let grief convert to anger;

"A  game?  What  fun."  Amos  had  left  the  festivities  early,  when  he  could  not  stand  the  weight  of  his  own  smile  much  longer,  and  patience  wore  thin.  He  had  not  slept,  instead  staring  at  his  ceiling  until  the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  wishing  he  was  home.  The  only  cure  for  homesickness,  he  had  found,  was  to  find  something  entirely  different,  that  held  no  chance  of  sparking  morose  thoughts  of  Riverrun,  which  was  how  he  found  himself  in  the  gardens,  a  spring  in  his  step.  They  were  beautiful,  and  blooming,  and  he  even  considered  taking  a  few  cuttings  back  to  his  room  to  brighten  the  space.  "You  set  the  rules,  Lord  Hightower."

𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱  𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿  :  @steelfyre , @traegedys , @heavnle + accepting 0/2 responses

"I  do  not  think  us  to  be  so  lucky,  my  Lord.  Do  I  dare  feign  a  swooning  episode,  if  only  to  save  us  further  anguish?  I  was  once  told  I  had  a  future  with  the  mummers,  if  I  so  wished."  His  face  is  carefully  neutral,  mouth  barely  moving  as  words  passed  lips.  "I  would  make  such  sacrifice,  if  necessary."

the  sun's  brightness  made  his  head pound harder - hardly an uncommon feeling; consequences of filling his goblet with wine too many times forgotten when the excitement of the next celebration took hold of him. half-lidded eyes only opened when a shadow covered him.  ❝  good morrow, my liege. did you also come to break your fast while taking in the morning light? ❞   time leaned closer to midday than dawn, but bash had barely been awake more than an hour.

Myranda  herself  had  been  awake  for  hours,  curled  in  a  windowsill  and  watching  as  the  sun  rose,  too  cautious  to  wander  the  halls,  too  awake  to  lie  in  expensive  sheets  and  stare  at  the  ceiling,  only  venturing  out  of  her  room  once  the  sound  of  footsteps  past  her  door  had  become  a  more  common  occurrence.  As  the  moon  turned,  she  found  herself  sleeping  less  and  less,  and  so  far  from  home  was  satisfied  with  the  couple  of  hours  snatched  while  music  still  played,  and  last  of  the  stragglers  left  the  hall.  "I  did  come  seeking...  I  cannot  quite  remember.  Perhaps  food  is  a  good  idea."  One  could  not  survive  on  the  cakes  served  the  previous  evening  alone.

charcoal  moved  quickly  across  the  page, trying to immortalize the wonders of last night's celebration before a haze descended upon memory. myrcella's hand stilled. she studied the drawing - something was off but she couldn't yet see it. dark hues looked up, intending to glance around, but maiden started with a gasp.  ❝  oh! i didn't hear you approach! ❞   far too engrossed in her art.

"I  did  not  mean  to  startle  you,  my  lady."  Amos  bows  head  in  apology,  but  soon  dark  eyes  rise,  leaning  forward  to  try  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  page.  "What  muse  has  caught  your  fancy,  if  you  do  not  mind  my  asking?  I  find  it  endlessly  interesting,  to  watch  as  something  springs  from  nothing.  A  blank  page  becoming  art."  No  matter  how  far  out  of  the  Riverlands,  Tully  does  not  forget  his  words.  Duty,  to  the  people  of  his  region,  and  it  is  that  which  keeps  his  eye  on  doors,  and  windows,  and  listening  to  the  low  din  of  castle  bustling  to  life. “Or  you  could  jsut  as  easily  tell  me  to  mind  my  own  business.”

❝  the  markets  back  home  are  even larger. ❞   tone was like a gentle wave, conveying a simple observation, judgement well concealed. nereid found the differences made her miss braavos' shores even more; the smell of salt and sea, untouched by the stench king's landing possessed, and the vibrancy of the markets, new trinkets from all across the known world to find each day.

