casterlygldcs

[casterlygldcs]

♔

tyland’s brow lifted, his back still turned as he listened, the flames throwing his shadow high against the stone wall like a spectre of old lannister kings. “ah,” he murmured inwardly, “so this is it, then.” he inhaled once through his nose, long and composed, though a muscle twitched faintly in his jaw. of course it had been arron. it was always arron—his younger brother, ever convinced that the world had wronged him, ever meddling where his opinion had not been asked. the fool fancied himself a soldier of truth, never realising that truth, when wielded without restraint, was little more than a sword turned inwards..

tyland turned at last, slow and deliberate, and allowed his eyes to settle upon his queen. the flicker of her composure had been slight, almost imperceptible, but he had seen it. “you are sensitive today,” he thought, though the amusement he felt was not cruel—merely masculine, rooted in the understanding that women, particularly mothers, were so often moved by things that ought not move them at all. “katherine,” he said, voice low and even, his tone the sort one might use to soothe a prized hound who had whined at thunder.

"he is my brother." there was no further explanation, no further clarification needed: there was a hierarchy to the world of the men of the westerlands, and whilst unnesecary disrespect and disdain would be considered, arron was not particularly wrong. tyland would take his advice on matters of state more seriously than that of his queen.

“you are queen of the westerlands. you have borne me a son, a true lannister, and ensured our line stretches proudly into the next generation. whatever was said by my brother—whatever tone he used—it ought not to wound you so easily.” he stepped forward, gaze fixed upon her now, weighing every small expression that played across her face. “the way of men is harsh, i grant you that. we speak in bluntly. yet, you know this.”

he studied her another moment, then turned again and crossed to the table where his untouched supper sat. his appetite still had not returned, but he needed the rhythm of movement, the shape of a room he could pace through. “what precisely did he say?” he asked after a pause, keeping his back to her again, though his voice now bore the firmness of a command. “i would hear his words in full." he plucked a fig from a silver bowl, but did not eat it. he merely turned it in his fingers. “jasper is not your concern, nor mine,” he said, tone cooling slightly now, a flare of distaste colouring his otherwise composed manner.

“arron concerns himself with the bastard out of loyalty. if the boy survives to adulthood, it will be by arron’s mercy and upbringing, not mine. arthur is my heir, and he will want for nothing. this will not touch him."

he paused again, considering her final words. they had been chosen well—soothing, demure, even self-effacing—but he had not missed the subtlety beneath them. she had spoken like a queen, yes, but also like a woman bruised. “the trials of motherhood,” he echoed, almost sarcastically before he then turned once more, walking back to her with slow, measured steps. “i do not wish to see you troubled, katherine,” he said, his voice softer now, with something like warmth glinting faintly beneath the armour.

“you are too fine to carry such petty wounds. you must learn to let them pass over you. you have already given me all i ever asked for—a son, a future, and the grace to rule by my side.” he leaned slightly forward, not quite touching her, but close enough for her to feel the heat of his presence. “do not let arron, of all people, shake the crown from your brow. i will speak with him. if his tongue wandered too far, i’ll see it better bridled.”

the weight of his words pressed upon her, measured and deliberate, each one settling into the silence like stones in water. katherine did not flinch, nor did she let her composure slip, but within her, something tensed, a quiet, careful thing, like the flutter of a bird’s wings just before it takes flight.

she understood what he was telling her. what he had always told her, in one way or another. she knew her place. she had always known it.

and yet, for all her understanding, for all the grace with which she bore her station, there was something within her that would not still. not fear, not defiance, something softer, something she did not yet have the words to name.

her gaze remained steady upon him, even as he turned away, even as he did not look at her. she let the silence settle between them for a moment longer before she finally spoke, her voice quiet, unhurried.

"of course, your grace," she said, the words carrying the easy acceptance he expected of her. and yet, beneath them, something lingered, a note too subtle to be named outright. "i have never doubted your hand upon the kingdom, nor the strength that holds it steady. i admit, the trials of motherhood weigh heavily on me today," she said softly, her voice laced with quiet exhaustion. "i have thought only of arthur, his future, his safety." her hands remained folded, her posture unyielding in its poise, but she allowed a breath to slip through her lips, measured, careful.

