𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 tiredness that had been following tigran prior to his audience with the king damn nearly dissipates the moment he lays eyes on rhaegar. once he truly get’s a good look at the man. at his king. he does not have wrinkles as tigran jibed about, but he wants to embrace his king again all the same. his heart is swollen in his chest and tigran is overcome with an old, familiar, nauseating longing. perhaps next time he remains home for three years, he should not write letters in his absence. maybe then, he would not ache so deeply.
“ gray hairs? you’re full of shit. ” tigran insists. he shuffles close to rhaegar again and does not hesitate to thread his fingers through his dense hair in order to examine it. he combs through rhaegar’s hair gently and carefully, as if he might actually catch these alleged, villainous, gray hairs. eventually, he turns up empty handed. “ nothing to worry about, your grace. ” he grins, “ and i’ve got a great eye, so you can trust me above whatever liar told you you’re graying. ”
in order to keep his hands from wandering, tigran crosses his arms and locks his eyes onto rhaegar while he rants about what tigran has been up to as of late. his cheeks burn in embarrassment. obviously, the king was not meant to know of his activities prior to this very visit. typically, inebriated fights and day drinking were the sort tigran bragged about. but not to the king. he always has, and always will want, rhaegar to think more of him. “ uh well… ” he tries to remain effortless, so he shrugs. “ perhaps you should make more time, your grace. you have some excellent fighters lurking in the underbelly of the city. ”
tigran looks to his knuckles where the red and purple splotches from his…activities remind him of how much fun he has been having in king’s landing. and more importantly, how much fun is still to be had. tigran smiles widely at rhaegar, dropping his hands to his hips, “ your grace, i ask you to abscond …” he playfully mocks the king’s accent, “ yourself of your duties to come have fun for once. ” and in case that is not enough, tigran continues with a humorous batting of his eyelashes and a “ please? ”
he had fully intended to let the gray hairs and wrinkles jokes slide with no further mention but tigran shuffled closer and rhaegar’s breath caught in his throat. it was a treacherous thing, to feel someone else’s fingers in his hair, such a casual display of intimacy, and to hope tigran might pull on it. his tongue runs over his teeth as his eyes fall to the floor and flutter shut all at once. he couldn’t look tigran in the eye and took a step back to lean against his desk for fear that his weak knees wouldn’t support him.
there was a moment, brief as it may be, where the king could not find the words he wanted to speak. there were plenty of words on the tip of his tongue, monologues of desire and lust teed up and begging rhaegar open his mouth and let his truth be heard by the sun in front of him. rhaegar was a great many things and unfortunately, he was not stupid enough to allow the fantasies that he had recklessly dreamt of to come spilling from him.
tigran was blushing, when rhaegar had finally taken him in, and though it was not for the same reasons, he wondered what it might take to make tigran blush again. if there was something else that he might want to do late at night. instead of dwelling, rhaegar locked the thought away almost immediately, choosing to laugh at tigran’s shrug.
continue the conversation before you break your vows.
❛ perhaps i should, though i’m not convinced that it would be a good appearance if the king was fighting with the smallfolk in the streets. ❜ the thought is rather funny to rhaegar, who would have loved nothing more than the anonymity to walk among the smallfolk. perhaps he could get away with it, once or twice, as he had in his youth. he may be king but he was a man, too, and perhaps he believed too much in the sanctity of the crown to remember that more often than not.
rhaegar raised his hands in surrender, nodding slowly at tigran’s request. he had so much to do but the mounting work on his desk would survive a handful of hours free of his attention. there’s an errant thought, one that he does not stop to explore but acknowledges in the kind of way one does when you’re not sure of the answer and don’t like the idea of the answer: would you have said yes to your wife if she had come to you instead ?