"I  did  once  find  myself  in  Bravos  as  a  young  man,  wandering  a  market  with  half  a  mastery  of  a  tongue  that  sounds  different  when  so  alive,  than  practiced."  It  was  many  moons,  since  Amos  had  ever  felt  so  young,  so  alone.  It  had  been  exhilarating,  in  the  way  that  travel  always  was,  and  over  too  quickly,  in  the  way  good  things  always  were.  "In  fact..."  He  pulls  at  a  chain,  a  mermaid  pendant  coming  free  of  his  layers.  "This  was  one  of  the  many,  many  things  that  made  the  journey  home  with  me.  Your  home  is  beautiful,  my  lady."

She  wants  to  focus  on  the  board.  She  wants  to  tip  the  board  like  a  petulant  child.  In  each  hand,  she  wars  between  choices,  a  soul  constantly  in  flux,  and  never  quite  settling  on  a  one  side  or  the  other.  Ariadne  never  caused  her  any  harm,  but  Gysella  had  never  held  the  same  softness  that  others  did  towards  innocents.  She  would  drag  the  whole  Greyjoy  line  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  just  to  see  Dalton  drown.  But  that  was  what  was  expected  of  her,  and  she  hated  nothing  more  than  to  be  reliable.  So  she  smiles,  a  sharp-edged  blade,  moves  as  quick  as  when  she  wilded  steel  instead  of  gold.  She  pushes  elephant  to  the  side,  replaces  it  with  dragon.  "It  was  beautiful,  as  is  befitting  a  new  princess.  One  rarely  ever  finds  fault  with  the  celebration,  but  more  the  conduct  of  those  within  it.  And  you,  Lady  Ariadne?  Did  you  enjoy  yourself?"  She  pauses.  "Do  you  find  the  court  welcoming,  despite  the  vicious  rumours?  I  did  worry  perhaps  that  none  of  the  Iron  Islands  would  make  the  trek,  for  such  a  cold  welcome."  Worry,  hope,  two  sides  of  the  same  coin.  She  had  never  been  known  to  be  an  honest  sort  of  woman.  "I  daresay  few  of  the  court  wish  to  be  reminded  of  storms,  on  the  heels  of  a  night  so  happy."

cranium   pounds   from   the   weight   of   his   own   actions,   thoughts   a   blur   as   he   lets   out   a   low   chuckle.    ❝      peaceful,   yes.   save   for   the   annoyance   of   the   birds   chirping.        ❞   a   night   spent   beyond   his   chambers   in   a   place   of   scandal   sees   him   forcing   consciousness,   garments   still   askew   as   he'd   stumbled   his   way   into   the   courtyard   only   to   meet   the   lady   lannister.   now,   as   he   nurses   his   first   chalice   of   arbor   wine   (   this,   his   long   practiced   cure   to   what   ails   -   a   drink   to   stave   off   dealing   with   the   symptoms   of   sobriety   for   a   day   longer   ),   he   can   only   reach   lazily   to   move   his   own   piece.    ❝      surely   you   enjoyed   the   celebration,   lady   lannister?       ❞

"It  is  only  their  nature.  You  cannot  deny  them  that."  Lips  curl  into  the  barest  hint  of  smile,  before  she  grips  piece  in  hand.  Not  that  she  thought  herself  above  such  revelries,  instead  she  envied  the  safety  one  must  feel  in  self  to  become  inebriated  in  a  court  that  was  so  tempestuous.  But,  as  birds  could  not  be  blamed  for  their  early  morning  song,  neither  could  a  noble  for  indulgence  in  offered  celebration.  It  was  only  their  natures,  after  all.  Or  they  wouldn't  be  there  at  all.  "I  shall  never  deny  myself  the  small  pleasure  of  dressing  lavishly,  and  spending  the  night  celebrating  at  someone  else's  cost.  And  I  am  happy  for  the  prince  and  princess."  And  for  the  stability  a  trueborn  heir  gave  the  crown,  after  what  was  done  to  secure  the  marriage.  “I  do  take  it  you  enjoyed  yourself  too,  my  lord.”

