everything."

[prodixal]

@wingsd || obella targaryen

The battle may have ended, his injuries still ached, and yet there was so much anger, so much adrenaline still brewing within. He could not well visit a brothel, or drink himself stupid -- so he entered the fighting pits at the very start of twilight and lost track of time. Eventually, he was starting to feel more like himself, the pain was now...almost entirely external. He walked through the crowd, pushing people out the way as he almost blindly collapsed over the counter and ordered a drink. Once he'd turned around to scan the room, he'd spotted her, instantly, as he always did. With a smile on, fake and cheeky, he'd approached her still somewhat out of breath and his heart pounding. Though he did not know if such a beat was adrenaline or the presence of her. "If it isn't the snake straight out the dragons den." he says, stepping in almost entirely too close. "I would congratulate you but..." he shrugs, smile only halfway at his lip. "I am testing out this whole truth thing and, well, the truth is --" what was the truth anyway? She belonged with him? "'Suppose I don't want to." shrug and he'll step away, lifting a random man by the collar to empty the table for the both of them. "Come, drink with me. Before you're knocked up and have to leave all this fun stuff behind."

[prodixal]

He listened, absorbing every word with arising emotions he could not anticipate. When he'd first arrived at Dorne, he could not imagine the result would be this. Nor that its flavour would be so bittersweet.

'Wonderfully strong, like his father.'

Instantly, his heart skipped a sound in regret. Living a lie once came to him much easier, when not directly attached to a child. Varyn did not want his son to be like him -- for only a weak man would walk off his responsibility. Only a coward, would lie in the face of a woman who struggled not to hold still hold some love for him.

He wished he'd been different, he wished he'd been a man of honour, of loyalty, of decency. But he'd never met one, and when he thought he did, he found them to be full of self-righteousness. Full of belief they were better, more human, more worthy than anybody else. Perhaps they had been. Or perhaps they were just masking other flaws that were harder to see than that of arrogance, or cowardice.

There was much for his mind to process, as her words of labour echoed through the room. How he'd missed the chance to hold him, during his first breath. How he'd missed the chance to acknowledge him, present him proudly to the world, as a Lannister is due. All for what? For fear he would fail him? Varyn realised in his fear of failing, he had failed all the same.

But was this fear ever real? Or was it a cop-out he'd carved up for himself to mask the lack of reason for doing what he did? He had no intention of ever entering the boys life. Only yesterday, he did not care for his existence at all. For his well-being. For his first breath. Only this morning, he did not care for Lady Daynes pregnancy, for her labour, for her struggle to do all this on her own. So what changed? Between then and now? That he should suddenly care so much it made it hard for him to breathe?

The child. It had been the child. His child.

Eventually, he will look over at Ashara and reach for her hand, offering a gentle squeeze in reassurance. Then the tears will gather at her eyes, falling over soft cheeks he'd once held with such sweet tenderness.

Perhaps he had never intended for Olyver to exist, to come out of their affair -- but it is no doubt that the boy was made out of some kind of love. And while Varyn may not have known how to love, not really, not selflessly, not without fear and restriction and condition. He knew that in that moment, as he lay with her under the warm Dornish skies, he was hers -- and perhaps, that had been enough. Once.

Now he'd pulled her into a different sort of closeness, a guarding embrace of his arms made to reassure. "Shh --" is a gentle whisper in her ear "Look at me." he'll place fingers beneath her chin to guide her gaze up, and a soft pass of the back of his hand, will wipe away her tears. "I won't let anything happen to him. Nor you." kiss of promise presses against her forehead, before his eyes find hers once more. "Not here, nor there. Not now, not ever."

It was a promise. And this time -- he'd meant it.

"Leave it to me." was all he'd said for now, knowing he would need discuss this matter with his sister. She would know how to rectify the situation in a manner most fitting for all parties involved. And she would know how to do so without shame to his sons name.

"For now, he's to stay hidden. The less he is known, the safer he is. -- I shall have all his needs delivered to these here chambers. And guards to stand watch." finally, he is up to his feet, grounded yet again, drowning out every emotion that had set his insides on fire. There was no more time left for that. "You are to attend the celebrations. Too much time hidden away might make for unnecessary gossip."

what unfolded before her eyes was a scene so sweet, so precious, ashara could not be sure it was real. following their separation, while her belly grew and his absence festered like a wound that refused to heal, her imagination had sustained her. she would close her eyes and picture he was sat beside her, the weight of his palm resting on her swollen stomach protectively. even in her confinement, she envisaged the swaddled babe in the crook of his father's arm. like a proud lion watching over his cub.

varyn seemed to act on instinct when he took the child from her arms, and ashara allowed it, understanding this was crucial in forming a bond between father and son. upon his remark, she joined him in laughter, her entire body shaking with it. she blinked tears before she confirmed with searing pride, "yes, he is wonderfully strong. like his father."

she stepped closer, completing the image of a family of three. her hand settled on varyn's upper arm as she leaned in to kiss the crown of olyver's head. "you should have felt the way he kicked up a storm in my belly."

for the following hours, she was a quiet, smitten observer while varyn rocked the babe to sleep. once transferred into her arms, she carefully placed him in his crib and returned to varyn. his words were surprising, but their effect a soothing balm to her anguish. forgiveness could not be granted within one day, but she believed him. it was a start.

