#my vow to my liege fanfiction

[ludcake]

can you tell us more about your oc cassanna? we’re piecing together her backstory with a cork board and some string rn

ok you literally do not KNOW how much i have of her. I'm currently writing a dedicated halloween fanfiction of her with the Red Keep-as-monster because I felt like it was a vibe. She's everything to me she's my baby.

Casanna Lannister (with one S because it looks nicer and medieval languages have no consistency :D) is the only child of the Lord of Lannisport. Her mother was Jocasta Reyne, who died in childbirth after several previous miscarriages - and her father, Lord Tommen Lannister, was completely wracked with guilt. (After having pushed his wife to *that*, of course. Because the guilt only matters when it can't be helped anymore.)

Her father turned into a total catholic religious freak. Just, self-flagellation, fasting, wearing hair shirts, threw away the entire finances of House Lannister of Lannisport into giving money to charity and the Faith. Complete freak. He thinks that he's sinned for the murder of his wife and must repent to the Seven and is carrying that guilt *everywhere*.

Meanwhile, little Casanna was being raised by Septas like a proper little lady - except she was very sick. Or rather, very frail - frail on the level of the Maesters saying "she probably won't make it to six", except that since her father sees her survival as the imperative to his own moral redemption, he went crazy on it. Got the entire court praying for her recovery, didn't trust any maesters to touch her, regular leechings performed by the Septon - and while she hung on there as a child, things still weren't great.

That is, until Septon Joffrey showed up.

He was a wandering Septon, who'd taken vows of poverty, and no Septry would take him for his own... Unorthodox views; he was an expelled acolyte of the Citadel, because he saw the Seven and scripture as utterly paramount, to the point of getting into fistfights with his peers over it. Still, he was charismatic; he was a young man at the time, and he was invited into the keep of the Lannisters, as Tommen saw all men and women of faith, and he offered his services.

Casanna improved, and he tutored her. He taught her that the Seven were also One-in-Seven; that the Stranger and the Warrior were just as worthy aspirations for her as the Maiden and the Mother. She'd never be a mother, she replied; the maesters had told her, she did not have the constitution for it. He assured she could find still solace in the Seven, that Maiden-Mother-Crone wasn't all of God's teachings she could hold; his teachings as Maester worked pretty well, and her health recovered considerably, enough she could hang out with other children - enough that he was made Lord Tommen's right hand for it, given the resources of the realm, feast and gold alike at his fingertips.

She was twelve when she was first betrothed to be married, to a third cousin of the main Lannister line; she was twelve when she watched him, twice her age, bring out a mountain lioness to be slain in her name, to honor her, and watched the lioness maul him. Lord Tommen insisted that Septon Joffrey treat him, against the advice of his liege; when the cousin died, Joffrey was cast away.

Five more times she was betrothed, and five more times tragedy befell them; men from the Westerlands, Reach, Riverlands, as far away as Dorne came to ask for the hand of a child upon whom rested the possessions of Lannisport, third and fourth sons aiming to have something to their name. She rejected them all, a sad and small child, who did not wish to see tragedy again.

By pressure from her uncle, who wished to be heir to Lannisport - and by the other houses of the city, who saw her as an unreliable heir - she was sent away, to King's Landing, at the age of sixteen to be a lady in waiting to a princess. And here's where things diverge.

The *main* version of her is from the RP server I run, Birthright, and it's where a lot of her being crazy comes from; there, Daeron the Daring became King after the death of Aegon II, and things spiraled out from there to a general Green Victory. In that scenario, she's lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenara Targaryen, whom she fell in love with - and who loved her back, until Rhaenara was betrothed to Casanna's cousin through the Reyne line, who is the Lord of Casterly Rock. The main thing is that Casanna's approach to that relationship is... Very toxic, and very central to her character - she cannot be a maiden anymore, but she'll never be a mother. She used to fantasize about being a knight to her Princess, but someone else took that away. She created her confidence around being her confidante, about serving her, and her father died and she put a crown on the Princess' forehead and now the realm is dying and the gods aren't answering her prayers and she has to grip onto the idea of that idyllic, perfect relationship she had in her teenage years with all her might because otherwise there might be nothing left. So she became Lady Confessor and Mistress of Whisperers, and she can't handle the torture and murder, but she doesn't stand being unable to serve, so she pushes on and punishes herself through hurting others, including, ultimately, one of the hostages at the Red Keep - Daenaera Stone - whom she slowly falls for after months of very much being in a position of almost killing her, because Daenaera has accepted death enough that it's the only moment of peace Casanna has now. Because they can just sit together, and talk, and hate each other, and that's as good as bliss. Because nowhere else can she be like that. Because she can say the truth, because she can say what she feels, because she knows nobody will ever believe a prisoner. Nobody will ever listen to the words of a madwoman. A dead woman.

