#ft. loreon

[heartsxbane]

event! special delivery for @oceansborn ( loreon & lyanna )

Forever, if it were a measurable period, would still fail to be long enough between a truly heartbreaking betrayal and the mere mention of a cowardly lion who had dared to pretend to be in love with her. The kingdom she would've delivered to his feet and every imagined glory that would come to it was still burning about her in a blaze only her eyes could see, forever struggling to breathe in ash and snow. There had been no allowance to wallow, no mourning, only the stark reality of a stark king's disappointment in a girl firmly mired in second place, stuck in a state of eternal proving of a worth that had been established ten times over. Younger sisters still made him smile, a father who had lost his firstborn and named the third his heir apparent. Lyanna's smiles were tempered with a sliver of condemnation at least that Lyanna felt was there. For his eldest living child it was a small war in itself to make a father praise her. It had been years since the name had been mentioned, Bane's growl of displeasure the last time Loreon Lannister had even been mentioned among Winterfell by the staff or its ruling family caused a poor maid to faint.

On this new plane of existence where a footing was no more sure than dancing on the edge of a frozen pond, Lyanna had traveled with family to assist them in these talks. She had to find a way to be content with a fate most unexpected, wrestling with the voice that asked what she was willing to sacrifice to take what ought to belong to her- that would belong to Lyanna if she were a son and not a daughter. Thus far into this grand ball in king's landing, Lyanna had even entertained the thought of melting a heart iced over, knowing it was awfully exhausting keeping the world at arm's length. Then a ghost appeared. If a direwolf had been allowed, Bane would've snarled. Hackles would've been raised as if they reflected Lyanna's own emotion narrowing her eyes at a spirit that was made corporeal. The girl that had loved him once battled the woman hardened by her subsequent experiences. Were this the days after a letter had been delivered to her how a stark princess would've flown to his arms and openly displayed how much she loved. Lyanna would've kissed every inch of face, overwhelmed and crying, telling him how much he meant and not to scare her like that again, and they would've married then and there. Lyanna would've found the septon to honor his religion and dragged the old fool in by the ear, demanding it be done. Were it after rumors came that he feld with another it would not be kisses that would cover Loreon's cheeks. Still, somehow, as small as she was Lyanna would've slapped him, tears running and ruining a perfectly painted face filled with an anger that was no anger but a love that may have been allowed to die peacefully. The thirdborn Lannister prince had not the honor to give her even that or even the chance to pretend as if she would not forgive him the moment he'd kiss her if it had been a more immediate return. No. Lyanna had to cry when the wind howled or it stormed. The blood of her mother cried to the seas to let the waves take her to a god as old as her own who would protect his lost child. Bane whimpered, a beast as fearsome as his lady, feeling the devastation in the stark's bones as she stared out the gates slowing losing hope. If he asked - if Loreon dared to tell her face to face he didn't really love her enough to go through with this she could've saved herself like he thought his words could set her free from a disappointing life. Instead, he had, without knowing, delivered her into a fate worse than the one she imagined.

A chest rose for a moment with the fire housed in her, a blaze of righteous anger flaring, needing to turn her face away. Lyanna did not, though, and her eyes remained on the man. She would not allow him to disappear into the crowd and fade from view back to whatever place he'd come crawling out of. Lyanna would not shout, rage as she wished or waste tears he did not deserve but what better way to confront a lion than directly. "This is a most unexpected surprise. Should we take the appearance of ghosts as an omen of ill fortune or does a specter bring this council glad tidings? Prince"

[clutchofmuses]

The screams fill the air and Jaehaera wants her own to join with it, but the princess had learned that screams matter not and had such locked away such frivolous shows of pain behind the vault inside of her where all the painful things lived.

Hedwin's face was grey and white as a corpse when she came upon her husband's most trusted (and oft ignored) adviser that morning. Jaehaera at first had not understood why he had come to beseech her. There was not much she could do the change Loreon's mind when he put his focus on it. He was like a dragon in that regards.

He was like a lion.

The slew of seven pointed stars along the cliff face of the Rock, however, were not at all becoming of a lion. They were like the mad eyes of her grandmother, locked in her vault. They were cruelty and anger. They were a mission to do something right.

Jaehaera's eyes closed tight as if that would drown out the sounds and Morghul beneath her let out a bellow at her distress. A warning cry, a scream not of terror but of rage and disgust. Her fingers reached for the warmth of her dragon's scales and she forced herself to look. To stare upon the carnage her husband had wrought when she had begged him not to, and a rage filled her to combat the utter shame she felt at this.

