IRULAN WAS ENJOYING HER STAY IN KING'S LANDING. She walked the long corridors admiring the art, her eyes taking in every brush stroke, weave, curve of the metal. She smelled the sweet flowers in vast gardens. She poured through books in the library, taking note of which one she would like copies of to be sent to her home in Salusa Secundas.
The princess mostly kept to herself as the reputation of the Imperium and House Corrino was not the best amongst the Westerosi people. Both the Imperium and the Seven Kingdoms were made up vassal states led by noble houses. They were as alike as they were different. Honor seemed to be a virtue in Westeros, it was not to Irulan. For her, behind every scheme was another calculated one, and behind that another, and another, and so on. Many said that honor was a thing of the past for them.
She walked by herself, her maids trailing behind her, the garden gravel crunched under her feet. ❝ Good morning, Princess, ❞ Irulan greeted Rhaella with a small curtsy. ❝ May I join you ? ❞
⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆ a semi-plotted starter @summerhells from 𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚘
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Admittedly, this was only the second time Rhaella has ever been to the North. It was, uncanny. Everything seemed similar, but not quite the same. That... plus the snow. It didn't snow in King's Landing, but she's seen snow and wasn't a fan. The princess wouldn't complain, no, she didn't want to sound any more entitled than she already was. "My favourite story from the North is that both Vermithor and Silverwing refused to fly over the Wall." Rhaella smiled at Lyarra, trying to make a connection.
a soft hum escaped lyarra at that , amusement flickering across her features. the northern wind tugged loose strands of dark hair from beneath her veil , carrying with it the sharp scent of snow and pine. she glanced toward the distant horizon , where the world stretched white and grey and endless.
“ aye , i've heard that one too. ” amusement softened her voice. “ the old tales say the dragons sensed something there. something older than themselves. ”
her gaze returned to rhaella then , warm despite the cold surrounding them. “ or perhaps they simply had more sense than men. ” the corner of her mouth twitched. “ winter is difficult enough on this side of the wall. i cannot blame them for refusing to see what lay beyond it. ”
❛ my lady, you have that look about you again. ❜ there is a soft edge to her voice that is uncharacteristic of the bastard from stone way, always sharp tongued in a way that rivaled her sword. she makes an exception for rhaella, as she often does when in her company. like a shadow, she has been, amidst the radiance of the princess, lingering by her side and some even say it is the first they have seen kira. even now, as she crouched down beside where rhaella was perched, tilting her head enough in hopes of catching her gaze. ❛ what troubles you? ❜ it is left unspoken in the end : and how can i make it better?
THE NIGHT WAS JUST GETTING STARTED, a few patrons were scatted across the cocktail lounge. Soft R&B played over the sound system. A new customer approached the bar and ordered. Chris leaned over the bar to make sure that they heard her correctly, the bar was quiet so they shouldn't have had any trouble. They just wanted to make sure that they heard the woman correctly. ❝ A shirley temple ?? Do you want that dirty or virgin ? ❞ She wasn't one to shame anyone for not drinking, people had their reasons, but a regular shirley temple? The last person she had made one for was seven years old. Perhaps this one meant a dirty shirley ?
✩‧₊˚ a semi-plotted starter @summerhells from 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚣
' 𝔚ould you like to take their seeds home with you, your grace? ' a lush garden, let alone to grow wild as was the intention left behind by her late aunt marissa for her daughters, tangles of blackberry and , blossoms of rhododendron in brilliant bursts of sunset hues, in shades of blue like the twilight hour. moonblooms and foxglove burst forth with pollen and petal, even beneath their feet; creeping over the walking stones was the wooly thyme that had in it's bountiful bundles of fuzzy little leaves and swaths of purpling blooms, clover with petals folded to their stems as it slumbered, awaiting the pale gleam of sunlight to wake anew. ' to grow within the castle. '
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⊱ ░ 𝕽HAELLA ₍ ? ₎ one or both muses have been pining for a while, receiver body worships sender by kissing all over their body and giving them oral.
