can you please leave me alone I need a minute to be diabolical in my room alone
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@nobletorn
can you please leave me alone I need a minute to be diabolical in my room alone

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đȘđłđ¶đșđŹđ«Â  đșđ»đšđčđ»đŹđč  /   for   @stagbornâ
it takes alester a moment to convince himself he is not in some sort of unreachable dream state.  so many nights has he spent alone,  yet in a faraway place in his mind,  tucked safely away in anotherâs arms,  with all thoughts of marriages and ruling pushed aside.  because with cedrik,  when they found time to visit one another after meeting those years ago,  it was never about politics  -  it was never about how their houses could benefit each other,  though money had been given to the baratheons from the tyrells.  for alester,  it was only ever his feelings for the other.  it was only ever the love he grew to learn he had,  though at first he adamantly denied himself the pleasure of feeling it.
but as all good things do,  alester supposes,  it ended.  cedrikâs father died,  leaving him ruling lord,  and then he had lost his wife too.  and though the lord would come to highgarden for business,  alester saw and heard less of him, though the two still exchanged letters  -  but after suffering the loss of both of his own parents,  alester and cedrikâs communication lessened a great deal more.
but now,  by chance,  alester is mere feet from the baratheon lord,  and his heart is bound to leap from his chest at any moment.  he inches forward,  willing himself not to shout out the otherâs name to grab his attention  -  and itâs now that he feels lucky lucky that they are not alone,  that there are a few other visitors bustling through the corridor,  lest alester react in a way he could not take back.  the letter he had received from cedrik containing vaguely scribbled words about a betrothal races through his memory,  and he recalls the heartbreak as if it were yesterday.
â cedrik ? â   he cannot be more formal than that;  he thinks doing so might kill him.  he waits for the other to turn around,  and stifles a noise in his throat when he sees his face.  â i ... it has been a long while. â  a long pause,  and alester hopes to the seven his eyes are not at glassy as they feel.  â how are you ? â  he then he adds,  perhaps too quickly,  perhaps with too much feeling:  â how is your betrothed ? â
dcvildealâ  (  eryn  hightower  )
â  đŸđżđŽđœ  đđđ°đđđŽđ  ïŒÂ đđđđđđđđđđ  â  @brokenstartersâ
        đ đđđ  đđđđđ  đđđđđđđ  đđđđđđđđđđ  whilst filling the room with warmth to fight cold northern air ,   pleasing its only beholder .   borderlining a   distasteful   irony ,   eryn hightower would carry ice in her hair  &  a glacier behind blue stare   -      -   and yet ,   have the breath smacked from her lungs as the gelid weather would hung on her shoulders as a punishment .   the southern woman ,   albeit   kissed by the winter  ,   wasnât made to ungrundgingly endure the biting cold ,   after all .
        against such truth ,   jaw was clenched to prevent a sigh and eryn moved her chair a bit   closer   to the fire :   a lifetime would be needed before she could get used to the north and its characteristic weather    -      -   and upon hearing steps approaching from behind ,   nevertheless ,   the hightower spoke under the same frozen conception .      â  if you feel like   sharing   the fireplace âŠÂ   please ,   join me .   however ,   if you had hopes on having it for yourself ,   be conscious that   i will   fight you for it . â
there  is  something  unmistakably  different  about  the  north,   to  that  of  alesterâs  southern  home.   the  people  are  quite  different,  to  be  sure   ...   but  the  weather,   of  course,   is  the  first  thing  that  comes  to  mind   -   it  is  always  the  first  thing  on  his  mind  when  he  steps  out  of  the  variable  warmth  of  the  carriage  and  into  the  frigidness  of  the  northern  kingdom,   clad  only  in  the  warmest  of  the  southern  robes,   which  are  no  match  at  all  to  the  wind  known  only  to  the  north.   even  still,   alester  knows  ( fears,   really )   that  their  stay  in  the  north  might  not  be  a  short  one,   and  heâs  determined  to  get  used  to  it  while  he  can.   who  knows   -   if  there  is  some  sort  of  treaty  made  between  the  kings,   perhaps  alester  will  find  himself  in  winterfell  more  often.   but  part  of  him  hopes  not.