"Dracarys," she whispered and Morghul reared back, a gout of flame rushing out across those that Loreon had affixed to the stars as a warning. The Ironborn had come raiding, pillaging, and committing their own acts of horrors, but this punishment was beyond the pail. This was cruelty for the sake of it.

The screams stopped quickly, the smell of cooked meat filling the air as she circled above her husband's camp, commanding Morghul to land safely so as not to crush anyone, no matter how strong the feeling was. Jaehaera ignored the glimmering white cloaked vision of her husband on the rise, having exited his tent at her approach so he had the most perfect and unobstructed view of exactly what she thought about all this. She ignored the cramping of her gut, the sick feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

/ starter for @helbroth

[patriciers]

coming back from spending time with jeyne , talking idly with the guard walking a few paces behind her , her brow furrows when his footsteps stop abruptly . she turns slowly , looking to the guard first , then following his gaze , standing up a bit straighter as a face she recognizes comes into view . “ at ease , he’s a friend . ” she says in a hushed tone , before throwing a small , polite smile in @dieluminis direction . even if the use of the word ‘ friend ’ could be seen as generous , the noble families of the westerlands remain the ones serena is most familiar with , “ lord lefford . ” she dips her head in greeting . “ i hope everything is well with you and your house . ”

[clutchofmuses]

continued from here @helbroth

Jaehaera watched her husband from his chair, stiff and stoic beside the fireplace, her hands folded tightly across her belly in the way her grandmother so often held herself. Poised and ramrod straight, a taut bowstring vibrating and aching for release.

The scrape of uncertainty and vulnerability drew back behind her carefully constructed walls and she looked at him, blankly.

Lilac eyes dispassionate. Blank.

"Yes. Of course." Voice devoid of emotion, of any affect. Jaehaera's eyes drifted to the flame. This is what they meant when they said one would find purpose in being a mother. No wonder her grandmother had started a war for the love of them. Fire coats her mouth, burns at her throat, fangs aching to bare them and burn him. Burn him as he does his heretics.

"Thank you, lord husband, for making it clear what truly matters to you."

[heartsxbane]

oh would this have been such a time to shoot back words, to release every prickly bard of wrath that poisoned her world. were it a time to purge the pain that had for so long been a reminder of what once mattered gauging the man before her it was not. lyanna begged, beating against the bars of her own enclosure to let herself have the peace of true and awful closure. it would not happen - it would never happen. loreon who stood before her was only the shell of a person she had the deepest feelings for. the creature that wore his face would not care . it was likely he had moved on so selfishly , throwing himself at the nearest person who could excite him until they too proved too much or lost his interest or attention. Lyanna could be satisfied that she was not too little for him, she was nothing remotely typical or unexciting. there were no women like lyanna. she was the sort to have loved and lost her and to be forever scarred because no one would ever compare. in this moment and that singular thought it was less of a heartbreak knowing she had been too much enough he had to flee to the farthest corner of the earth. A stark princess also knew him better than he did his ownself at one point. Still it was unwise on his part to accuse her of not knowing her target well enough. In this short span of time she had gained quite the handle on the prince returned.

He used his limited wit to repeat and reiterate a point he had already made while failing to realize she was different. Loreon had returned for what reason if not to participate in the meetings then what had it been? Body language, the tensing of muscles, roll of eyes and click of a tongue shouted of bordem. The lion had grown bored of his adventuring and accomplished his great fetes, so he might feel something realizing other than his own pride occasionally being fluffed - it was hollow. It was not that he missed family or friends as seeing them would've been so easy and often had that been the desire it would've been done. Did he feel fulfilled, any more loved or honored, or had he destroyed himself only to feel less alive than before, existing only in high adventure and trouble, unable to feel anything else? Worse yet was it not as profitable as he'd hoped and mother and father held purse strings still hoping some coin would jingle loose? The continued insensitive jabs and childish manner spoke volumes, too. Though used to diving head first into battle and a fury of blades, Loreon didn't and had never done well with confrontation or admitting he had done someone or something wrong.

Staring at him, a face in the moment softened, losing its teeth at Lyanna, who allowed herself to feel pity for the golden prince. A hand lifted and hesitated a breath away from his cheek as she looked him over again giving a soft frown with a glasslike quality to her eyes as the water welled there and stayed not yet leaking. "Only if we were equals. You are still the boy who went running away to find himself, and he is still searching. My words do not matter to you - even now it is doubtful you listen because stopping to listen would mean all that you hide from will come hurtling toward you calling for answers. We cannot run from ourselves prince. Were the man I once loved still in your eyes tell him the prayers I once said for him every day up until this moment to his gods and my own had been to keep him alive, breathing. They had not wished him dead once but to follow him and keep him safe as the woman who had called him the husband of her heart would've had he not been afraid of what that meant. She would've followed him anywhere."