"it was visceral, but swift." she answered with a wistful glance to her flat stomach, clasping his hand tightly. "my pains began in the early morning hours. the midwives told me it could take hours, days even, for a woman's firstborn babe to arrive. they saw no urgency to act, but he had different plans. when the sun stood at its peak, olyver came with a mighty cry that was the sweetest sound i have ever heard."

her hold of his hand tightened. now that he saw and felt what she felt, he would understand her fear of anything happening to their son. tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, it was blinding terror that gripped her. "varyn... you were right. this place is not safe for him, but i do not know how to keep him safe in this world. love is no shield against pain, it cannot protect him. i don't know what to do."

[prodixal]

@crowndgods || ashara lannister

They emerged victorious and he was riding that high all the way back to Kings Landing. Cuts and bruises and minor injuries, those were nothing new -- trophies to be had, to remember the battle by. As he approached Asharas chambers, however, he did fake a groan or two, entering like a wounded lamb even if the smile did urge itself forward and he could not control it. "Is your husband so unworthy of your time that he should limp up to your corridors 'stead of being welcomed 'pon his arrival?" his brows raise, though he was certain she was not aware of the exact time he would be arriving. People came in different batches, different states. And his ride was much shorter, much easier than most. "I could say that I missed you, my viper, or I could show you how much." he pulls her closer in, wrapping his arms around her. "Which will it be?"

[prodixal]

@ironlamb || cersha targaryen

"Sister." he calls for her, having just finished with a fitting for his brand-new armour. He spreads his hands as a child would, for her to observe the excellent craftsmanship. And he does a 360 to ensure she could see the back too. "If I am to die in this battle, I should like you to bury me in this thing." it is but a jest. Varyn did not actually believe he could die. Finally his eyes fall on her with attention and he'll step forward. "You look...different. Did you do something with your hair?" he can't quite place it. Then again he never did look at her quite long enough to notice details. "Suppose marriage life agrees with you. I am most glad of it." he walks past her then, hitting her with his elbow as he does, and pours himself a cup of her wine. "Will you pray to the seven for my safe return?"

[prodixal]

@crcwninferncs || vaelora targaryen

"I have come to check in on you, now that we are family." smug look on his face, as he walks into the room. He pitied Vaelora, truly, not only was she stuck with the cities coldest cunt, but was also at the precipice of inheriting a war-ridden kingdom. "Cersha seems much too happy, I haven't a clue how you've accomplished such a thing but -- I suppose with that kind of miracle work, we've nothing to worry about with this siege." Varyn knew it was Visenya, who was truly in charge -- yet it was Vaelora who was their hope. "I met with the representative from the bank of Braavos."

[prodixal]

Varyn was not unaware of watchful eyes. He'd enjoyed attention, curiosity, admiration. He'd enjoyed women as they struggled looking away, or holding his gaze. Most of desire came through the eyes. Sometimes he'd lay in bed, naked and raw next to a woman -- and he'd let them trace their fingers over scars, over contours, catching the fire in their eyes, or the longing, or something he could not quite place. Sirya's gaze was heavy, and void of desire. Try as he did, he could not decipher what emotion hid beneath. He'd never looked in the eyes so warm, at the same time...so empty, as if every little aspect of them was buried so deeply out the way, even they could not reach it. It was almost...unsettling. Almost. But her calmness, her playfulness, well...it did not take a lot to draw him in. "By gods, you're vague." he'll smile at her words, feeling somewhat better, feeling his breath return and mind clear. "Gift from...your father? Husband?" the latter was more of a personal inquiry really, he did not truly care how they'd acquired the gift -- he cared more now on how to acquire them instead. Such a thing seemed only more of a possibility as she got closer still. Varyns eyes pivoted to her lips, back to her eyes, words filling whatever little space still stood between them. "Death is not a she." he says softly, though he is not sure what her religion might entail. "Life is." it was as simple as that really. Only life could be as cruel as a woman, as cutting, as treacherous. But also beautiful, giving, free. Death was none of those things. Much too simple, too final, to ever be a she. -- His hand will reach for the loose curl by her cheek, moving it slowly over her shoulder as she continues. "No I have not laid with a man." he confirms, perhaps he had made it too easy, perhaps she'd simply been far better than him at spotting a lie. It mattered little, he was happy to play. A deep breath will in through his nose, and he'll look around momentarily as he digs for a secret. He'd never kept much to himself, aside from the feelings of inadequacy he occasionally let Helaena and Obella explore as they saw fit. But perhaps for them he ought to dig deeper. So he does. "I never dream." he'll say, toying with the coin as he thought further. "Never have, not really." eyes flick up. "Except, for the one single dream I've had since I was a boy." every couple of years, like a reminder, he would wake up in cold sweat. "I dream of this city burning to ash, amidst smoke and dragon fire. My skin melts beneath the silver armour. I scream, but the rage of the storm is louder. So I move, I move and I run, but the distance only grows and my feet are heavy as led and I cannot run. Around me there is only blood, only bones, only fire -- so I look up to the sky. I look up and I am staring down a throat of a three-headed dragon, standing between its golden sharp teeth and as the fire rises I wake." he'll stare down that throat now, for a moment longer than it took for that secret to cease, and his eyes will find theirs once more and they will soothe the burning of his skin like cold water. Gently, slowly, he'll lean in. "Your turn."