"Kin."  The  word  is  simple,  and  dropped  from  lips  without  fanfare,  in  the  same  way  Myranda  appeared.  Now,  with  the  celebration  safely  behind  her,  she  is  back  in  items  of  comfort,  items  that  do  not  easily  turn  heads  or  garner  attention,  and  it  is  exactly  the  way  she  prefers.  She  slipped  into  the  stables  near  unnoticed.  "Though  I  do  understand  the  training  to  be  necessary,  something  about  the  clanging  of  steel  sets  my  nerves  off.  It  feels...  Heavy.  Still,  I  will  take  that  and  a  familiar  face  over  strangers  in  the  parlours.  I  hope  you  do  not  mind  my  intrusion."

"It  was  certainly  one  of  the  most...  Straightforward  events  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  attending."  No  one  died,  no  one  was  attacked,  weapons  remained  in  rooms  and  in  scabbards.  Ripples  sent  forth  in  self  could  not  be  blamed  on  the  crown,  as  much  as  she  wished  that  the  queen  had  taken  the  rumours  to  heart  and  banned  the  Ironborn  from  court.  Though,  would  they  include  her?  Had  she  played  nice  for  long  enough,  wrapped  herself  int  he  silks,  put  the  mask  in  place  in  a  way  that  could  convince  she  had  no  salt  in  her  veins,  that  they  ran  gold  like  the  veins  under  Casterly  Rock?  Or  would  she  forever  be  a  maiden  of  the  waves,  cursed  by  the  name  she  was  born  to,  the  name  she  had  abandoned  at  the  first  good  opportunity?

with   fluttering   lashes   against   soymilk   skin,   she   studies   the   cyvasse   board   ⸺   too   long,   foolish   girl   that   has   yet   to   learn   the   rules   of   the   game.   "   i   don't   regret   my   cups   from   last   night,   but   i   do   regret   agreeing   to   play   this   game.   "   fingers   wrap   around   a   piece,   dropping   it   somewhere   only   a   rookie   would   place   -   no   strategy   only   praying   on   dumb   luck.   "   i'm   not   very   good   at   it,   "   she   responds   meekly,   hair   tucked   behind   ear   as   nymph   winces   at   own   moves   -   belated   reaction   at   the   action   she   chose   on   the   board.   "   i   shouldn't   have   done   that.   "   a   muttering,   deliberately   loud   enough   to   be   heard   but   not   too   much.

"I  will  not  insult  your  intelligence  by  going  easy  on  you,  my  lady.  Give  it  time,  and  the  skill  will  develop."  She  moves  her  elephant,  a  piece  she  never  seems  to  regret  sacrificing,  her  dragon  held  back  behind  a  river.  There  was  no  instinct  in  Gysella  to  ease  up,  even  in  friendly  competition.  To  do  such  was  a  disrespect  to  partner,  and  she  had  no  reason  to  do  such.  "Cyvasse  is  a  game  of  priorities,  above  all  else.  Do  you  prioritise  your  safety,  or  your  conquest?  Will  you  risk  all  for  reward,  or  do  you  think  remaining  protected  is  the  goal?"  It  is  not  so  different  to  the  game  of  court,  the  pieces  moving  around,  lines  being  drawn  and  redrawn.  Gysella  had  proved  herself  decent  at  both,  with  her  risky  maneuvers.

while  beric  never  would  turn  down  a  good  gathering,  even  he  had  become  a  bit  disoriented  amongst  the  hustle  of  it  all.  after  long  losing  count  of  all  whom  he  had  shared  some  chatter  with,  the  heir  of  blackhaven  had  only  begun  to  glance  around  for  a  new  conversation  buddy  when  it  seemed  to  have  found  him  instead.  a  gentle  smile  was  offered,  the  familiar  face  bringing  some  surprising  comfort.  alas,  the  near  panic  on  lord  amos'  face  had  beric  placing  a  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder  to  offer  a  light  squeeze.  “relax,  my  friend.  i  saw  lady  arushi  not  too  long  ago,”  he  reassured,  the  squeeze  being  replaced  by  a  light,  hopefully  comforting  pat.  “i  am  sure  she  and  the  others  are  perfectly  well  behaved  and  not  at  all  finding  themselves  in  precarious  situations.”  a  playful  tone  matched  the  grin  that  followed.

