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he stands with his hands clasped behind his back, the scent of roses in the air and the low murmur of revelry fading behind him. the soft rustle of silk announced @apottelesma's approach before he even turned. there was no need to see her to know it was her— he could feel her, like sunlight behind closed eyes.
❝ i was wondering if you might come to find me. ❞ words are said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he turned to face her, ❝ think i've told enough charming lies to keep the old lords happy and the young ladies guessing that i may have earned a reprieve from the crowd. ❞
he took a slow step forward, then another, until he stood before her, close enough to feel the warmth that lingered on her skin. a hand rose and he cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just beneath her eye, a soft, thoughtless motion. ❝ but your company is always welcome, my starlight. ❞
the gardens of maegor’s holdfast were a riot of color and music, while he waited beneath a carved stone archway draped in dornish silk, eyes scanning the crowd. he looked every inch the martell son— dark eyes and the confident ease of someone raised between sand and spear. but there was a softness to his smile when he finally spotted @insufficiient.
❝ trystane. ❞ voice carrying warmth as he approached. he steps forward, arms open just wide enough for a brief, brotherly embrace should it be accepted. ❝ i feared you'd be caught in another council session or cloistered away with your queen. it seems the gods have been kind this evening. ❞
a smile curves on his face, amused and only a touch protective. he clapped a hand to trystane’s shoulder, gentle but firm, ❝ come. walk with me. you can tell me all the things you aren’t allowed to say within the ears of the court. ❞
His sword sliced across the air with an unusual lack of ring. Edmyn had not trained with a sword so blunt since he was ten-and-five, but the rules of the tourney were strict, and he wanted to familiarise himself with his new sword, heavier than his usual hand-and-a-half. It was weary work, such training, and the cloyingly damp air of King’s Landing left him with rapidly cooling sweat in more places than he liked to count.
The worst was his hands. Edmyn came to a sharp stop as the blow meant for the straw dummy went awry, rubbing at the back of his neck wryly. Better it happen here than in the melee, at least—he could think of little more embarrassing than entering a melee only to lose at once because his sword slipped. Edmyn stepped away from the grounds, itching with the urge to simply pull his shirt away and let the good knights of King’s Landing have a day of it. Now, there was an interesting strategy…
Edmyn shook himself, grinning as he reached his waterskin and found a knight there he had had some old acquaintance of. “Ser Vorian! What a delight to see you here. Are you preparing for the lists?”
he stood not far from the edge of the training yard, leaning a shoulder against a sun - warmed pillar, arms folded across his chest. he had not drawn a blade, nor donned armor— and had no intention to. little love was held for taking part in a tourney; they were more enjoyable in the company of his family in the stands. his dark eyes followed the clumsy arc of edmyn's strike with a flicker of amusement. as the riverlander approaches, vorian's mouth tugs into a smirk as he pushes off the pillar to greet him properly.
❝ always good to see you as well, my friend. ❞ he comes to stand beside him, arms still crossed over the martell orange tunic he wore. shaking his head as he answered the other man's question, ❝ i have little taste for these games. no joy in unseating good men in the name of courtly favor. if i must bruise and bleed, let it be for something finer than applause. ❞
a beat, then added with a teasing tone, ❝ and since when do you go swinging like a fishmonger hacking at his wares? they give you a shit sword? ❞
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A short, irate huff of air puffed from Daena's lips as a Bracken knight fell painfully from his horse to the mixed cheers and groans of the raucous crowd. A small purse of coins was taken up from her lap and sacrificed into the waiting hands of a cousin, and she dismissed their teasing laugh with a well-placed elbow to their side.
"I would like a better view," she said primly, before rising up from her seat and shifting to find a space amongst where the Martells had gathered.
The royal box had been expanded and outfitted for the purposes of the Targaryen Queen's festivities, and the present Martells — as the goodbrothers and goodsisters of Valaena — had been invited to join the royal family in the seats of honor. Daena was pleased to find a space beside the infamous serpent knight, and offered him a smile and nod in greeting.
"The Blackwoods say such lewd things about the Brackens and their horses, I had hoped their knight would hold his seat," she commented pleasantly, "have you any favorites for victory, Prince Vorian?"
dark eyes followed the fallen knight with mild interest, a faint smile curving his lips as the crowd erupted in noise. the blackwoods would be overly pleased with this. he thinks to make a remark, something to get his his eldest sibling's children snickering, when he feels the attention of another set upon him. a glance over the shoulder and he sees the targaryen approaching, his own attention now shifted as he stands briefly. a courtesy, with his head bowed in greeting— not so low as to be subservient, but with the graceful deference one noble afforded another. ❝ princess daena, ❞ words are said smoothly, voice warm with dornish cadence, ❝ you honor me with your company. ❞
there is a gesture toward the vacant seat beside him, and only once she was settled did he sit and speak again. ❝ i’ve heard the same tales, ❞ he said, turning his head to regard her with a spark of amusement in his eye. ❝ though i suspect the blackwoods only speak such scandal to distract from their own shortcomings. still— ❞ he glanced toward the lists, where another knight was preparing to ride, ❝ i’d wager the bracken knew the wager against him. he fell as if he meant to. ❞
a beat passes and his gaze drifts back to daena, sharp but not unkind. ❝ as for favorites, i do not place my coin so easily, ❞ he said with a wry smile, ❝ but there is a knight from the reach— house oldflowers. young, eager, reckless. i admire his ambition, if not his odds. ❞
the princess is daydreaming once again, caught up in a world inside her head. it something she does often, despite the fact that she's been scolded by many a septa for doing so when she should be paying attention to something... which is exactly what she should be doing now. the person next to her has been talking for gods now how long and she hasn't caught a single word of it. how rude of her.
