Cassandrya Moysaunt

okay, so I can actually see them having been like best friends, back in the day??!?!? like omg they were the same age and I feel like they would have played a lot together and gotten into all kind of trouble (but had the best adventures!!!!) and being friends w/ ana also meant you got to hang out with an actual!!! dragonrider!!! so that’s a bonus!!! :) honestly, I can see where ana may have developed a crush on joff, too??? obviously, it faded for her as well, haha. 

so .... given that ... I can see where she might have reached out to joff when she resurfaced and been like “not dead yet!!!” (only for him to come back from his trip and then she actually is dead, but y’know #odrproblems) but I can see where she wouldn’t, too, especially if house vymont, like the mortains, did a public profession of loyalty to the queen .... so she wasn’t sure she could trust him, just like she wasn’t sure she could trust britta?????? idk thoughts????? 

The household was united in their worry for Avina, and it was good to know she was finally, finally resting at last - however long that might last before the dreams took her once more.  Slowly, so as to be as quiet as she might, Ivette shut the door to the kitchen to help muffle the sound inside.  She prayed the restful sleep would continue for as long as it could.

It was just a joke, but there was something in the way Ana spoke that reminded Ivette, once again, that this was the daughter of a Dragon Rider.  Once, her mother had surveyed the land and ensured justice for all.  She had patrolled the skies and consorted with living flame.  It was a mighty responsibility, Ivette was certain: a responsibility that had claimed the lives of hundreds fifteen years ago.  Yet, for all that had happened, she had left Ana and Avina behind: the dragons and the riders were gone, but their legacy lived on.  “No,” replied Ivette softly, smiling.  “I don’t imagine it will.”

When Ana alluded to the climate from which Ivette had hailed, she laughed aloud.  “Yes, indeed,” she responded, teasingly.  “You mustn’t forget.”  Her own was a strange legacy: survival and freedom dueling and uniting.  It was the one thing she could claim for herself, and a dubious honor at best.

“Ah, yes,” sighed Ivette.  Like most people, she was not especially fond of Rob.  “That must be…quite a thing to confront,” she said.  “To choose to someday count Rob amongst your family.”  She said this in a jocular tone, but it was only the truth.  The Barrets had had Rob thrust upon them, but by marrying Cris, she had the misfortune of choosing such a brother.  Still, the other Barrets were as laudable as they came: Ned and Cris and Ric were all outstanding examples of all the qualities the South professed most loudly.  Ned was wise and upstanding; Cris determined and unflagging; Ric wise and generous.  

“You know…I think I saw him crush a butterfly, the other day.  Why would anyone do that?” she bit her lip.  She had always heard such grand stories of the Dragonriders, even in the Southern Isles.  Yet, the first she had ever had the dubious honor of meeting was Rob and the only other living one was Cassius Montagu, known mass-murdered.  It seemed terribly incongruous and the cynical part of Ivette wondered if perhaps the Riders had never, indeed, been so glorious a thing as was suggested.  Perhaps the stories had been blown out of proportion.  After all, there were people like the obviously-corrupt Lysander Stafford who spun honorifics about Queen Rowena.  Perhaps, in their day, the Dragonriders had benefitted from similar press.  “I must to say…he’s not what I expected.”

“Are you hungry?” Ana asked, as she started to busy herself about the kitchen. “I thought I’d start some stew for dinner.

“it is,” Ana exhaled, “Every marriage has its problems, and Rob will be the bane of our’s.” She teased, although even as she said it, she was certain that having Rob as a brother would not be easy. The two of them had never gotten along. “But both Cris and Ned have gotten this far without strangling him. I’m confident that I can, too.” She raised her eyebrow, a glint of mischief in her eye, “But I suppose only time will tell.” 

She knew that marrying Cris did mean that she’d also be choosing Rob for a brother. It was not an appealing thought to have to count him amongst her family, but in the end, the merits of one brother far outweighed the faults of the other. 

She’d been chopping up vegetables when Ivette told her what she had seen. She was so surprised that the knife almost slipped. “He crushed a butterfly?” Ana repeated, for a moment wondering if she had heard Ivette correctly. She shook her head, “How silly of me to be astonished,” She added, “It isn’t the first time Rob has performed a senseless act of cruelty.” And she doubted it would have been the last. “He was lucky I was not there.” Frustrated and disgusted, she returned to the task at hand: chopping the potatoes a bit more aggressively. “How could he do something so terrible to a creature who had done nothing to deserve it?” 