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❛ i’ve brought us a treat. ❜ there’s a singsong nature to her tone and alerie’s smile was bright as she arrived with the small plate piled high with sweet treats to share.
the red keep was incredibly sized but it seemed as though mel and alerie had a similar desire: finding somewhere quiet to sit. the targaryens had arranged a number of tents throughout the gardens outside of the great sept of baelor and alerie was pleased to be in a space that could even marginally remind her of the riverlands. she had been so ungodly cold in the north, she had only found true reprieve in the gardens of winterfell and now that she was below the neck again, she felt reinvigorated, like she was once more blooming in the sunlight.
as she sat beside the lady blackwood, who alerie had wanted to see as much as she wanted to see her own sisters, she offered the plate towards her friend. ❛ lemon cakes ! ❜
it had been too long since she had been in the south. it wasn’t nearly as long as she had built it up to be in her mind, of course, but all of her traveling seemed to be running together and the weeks on the road from winterfell to king’s landing had proved to be rather … not awkward, as she rather liked the majority of her soon to be in laws, but there was a trepidation in traveling for the first time away from the family of her birth with the starks.
her stomach had been rolling since they’d passed through the riverlands but it was undeniable that aryanna had been a rather lovely person to travel with. she might have preferred to ride her own horse for some length of the journey, but she would have missed out time with aryanna and the development of what alerie thought was a lovely friendship that had taken root and bloomed quite quickly over the journey.
as the pair strolled through the gardens of the red keep — something alerie was more than excited to do outside of the glass confines of the gardens in winterfell — she gently looped her arm with aryanna’s. the winds whispered through the trees and offered that there was no one around to hear what they might discuss and even though there was likely nothing of major value to be exchanged between the stark and stark-to-be, it was reassuring. they were, after all, in the home of people who had made themselves enemies of house stark.
❛ are you settling in well ? ❜ it’s the kind of question you ask when you want to start a conversation but aren’t sure what else to say. ❛ i imagine the king would not allow the majority of the festivities to begin until the rest of the great houses and a number of their vassals have arrived and with how … empty the castle seems, i feel as though we are early arrivals. i can not imagine your brothers are pleased by that. ❜
there was something about king’s landing that had alerie simultaneously on edge and at ease. since riding north, she had dreamed of seeing the ocean again. maidenpool had the loveliest sunrises and sunsets that could not be paralleled anywhere else in the world, even here in the capital city. the breeze blew through her in a way that was reminiscent of maidenpool, though, and when she closed her eyes, it was easy to pretend that she was sitting on the pink walls that surrounded her home.
when she opened her eyes, though, she was back in king’s landing and that uneasiness had made itself at home in her gut. she wanted answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask and the rest of the world was trying to figure out how to kill one another most diplomatically. she found herself in the gardens so frequently not because they were particularly lovelier than any other but because she found it easiest to set her intentions clearly when she attempted to commune with nature when she was in it.
settled beneath a towering tree, a cloth in front of her with chalk marks reminiscent of the witching table that she had carted all across the kingdoms laid out with a number of symbols and trinkets across it. in the center, as with most things, a small disk painted with the colors of house targaryen, the fractured antler pieces surrounding it and the snake skin not too far from it. in another corner, a small bundle of fur from a direwolf is separated from the trio of houses, a falcon’s talon not too far from the fur. the scales representing house tully and the splinter of an ironborn oar are inconspicuously missing from the larger picture. it was a rather acceptable understanding of the current state but every time alerie tried to recast the objects, nothing would change. it was maddening.
so when the twig snapped and she realized it was through no fault of her own, she was more than relieved to see elric standing near. whatever tired frustrated lingered in her bones seemed to fly away when she saw him, relieved and excited to see him all at once. perhaps she was foolish, to allow herself to have developed such a fondness for him, but they were to be married and hers was a gentle, giving heart.
❛ i’m sorry to say that i’ve eaten all that i’d brought out with me, but i’m sure there’s still wine in the bottle if you’d like to have a drink. ❜ after a moment, she asked, ❛ would you like to sit with me ? ❜
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 tigran feels like, avoiding the king since his arrival…how petty… how childish … tigran likes to think of it as self preserving, but he knows that is only a mask. distance aside, rhaegar comes in as a strong second on tigran’s list of reasons not to visit king’s landing. he does not recall meeting the king, only ever having warm feelings for his highness. it only makes this celebration all the more difficult. tigran has spent his days since arriving drinking, staying in inns, and harmlessly brawling a fellow drunkard or two. nothing drastic enough to alert the institution to his presence, or to get him labelled dangerous. if anything, the lasting impact of his hobbies have been a few bruises and the constant stench of ale following him.