Lyanna's hand drew back, face turning away, forcing the temporary drop of a shield to draw back to its full height. Glancing back, eyes had cracked despite her decree to leak droplets of salt water, watching the softness tight replaced with iron and steel, returning to an unreadable state of gentle anger and the same annoyance his sigh communicated. "I have made my peace with your house. they are not the son who fled these lands and they would've been mine. Do not raise their hopes and break their hearts if this return of yours is only temporary. Do not let whatever fancy you fool with now deceive you into thinking you are whole again, either. I would wish you a pleasant evening, but that would make others wonder if I wished anything at all regarding you." The eldest stark child, still living, spoke. Lyanna turned her face away and attempted to exit gracefully, attempting to slip away, knowing eyes leaked further. If she did not get air soon a deluge of undeserved tears would be shed for a man who cared only for himself - for nothing.

no doubt were her barbs meant to scrape bone, but loreon remained unflinching. his chilling nonchalance was something he'd picked up in the free cities — the young lion lyanna had known and loved had worn his heart for all the world to see. "i'm a soldier. i do not presume, i take and execute orders. if you wish for me to regale you with battle tactics, i shall oblige you. but i have no say in council meetings, great or small. if you are so keen to pass judgement, you might wish to know your target better." she had hardened in her own way, steeled herself as they must all inevitably do ( conveniently, he failed to acknowledge the part he'd played in this drastic change ). a slight smirk clung to his lips as she spoke and moved closer to inspect him, eyes following hers. she comported herself more a queen than a princess, he thought. unsurprising. "then i must also revoke permission to speak my name. we are equals, are we not?" with a click of his tongue, loreon breathed an impatient sigh. "a shame. after all these years, i had hoped to make amends with house stark. surely you won't let a passing fancy disturb the peace between our families?" were the lannisters allied with the north? ah, he'd been gone too long to know who was squabbling with whom. loyalties were as fickle as the winds, but they certainly weren't at war. despite his best efforts to rile, he preferred to keep it that way.

[heartsxbane]

She did not pay him the same respect he so mockingly gave to her. There was no bow, no flicker of a curtsey of courtesy but he was greeted with a spine of iron refusing to honor a faithless man. A heart also refused to skip a beat when the girl that once was peered from sharp eyes, thinking perhaps there might've existed in a moment a sliver of who they once were to each other. Lyanna still had to kill the girl who would've followed him to the ends of the earth and who lived in smaller and smaller moments. He would get no such glimpse from her matching the same defiant attitude. "Why not presume? You are, after all, so cultured and wise - knowing so much about life and the world. Assume as you would like after all you've known enough about enough to decide for many a people what is good and right for them why not speculate now?"

Her tone was smooth like the kiss given by the edge of a blade as she shook her head with a smile but it was far to practiced a smile, no longer the one once reserved for him but a turn of the corners of her mouth given to reprehensible persons. Forced. "Your condolences are noted. I know how much your words are worth, prince. Let me make a humble request, if you would allow me . . ." Lyanna inquired, moving closer, closing some distance to be close enough to see how much he had changed. He had matured; his hair was still golden blonde, but his body was weathered, and his facial hair did him well. Handsome even more so than before, but he had only aged. "Remove my name from your mouth - you lost all right to call me by it when you proved how much your words were truly worth to me. Loreon."

for many months after his disappearance, loreon could recite the craven words he had written to lyanna in his sleep. the golden prince had once believed he couldn't conceive of existence without the stark princess, and then somehow, he'd forged a new life under the scorching sun of essos. the coin and accolades he had earned as a legendary sellsword couldn't relieve him of his guilt, but they had slowly drowned out all sentiment that might've once clawed at his chest. to feel was to hurt, and so loreon accepted his punishment with no hope of forgiveness — a dark and dull existence where one might find pleasure, but never again experience happiness in its entirety. a hell he had created for himself. he hadn't thought of her much in recent years, if at all, and he felt no sting of remorse in admitting as much. it served no purpose and couldn't undo what had been done. the journey to king's landing should've given the prince ample opportunity to prepare for their inevitable crossing of paths, but in similarly careless and unrepentant fashion, loreon hadn't devoted a single thought on how he might navigate their meeting. as he stood before her, he dipped his head in polite greeting, whatever flickered behind piercing blue eyes indecipherable. "princess lyanna." he began. "i can assure you, i'm no ghost. though i wouldn't presume to speculate on what the outcome of the council meeting will be, i never was one for politics myself." he held her gaze defiantly for a long moment, crossing his arms behind his back before he spoke again. "i would ask you to accept my condolences on your brother's passing... but i sense you might reject them. notwithstanding, i am sorry for your loss."