MEANWHILE, there's several other versions of her I play with. The constant with her are - toxic catholicism, usually involving the worship of a person as an outlet for her own frustrations with herself (my sin doesn't count if it's for them) and - being gay and also really mad that she can't be straight and have children and a husband and feeling lonely and isolated because of it, because in a society where the worth of a woman is measured by her womb, by her beauty, what happens when you can't have children, when you can't love men, and you're aging??

The main version I'm playing with for my Halloween fic is one wherein she's a lady-in-waiting to Cersei during AFFC, and her obsession revolves both around Cersei but ALSO around the Red Keep itself, and thinning the line between the two as an entity until the ghosts of the Red Keep eat her because the Red Keep is alive and is also a monster.

I can talk a lot about her, but just gonna. Leave this bit from a scene where I'm writing her.

Lady Confessor. My due was to be her Hand, to rule Lannisport, to sit beside her, that our blood be one and our flesh be united; my due was to speak as her voice, to act as her will, to breathe at her command and caress her as leal companion. Rather, mine is the charge of dungeons, of torture, of questions and answers, of the dread that come to men's hearts when they hear the whisper of her name; mine is the charge of spycraft and rats, of shadows and death, the Stranger's work. A lioness ought to have her pride, but none may hear me roar. Casanna's heart weighed and sunk deeper into her gut, that ever demanding ache for a past she'd lost a millstone round her neck; for sweet spring days where she blossomed to a woman, laying beside her heart's delight, her deepest desire. Those few nights not plagued by terrors, the images of her father's ghost haunting her, of Aegon, of Rhaegar, of the King and Lord Mallister passing to her eyes, their dead eyes, final sigh, their blood drowning her - those few nights not plagued by the weight of her actions, she dreamt of how her hair smelled in those drowsy mornings, of how the sun shone to her face, how her skin felt to her fingers, her voice to her ears. Her hands shook and spilled ink over the parchment, staining the words she'd penned; her ears echoed the sound of screaming, the insults and the sobbing, the pain and the despair of the Black Cells she now oversaw. A lady is never fazed by her circumstances; merely inconvenienced, the voice of Joff returned to her. The Seven made each of us in Their image, and given us the duty and the right to take Their Works into our hands - Maiden and Crone, Warrior and Smith, Mother and Father, even the Stranger; righteousness and piety comes through all.

She'd crowned her, laid the steel circlet to her forehead and proclaimed her Queen as she'd done a thousand times amid kisses and whispers; yet though her gaze still lay fondly upon Casanna, the duties of a Queen called her away - the realm tore itself apart for the grief they shared, the grief which parted them, the grief neither knew how to bear. Had it been a mistake, she'd questioned? Had she taken to action too quickly, and now she'd share the fate of the Black Queen's favourites, her Queen given to the flames? Her cousin had taken her from Casanna, wed her, given her a swollen belly and a happy smile through sorrow and thorn; Master of Laws, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport - yet that shield did nothing to prevent the incoming blow from the Ironborn. That shield let her father die, gave away her birthright, the Rock that now stole her treasures. She penned down her letter again; to a cousin she'd grown beside, a Lannett of a cadet line, a boy when they'd last met and now a man grown. Were her father alive, he may have encouraged that she match her hand to his, so the line may persist beside another junior of the Rock; rather, he'd serve as her castellan and first officer so long as she remain in King's Landing - she'd hoped that mayhap she may charge him with the affairs of the Rock, too, if she could persuade her cousin, but he now went to campaign, warring across the Riverlands, reaping the seeds of rebellion she'd sowed. Encased within the envelope to be sent was a badge of office - a golden key with the bow of a lion, twinkling eyes of sapphire and fangs of ivory. She had five made - one for herself, one for Lord Damon, one for Ser Lannett and the two remaining ones... Well, she needed bait to find new stakeholders.