an  extended  walk  outside  is  all  the  ruling  lord  can  manage  today;  but with  no  blooming  gardens  like  he's  accustomed  to,   his  walk  isn't  a  long  one.   so  it's  soon  that  heâs  hurrying  back  inside,  to  seek  warmth  wherever  he  can  find  it.   the  first  place  he  finds  is  occupied,   but  the  chill  in  his  bones  and  the  frost  on  his  robes  cause  him  to  rather  forget  his  manners.   it  is  only  after  the  lady  speaks  that  he  replies,   bowing  down  in  respect.   â my  apologies,   my  lady,   i  did  not  even  think  to  ask  if  i  could  join  you.   but  fret  not,   for  i  am  not  here  for  thievery !  i  expect  iâm  here  for  the  same  reason  as  you   -   to  get  away  from  the  damned  cold. â  he  pauses,   and continues with a greeting and a small smile.  â alester  tyrell  -   a  pleasure.  â
tvrgarycnâ  (  aeragon  )
   the king found himself strolling through winterfell in search of nothing in particular. head held high as he strode down the stone halls, glancing by at closed doors or into open rooms. the dark fur cloak around his shoulders flowed elegantly behind him, just barely skimming the floor. he held it tighter around his body when he found his way outside. there was no snow falling, but by how cold and crisp the air was he was certain that it would start any second now.Â
   he moved silently past workers or other people moving about the keep. eyes glancing to them briefly, giving a few nods in greeting as he passed to those he knew and ones who had done the same to him. most of them, though, were northerners and he ignored their cold daggers for eyes. surely the southern king wasnât quite welcome after recent events, but aeragon didnât let that bother him. he found himself walking up one of the stairs to where he could look out at the vast land outside of the keep. shifting the fur cloak around his shoulders a bit he stood there, taking in the sight of the north⊠a moment of peace.
   a fleeting moment as footsteps were heard coming up the stairs to his right, but aeragon made no motion to look at who was coming. instead he waited to see if the person would move past him or join him. they stopped near him and he glanced over briefly before letting his gaze rest back out at the land.  â quite a sight, isnât it?  â it was beautiful. all of westeros was beautiful with each of itâs little quirks depending where you were. â i just want to take a horse out there and gallop free.  â
open starter. @brokenstartersâ
upon  arriving  in  the  south,   jaehaerys  has  felt  as  though  he  is  a  sore  thumb  adorned  upon  the  hand  of  the  deceased  northern  king.   everyone  who  is  loyal  to  this  land  seems,   at  least  to  the  prince,   to  believe  he  or  his  family  is  somehow  responsible  for  the  late  starkâs  passing   -   and  there  are  few  things  jaehaerys  dislikes  more  than  accusations,   especially  those  that  are  false  and  unfounded.
as  much  as  he  feels  distrust  follow  him  wherever  he  treads,   the  targaryen  prince  knows  it  to  be  all  the  more  reason  to  walk  carefully  among  grounds  of  those  who  are  not  his  friends.   but  still  he  walks,   listening  and  talking only when  spoken  to  in  short  replies  that  give  nothing  away   -   always  listening,   never  giving.   it  was  his  usual  habit,   and  in  unfamiliar  land  he  certainly  isnât  changing.   heâs  walking  and  attempting  to  find  something  to  learn,   and  perhaps even something good enough to  remember  for  later,   when  he  spots  his  brother.   immediately  jaehaerys  makes  his  way  over  to  the  king,   and  listens  intently  as  the  other  speaks.
â  to  ride  freely  upon  unfamiliar  and  untrusted  land,   without  friend  nor  protection  by  your  side  ?   my  brother,   you  would  return  full  of  frozen  arrows   -   if  you  returned  at  all.  â    itâs  said  with  a  low  chuckle,   though  the  meaning  of  his  words  are  dark.   we  are  not  trusted  here.    â  have  you  not  sensed  our  misplacement  here,   my  brother  ?   do  you  really  feel  so  comfortable  in  the  home  of  the  northern  king  ?  â
Taron Egerton as Robin of Loxley

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I donât wanna get involved in the drama I just wanna know 103% of the information on what happened
đđđđđđ  đđđđđđđ  đ đđ   @dcvildealâ  ( đđđđđ đđđđđ )
JAEHAERYS  HAS  ALWAYS  THRIVED  UPON   being  the  ears  of  any  room.   the  eyes  as  well,   though  they  are  deceiving.   the  ears,   however  ?   they  discover  whispers,   decipher  secrets,   and  gain  knowledge  that  opens  doors  that  may  have  been  previously  closed.   but  for  the  prince,   there  is  something  calming  about  lingering  close  to  those  who  speak  of  important  things,   and  entering  the  conversation  only  when  he  thinks  it  will  be  of  some  benefit.   being  in  the  north  is  certainly  no  exception   -   in  fact,   jaehaerys  has  been  on  high  alert  ever  since  arriving,   and  has  scarcely  even  slept  in  favor  of gaining every  inch  of  high  ground  he  can   ...   both  for  himself,   and  for  his  brother.   and  so  when  the  prince  finds  an  audience  with  the  king  himself  ?   jaehaerys  is  positively  vibrating  with  not  excitement,   but  rather  the  endless  possibilities  such  a  conversation  could  uncover.   when  face-to-face  with  theon,   jaehaerys  bows  his  head  in  greeting   -   though  itâs  nearly  unnoticeable.    â  it  is  a  pleasure  to  finally  meet  you,  â    says  the  prince,   and  heâs  careful  to  keep  titles  off  his  lips.    â  you  are  a  very  difficult  man  to  gain  an  audience  with,   though  iâm  glad  to  finally  have  it.   would  you  care  to  sit  ?  â
ncblesoulâ  /  rodrick.
đșđ»đšđ»đŒđș: open  !   đłđ¶đȘđšđ»đ°đ¶đ”: winterfell , utp !   đ»đšđźđźđ°đ”đź: @brokenstartersâ !
