#umbrensis

idk which meme | @umbrensis

“I care not, brother. Aegor Rivers shall take the black. I will not see him executed.”

Weariness clung to Aerys’s every word, the burden of the crown clearly settling heavily upon his shoulders. He looked to Maekar and gave long, tired sigh. He was tired of having to explain this decision; to Brynden, to his nephew and now to his brother.

idk what meme tbh | @umbrensis

Auriel did not answer at first, settling beside her elder brother and slipping an arm around his shoulders, drawing close enough that he might lean into her if he wished. For a moment after, she said nothing, moving her thumb absent mindedly against the fabric of his sleeve. She thought back to that fateful day, about their father dying in Valarr's own armor. Who would wish to don such plate after that?

“You need not enter the lists if you have no desire to.” Her voice was quiet, stripped of much of the fire it had once carried. The long years of grief had hollowed her out, leaving weariness in its place. “You have already proven yourself more times than any man ought to be asked.”

She rested her head against his shoulder.

send my muse "you're just like your father" for their reaction! | accepting! | @umbrensis

     he spoke of marriage as if it were a battle, or a joust. daella was willing to own that perhaps it was, for many. she had heard the horror stories from this elder and that one, all about her great-grandmother and her ill-fated marriage to the unworthiest of daella's ancestors. her septa had instructed her on what might be done if a husband was found to be unkind, how such a burden might be borne. but were there not successes to be found? her own lady mother, may the seven grant her rest, had enjoyed a marriage of love even if it had been arranged. her uncle and aunt, too, long since reunited with their sons beyond, not to mention her grandparents. and even if there was no love, certainly that did not mean there could be no affection?

     daella held her hands at her waist, ever the picture of a princess, her deep violet eyes the only things betraying a hint of frustration. everything else was in perfect control: her face smooth as glass, her posture straight. she glanced at the arranged set of portraits on the table, her choice among them set apart: the aged lord allyrion. she looked back at her father and tried to remember what the septas said about respecting one's father as one would the father.

@umbrensis

the patch of bare soil upon which the queen sits is stone laden — rocks of various sizes laying half buried, visible yet unable to be pried loose by the simple but precise extension of pressure; seeming scattered in the gaps between the slight spread reaching roots; pressed though, it would seem, in tenderness by the hand of whichever of the gods that had laid plans for all that laid within the godswood's walls, every inch - though, she wondered if it differed. if one had crafted the deep greyish-brown, peeling thick trunk and another, the stretch of the crown atop it ( a pale green that drank in the newly born solid sunlight cast across the space a glittering throw - tinging all that it touched with a warm gold. a gentle verdance, one held in common with the sprawl of lawn that surrounded, still damp with morning dew )

she wondered if there were things that they needed monitor, if, there were aspects of nature that were far too delicate to leave to their own ; the languid periodic rise and fall of the wind, for one, tugging at a loose strand of long black hair yet not quite lifting it. a featherlight breath against her cheek, indicative of a presence not seen. she wondered if the gods, too, heralded ones lost, and let them remain for a time to comfort those left. she hoped they did. she hoped that her lady mother might see her daughter and son, and they might know, in some form, that she was there. that they had known her, even though they had never truly met. she would have doted on her babes, she knows, the very same way she had doted on little arianne. though arianne would not remember her grandmother either, in time.... at least loreza had gotten to meet her, gotten to hold her.

her son sits upon the blanket she had laid across the near ends of the roots, his back turned, determinedly, away from her — though she knew what lay infront of him — in an attempt to shield what he was working on from her eyes so that it might remain a surprise. she had sworn she would go no further then here, so that she did not see his progress, and she had sat just outside of the area of the blanket, in the dip between two roots - with her back resting securely against the trunk,shoulders bending incrementally forward. there was a pad of paper laid across her knees, and a long charcoal pencil held between her thumb and forefinger that she pressed seconds to the page before it was removed. a sharpening of her skills with shading and highlighting seldom granted with the added duties of her station, done in the early morning summer sun and yet, she was distracted.

she looked forward to the gift. the intent behind it had already had already meant so very much to her. no matter how it ended up, it was made by her little boy's own hands and thus, it already stood entirely dear to her. a treasure to be cherished for as long as she was able. and then he rises and turns, and she spots the little crown held with an infinite caring, much the same degree of importance as if it were a cluster of rubies, and the corners of the woman's lips pull upward into the beginnings of a delighted smile that spreads as he speaks, broadening to a near beam, and though while it is near immediate in its ebbing, softening into something gentler,love shines from the depths of dark eyes as luminous as the heart of a hearth flame as she answers ( the currents that had bore each syllable rising just the slightest bit higher in the face of her happiness, though her voice remained pitched low, toward quiet yet not quite so, in this ) " thank you, my little sun. i do love the flowers you've chosen, and it seems to me that you were very careful picking them, too, which i am glad of. "

a collection of she was sure precisely selected flowers — chosen with a young child's severity, woven together as neatly as he could. stems stuck out along the inside of the circumfrence, the ends meant to be folded in so the bloom stood in center focus..the stems seemed, though, to be of near the same length, and none of the flowers had been so much as bent in the process. he had done well, extraordinarily well. it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen. she leaned forward slightly, neck lowering so her boy did not need to stretch quite so far to set the delicate circlet upon her head. and her smile grew once more, left hand reaching to set upon his cheek, " and it is the loveliest thing i have ever seen, i hope you know. made even lovelier by all of the effort you have put in. "

it was believed in her memory, that the halls of her father had been warmer to quentyn than to stone way’s bastard. the same could have been said in regards to the lord himself, though warmth was not a trait she would attribute to memories of anders yronwood, iron - willed and strong handed as he was. it was unfortunate, that in the wake of his anger, quentyn could be found in the company of lord anders yronwood's children whom the latter had least favored, if acknowledged at all. would that her half - brother were here in her place; cletus had known him better than she did, and would have known the words he wanted to hear. even ynys could have spoken better words than her silence. what kira knows of quentyn had been in the years past before she was sent from yronwood to starfall. still, she could not very well leave him in such a state.

❛ if the realm could witness your anger as i do, i've no doubt it would tremble in my place. ❜ the lady's demeanor does not change. her steps were certain against the polished stone, the distance between them closed from where she had been watching from the pillars. kira bowed her head, tilting it in an attempt to find his gaze with her own. ❛ but what will anger do, if not shatter a thing that is already frail? tell me what has happened. i cannot help you otherwise. ❜ she could have asked the birds, but she wanted to hear it from him.

a clash of kings starters :: accepting @umbrensis :: ❝ i would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told. ❞ / cassana to laenys

The road back to the Red Keep seemed impossibly and precariously long and winding from Laenys's seat in the little wheelhouse. On days when the weather was fine or the latter seemed restless, Alicent and Helaena would go out into the city with their retinues to distribute alms. Though she would never argue with the queen about where she was made to follow, she found the whole process tedious. At times she wished she had her sister's piety, or at the very least her tolerance for charity.

She pulled back the curtain of the small window and took a deep breath. While the little wheelhouse was not as nearly as cramped as it could have been, it was still far from the cool and airy space of the Queen's wheelhouse ahead of them. Still, Laenys preferred it to riding with Alicent or worse, having to walk behind like the maids and footmen. It was one of the few times she did not have to hold her tongue, and it did not hurt that she appreciated Cassana's company.