* 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬 / ᵖᵒʷᵈᵉʳ .

                his   words   summon   aeryn   back   to   her   body   –––   cutting   through   the   silence   which   had   befallen   the   room,   and   the   near  -  endless   noise   which   occupied   her   mind.   she   turned,   verdant   gaze   eying   him   closely,   countenance   careful   to   betray   none   of   what   toiled   beneath   her   surface.   surely   he,   of   all   people,   understood   that   the   gravity   of   such   a   precarious   situation   had   not   been   lost   on   her.

‘   i   am   not   one   who   needs   reminding   of   that   fact,   ’   the   grey   queen   replies,   sparing   him   none   of   the   bite   in   her   tone.   she   had   only   been   echoing   the   same   sentiment   from   the   moment   this   all   began.   and   how   frustrating   it   was,   knowing   his   own   proclamations   would   be   accepted   readily   and   hers   so   quickly   disregarded   as   apostasy.

While the women were dressed extravagantly, it seemed as though the men would just wear what they had, not trying hard enough but trying enough to get by where they could impress others. While it made sense, it still confused him in a way but he decided to keep that thought to himself. Stumbling around King’s Landing, he made his way into the eyesight of a woman who obviously wanted to strike up conversation. “It’s been interesting, yes,” he nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he walked up to her, “but this is nowhere comparable to my home”

Her disapproval was etched on her face. Gysella was everything an Ironborn should be - or at least she used to be. She had not felt anything like an Ironborn warrior in some time, but that did not mean she was ready to accept Aeryn’s words as truth. However, she had no desire to argue with her. Their relationship was not what it was - better, mended. “I will speak with my brother on it.” She spoke grimly. She may not like it, but if it was Rognar’s wish, she would follow it. “My concern is that if we follow that path, they would think us weak. We are sailors and warriors, not diplomats who hide behind silk and honeyed words. I would rather show them what we are, and then have them scramble for our approval rather than have it the other way.”

Perhaps a woman would have been able to offer her better advice, but Amerei was a glutton for attention, and did not much care for the source. still, she supposed their was value in the opinion of men - especially if she hoped to wed one someday. “It is always red, for us Lannisters,” she mused, though she complied, putting the ruby studs into her lobes and standing back for him to admire. “I do wonder if it all gets a little dull, though. Are Tyrells forced to wear green from birth to tomb?” She held her golden hair up, showing the gems that now decorated her ears. “What do you think?” 

𝐡𝐞  𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐢𝐟  𝐢𝐭  𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡  𝐚𝐬  𝐢𝐭  𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬  𝐡𝐢𝐦  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲  𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞  𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭  𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐢𝐧  𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡  𝐚  𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲  𝐰𝐚𝐲. red,  black  and  gold,  lucan’s  never  been  known  to  stray  from  the  fashion  of  the  rock.  from  behind,  you  might  almost  mistake  her  for  aurelia,  dark-haired  beauties  swatched  in  the  lions  crimson,  of  course,  he  was  bitterly  reminded  that  his  lady  wife  preferred  purple.  she  meant  it  as  no  slight,  but  it  had  been  received  as  one  none  the  less. ‘  aye,  the  king  has  been  generous  with  the  festivities.  and  you,  my  lady  ?  ’ my  lady  falls  from  his  tongue  with  all  the  grace  of  trying  to  spit  out  a  cactus,  spines  still  stuck  in  his  tongue  even  when  his  words  cease.

for  the  most  part,  lucan  and  rhaea  were  often  seen  at  opposite  ends  of  the  events  the  westerland’s  held.  he  bore  her  no  misguided  anger;  on  his  worst  days  he  did  wonder  what  may  have  been  his  future  if  he’d  followed  through  on  his  plans.  would  his  perilous  climb  of  the  continent  be  aided  better,  or  would  his  locally-minded  marriage  have  left  him  too  big  of  a  fish,  unable  to  escape  his  pond  ? tonight  he  did  not  avoid  her,  if  was  to  declare  the  west  for  the  targaryen  dynasty,  he  must  ensure  that  his  house  was  in  order,  to  avoid  civil  rebellions  should  his  vassal  houses  disagree.  rhaea  despised  him,  that  much  was  true.  but  she  was  a  clever  woman,  a  time  would  come  when  he  had  something  to  offer  her,  he  was  certain  of  it.

