Historical ASOIAF

beautiful and willful and dead before her time

“The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady,” “kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit.”

ASOIAF Fancast: Fahriye Evcen as Ashara Dayne

She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together.

asoiaf & got characters // pt. VI - Elia Nymeros Martell

ordinarily i don’t take anon fic prompts, but i too have been having an awful couple of weeks and i do what i want.

“you’re overly fond of lord bloodraven’s kin,” his father told him, grabbing his arm as he got to his feet.  the hall was loud, and there was music playing and betha was dancing with landry tyrell.  

“lord bloodraven is our kin, too,” aegon replied, annoyed, but far from making his father let go of his arm, maekar targaryen’s hand tightened.

“don’t get smart with me,” he said.  “you’re not a willful boy, aegon.  you should be wary of her connection to him.”

“she has no more connection to him than i do.  less–even.  he has spent far more time here than at raventree hall.”

maekar’s gaze seemed to waver between each of his son’s eyes.  “do you love her?”

aegon gaped at his father.  “she’s my friend, father,” he said.

“so you won’t mind my saying that if you go and interrupt her dance with lord tyrell’s heir, you may ruin her chances of a fine match to a great house?”

despite himself aegon turned to look out at the dance floor.  there she was, weaving through the dancers, smiling when she took lord landry’s hands.  she was too far away to see her face in full, but he knew the way her eyes glittered when she smiled like that.

next to him, his father sighed.  “you’re too pigheaded for your own good,” he said at last.

“wonder where i get it from,” aegon responded before thinking.  to his surprise, his father chuckled.  

“i was right,” his father sighed.  “you are overly fond of her.  just don’t be a fool, aegon.  love makes everyone a fool, one way or another.  she is lord bloodraven’s kin–” he could hear his father rolling his eyes “–as are we.”

aegon was still staring at betha.  surely the dance didn’t call for lord tyrell’s hand to be that low down her back, did it?  gods but i sound like a stupid child.

betha had always japed that she liked that he’d been a stupid child.  

would her eyes sparkle if he asked her to dance?

suddenly he was nervous.  he hadn’t been when he’d gotten to his feet, intent on interrupting her and lord landry, for lord landry was boring and he and betha had made it a rule between them that they should always rescue one another from boring people.  but her eyes are sparkling at him now.  she is laughing.

“may i go, father?” he asked and maekar released his arm.  

he descended from the dais as the song ended and the dancers applauded the musicians.  lord landry extended a hand to betha and was about to ask her for another dance when aegon appeared at his shoulder.  “lord landry, if i might steal away your partner,” and who was landry tyrell to refuse a prince of the blood…even one so far down the line of succession that oft a not he was forgotten at parties like this one.

he set himself opposite betha who gave him a smile.  she glanced for a moment after lord tyrell before saying, quietly, “you’re late.”

“late?”

“do you know how hard it is to convince a tyrell that i care about roses?” she made a face.  “he kept going on and on and on and on about them and all i wanted was to say, ‘my lord have you never seen a water lily? come talk to me when you recognize the scent of weirwood sap on the air for i can hardly call you a horticulturalist if you can’t.’”

aegon chuckled as they began to dance.  “i think, my lady, the rose may have been a metaphor.”

“what for?” betha asked.

“don’t be stupid, betha.  it’s beneath you.”

betha gave him a horrified look.  “take those words back into your mouth aegon targaryen!” she hissed.  “he does not want to marry me!”

her affront eased whatever jealousy he’d felt on the dais.  lord tyrell may see her glittering eyes, but it wasn’t the true glitter, and it certainly wasn’t the flaming outrage that aegon was sure was reserved only for those in her closest confidence.  or, perhaps, just him.  “what other rose would he try to interest you in?  it would be a fine match.”

“a fine match,” betha scoffed.  “don’t talk to me about fine matches.  you’re not my father.”

aegon remembered a purplefaced man, horrified that his daughter had wrestled in the mud with a squire just because she thought he was stupid.  “i should hope not,” he said.  he thought of his own father.  he could almsot feel prince maekar’s eyes burning into the back of his head.  “forgive me.  i’ll speak no more of matches.”

but something in his voice earned him a sharp gaze that melted into a look he’d never seen in her face before.  he’d seen betha angry, he’d seen betha joyful, he’d seen betha determined, he’d seen betha excited–but her gaze was guarded now, soft somehow and his feet faltered in the steps of the dance.

part of him wanted to kiss her.  a larger part of him was sure she’d bite his lip if he tried.  except, a small but loud part of him protested, that gaze is so confusingly soft.

“They said Maegor was never the same, after the death of his mother.”

Alyssa turned at the sound of Robar’s voice, interrupting her contemplation of the Iron Throne. The empty throne.

“She was his greatest champion,” Alyssa replied. “How is Jaehaerys?” asked Jaehaerys’ mother, his greatest champion.

“Safely installed in the king’s bedchamber, with only the most trusted of your men as his guards, as you commanded,” Robar reassured her.

“I had to see it for myself. Where he died.” Where the torturer and murderer of her son Viserys and the captor and rapist of her daughter Rhaena died. “He cheated me.”

“By dying of his own hands?”

Alyssa nodded. “I have dreamed of it often. My hands around his neck, strangling the life out of him. My knife upon his throat, opening him up from ear to ear. I knew I must not do it, of course, even if I had the chance. Maegor must die in a field of battle, or be sentenced to death in a legitimate trial, or Jaehaerys’ reign will begin with a taint that could never be washed away. A mother’s fury … a mother’s vengeance … I knew I must set it aside. But I had hoped, at least, that he would be forced to account for himself, for his sins and his crimes, in front of the whole realm. I had hoped at least that my own eyes and ears would be witnesses to him confessing his crimes, confessing what he did to my children. Instead, he had the chance to choose his own ending, without having to answer to anyone other than himself.”

“There is only dishonor and cowardice in the manner of death he chose. And he will be remembered as the cruel tyrant that he was, nothing more. We will make certain of that.”

“Will that bring my Viserys back? Or my Aegon? Will that cure Rhaena of her nightmares?”

“No. But -”

“But it must be done nonetheless. For the sake of Jaehaerys’ reign. I know.”

Robar nodded. “You told me once that what kept you going through all the loss, grief and despair was the need to take the next step, and the next, and all the ones after that. That journey has not ended. The road ahead is full of treacherous challenges.” He paused, offering his hand to her. “But you need not travel that road alone, Your Grace. There is strength in -”

“In you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Must I put my faith in that, Lord Robar, rather than in myself?”

female awesome meme: [1/3] mother characters » lady joanna lannister