There is a smile that lingered on the corner of her cheeks, brightened just a moment from his accusation. Should she have ever stole such a thing, the heavens would seek her out like death's horseman. Though, she leans forward. Her elbow remains on the table, his stance more open to her now and their hand is propped beneath their chin. Their eyes are dark and warm like honey, skimming across his features as he examines the stone. "I did not." There's a moment when she's glancing away in thought, before back again. "It was a gift. From the shadowlands beyond Asshai." She speaks the truth, and yet she does not go further into detail. Not yet, though should he have questions- perhaps she should have answers.

As he leans closer, as if his secret is to be spilled from lips and tainted with the coy of a lie, she does not move. Her stance is dangerously close to him, her chin still propped into the palm of her hand. In this distance, they can smell the wine on his breath. She does not mind it. However, not many would. As he speaks, her gaze is shifted to his persona. he can hold her gaze, the smile used as a tool to aid him in silver colored words. And yet, she feels it- as he speaks again, the tapping of his foot beneath the table. Each time, vibrating against her own, and then- her smile widens. Playful. Mysterious. And a trap.

"You have faced death more times than you can count, watched her with vacant eyes in a challenge- she can not catch you, as the wailing woman chased closely behind, your footing did not falter. I sense you welcome her now, her cold bite a reminder of what it feels like to be alive. The adrenaline that surpasses you, in every fight. You yearn to feel her, it's almost twisted- how you tease her." Tongue clicks to the roof of her mouth and Sirya remains silent for a moment, only holding his gaze. "Flatters of the heart don't speak to me the way they do others. However-" She retracts the stone coin back. "You have not laid with man." Their distance close, as she mouths the word. Lie.

"Spill your insides. I am owed a secret."

[prodixal]

@bloodycrxwnn | daemon greyjoy

He woke up to the new dawn feeling refreshed and ready to sink into a cup yet again. The aftermath of yesterdays events left the air heavy and irritating, with people mourning and pretending to care more than they really did. Varyn could not bother to pretend, he'd exhausted all the fucks he had to give during the party and was now left blissfuly himself and in need of interesting company. At the very least. It was then his eyes rested upon a travelling Greyjoy and he joined at his side with ease. Breakfast was being served, mourning people still had to eat. "Lord Greyjoy, the mighty sailor in our midst. Tell me, how awfully disappointing is it to be back in these here lands after your grand exploits?"

[prodixal]

@liiionheartcd | telessa lannister

Varyn was caught by surprise, several times -- and he detested surprises. Perhaps a surprise he detested most, was that of a sudden betrothal of his baby sister. Cersha was one thing, for the most part Varyn did not see her as a human at all. She could take care of herself, and he worried more for those around her than he did for her directly. -- Telessa, on the other hand, now that was a different story altogether. He could not hide anger, as his sister entered the room. "Come. Sit." he will pass her a cup of harsh northern ale. "Go on. Drink" since you're so grown. "How did this happen?"

[prodixal]

@dcstinieshq | darliessa dayne

Varyn could not care less for the tragic fate that befell the Velaryon boy. If anything, his passing only annoyed him and added to the stress brewing prior to his idiotic demise. -- He scoffed, as he walked past the 'grieving' crowd, and once he set eyes upon Lady Dayne, not the wife one, the other one -- he lifted a cup to his smirking lip. "Well, well...look at what the cat dragged in."