on the third day following his arrival, he mustered the courage to seek an audience with the king. it has to have been since his coronation since they last met, tigran figures, fidgeting beyond the doors to rhaegar’s study. eventually, the doors shudder open and the guards allow him entry. first, he sloppily bows in the king’s direction with the customary, “ your grace. ” then, once the doors have closed, tigran rushes to embrace rhaegar in an energetic hug. the bastard steps back and takes a look at his king, “ it’s been too long .” a grin, “ you’re getting wrinkles, old man. ” a lie. tigran circles around the room, surveying it for something he’s not letting rhaegar in on. finally, he stops, hands on his hips. “ tsk. tsk. tsk. it is a beautiful day, my king. what false gods have possessed you to stay holed up in here? ”
it would not have been petty or childish if the king had remained blissfully unaware of tigran’s presence in the city, as he was sure that was his friend’s plan for not coming to visit upon his immediate arrival. it had been three years since rhaegar had last seen tigran and there was something in him that longed to see the dornishman again. besides, rhaegar was a honey tongued man and it was easy to soothe himself with his own lies that it was only because he kept few true friends and tigran was one of the few he counted among them. that friendship, rhaegar had begun to convince himself, was why his heart stung that tigran did not announce his arrival sooner.
the transgression was immediately put out of mind, though, when tigran had finally sought an audience with the king. the preparations were well underway for his brother’s nameday and rhaegar had been taking the time to work through his backlog of reports on the most recent harvest. the summer had been kind to them and the yield of crops was better tahn he had expected. not nearly as much as he prayed for but he still looked towards his ceiling to mutter a sincere thank you to the seven. he would find time to devote in the coming days before the lords and ladies of westeros monopolized all of his time.
his brother is the first to poke his head in the room and rhaegar offers a tired smile, only for his entire demeanor to shift at the mention of tigran. the two switch places near instantaneously before rhaegar’s eyes and he is quickly on his feet to embrace him. the touch is too short and his arms feel empty when tigran steps back.
❛ wrinkles ? perish the thought. it’s my hair you should be worried about. there’s been talk of gray hairs. ❜ his hair is thick, luscious, and the color of deep chocolate that he inherited from his great grandfather. rhaegar does not let the conversation linger on how long it’s been since they last saw one another. his heart aches at the thought. perhaps he has made the most foolish of errors in letting his heart get involved at all.
❛ i’m not sure if you’ve noticed, tigran, but there are seven kingdoms that need my attention and i can’t spend every day drinking bars and brawling good naturedly with their patrons like others might. ❜ very little happens in king’s landing without rhaegar knowing about it and the smile on his face is still present, as though it is all a joke that they are both in on and not a personal slight against rhaegar, himself. ❛ but if you think i should abscond myself of my duties, then you need only ask me to. ❜
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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 the king carefully, trying to pinpoint what the look behind rhaegar’s eyes is saying. she despises him. what an insufferable man, she thinks, but curtsies and smiles to greet him all the same, “ your grace. ” she cannot and will not say it is a pleasure to see king rhaegar, but she would be a fool to say nothing at all. “ truly, the honor is all mine. how long has it been since we last spoke? ” not nearly long enough and the words feel like acid on her tongue, but theldry is not an idiot, she plays nicely. for now. rarely has she been presented with an invitation to king’s landing, she intends to make the most of her time. “ oh yes, it was a fine trip. ” theldry keeps the details minimal before taking the lead, “ could we walk, your grace? ”
before being presented with an answer, theldry begins to shuffle away, trusting the king would follow. she does not for a moment believe that his intentions are pure, or that rhaegar’s invitation was solely for the occasion of a name day. and if it was … ? well, that would make the king an imbecile who didn’t play to his own advantages. filled with the desire to know more, theldry asks, “ are you excited for the impending festivities? feeling prepared? ” a soft laugh drips from her mouth, “ i’m certain your pockets aren’t feeling as enthusiastic… by the looks of things… it seems you love your brother greatly…” her tone makes it unclear whether or not this is a jab.
❛ of course, my lady. ❜ he extended an arm as she began to shuffle away, as though presenting her with the exit she was planning on taking. rhaegar could already feel the looming sense of a bad omen descending upon them but perhaps it is just the clouds that are rolling in from the stormlands. still, he followed the lady lannister’s lead and within steps he had caught up to her and allowed her to continue to set their pace.