The Golden Bank of Lannisport - as it would be called, as per its charter - was to finance the reconstruction of the city, a new fleet for the Rock, to rival Oldtown and even the Free Cities; without Gulltown or White Harbour beside the Queen, her domain may expand, and though her holdings would always be those of a cadet, she may find fortune elsewhere. Or so ran the thought. Lord Royce had passed not a week before, and the rotting smell of his body still stained her clothes, she felt; her hands seemed bloodied no matter how much she washed them, and she could hardly focus anymore, her tired expression hidden by the steady work of her servants and ointments and paint from lands as distant as Lorath and Yunkai. Casanna had torn the realm apart, laid beside a woman, killed those who trusted her; it had been the Seven's own punishment that she lose all that she love most, that she be shackled like a hound, that she be put to serve her Queen as her left hand, do the darkest bidding and shed the blood and whisper the evils necessary for the realm. She had her duty, and she'd do it to her best ability - but her heart hurt that she felt it unrewarding, a punishment, her mind taken by guilt she'd never felt before. Casanna had never questioned the direction her heart took her, the winding roads that service to her Princess led her through; she'd lied and betrayed, she'd even been accomplice to death when it was required - but that was when she was rewarded with kind words and caresses, when they were one, when she still held out hope they may be together, as the Maiden's light bless them. Now she was a spinster, a gaoler, a rat-catcher in the walls; Mistress of Whisperers, Lady Confessor, Child of the Stranger, a bloodied sapphire to adorn her Queen's crown. No true lioness should be sneaking about without a pride to follow her.

What had once been the Queen's was now hers, and she sat at her chair on the Small Council; as she busied herself with royal affairs, now Casanna looked after the wyrms and drakes along the realm, whose whispers and blades served the line of the dragon. They said the usurper courted the favour of the Iron Bank of Braavos, and that the Rogares lay close with the court at Sunspear - the Martell had not yet recognised the legitimacy of Her Grace's reign, but they'd always been a troublesome lot. She set the letter aside upon a stacking pile of missives to be sent to the rookery by a servant; her livelihood had become to writ letters, learn the weakness of flesh and bone, demand answers, reminisce and fall to night terrors, at times interrupted by the counsel of the Small Council. Her cousin rode out to the Riverlands, her Queen was beset by treason and flattery; Casanna's affairs were not war, and war was all the realm was set against. She'd grown in times of peace, blossomed to a woman in strife, but when it came again, she was beset by matters she'd not learned, powerless in the face of it all. She paused, and cleaned after her desk, standing up and taking a deep breath - her corset felt tight around her waist, months of indulgence to hippocras and honeyfingers to console her heart taking their toll on her shape. She'd not gone out hunting or riding on horseback since the Great Council, and she missed the fresh air of the open fields of the Kingswood; but duty took its price, and it was rather that than her blood. The Lady Confessor placed her cloak upon her shoulders, and pinned it together with a golden brooch; with firm steps, she ran down the stairs, the stink and musk of the gaol bringing her insides to a simmer. She withdrew a dagger, a pretty dirk from Lys, and got well to work. For the Queen.

[theflowercrownlady]

Writers Month 2021 # 10 - Amongst the Fireflies

Writers Month (August) 2021 Day #10 Word: Sunshine / Setting: Aged up/Deaged Fandom: My Vow To My Liege (MVTML) Characters: ChenFeng, AhYu, YiGuang... Pairings: Umm Onesided ChenFeng x AhYu Warnings: None Rating: K A/N: Do not, I repeat, DO NOT expect poetry, or that wonderful ability the 'chinese' (I know, I know, wrong term) language has to paint words as if it were a work of (visual) art. But everything else should be in place, at least...

