daemon maneuvered about the room with a familiar ease, and not for the first time that evening does the déjà vu hit him, the situation and the celebrations, memories of a wedding he’d held with fondness. but the more time he’s spent with shaera in recent days, a part of him felt hopeful that perhaps they might find that same sort of happiness he’d once held with laena. he wished for it, at least, that maybe the gods would offer him this kindness after all they have already put him through, though he knew wanting for such things was unlikely to get him far. daemon accepted each congratulations ( and calculating side - eye ) with a warm smile and the grace of any crown prince, kind thanks offered in return as was expected of him. head inclines just slightly towards the person nearest him, hands clasped loosely behind his back as gaze shifts towards bride across the room. ❝ i do hope you’re enjoying yourself. have you had the opportunity to taste the tarts, yet ? i’m hoping there’ll still be some left for later. ❞
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even the day of the holy matrimony , proud nobles whisper objections against the foreign bride — schemes drawn up to stop the wedding , no matter the consequences . these rich folk believe themself to be above the gods and rival machiavelli's cunning yet they underestimate the power of words : oh how fast they spread through the lips of hard working servants .
the red keep was empty save for servants preparing the feast and a few lingering guests , who should long be on their way to the sept of baelor . the perfect moment to attack : quick slash to the throat and crimson spills on the white wedding gown as the blade kisses the soft now marred skin — a necessary sacrifice for the wellbeing of the kingdom . no wriggling body and pleads of mercy as salted tears roll . loud shrieks of terror that could warn guards avoided , no desperate prays to the mother to save them : only silence . no clemency and no guilt for the war that will break out : it must be done for the greater good .
only things never go as planned and the dark - haired noble struggles . small figure suffers in the arms of their captor , sharpened meteorite dagger cutting throat several times — stinging wound but never the final slash . until the attacker grows tired , blade slashing through her throat and the touch of it burned them alive . body drops face down on the ground , crimson pooling everywhere as they leave the room dressed as a servant , like no massacre just took place . she bleeds out all alone while her loved ones are celebrating .
but at least jeyne caron died as she lived : fighting .
body not even cold when the bride - to - be enters the room with her guards , in search of the missing loved one so they can leave for the ceremony . piercing wail wakens all servants as sworn shields rush out to pull her away from the body — it would be criminal to show up in the sept with crimson staining white : a bad omen from the faith of the seven .
soldiers are told to ridden of the deceased noble as servants must clean up the blood - soaked stain on the carpet . silence was imposed or else tongues would be removed by the executioner .
however , words spreak rapidly like wildfire and the ghost of jeyne haunts the great hall during the festivities . pleasant chatter turns into horrendous revelations with no real proof : where is jeyne and did they run away as his grace king lucerys claims ?
open starter / stefan baratheon.
status: open for responses !
where: the dessert table.
when: the evening of the wedding.
the sooner this damn celebration was over the better. then they could all leave this city, something he’d wanted since the very day he’d first set foot inside its walls and the feeling had only increased given recent events he wished he could forget, and it also meant an end to empty small talk and stuffy nobles. he would have remained on the outskirts of the room had his sweet tooth not caught sight of the decadent treats on one of the tables. the one currently in his hand might be his fifth and likely not his last. ❝ the cakes and tarts are the one saving grace of this affair. ❞ other than his betrothed, but stefan couldn’t cling to her like a shadow for the entire night despite wishing he could.
“oh look !” jocelyn calls out, her pupils widening to take in the beauty of the red comet painting the sky. there was something about nature & the skies above them that fascinated her so. she felt safe for a moment, blanketed in the warmth of her joy & forgetting the judgement of those around her. “the crone must be smiling down upon us, don’t you think ? blessing those who are wise.” she finally looks to the person beside her, her gaze kind and genuine.
larra ⸻ : choosing to monopolize the lyseni dressmaker that had followed the rogare entourage from lys to westeros, larra had picked out the fabrics beforehand and allowed the woman to do as she pleased ─ her only stipulation was that the dress was not to overshadow her sister and that it should not clash too horribly with the one worn by her cousin, serenei. the final result is something that would have gotten her banned from the sept of baelor had it not been for her blood relation to the bride ─ with a skin - toned shift that hits the tops of her thighs worn beneath for some semblance of modesty, the sheer fabric emphasizes each dip and curve of her body as it is pulled tight at the waist. her legs are bare and pale beneath the lilac fabric, and she is without much adornment besides wrist cuff on her right hand detailing the symbol upon the rogare coinage.
lyonel ⸻ : the lord heir of lannisport glitters almost as brightly as the bride does in his outfit of sheer gold ─ hanging from a series of chains, the overlaying piece is made of hundreds of thin golden chains interwoven with the other. the chains were impossible to get on and will doubtlessly be just as difficult to get off, allowing peeks of his chest and muscles to show with each move he makes. beneath the piece, for some semblance of false modesty, the lord wears a sheer black top and his pants are plain and black as well, leading all eyes to the accenting piece as desired.
seda ⸻ : the silk of her dress is the finest available, imported from lys by the request of the rogare entourage and the color is a vibrant olive green in a nod towards the colors of her husband's house. though the material is of lyseni make, the style of her dress is distinctly dornish ─ with twists and knots, the silk is made into ropes with accenting details around her hips to show a peek from skin. the back of the dress is similarly held in twists of silk and her hair is similarly styled into a long braid down her back, with burnish gold flower details interwoven amidst the thick strands.
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the now princess of dragonstone walks into the great sept of baelor in a white dress , decorated with thousands of tiny crystals meant to represent the constellations high in the skies that only dragons meet . she dazzles under the sunlight coloring the sept in all soft hues through the mosaic stained windows — the epitome of sweet moonlight in the night sky . the gown belonging to the queen's personal favorites between the couturier's sketches , with her beloved family helping with the final choice .
for the festivities , shaera goes for a gown more her style — proudly representing her native lys and all its customs . one of her closest friends , lady jeyne caron , convinced her of the look on the morn of her wedding . the dress translucent of nature as it reveals snow white skin , and tastefully finished with a necklace that belonged to the noble's late mother . the haen family heirloom resting in the dip of bare collarbones .
aster is adorned most noticeably in a calf long dress coat that is deep emerald color, covered in beautiful embroidered golden roses. he often is caught throughout the evening swishing it around dramatically to make his niece and nephew laugh. the lord is accompanied by his youngest sister, lady alerie tyrell, and mother, dowager lady tyrell, on either arm. he gifts his youngest sister his first dance of the night, twirling them eagerly around the floor.