❛ i will only be pleased when i see our guests having the time of their lives. ❜ rhaegar offered in a good natured way, as though he were only planning a party and had not found time in the busy schedule to speak with each of the great houses and their ruling body. no matter what assumptions were made about him, rhaegar was not a man lacking in his critical thinking and the idea that he would let such a time as this to pass him by — when absolutely everyone he needed to see to prevent total chaos from descending upon the realm was in the same place — was utterly foolish. even now he was taking the opportunity to see how the lannisters might intend to move through this event. he had hoped they would attend but it had still been a surprise to hear they had arrived in king’s landing.
❛ my pockets are lighter than before, of course, but this is not all just for my brother. ❜ any untoward implication is kindly looked over this time. ❛ my love for my family is rivaled by my love for the kingdoms. the extravagance is for all, nobility and commoners alike. ❜
there were a handful of lords and ladies that rhaegar looked forward to seeing. those who had cemented themselves in his heart, who had made positive lasting impressions, or who had already made their position clear with the rising tensions. theldry was none of those things but she was someone who rhaegar, none the less, had kept in sporadic communication with over the years since his coronation. she was a lannister and was smarter than the other members of his family, he was sure of it. she had a hunger in her eyes that he was fascinated by and while the lioness of faircastle was not his enemy, rhaegar was equally sure that he could not list her among his friends.
❛ my lady lannister, it is a pleasure to see you again. ❜ his smile is bright and his eyes are kind — the festivities have not even begun but the king prays that it will all go smoothly. perhaps this would be a good interaction to measure against. if at least most of king’s landing is still standing after this, rhaegar will take that as a good omen. ❛ i trust your journey was from faircastle was good ? ❜
❛ please tell me that you know who that is. ❜ the smile on his face did not wane as he looked towards the lord whose name escaped rhaegar. in an attempt to give his wife some reprieve, he had requested that his sister step in to help him remember the various lords and ladies of the kingdoms. he knew the great houses like the back of his hand, as well as a number of each of their more prominent vassals, but he could not know them all as well as he liked to and as the lord made their way towards the iron throne, he looked up to daena as he leaned towards her.
❛ lauryn ! ❜ it is the least amount of decorum rhaegar had shown it at least a week. however, his cousin’s wife was like a sister to him and their children were almost as good as his being his nieces. to see them was to be reconnected with the family that was just a bit too far away for his liking, especially as tensions were rising. they might have been in targaryen controlled territory but the tentative peace was enough to eat away at him. while his nervous disposition was not anything near the targaryen madness or even paranoia, he just needed to know his family was safe.
❛ it is so good to see you again. how are the girls ? king’s landing is just far enough for that journey to be tough on little ones. ❜
aemon’s arrival to king’s landing was something that rhaegar looked forward to. though his four siblings were thankfully still in the red keep and nearby ( he loathed knowing that he would have to let some of them go, soon ), it was aemon that rhaegar found himself looking for most often. they were more like brothers than cousins and being the same age meant that aemon was someone who had known rhaegar since the very beginning. their closeness as children has, as far as rhaegar was concerned, was rather unmarred by adulthood — at least now when they spar, neither has to hold back.
while the lords and ladies of westeros were still settling in, rhaegar had taken aemon aside to one of the training rooms in the keep, away from prying eyes and pressed a dulled blade into his hand. just because they were sparring didn’t mean the king wanted to risk someone actually being cut.
❛ i would have offered you an option but i fear if i do not work out the building frenetic energy that i might actually tell the lords and ladies of westeros how i really feel about their oppositions to house targaryen. ❜ it sounds like it should be a joke — his tone lifts and carries up, there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but it is sharp and feral.
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hello, hello, hello ! it's your friendly neighborhood mac being forced to use the new post editor because tumblr hates me and wants to stunt my creativity at every turn. i'll be playing the loves of my life, rhaegar targaryen ( 35, he/him, daniel sharman fc ) and alerie mooton ( 25, she/her, hailee steinfeld fc ). i can't wait to introduce them to you so without further ado, please look below the cut to find their introductions !
p.s. also i'm at work when this is posted but feel free to ask me for my d*scord and i'll send it to you when i'm done working !
rhaegar targaryen is the king of westeros, the eldest of the targaryen dynasty, and is known for his determined and logical nature. allegedly, he's been known to be a rather wary and shrewd man. i heard that his loyalties lie with the realm and he deeply supports to notion of peace. i wonder if the king's mind has already begun to fray — it's a targaryen's birthright, you know.