"i'm sorry, what was that?" she asks them, effectively cutting into the middle of their sentence. "i just.. there's so many people here. it's.. it's overwhelming." a nervous laugh falls from her lips. "but i'm listening now. so, what is it you were saying?"
he shifts his weight slightly, gaze glancing down at the young princess beside him. there’s no frustration in his eyes— only a hint of mischief, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth like he’s known all along she wasn’t listening. ❝ ah, ❞ he says smoothly, folding his arms across his chest, ❝ so i wasn't just talking to the wind. good to know, princess. ❞
he leans in slightly, his voice lowering just a touch— not for secrecy, but as though sharing a confidence. ❝ i was telling you about the knight who tried to best me in the lists at sunspear by shouting the name of his love every time he struck. made it rather easy to know when he was about to swing. but i think my tale pales next to whatever world you were lost in just now. ❞ his tone is teasing, but not unkind. there’s warmth behind it and curiosity.
❝ overwhelming as they may be, ❞ he adds, glancing at the crowded hall, ❝ these people are little more than dust on the wind, princess. they’ll scatter in time. but your thoughts— those you keep. so tell me— what were you thinking of? ❞
the court of queen valaena is proud to announce the arrival of VORIAN , PRINCE & SER of HOUSE MARTELL to king’s landing . the FORTY-SIX year-old CIS MAN is known to be PRINCIPLED & COURAGEOUS but will this winter reveal that they are also SELF-RIGHTEOUS & OVERPROTECTIVE? they look like SANTIAGO CABRERA, and they HAVE NO THOUGHTS ON the tales of the other returning. here is hoping they can band together with everyone else, and repel the coming darkness!
STATISTICS.
full name : vorian nymeros martell.
moniker / nickname : the serpent knight; vor, v.
title : prince , ser.
gender / pronouns : cis male / he+him.
age : forty six.
sexual orientation : bisexual.
romantic orientation : biromantic.
religion : faith of the seven.
language : common tongue, summer tongue, some high valyrian & rhoynish.
affiliation : loyal to house martell.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
face claim : santiago cabrera.
height : 6′2″ / 187.96 cm.
physical build : mesomorph, tall, fit.
eye color : brown.
hair color : dark brown.
accent & speech style : average accent of the dornish of sunspear ; typically speaks calmly & easily paced.
distinguishing marks / characteristics : nose is slightly crooked due to being broken previously ; a few scattered scars from fighting & general roughhousing while growing up.
clothing style : dresses for both comfort & style ; light fabrics & silks ; tunics / vests / jackets that frequently feature the house martell sigil & colors, various shades of orange & gold.
FAMILY.
parents : former ruling prince ( father † ) ; former ruling princess ( mother † ).
as a second son, vorian martell was never burdened with the weight of rule, nor granted the freedom of irrelevance. he walked a narrow line— important, but not central; privileged, but not coddled. this gave him a unique perspective. where his elder sibling was groomed to rule, vorian was allowed to grow wild— untamed, curious, and ever eager to prove himself.
he trained with the best tutors sunspear could offer, both native and foreign. his mother insisted on a well-rounded education: swordplay and spears by day, philosophy and poetry by candlelight. he learned some valyrian tongue, how to read ancient maps, and how to think several moves ahead in both combat and diplomacy.
when he turned fifteen, vorian set off across westeros to earn his name as a knight— not through birthright, but through deeds. he traveled first to storm’s end, then to highgarden, and even spent time at dragonstone.
his knighthood was not won at a tourney, but in blood. at the age of seventeen, while aboard a ship from oldtown bound for sunspear, the vessel was attacked by pirates from the stepstones. vorian led a small defense, holding the deck with a broken spear until reinforcements from the reach arrived. the son of a noble house— who had nearly been dragged overboard— knighted him on that ship, and the tale spread quickly.
despite his travels and glory, vorian never forgot his roots. he returns often to dorne, maintaining his ties with his siblings, nieces and nephws, and the sunspear court.
though he holds no formal title, he is often called upon as an envoy, warrior, or protector when house martell’s honor is at stake. he is well-known at the queen’s court not just as the queen’s brother-in-law, but as a seasoned knight who speaks truth without fear, and holds to his own code.
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