"but…" she hesitated, her voice trailing for a fraction of a second before she lifted her chin, just slightly. "it is not matters of state that trouble me. i spoke with prince arron," she said, her voice careful, composed. "earlier."

katherine inhaled slowly, smoothing the fabric of her gown between her fingers, willing away the quiet anger that still simmered beneath the surface. she had known her duty from the moment she had taken her vows. her purpose, her greatest purpose, had always been clear, to bear a son, to secure the line, to ensure that the golden lion remained unchallenged upon its throne. she did not resent it. she did not question it. it was the weight she had accepted the moment she had become queen.

“the prince,” she said at last, her voice smooth, careful, betraying none of the offense that still simmered beneath the surface, “spoke to me in a manner i did not expect.”

her gaze drifted to the fire, its flickering light catching the gold in her hair, before she looked back to her husband. “i approached him for the sake of this family, for jasper’s sake, for our son's sake, to ensure there was nothing that could be turned against us, no whisper that might fester into something greater. but his response…” she let out a soft breath, measured, as if weighing the words before she spoke them. “his anger was not unexpected. but the disrespect,” she hesitated, just for a moment, before continuing, “i will admit, it did wound me.”

slender fingers brushed absently against the fabric of her gown, though her composure did not break. “he called himself your brother first, above all else, including me, and made it clear that my concerns were unwelcome.” a pause, measured. “he spoke to me as though my words held no weight, as though my place meant nothing in matters of our family.”

she let the silence stretch for a moment before exhaling softly. “it was not his anger that stayed with me,” she admitted, “but how easily he sought to diminish me.”

[casterlygldcs]

♔

tyland watched her carefully, his gaze unreadable, the firelight carving sharp angles into his features. her words were measured, perfectly chosen to soothe the tension that sat thick in the air between them. she was always so careful, so considerate in how she spoke to him, and yet, tonight, it did not please him. instead, he saw it for what it was—an attempt to mend what had already been severed. an effort to assure him that she understood her mistake, even as the very fact that she had made it lingered, a stain upon the perfection he had once admired. he had not sat back down since rising from his chair, nor did he now.

his appetite had fled, chased away by the weight of his displeasure, and so he stood, a lion surveying a subject who had dared to tread too close to matters beyond her station.

“foolish,” he echoed, though not cruelly. the word was an acknowledgement, not an accusation, but it carried the weight of something final. it was the only concession he would allow her—that she had realised, at last, what he had known from the moment she first spoke. she was out of her depth. his gaze drifted over her, his queen, his katherine, the woman he had chosen above all others. she had always understood her place so well, had always played her part with grace. and yet, here she stood, seeking to speak on matters that did not concern her, to assert a voice where there should only be his. the disappointment settled deep within him, a quiet thing, but no less firm.

he had loved her for her obedience, for the ease with which she complemented him. but this? this was not what he had wanted. “you speak of ensuring we are prepared, of securing our house’s strength,” he said, his tone smooth, unwavering. “but have you forgotten, my queen, that we already are? that we do not scramble in the dark, grasping for control like lesser houses might? this is the rock upon which the realm breaks. we do not yield. we do not bow. we do not entertain the fears of women when there is a kingdom to be ruled.” he turned then, as if the conversation was already closing, his hands clasped behind his back.

the fire crackled softly, filling the silence between them, but it did nothing to warm the cold that had settled in his chest.

“you know your place, katherine.” his voice was softer now, almost contemplative. “you always have. it is why you were chosen, why you are my queen. there is no shame in it—no dishonour in remaining where you are most suited, where you serve our house best.” and yet, despite the gentleness in his tone, there was no mistaking the meaning beneath it. he was reminding her, carefully, deliberately, that the crown she wore was not one of governance, but of duty. of grace. of bearing heirs and maintaining the illusion of perfection that he demanded. he did not look at her as he reached for the goblet that sat untouched upon the table, running a finger idly along its rim.