rhaegar targaryen was born at sunrise a few months after his father’s coronation as king. he would cry at night, waiting impatiently for the sunrise to come back every morning. his fascination with sunrises as a child persists, even now, in his mid thirties and a father himself.
he has a habit of waking up well before sunrise to get started on the work laid out before him as king — he’s deeply involved in the day to day running of the kingdom, not leaving his small council to their own devices, no matter how much he trusts them with the realm — so that he might sit out on his balcony and watch the sun rise over the horizon. when his children were particularly little, he would hold them with him, enjoying those moments of peacefulness.
there are parts of this man that have always been gentle, you can see it in the way he holds himself. he is a fierce warrior, the wielder of blackfyre, an expert combatant, mounted and not, but rhaegar would trade away all of those things for more precious moments. he has calloused, blood soaked hands but his eyes are kinder than many you’ll meet. he has his failings but watch the way he wraps his arms around his wife, how he greets his friends and enemies with the same warmth, how he acknowledges that he is not the smartest man in the room and wants only for the best when it comes to the people he has been charged with. he wants to be better than those who came before him, someone ready to humbly accept advice and understand opposition.
three years ago, the death of his father came a crown that felt too heavy, to the point he delayed his own coronation two weeks, deeply in prayer and conversation with his father’s hand ( a former advisor to king rhaegar, in an informal capacity ). he wrote a letter to each of the great houses, inviting them to his coronation by personal invitation, written in his own hand. he expressed his desires to each for a personal meeting ( with their current ruler and their heirs ), establishing connections he hoped might be able to serve him through his reign and for the generations after them. before he asked for faith in himself, he put faith in the people he surrounded himself with and those were some of the seeds he planted with the intention of cultivating a vibrant, diverse inner circle.
it is here that we will take a small break to discuss the way that rhaegar interacts with his family. his life has been built on the foundation of furthering the targaryen legacy and he wants nothing more than to usher in a renaissance for them. a century back on the throne ( the brief years of robert baratheon are not a stan — in fact, rhaegar has even noted that they were a necessity that allowed the targaryen family to almost reintroduce their style of rule to the kingdoms ) and rhaegar has made it his life's mission to keep the peace
an audience with the king is not a hard thing to get — be you a member of the great house, a lesser one, or a representative for the smallfolk. he is willing to meet with most at their convenient and his excellent memory for names, faces, and plights make his meetings as sincere as the smile on his face. his ability to bend over backwards with a charming smile to meet the things asked of him within his power is noted, though it seems as though no one has ever been able to successfully abuse his kindness ( after all, how can you take what is freely given ? ).
as far as faith goes, rhaegar has always identified most with the father and has viewed him almost as a patron. he has championed the faith since he was a young man and if he had been a second son, he might have devoted himself as a septon. his faith deepened when his father died and he went into mourning, begging for the redemption of his soul through good works he would make in his name and the names of the targaryens who had come before him. his crisis of faith comes now as the fifth year of his reign begins, a fear that he has not done nearly enough and there will be so much blood on his hands because of it.
do not mistake his kindness for weakness, though, even the wind stills before the onset of a hurricane and this man is a hurricane of cunning and unresolved feelings. he is a good man but good men can have their kind words poisoned, their sincere smiles turned sour. his mercy exists in one hand but his other holds something so much darker and so much more powerful.
support your local targaryen dynasty. rhaegar’s just doing his best !
alerie mooton is the lady of maidenpool, the middle daughter of the sisters three, and is known for her tactful and observant nature. allegedly, she has been known to be stubborn and impatient. i heard that her loyalty lies with house mooton and she's rather indifferent to the notion of peace. i wonder if she can explain why.
long before house mooton became a vassal to the tullys, in the time before the andal invasion, there was a heart tree that the first men protected. the original mootons worshipped the old gods of the forest, the mooton sisters still do. when the andals invaded, the first men stood their ground as best they could, hiding away their stories under floorboards and in the hearts of their children, praying they would be passed down. the old gods of the forest heard their prayers, the old gods of the forest made sure their stories were told.