it's the sort of gown that no mortal man should ever lay his filth ridden hands on... torwyn had held velvet before ━━ spoils taken from greenlander ships, half ruined by seawater and smoke once back on land ━━ but never anything like this. THIS SILK THAT WHISPERED BENEATH HIS FINGERS EACH TIME HE DARED PUSH IT. women from the isles didn't wear dresses that closer resembled the hoard of treasure he so often sought, and he's removed many. they wore roughspun and sealskin, they laughed with split lips and shoved men harder than they fucked them... but this?
this fine as cobweb thread, pale beneath candlelight, stitched through with silver so delicate he briefly feared ( or hoped ) one careless touch might unravel it entirely [ ... ] IT DID NOT BELONG BENEATH HANDS LIKE HIS. hands scarred by rope burn, by salt, by the pull of nets and the grip of axes. and yet here @summerhells lied beneath him wearing it; as soft as something dreamt. allowing him to touch it. to touch her. even when his skin caught.
ironborn don't give, they take... and yet.
❛❛ gods, ❜❜ whispered, hoarse at the edges. his parted mouth seemed to be following a vein ━━ kisses hungry in their firmness but not quite hurried. a slow press of lips against warm skin instead; the center of her throat, a delicate collarbone he all but swallowed down the desire to bite. AND LOWER TOWARD THE DIP OF THAT EMBROIDERED NECKLINE WHILE HIS HAND CLUTCHING AT HER THIGH MOVED HIGHER, pulling fabric up with it. the dress and the flesh beneath it inhabited all the luxuries that belonged solely to her; her warmth, the evidence of her very life, and her scent he wished to lap up like water. something faintly floral, clean, ( expensive in a way he couldn't name ) rather than leather and sea salt. he could feel the quickened flutter of her breath ━━ the rise and fall beneath bodicework worth more coin than anything he had ever owned [ ... ] and it was not only hunger that guided him then, as he slowly lowered himself down the length of her body, but reverence. ❛❛ you are too fine a thing for this world... ❜❜
it's only once he could feel the soft skin of legs ( woefully hidden from him for far too long ) against his palm that he decides he couldn't possibly waste another moment outside of her skirts... and so rough hands that had been in the throes of practicing restraint would finally grab ━━ push. bunch what seems to him to be all the silk in the seven kingdoms up toward her waist until he's able to slot himself between thighs and settle [ ... ] IF HE MUST SUFFOCATE BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF DRESS AND TREMBLING SKIN ALIKE, SO BE IT. death between the thighs of a princess would be far more fortunate than how ironmen are more often than not destined.
❛❛ tell me to stop, ❜❜ he says quietly amidst trailing yet another wet line of kisses along her inner thigh ━━ cheek languidly pressed to the skin, blue gaze watching her from behind the dark hair that had fallen into them. THOUGH THE WORDS SOUNDED JUST AS STRAINED AS HIS TROUSERS. ❛❛ and i will. ❜❜
↪ @summerhells. "It was a royal affair, the women who were sought out by the King to become potential candidates for the heir's wife. Rhaella was merely in the corner, away from the spectacle. All her face screamed was pity- pity for all the women. She was a child bride, forced into a marriage... but that was the fate of all women. The Queen took her time speaking with each woman brought to court, even Sabina. The pair were having dinner in the Queen's solar. "Tell me about Lys," she said, offering a very broken smile to Sabina."
there is a strange energy at court. one that she imagines everyone is feeling, given the state of many of the crowd’s faces. a nervousness that extends beyond seeing their daughters being a possible match for the heir to the throne. she had been invited to the festivities and even more surprising, invited to have supper with the queen. however, she was under no illusions about her being a prospect for prince rhaegar. nor would she want to be, if she was honest.
despite her own cautiousness, the queen appears to be a kind woman. quiet but with a palpable sadness. “lys is beautiful. very warm, but the summer sea keeps it cooler.” she is happy to speak about her homeland, a twinge of homesickness she has never managed to shake off. “the markets have everything you could want. fruits, spices, fabrics.”