as   recognition   finally   registers,   rhaea   can   almost   feel   her   blood   run   cold.   back   is   narrow   and   straight,   shoulders   squared   beneath   silks   as   they   turn   on   their   heel   to   take   him   in;   looking   every   bit   as   though   he   were   the   second   side   of   her   same   coin,   much   to   their   dismay.   it   was   only   further   insult   to   injury.   and   his   question   is   disregarded,   simply   because   rhaea   didn’t   have   it   in   her   to   feign   niceties   long   enough   to   choke   out   an   answer.   tongue   drags   across   teeth,   displeasure   written   plainly   across   features.   ‘   have   you   not   somewhere   else   to   be?   ’   they   ask,   tone   filled   with   all   of   its   usual   bite   that   was   reserved   just   for   him.

                    heart  seizes  at  the  voice  ,  though  she  ought  to  have recognized  his  frame  immediately  .  it  was  so  familiar  to  her  ,  or  had  been , at  one  time . what  ought  to  be  anger  wrenches  within  her  - - registers  as  sheer sorrow instead . she  has  spent  far  too  long  boiling  with  anger .  he  no  longer  deserves  such  powerful  an  emotion . still ,  the  loss  of  a  life  ( of a love ) promised  to  her  has not  yet  faded , and  she  averts  her gaze , bowing  her  head  as a false  show  of   deference  rather  than the  ache  that  threatens  to  unravel  her  entirely . how  is  it  possible  , she  wonders ,  that he  looks the  very same ? how  can  she  bear  the scars  of her  broken  heart and  he stand as  tall as  he always  has . what  cruel trick  is  there in that ?  ❛ lord tyrell . ❜ she  greets  him  coolly , hands  resting  against the  bodice  of her  gown , protecting  herself  from  whatever  blow  she  might  be  dealt  next .

                of  course ,  it  will  cost  you  .  ❛  cost  me  ,  my  lord  ?  ❜ she  scoffs  at  this . what  else  has  she  to offer  him  that  has  not  been  offered freely ? a home & a heart . a  promise  of a  life  broken .  what  can  she give  him , when  everything  worth  offering  had  once  all  been  his ,  had  he  wanted  it enough .  ❛ will a single voyage across the  narrow  sea  be  enough ? if i  remember  correctly ,  it once was .   ❜ perhaps  this  is  crueler  than  she  intends , but  perhaps  mace  tyrell  is a  crueler  man than she had  once imagined. finally , she is  bold  enough  to  meet  his  gaze  , lips  tightening into  a  firm  line  (  if  he  remembered  anything  of  her , he  would  know  it was  a means  of concealing  all she felt & preventing  the shedding  of tears. )

                  ❛ i’m  afraid   time   is   my   most   valuable   commodity  at  present , and  i can  offer   you   very   little  of  it . a  moment , at  most .   ❜

his   smile   falters   ever  -  so,   twisting   in   a   way   that   resembled   more   of   a   grimace   than   anything   else.   myriam,   in   all   her   rage,   had   taken   him   entirely   by   surprise;   it   was   such   a   stark   contrast   to   all   the   shades   of   her   which   he   had   come   to   learn   over   time   spent.   had   come   to   love,   too.   and   while   he   had   known   very   well   that   she   was   capable   of   such   palpable   ire,   mace   had   never   once   been   it’s   cause,   nor   it’s   such   pointed   target.   the   words   she   spares   are   an   ice  -  coated   incursion   the   lord   tyrell   supposed   he’d   earned   –––   however   resigned   to   that   fact   which   he   was,   it   did   not   soften   the   blows.   nothing   could   make   this   burn   him   any   less   than   it   undoubtedly   would,   and   even   though   all   of   his   usual   sureness   was   lost,   he   does   not   choose   to   cower   from   it.