“if you wish to ensure we are prepared, then trust in me to do so. trust in the men who have built this kingdom to hold it steady.” he exhaled slowly, finally setting the goblet aside. “and do not trouble yourself with such matters again.” he let the words settle, let them stretch into the silence between them. he knew she would not argue—she was not foolish enough for that. but still, he did not turn back to face her. there was no need. she had already understood. "has something been on your mind?" he asked, his voice pointed and forward; it appeared as though there was concern in it, and perhaps there was, yet still his voice was forward enough to make it clear he wanted to know if there was an issue. what was eating away at her gentle mind to make her behave in such a way?

katherine stood before tyland, her hands folded neatly before her, as the weight of his words hung heavily in the room. his authority was as unwavering as ever, and yet, beneath the carefully controlled exterior, she sensed something deeper—a frustration that ran far beyond the immediate matter at hand. her gaze followed his every movement, the flickering firelight casting shifting shadows across his face as he spoke, each word pressing down upon her with a weight she couldn’t ignore.

she had always known the importance of pride in their house, the lannisters’ unyielding position in westeros. she was, after all, the queen—the perfect queen, as he so often reminded her. but the thought of yielding to ravella, even indirectly, unsettled her in ways she hadn’t expected. it wasn’t just politics, not in this case. she could feel it in the pit of her stomach, an instinctual unease.

when he released her hand, stepping back with an air of finality, she stood firm, her expression calm, though the turmoil roiled beneath the surface. she had never shied away from difficult decisions, but this one felt different.

“at first," she began, her voice quieter, almost hesitant, "i thought it wise to consider what retaliation from her might mean for us, for arthur. her reach, her...cunning. i feared that defying her would open us to an attack we could not anticipate. and so i suggested we consider it." she hesitated, her gaze flickering down to the floor, before meeting tyland's eyes again. "but i feel foolish now."

her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her form unwinding just a touch, but it didn’t entirely leave her. "i should not have doubted that, nor allowed my concerns to cloud my judgment. i know you will not let us be led astray by the whims of the vale, and that our house’s strength will guide us through this."

yet, despite her words, a small knot remained in her stomach, a lingering unease. she had feared what ravella could do, but in her heart, she knew that it was the unknown—the things that could not be seen, the strings pulled in the shadows—that truly unsettled her.

her gaze softened, and she stepped a fraction closer to tyland, her voice firm once more as she added, “i trust you completely, your grace. i only wish to ensure we are prepared for whatever may come, no matter how unexpected it might be.”

[casterlygldcs]

♔

tyland lannister remained silent for a moment, the sea’s vast expanse a mirror to the churning thoughts within him. arron’s desperation was palpable, his plea hanging in the salt-laden air like a spectre of their shared past. tyland had anticipated resistance—arron’s protective nature over guinevere was no secret—but the raw vulnerability in his brother’s voice struck a chord he had not prepared for. he looked at him as though he were looking for something, something else: the desperation that seemed to come from his mouth felt unnatural, foreign.

his gaze remained fixed on the horizon, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the deck. the sea seemed endless, an apt reflection of the weight of their conversation. finally, he turned to face arron, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though the flicker of something softer lingered beneath the surface. “arron,” tyland began, his voice measured and calm, like the steady rhythm of the waves, “you offer me everything, and yet you know there is no price i would ask that could sway my course. not because i do not value what you offer, but because this decision is not born of personal ambition. it is necessity.”

he stepped closer, his eyes locking with arron’s, the pale green depths unwavering. “she has stood as queen before, faced a world that sought to diminish her and came through unscathed. this is not a punishment, arron, nor a sacrifice. it is her role, her duty, and she knows it.” truthfully, it was the least she could do to atone for her foolish nature - she had returned to their family with the same aloof, distant and detached nature that was needed to master ruling a kingdom. or at least providing support in doing it; all she needed to do was provide jaehaerys with half lannister heirs.