      đĄđ  đ°đđŹđ§'đ  đĄđąđđąđ§đ  ,  đĄđ'đ  đŻđđĄđđŠđđ§đđ„đČ deny that he was , with perhaps too much gusto , but he wasnât hiding , not truly . in fact , heâd been out & about around the winterfell keep with others , however as sun droops downward , blanketing the northern realm in a cold darkness , rodrick found himself in the company of his own horse , a gift as a young man that had become a constant in his life . it wasnât that he didnât trust the master of horse , because he did , but being that the horse was his own , he felt it was his own duty to look after the stead , as he had for years prior . so no , the ruling lord of the west was not hiding , merely taking in the quiet as he brushed down the almost black horse , his hands gentle as he stroked at the beast , whispering soft words as he moved around , ignorant to the world outside the stable opening , it wasnât until the horse nipped at his fingertips that he realised he had company .   â          you ruddy thing , iâll get you something when iâm done , no need to take a chunk out of my hand , you beast .   â   his hand pulls back , thumb running over the tips as if to soothe a wound that one could not see before heâs turning , startled almost in his step before he offers a smile in lieu of greeting .
    WHILE  ALESTER  WAS  NOT  ONE   to  dwell  upon  things  in  the  past,   the  ruling  lord  could  not  help  but  allow  his  mind  short  wanderings  of  things  long  passed.   with  his  father  not  long  dead,   and  his  mother  not  long  after  he,   alester  has  been  left  wondering  what  his  place  is  without  them.   while  he  knows  it  is  as  ruling  lord,   and  he  knows  he  must  try  and  make  them  proud,   his  reputation  and  instincts  are  doing  him  no  favors  in  the  matter.   not  to  mention,   of  course,   his  brash   (  and  far  too  quick  )   decision  making  regarding  his  own  engagement,   based  solely  on  his  own  sore  heart.   itâs  because  of  these  thoughts  that  he  finds  himself  leaving  the  crowds  and  seeking  somewhere  quieter,   lest  he  do  something  he  will  regret   -   such  as  plant  a  punch  on  another  nobleâs  jaw.   he  finds  himself  wandering  near  the  stables,   though  heâs  anything  but  a  horseman  himself,   and  tries  not  to  laugh  when  he  sees  another  get  nibbled  by  one.    â  my  apologies,  â    he  chuckles,   failing  to  hide  a  smile  as  he  approaches.    â  is ... is the  creature  hungry  ?   should  you  not  feed  it,   if  so  ?   it  might  take  your  hand,   next  time  ... â
tag drop !
đ  ăâą *â°ă interactions  â  đđđđđđđ đđđđđđ.
đ  ăâą *â°ă  visage  â  đđđđđđđ đđđđđđ.
đ  ăâą *â°ă  musings  â  đđđđđđđ đđđđđđ.
đ  ăâą *â°ă  aesthetic  â  đđđđđđđ đđđđđđ.
â
đ°  ăâą *â°ă  interactions  â   đđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđ.
đ°  ăâą *â°ă  visage  â   đđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđ.
đ°   ăâą *â°ă  musings  â   đđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđ.
đ°   ăâą *â°ă  aesthetic  â  đđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđ.
â
âïžÂ  ăâą *â°ă  location  â  đđđđđđđđđđ.
the  courts  offer  bread  and  salt  to  JAEHAERYS  TARGARYEN  of  HOUSE  TARGARYEN.  many  say  that  the  TWENTY - SEVEN  year  old  PRINCE  of  THE  SOUTHERN  KINGDOM  is  known  to  be  HIGH - MINDED  and  LONGANIMOUS,  though  ill  tongues  whisper  that  HE  is  CIRCUMSPECT  and  MACHIAVELLIAN.  when  his  name  is  uttered  ,  one  is  reminded  of  a  deeply  rooted  desire  to  polish  the  tarnished  silver  of  an  ancient  name  ,  an  avidity  to  rule  when  such  a  want  is  all  for  naught  ,  the  leather  bound  history  books  telling  tales  of  a  time  long  past  &  the  shadowed  murmurs  of  a  second  son.  may  he  be  blessed  and  protected  in  this  war  of  crowns.

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the  courts  offer  bread  and  salt  to  ALESTER  TYRELL  of  HOUSE  TYRELL.  many  say  that  the  TWENTY - NINE  year  old  RULING  LORD  of  HIGHGARDEN  is  known  to  be  VEHEMENT  and  LYRICAL,  though  ill  tongues  whisper  that  HE  is  BELLICOSE  and  SELF - INDULGENT.  when  his  name  is  uttered  ,  one  is  reminded  of  an  invariable  rage  boiling  just  beneath  the  surface  that  is  aways  ready  to  be  unleashed  ,  all  of  the  finest  silks  and  robes  attainable  ,  the  sweetest  delicacies  known  to  the  realm  &  the  heaviness  of  a  brand  new  responsibility  that  weighs  more  than  ever  expected.  may  he  be  blessed  and  protected  in  this  war  of  crowns.