“He will make a sorry a excuse for a dragonrider.” It felt like an insult that someone so undeserving would become the new symbol of hope for the rebellion. What sort of future would they be building, with Rob Barret at the helm? He had his more than capable brothers to help to guide him, but even they could only do so much. She’d once hoped that time would improve him; now she could only pray that it didn’t make him worse. Already, the power and influence had gone to his head. 

Ok so these two have connections in that Ana’s mom was a dragonrider and therefore Cassius obv knew her…and…yknow also killed her *thumbs up*  Anyyyyway, I can see where Cassius’s jobs is maybe to keep a look out for the kids of dragonriders bc yknow they theoretically may have some genetic predisposition towards it (or I’m guessing that’s the case given the degreys and godivas???? am i wrong about this????) and/or bc they may have both the means (given locals may have some feeling of loyalty towards the child of a dragonrider) and ofc the motive to foment rebellion successfully?????

but yES. I do think that kids of dragonriders are more likely than others to be riders, themselves, and I can see where rowena may want cassius to keep tabs on all of them but idk if he was able to do so with ana and avina since they ran away and I feel like most people thought they were dead? 

CASSANDRYA “ANA” MOYSAUNT / imogen poots

Avina’s screams woke the entire camp. Within moments, Ana was by her sister’s side, clutching her hand as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Shh, it’s alright.” She said softly, “It’s over now.” Her sister’s visions had become more and more frequent and Ana was worried. It was a terrible burden her sister carried: to see the past; to know the future.

Avina turned towards Ana’s voice, but she barely heard it. The dream had ended, but the terror remained. “It’s you – ” Avina breathed, trembling “– Ana, you are going to die.”

Cris had been standing nearby: he had come as soon as he had heard the screams, but he’d remained silent, allowing Ana to comfort her sister; staying close at hand in case he was needed. But at Avina’s words, he knelt down by her side, ”When? How?“ His voice was urgent and his hand had instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword as though some danger lurked beyond them in the trees.

Avina could only shake her head, “I don’t know … ”

In response, Ana laughed. ”Is that all? Then there’s no need to worry, sweetling. Everyone must die someday. It’s a small comfort, really, to know that I won’t be cursed with immortality.“

"Ana, don’t laugh,” Avina pleaded, “There was so much blood … When you die … it will not be peaceful.”

"I never expected that it would be,” Ana said softly, “Shh, think no more of it. Don’t let it trouble you. I will make you some tea. It will help you sleep.” Avina nodded, reluctantly letting her sister’s hand go.

Ana made her way down to the stream in the darkness. She hadn’t stopped to make a torch, but she didn’t need one. She’d lived long enough in these woods that she could have done the same had she been blindfolded.

Cris had followed her and as soon as they were out of earshot from the rest of the camp, he reached out and took her arm, "Ana, stop. We need to get you away from here. It’s too dangerous. Ned and I will make arrangements in the morning for you and Avina. You will go North; you will go somewhere no one would recognize you. We never should have let either of you stay here this long.”

Ana shook her head, ”That may not solve anything. She saw my death, yes, but we don’t know when or where or how. The same could be said of everyone else. This doesn’t change anything.“

"I will not stand idly by and let this happen to you. Do not ask that of me, Ana,” He said, his voice had been stern, but it gave way and he spoke softly now, so quietly she barely heard him, “ … please don’t leave me in this world alone — if something were to happen to you, I – ”

“I’ll be fine,” She said, “I’ve survived worse.”

She’d been walking back to the rebel encampment when it happened: a stray arrow had struck her side.The arrow had belonged to Rob, who had been practicing on the wrong side of the woods. He had never been a good shot and the arrow widely missed the target. It’d gone off into the forest where it found Ana. She hadn’t been alone and, with the help of Ivette, she made it into camp.

Cris was with her now, putting pressure on the wound where the arrow had been. The cloth he’d used was soaked through already and his hands were covered in her blood.

“I’m fine,” She said, again, noting the worry on his face. She’d never seen him quite like this before: a mixture of concern and helplessness. She hadn’t been lying when she told him that she’d survived worse. She’d lived with no one but her little sister for more than half of her life. The wilderness had been cruel to them both, and they’d only had each other when they were wounded or sick. For years, before Avina was old enough, Ana had had only herself.

