shadows lurk around us

The drink in the room, possibly unknown to the people in the room, is Shade of the Evening, is a thick, blue liquid consumed by the warlocks of Qarth. It is called "the wine of warlocks", but it is made from the inky blue leaves that grow on the black-barked trees found around the House of the Undying. This means warlocks are involved. Shade of the evening is deep blue and viscous, flowing like honey. It has an unappetizing smell and initial taste, having been compared to ink, spoiled meat, and rotten flesh, but upon swallowing tastes like all things its imbiber has ever tasted, and more. (Canon example: The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them … and then the glass was empty. ) Now because they are not in the house of the Undying there will be some magical shenanigans happening to change the room around, everyone will perhaps see a series of things the others can not, but the room itself wont be like the scene with dany where she's going down the hall through the many doors.

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"There is something wrong." Viserys spoke in High Valyrian as he stared at thee drinnk before them on the table. Why did he follow that man? Why lead these people? There was danger. It was all around them. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, fear settled into pale purple eyes as he turned to face those with him. Prince. What would a Prince do? He did not know. He could barely think with the splitting headache.

"Very very wrong." He said again, the boy with the strange accent speaking an old tongue as if it were the only language he'd ever known. They would have to drink or they would die here. That much he knew.

"That man. He smelled like a warlock." He expected they all knew High Valyrian. Right?

a letter sent from the high septon to leyton hightower after the news of his engagement

"Princess Stark. I want to know what you see." Hother walked into the room, he was battered but he strong lost most of the men from his family. Crazed. His eyes darting from side to side as he took a seat and scooted his chair close to hers. "The Manderly is gone. I bet ya knew, yeah? Yeah? Yeah, you knew." His voice was hard as stone. "Yeah, you knew. I know why you here. I know how. Yeah. Sacrifices. Yeah, I know about sacrifice."

"I was going to take her head, ya know? I was going to send it to her brother and then the heart to the other one. I wanted the mother to see her bones and I am so disappointed." He shook his head.

Little Hother Umber is the lord of House Umber, after the death of his much beloved father Big Hother. Charming and ruthless are words to describe Hother Umber, loved and hated among his people and men of the watch he provides a threat unseen. People want to follow him, people are wrapped up in his claims to return to a true north.

the shadow sat in one of the many dark and dingy cells of this lords manner, his hand chained in front of him. however, even without the chains, he knew there was very little chance of escape for him. not here in this castle. all there was to do was wait for whatever was coming to him and hope that his sponsor had a way of getting him out of this. the man's eyes glanced up as he heard boots walking down the stone hall towards him. he did not bother to look up. "I'm not telling you anything. better save your breath, just wasting both of our times."

illyaoakheart​:

and the sound of twinned footsteps echoing down the halls of the private apartments of the lady of the arbor was uncommon at this time; for it was usually the lord of the arbor that would find himself enjoying his daughter’s company as they read about the rhoynish civilisation of old, and he tested her on her knowledge. a part of her expected her mother was readying to tell her she was with child again, and all that came with it, but she could not imagine why illya would be in the room.

“against who? gilbert hightower…?” if there was any that her mother spoke the mostly harshly of, it was garland’s father; though the term swine was not a word lucrezia heard often, when she did, it seemed to only come in preface to something regarding the man. however, were the hightowers and redwynes not family? if there was to be conflict, surely it would be her father leading the ships - women were not supposed to lead ships. 

and what family would turn on one another in such a way and rip themselves apart? not her own, surely.

and so her nerves remained in her stomach. was she in trouble? had her mother finally realised the way she looked at the second son of goldengrove as though he were the sun? she could barely look at illya as they walked, for she felt as though her stomach were in her mouth. and as they entered the room, and saw the scene before them, she found herself stilling, before momentarily dropping into a small curtsy and going to kiss her mother upon both cheeks as was expected.

“anne.” mother. for her tongue always switched to their tongue of old in the presence of her mother. she rarely spoke to her in common, unlike her father; in fact, since she was a child, her mother would not respond to her lest she spoke in their ancient tongue. “bir sorun mu var?” is there a problem?

mr.

and this was a discussion that was a long time coming. whilst she was firm in her upbringing of her daughter, and the way she looked over the daughters of others, there was free mixing occurring. free mixing that would occur within the courts of highgarden and kings landing in some years, that would be beyond her direct control and influence. if the future women of the old way were to know how to conduct themselves around men, it was better to do it here, under watchful guidance.

“yeter fısıltı, oturup dinleyeceksin." enough whispering. you will sit, and you will listen.

and yet, the girls were growing; as was their mindset, and their bodies. curves replaced what was once flat, and the lady was not blind. it would need to be addressed, before it was allowed to spread. it needed to be something that was feared, something that was seen with discomfort, to ensure such lines were not blurred. men would always be men, with their needs that were red hot; and yet, she need ensure these young women would be ice in the face of that. her own daughter more specifically, considering she was the only living heir to the arbor at this point.

