#g0dswood

❛ —in the lists, of course. ❜

Tyene pouted from the shade of an overgrown mango tree, ordered by her father and uncle to remain there until the lotion massaged into her skin set and her hair was properly bound up. Due to taking so much of her mother’s coloring she couldn’t enjoy the Dornish sun as easily as her cousins and sisters could. She was the fairest among them and while she never truly burned when she was young she got so sick from the sun her father thought she had been poisoned.

After that Tyene was watched carefully by all to ensure it never happened again.

Still it was annoying, if there were guests she’d be playing the role of the fair daughter with skin to delicate to be touched by the sun but there were no guests this day. It was a rare day for all of them to be at the Water Gardens but the fathers had business to discuss and it was easier to control the children if they were all in one group instead of being left to their own devices. From her spot she would see her older sisters talking amongst themselves about various plots and plans, while the younger ones ran around in the pools and shallows. Sarella wasn’t with them, off playing her own games far away but Tyene knew her sister was happy.

@g0dswood, starter call. / has enough time passed since he was asked to keep it quiet? would now be the appropriate time to break the silence ─  knowing very well that ser duncan was leading them the wrong direction? the fork in the road was worn, true. but even he had been able to read and fill in the context of the missing letters. and now ... he was sure more than ever that they were headed to an unknown destination instead of down the road leading to the inn they sought out.

                thunder  rumbles  overhead,  sounding  all  the  more  menacing  as  it  echoes  off  the  crumbling  walls  around  him.  tessarion  cries  out  in  protest  as  daeron  begins  to  leave  her  line  of  sight,  and  he  spares  one  more  glance  over  his  shoulder  to  her.  she  is  tethered  beside  the  castles  entrance;  it  is  too  much  a  risk  to  let  her  roam  free,  lest  she  be  spotted  and  their  location  betrayed.  when  his  focus  returns  to  the  path  before  him,  he  very  nearly  drops  his  lantern.  a  woman  ten  yards  ahead,  pale  and  gaunt  as  a  wraith,  appears  to  float  along  the  floor  toward  him.       a  trick  of  the  light,  surely.  

                ❛  good  evening,  my  lady,  ❜       his  voice  betrays  his  nerves  as  it  cracks,  each  step  cautious  on  the  wet,  uneven  stone  beneath  his  feet.       ❛  forgive  my  intrusion  at  an  hour  so  indecent.  only,  it  is  quite  urgent.  i  seek—  ❜       daeron  takes  a  breath  to  steady  himself.  up  close,  close enough to meet her eyes, the  woman  appears  to  be  made  of  flesh.

The  heat  of  Sunspear  still  felt  strange  to  Myrcella,  even  after  all  the  moons  she  had  spent  in  Dorne.  King's  Landing  had  been  loud  and  crowded,  but  its  air  had  never  clung  to  the  skin  like  this.  She  stood  beneath  the  shade  of  a  carved  sandstone  arch,  fingers  folded  neatly  before  her,  watching  servants  and  guards  move  through  the  courtyard  below.  They  all  seemed  perfectly  at  ease  beneath  the  blazing  sun.  Myrcella  envied  them  for  it. Her  septa  had  spoken  of  Prince  Quentyn  often  enough.  Dutiful.  Serious.  Not  given  to  boasting.  None  of  those  qualities  sounded  particularly  exciting,  and  she  figures  a  Septa  had  to  speak  properly  of  a  Prince. 

               though  his  breath  alone  sends  pain  shooting  through  his  flank,  gwayne  forces  himself  to  his  feet  before  alicent  as  she  enters  the  pavilion.  what  is  the  appropriate  greeting,  when  the  last  time  they  saw  each  other  was  at  oldtown,  burying  their  mother?         ❛  quite.  ❜   he  regards  her  with  a  smile,  hands  folded  behind  his  lower  back.        ❛  you  needn’t  worry,  sister.  it  was  an  honor  to  tilt  against  the  prince  —❜ 

                                              (  there  is  much  to  the  subject  of  prince  daemon’s  honor  that  he’d  never  dare  speak  out  loud;  now,  though,  gwayne  is  simply  glad  not  to  have  been  crushed  beneath  his  horse  in  the  fall.  )

Rhaenyra leaned into the cushioned carriage seat, arms crossed and a non-pout on her face. She had gotten roped into a marriage meeting with another family, her parents having tricked her into it. Alicent was on guard to ensure she got to the meeting and didn’t run elsewhere. She was sure her friend was laughing at her behind her smile and she couldn’t help the tiny glare she was giving.

“You are really not going to give me any hint?” Rhaenyra teased, kicking her foot out slightly so it bumped Alicent’s across the carriage. Normally she would’ve flown to where every her parents wanted her to go, but once she figured out what they wanted her to do she was grounded. The dragon keepers had taken her saddles from her and Syrax was taken to her pen in the pit until she returned. “At least tell me where in the Kingdoms we are going?” There were only a few families in each place, so she could guess from there.