Cris hasn’t known her terribly well as a child, but he remembered the Moysaunts, notwithstanding.  He remembered their fearless mother, pregnant, and later with a child already, yet still astride a dragon.  She would come, now and again, to visit his father and young Ned and would occasionally pause to tell little Cris stories of the distant lands she’d seen.  Sometimes, he would stay out in the yard and play with the dragon - who, quite used to the idea of children, or perhaps recognizing a blood mark in him - displayed extraordinary patience with the unruly little boy.  He remembered the hot scales, warm like tiles over a fire, and the dry membrane of the massive wings.

It was strange to think the chance of that once more existed.  Cris couldn’t imagine where on earth a single egg had been moldering for fifteen years or more that Rob, of all people, might suddenly find it, but it was a truth he couldn’t deny.

For hundreds of years, the Barrets had faithfully served House Mortain, ranging and protecting the shores of the South.  Like those before him, Cris had dedicated his life to this.  Yet, unlike the foregoing generations, he was at the brink of seeing it all slip away for nothing.  It wasn’t that Rob had done anything wrong - if Cris had found it himself, he would have brought it directly back to camp as well (though he might have kept the information between Ned, Ana, and himself, at least until they made some sort of game plan).

Cris wondered what the next step might be.  They had neither the resources nor the capacity for flight that the dragon riders had once used to scour the coast for the next rider - and, besides all that, they did not have the luxury of full disclosure.  The egg must be kept a secret, above all else, or all was lost.

His reverie was disrupted by the sound of her voice and, despite his previous mode of thought, he chuckled.  “You see, I know how to laugh,” he joked lightly, reaching out towards her.  “But that must be our secret,” he added, quirking a brow as he drawled.  “I’d be horribly disappointed if my scowl no longer struck terror into the hearts of small children.”  Cris cracked a smile, then.

He put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close.  She fit snugly there, given their not insubstantial height difference, and he strode towards the softly lapping waves.  The sand was hot underfoot, but where the water had touched it, sloppy and cool.

“Ivette!” he exclaimed, mock horrified.  “What has Ivette got that I don’t have?  Aside from a healthy sense of humor and the ability to relax, that is.”  He felt a bit more rueful.  Ana had a great deal to deal with in Cris, he knew.  He was a rather crusty person and rather too dedicated to his job, in any case.  The safety of the South trumped everything.  Afterall, Ana lived there and what would he ever do without her?  A shell of a man, he knew, was all he would be.

But there was a difference, she would tell him, between surviving and living. 

She laughed looking out at the sea as she spoke, “I won’t betray you. Not that it would do much good if I tried to: I’m not sure anyone would believe it,” She teased. 

She took his hand in her’s, remembering the first time she had ever seen him and how serious he was then. She was sure she must have shocked him: she had been nearly as smiling and easy going as she was now.

“Yes, there is that,” She said, in reference to Ivette. 

She laughed, “I’m not sure they do that at all, even when they aren’t at the seaside.”

She leaned up and kissed him. When she pulled away, her hand lingered on his face. She looked up into his grey eyes and behind their brightness, she could tell that there was concern, too. 

“What’s worrying you?” She asked, even she already knew the answer. The dragon egg they had found: it posed so many threats, so many trials, but hope for them, also. 

Their trip here had supposed to have been an escape from it all; a moment to catch their breath. But they hadn’t talked about it at all outside of the meetings they had with everyone else. And, truth be told, it was weighing on her mind as well. She knew it would be weighing even more heavily on his. 

Ygritte had been pretty in her own way, with her red hair kissed by fire, but it was her smile that made her face come alive. Val did not need to smile; she would have turned men’s heads in any court in the wide world.

Britta urged her horse forward.  Her mother had forced her to pay a visit to Petyr.  Perhaps, if it hadn’t been planned by her mother, it might have been pleasant and, between the two of them, Britta and Margery ruined everything Margery touched.  Truth be told, she felt a bit guilty putting Petyr through it.  He had been her friend through so much, did he not deserve preferential treatment?  Yet, when pleasing her mother and pleasing Petyr aligned, Britta’s mission regrettably became the displeasure of both.