♠

and the king of the reach listened. genuinely listened, to what it was this strange man seemed to say; a man who truly believed himself to be doing good. who wished to help give salvation to all those who needed it. "you come from a place of righteousness, father. of caring for the souls of those both high and low, in remembering this life is only temporary. within all of our struggles, it is that i have realised…that all, is temporary. and whilst you are doing your good work, i wish to speak with you, as a member of your holy flock. speak to you, of what brews on the horizon.“ 

and with that, the king of the reach watched as the high septon raised to his feet. there was no crown upon his head, no clear indication that he were anything more than just another septon aside from the numbers of guards surrounding him. 

“i wish to understand the makings of this court you have found yourself presiding over, within this starry sept.” his tone sounded quiet, and yet, there was something utterly careful about it. as though his words were painted with strokes of a brush that could paint whatever in various hues, that could sculpt and mould matters with his own hands. “is there a process of discussion and meetings which lead up to a decree being established by the faith, or is it solely a decision made by yourself? considering there have been rumours regarding tensions with the most devout, i pray you would be able to forgive my curiosity.” 

and cedric did not hesitate with his words; his questions were forward and bold, because this man was a false king. cedric himself, was king; though they were not equals, it was not on his own account, but on the birth of the man stood before him. 

.

"you are correct. i care for all of those in my flock. i do believe it is our responsibility to protect and guide everyone no matter what title they hold." he was not so foolish to think that this meeting was simply for the new flower king to thank him for the work that he did for his kingdom. work that should have been done already. "please follow me your grace" the high septon lead the king to one of the empty chambers in the sept, somewhere the two of them could speak more privately given the sensitive issues they may discuss "please my child, tell me what you wish to discuss. i am happy to be working with a king of understanding. i believe together we can make a real difference. after all the war this kingdom has seen i believe you and the people here deserve a place of peace."

he doubted the man wanted to simply know how the court worked. he was sure there was more too it. but who was he to judge this man so quickly. perhaps there was a curiosity within the king. and it was his duty to guide all these kings now. "what an interesting question your grace. not many kings are interested in the way the most devout work. i think most just step back to let us do the work, but i do love your enthusiasm to learn more" the high septon's calm demeanor did not leave his face as they spoke. but he was curious why this king wished to know so much about his decisions were made. did he wish to push his own policy through? or just curious how it may work.

♠

and it was time for the king to speak face to face with this individual that had taken a hold of the most powerful of all faiths within not only the reach, but upon the continent. and when he reached the starry sept, days after his royal union to the lady illya oakheart, he found the man to be praying.and cedric waited, for the man to finish. whilst the atmosphere was tense, he knew he needed to keep his cool. knew he needed to ignore the way his first seemed to close, reopen, stretch, and then close again. “holy father.” there was no denying the amount of stress had taken a toll upon his temperament, making his striking blue orbs sparkle just a little less. there was no longer a mischievous glint, but rather, genuine emptiness. “each of us have those we must answer to, so it appears. the time has come where we must discuss the direction in which this kingdom will turn, father.”

.

this king seemed like a man of good faith. he was marrying a woman of the old ways, surely he must take the seven seriously if that was the case. if not at least he hid his ways well enough. but king or not all of them must face the judgement of the seven. it was his new duty as high septon to ensure that this was taken seriously. he wanted the reach to the be the first to model this.  "my child, i couldn't agree more. we all have to answer to the seven at the end and i want to ensure that all of us are ready for that. the direction all of us must turn is away from the corruption that has begun to seep into our lands"

and when the blade touches his throat, he screams again. “michelangelo…” it is a scream but it is the last scream he can muster as the man is screaming and trying to cut him. when the door opened, he mistakes it for the light of the heavens. the man who comes barreling through the door is in fact no angel but his man servant. his michelangelo.

“don’t! don’t kill him…”

his hand goes to his neck, have they made worms food of him? no…no it is but a scratch. perhaps it will scar. his skin was flawless before this night. “do not kill him…” they would take him to highgarden. “my brother will make you meet your end with less than grace.” there are tears in his eyes as he speaks. they needed to leave this place.

.

the hit did not knock him out. he heard a cracking of his nose breaking, felt the blinding pain. suddenly this man was on him and speaking to him. meet his end with grace? he had no grace for dying so he opened his mouth and bit down on the shadow’s hand until felt the warmth of blood on his teeth. you’re not fighter gwayne, you will be a septon. well, no one told his father about this part of septonhood. the struggle and fighting continued.

.

gwanye should have been in highgarden. the most devout had need for him. in the night, he left with his man servant to travel. they travelled quickly and their talks went long into the night. they needed to move him within their ranks and then carry forward. outside of their world. outside of that room, he is all they have to support them against androw. the streets were too uneasy to travel safely in the evening he picked different quarters. separate from his were once his own. always a light sleeper, his eyes open in time to see the blade. “FUCK!”

“michelangelo!!!” gwayne shouted, shocked from the blood pouring from his wound. “michelangelo!” would the man hear him?

.