when the andals brought the light of the seven with them, house mooton found what similarities they could. they promised the children they would protect the tree in the center of their household and the children gave them a gift in exchange. they approached the lady mooton who was newly pregnant and placed their hands on her stomach, promising her prosperity, foresight, and good fortune. the children kept their promise and so did the mootons. the daughters born from this promise millennia ago came in a set of three, each utilizing a different aspect of foresight. every few hundred years, three little girls come again. and again. and again. as long as they are needed, they will come.
the mooton sisters, regardless of which three you speak of over the course of the last few thousand years, always come in the same three order and always pay the same three prices. the middle of the sisters, the one who we will get to know, uses bones and fire, a risk every time she reached in her hand to the fire. wait too long and the bones crumple to ash, not enough and a false reading comes through. all gifts come at a cost and this gift balances on a moral scale: how many times are you willing to put an end to one thing’s life to learn more about a future that isn’t guaranteed ?
each of the daughters also corresponds with one of the three faces of the seven that typically have feminine characteristics. though they do not follow the faith, they make appearances as though they do so they may blend in with other houses who do not embrace the old ways, especially in the riverlands. the oldest represents the crone, the middle represents the mother, and the youngest represents the maiden.
her childhood was one of confusing, vivid dreams and intuition too sharp for a small child. she was too keen, too curious, too wild, and then the birth of her little sister came and things started to make more sense. these are the next three, the children once more keeping their promise. gods save the king.
alerie has a memory, from when she was a little girl, that told her to scatter the bones on the ground. not to clutch on to what she knew but to scatter them against the wind, to have faith in what they would say. in the beginning she wanted everything to have a meaning, for everything to be structured, and to have a clear, individual voice. but they are bones and for all their rigidity, they were fluid in meaning. every time, they might change their tune or stop speaking completely. alerie learned early on that she needed to find her own way of listening, one of those methods was fire. her proclivity for fire is inherently different from a red priestess. she did not see the lord of light in the flames or understand his message or hear his voice. instead, fire was the conduit for the bones and the noises the bones make as they burn in the fire is as important as the bones when they’ve been pulled from the fire.
quick interjection: alerie’s a greenseer ! what she thought was just “the bones speaking to her” is actually true tongue, the language of the children of the forest. rather than a language as we understand it, true tongue is the sound of the leaves rustling on a tree, the babbling of a brook, and the winds whistling through mountains. she understands and can even mimic aspects of true tongue though it’s hard for most humans to speak the language. her greenseer blood is also the reason why her eyes are almost unnaturally green, like the leaves in the height of summer’s sunlight.
so, when your life is predicated on the belief that you are gifted, and you are taught that you are gifted from a very young age, all of the things that go along with your gift are presumed to be normal. but no one ever taught alerie how to cope with the voices that sat in her head and whispered all together a discordant set of prophecies. so many things want to be heard, want to make their mark on the world, and so little of it filters through when she’s not doing a reading. she constantly feels on the edge of sensory overload.
she is not short tempered but when her anger flies, it’s with the anger of a thousand crones trying to tell her what will happen next. when she wallows in her grief, a thousand mothers try to comfort her. when she desires love, to be held, to hold, a thousand maidens rush forth and attempt to soothe her. but you can not soothe what is already broken and you can’t close the floodgates that have already opened.
alerie feels most at peace when she’s doing a reading. when she’s a functioning conduit for all the people who want to be heard. they don’t all rush forward or try to make themselves known. those with the most valuable knowledge are usually first and they all speak a little differently. some whisper easy riddles while others say nothing at all and play images through her head. some speak as though they are old friends and some are discontent that she’s asking for their help. sometimes it’s the same guides she’s heard before and those are some of her favorites. years of working together informs a healthy relationship. without them, perhaps this gift would only ever be considered a curse.
the mootons of maidenpool have had good luck in marrying their daughters into more advantageous houses for the last seven hundred years. alliances with families with a wide influence over bannermen have always been at the top of their lists and in exchange gold worth ten times their daughter’s weight. the newest alliance drawn for house mooton has come clearly through each sister’s reading — a stark for alerie to marry. elric was in their sights before his late father had made the decision to marry him off and the mooton girl, a pretty little thing plucked from the heart of the riverlands, arrived to winterfell in a rather short time after the agreement had been solidified. now she rides south, a soon to be member of the stark household.