Seldom did Britta come through this part of town.  She kept her eyes sharp, looking for the surest route back to the castle (not to mention any pedestrians she might otherwise run down on accident).  Turning her attention from the next turn to scan the crowd, she caught a flash of blond hair, bright eyes, familiar features…

It was a slash to the throat, a kick to the chest.  Her ribs stabbed inwards and, in one swift motion, Britta dismounted, heedlessly handing the reins to the nearest person as though they were a page (she had spitefully taken one of Margery’s favorite horses, anyway, so she found she didn’t especially mind if the proud stallion was stolen) and, pulling at her skirts, pushed through the crowd.  Most made a path for the Mortain.  Sporting fine silks and Mortain features - if more or her mother’s coloring than the sandy haired, steel eyed Mortains of old - it was clear who and what she was, but still there were many people crowded into the area and for a moment Britta feared the girl had slipped away.

If she did not have her sister to think of -- if Cris and Ivette and all the others did not have ties to her -- it would be different. It was one thing if she was discovered, but what of the rest of them? Had that one moment of straying too long, cost them everything? 

She looked back at her friend as she was pulled aside hearing that old name on her lips. No one had called her Cass since before her mother was killed, not even Avina and for a moment, she almost let her guard down. But the knowledge of what Britta had done was burned into her memory and would not be so easily shaken. 

She stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. Someone stared and Ana looked away. There were too many people here and even if they did not know Ana on sight, they would know Britta. They drew too much attention. “Not here,” She whispered once she found her voice.

She would have to tell Britta something. Not everything, of course. But she couldn’t just leave. Britta would never stop and trying to deny it was useless. She picked her way through the crowds, head down aware that Britta was keeping close. There was no where in town she could go where she felt safe telling any part of her story and so she led Britta back through the gates of town and walked on in silence until the village was behind them. 

Darkness was falling and it was hard to see Britta’s expressions in the dark. But no matter, Ana wondered if she’d be able to read them, anyway. Had she ever truly known her friend?

“I’ve been hiding,” She said, wrapping her shawl around her as the cool evening breezes moved through the trees, “I should have left the south but ... “ But she had a small baby to care for and then a young girl who suffered from paralyzing visions of the future and past, but she had no intention of saying any of this to Britta. She would not mention Avina at all, “ ... I never could.” 

Quickly, Ivette turned to her, putting a finger to her lips.  “Come over to the kitchen,” she said in a hushed tone.  “Avina’s fallen asleep.”  The past nights had been horrible, Avina screaming more often than actually slumbering.  What little sleep she had been able to steal had been fitful, but at last she’d fallen into a slumber.

"I do believe the wind was trying it’s very best to outrun you," she said, lightly, when they’d come into the next room and she’d shut the door.  Ivette’s smirk was a small, playful thing that reflected warmth.  "Please," she teased.  "You haven’t seen the South, yet."  She was referring to her own homeland.  If Swystone was home to survivors, the Isles housed the hungry.  Sandstorms, hurricanes, winds, starvation…the South of Aragoth was at least bountiful: there was green everywhere.  That was not a luxury that could be claimed on the isles, upon whose shores broke the storms heading for Aragoth and whose children died of exposure in the dry sands on those days the monsoons did not drown them.  These Aragothi needed to be tough to survive, but the Islanders had to be ruthless: kill those who might eat your food or starve to death, yourself.

There was a very good reason the Islanders were forever invading Aragoth.

Her sister was strong -- much stronger than she looked -- but Ana would always be fiercely protective over her. Her curse was something she had never experienced, herself. She had always felt so helpless watching her sister thrash about in her sleep, trying to gently rouse her from those visions that came at night. 

“It will not catch me,” She said triumphantly with a small hint of a smile to show that she was teasing, “Ah, yes,” She continued, “I almost forget who I was talking to.” If anyone knew how to brave the elements as well as Ana, it was Ivette. For as strong as the storms were here in the south, they were worse in the islands who softened them before they hit the coast of Aragoth. 

Do you watch the Big Bang Theory, at all?  If so, I think Loys is kinda like Raj, in that he has to be drunk in order to speak to a pretty woman and so like?????  And esp one like Ana who’s engaged to a Barret like damnnnnnn  Esp if he knew about the Moysaunt thing he’d be like sweating bullets.  No, but I think he’s basically a mouthpiece that Margery has to trot out on special occasions where the Warden of the South is expected to be seen and so like ????? 

Margery: speaks

So, I doubt that Loys and Ana would see each other much, if at all, right now since Loys never goes out and Ana def doesn't go in, haha.