A port in a storm. That is what friend becomes, in the low chatter of voices that blend in to become rain against windows, when the sound of shoes on dance floor becomes bare feet on stone, running from terror. "Thank you." Whether truth or convincing lie, Amos does not care. His worries are ones beyond reason, knowing that the danger lay far behind them, and yet was an ever-present cloud over Riverrun in the year since he had last been to court. "I would forgive any poorly thought out actions tonight, as long as all fish remain in the pond. On my life, I cannot imagine all this, and the added responsibility of being ruling lord. For entirely selfish reasons, I hope my father lives another hundred years." He laughs, and leans into the touch, and lets shoulders drop. "Would you join me to find a glass of wine? I had planned on remianing stone cold sober throughout the celebration, but perhaps one glass would stop me worrying like a mother hen. And I wish to hear about all you have done, since we last spoke."

a  feeling  of  ease  settled  over the youngest paege whenever she was blessed with myranda's presence. worry that her words would be met with an odd look was nonexistent.  ❝  i was fortunate to be able to sketch them, if you'd like to see it during our stay? ❞   she'd hoped to turn it into a painting but it hadn't been possible before having to depart for court. there'd be plenty of sights to draw here.  ❝  i'm glad to hear that. there are few feelings equal to that of returning to a home that's familiar and comforting. ❞   especially after witnessing horrors.  ❝  i've been well. ❞

"Oh, you must know that I would. I have not a singular artistic bone in my body, and your art looks like poetry feels." She's almost about to suggest they go now, but she would deprive no one of the splendour of the party, even if she was walking the knifes edge between enjoying herself and wanting to run. "I was loathe to leave, but the thought of reuniting with familiar faces did make quite the convincing argument. Good. I should have written. I thought about writing. I just found myself so... Busy." A lie, there was little for her to do in Karhold but wander the halls of her youth, feet falling into well worn paths, but no one wanted to hear about the same tedious day, over and over again.

girlhood   is   branded   into   her,   hues   embody   the   innocence   of   a   fawn   ⸺   doe   -   shaped,   wide   and   big.   noble   watches   other   with   carefulness,   hanging   onto   every   word   as   slow   place   of   blinking   awakens,   attentiveness.   "   how   exciting   that   must   be   -   always   time   for   a   celebration.   when   do   people   have   time   to   rule   their   lands,   "   teasingly,   a   siren's   lullaby   her   voice   with   the   slow   cadence   of   hypnotic   music.      fingers   pluck   goblet   filled   with   liquid   from   server's   tray,   sloshing   the   insides   until   it   nearly   spills   all   over   her.   "   as   long   as   there   is   a   reason   there   is   a   celebration,   "   she   repeats,   paraphrases   the   essence   of   the   ruling   lady's   earlier   words,   curt   nod   as   corners   of   mouth   move   upward.   "   ah   -   but   what   life   that   would   be,   to   enjoy   the   fruits   to   its   fullest.   "

Gysella has always been more beast that beauty, too sharp around the edges, too quick to strike, and she never feels more unwieldy in the mask she has chosen than standing next to the Lyseni noble. "Well, I cannot speak for my peers, but I manage little in my day to day. The responsibility should land to those born to it, not those married in." She waved her hand away, like she didn't report back any useful knowledge to her husband, like she wouldn't bear claws as quickly as any lion to defend the Rock. "I can only imagine. The gossip alone would keep the court fed for months, if we were not pulled a way by tedious meetings and relentless responsibility. Though you must think it would become tiring, eventually, to have nothing to balance all that abundance? How would we know to enjoy it, if not for the suffering before it? Would we forget what it is to fear, to cry, to worry?"