"Come on now, silly boy."

She laughed, running ahead of him, under the dying light of the sun. She was eleven years old, but sometimes she still acted as if she were a very little girl-- at least with him. The only Princess, the one daughter of King HeLu, Princess TengYu, was ChenFeng’s one sole companion. But he was three years older than her, and the difference was noticeable already, his height towering a good seven inches above her, and he hesitated to follow her. Then she called his name, and he walked towards her, his steps becoming lighter and lighter with each step, until he was running too.

ChenFeng, she had said. He found that the sound was sweeter, whenever she was the one to speak.

Truth be told, in his eyes, no one seemed as important as the young Princess TengYu; no one as lively, no one as dear. Except, perhaps, King HeLu. He would forever be indebted to him, and although he was sure he could never repay his kindness, he was willing to try. But if he was indebted to him, for honor, he was indebted to her, too. She was, after all, the precious jewel of the King, and he had been entrusted to her as a companion she could play with. He would never, ever let anything happen to her. That was one of the reasons he had been training so fiercely, as soon as he had some spare time-- which is to say, the moments Princess TengYu didn’t require his presence.

There weren’t that many of those moments. Per some reason, she almost always wanted him close.

“Look, ChenFeng” she told him, stopping in her tracks, once he reached her. She took a long breath, to recover, “YiGuang will be coming in a little while, and I wanted to show him what we found last time. Is that alright with you?”

“Anything my lady decides will be alright.”

“I’ve told you to not call me that” she frowned. “AhYu is fine.”

He shifted his pose, feeling awkward. “I insist that is fine.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. But her eyes softened. “C’mon, ChenFeng. It is fine. My father-- King HeLu won’t be mad. I promise.”

He hesitated.

Then she took one of his hands. “Look, there they are!”

She pointed out towards a small, hidden patch of land, leading to a small pond. It was dark enough already to see that there, in the dimming sunlight, there were fireflies near the pond.

She smiled, but he could only remain stiff, while she grasped his hand. She noticed his silence, and turned her head to look at him. She laughed lightly. “You know what? I won’t let go of you until you call me by my name.”

“You are Princess TengYu, and as such--”

“You know what I mean, ChenFeng!”

Now she sounded menacing. He swallowed, feeling exactly as if his back were against a wall, and he had a sword pointing towards his chest. Except, there was no wall, and the sword was just her incisive stare, or maybe the finger pointing at him.

He had just opened his mouth when her eyes lit up.

“YiGuang, hi!”

She let go of ChenFeng’s hand, her previous threat forgotten, and walked towards her other friend. ChenFeng turned around slowly, feeling awfully conscious of the sudden lack of the warmth on one of his hands. YiGuang greeted the princess, and smiled at ChenFeng too. But ChenFeng could only nod as a greeting, sending a glance towards his empty hand. The weight on his chest reminded him of a rock, the rocks that lined up the tiny pond; the pond, with an increasing number of tiny lights, of a shiny green color, that both TengYu and him had found the night before.

AhYu.

He had been so close to saying it. But, alas, the moment had passed. YiGuang, with his serene, amiable personality, attracted people without even trying-- Princess TengYu included. YiGuang was kind, always had a smile ready, and always knew what to say, two of those aspects completely opposite to ChenFeng: ChenFeng, the orphan, as everyone knew him, had no social ability, nor a smile ready to show. Ironically enough, the only one he used to spend time with, besides Princess TengYu, was YiGuang. Indeed, the three of them were friends, and they all cared for one another. But sometimes ChenFeng found himself wishing to be more like YiGuang, and less like ChenFeng; to be like YiGuang, who was able to say ‘AhYu’, with such simple sincerity...

“AhYu”, ChenFeng whispered, his voice lost in the breeze.

“ChenFeng, come” she called him, smiling at him before moving towards the pond. “The light has dimmed enough already.”

Has it, really? ChenFeng thought, his chest aching, looking at her. There was no more sunshine, true; but there, amongst the fireflies, he couldn’t help but think she had a light of her own.