tyland’s tone softened, though the steel within it remained. “you believe jaehaerys a man blinded by ambition, and perhaps he is. but it is precisely that ambition that can be tempered, guided. with guinevere by his side, with her wisdom and grace, she will safeguard our interests, our future.” he sighed, a rare gesture of weariness. “sisters are to be lost. they do not remain with us." he wondered why he was explaining the obvious; sisters were forever a temporary guest within their home, awaiting the day they wedded. the west cannot afford to sit idle while new valyria rises. we need eyes, ears, and influence within their halls. guinevere is our best hope.”

tyland placed a firm hand on arron’s shoulder, a gesture of both comfort and finality that none other would see from the lion king. he knew he would find this hard, but it was the only thing to do. “i do not doubt your love for her, nor your willingness to sacrifice. but this is the path laid before us, one we must tread for the good of our family, our legacy. she is a lannister, and she will serve as one.” he released his grip, turning back to the sea, his voice carrying over the waves. “do not fight this, brother. instead, trust in her strength, as i do. she will not falter.”

there was some amusement in tyland's voice next; uncharacteristic and fleeting, as the corner of his lips turned upwards. "besides, he has always had some fascination with her since he was a boy."

Arron’s chest tightened, the weight of Tyland’s words pressing down on him like an iron gauntlet. He felt the salt wind whip against his face, but it did little to cool the panic rising within him. His brother’s calm, calculating demeanor, so infuriatingly assured, only added to the storm brewing in Arron’s mind. Guinevere. His Guinevere. To be wed to Jaehaerys Targaryen. The thought alone sent a jolt of fear through him—a rare and unwelcome sensation for a man who thrived in the chaos of battle.

His eyes searched his brother’s face, hoping—praying—for a sign of doubt, a crack in the unyielding mask. But Tyland stood firm, and the panic in Arron’s chest deepened. “Guinevere is no mere piece on your board. She is not some bargaining chip to be offered to a man like Jaehaerys, a man whose ambition blinds him to reason and whose name is steeped in fire and blood. You’ve seen what the Targaryens leave behind, brother. You know what they are.”

Arron’s hands gripped the railing, the rough wood grounding him as his thoughts spiraled. “You say this is strategy, that it’s for the good of the West. But what good is it if it costs us her?" Cost him her. "Do you not see? She is…” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. She is everything to me. The words burned in his throat, but he could not let them escape. Words that he could never say for the unspoken meaning would burn so clearly it would destroy all held dear.

He turned back to Tyland, a choice being made as he found the words. “I will give you anything. Name it, and it’s yours. You have my ships, my swords, my loyalty—all of it. But I know there is something else and I will give it to you. I will do whatever it takes to stop this.” It was not a threat and he would not beg, or so he told himself. The King's Rage knew he was not about begging when it came to Guinevere.

His voice dropped, soft but unsteady, as though the very act of speaking these words laid him bare.

[casterlygldcs]

♔

the flickering firelight cast long shadows across the room as tyland listened, his eyes narrowing with each word katherine spoke. her reasoning was sound, her calm demeanour a perfect complement to his own simmering fury. yet, beneath the surface of her measured counsel, he detected something that stirred his irritation—an implication that the lions of casterly rock might yield, even slightly, to the will of the arryns. she was perfect...until she was not. he rose from his chair, his imposing frame silhouetted against the firelight, and stepped towards her. the softness of her gaze, the delicate grace with which she spoke, only fuelled his resolve.

reaching out, he took her hand firmly, not unkindly, but with a grip that conveyed both his authority and his need to halt her words.

“katherine,” he began, his voice low but resonant, “you are the perfect queen—wise, poised, and ever mindful of our house’s dignity. it is fitting that you have involved yourself in this matter. yet, there is a line that must not be crossed, even by you.” he paused, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, a fleeting moment of tenderness before the weight of his words returned. “the arryns are our enemies, and ravella’s demands are nothing short of a provocation. to even entertain the notion of bending to her will—of allowing her to dictate terms, however subtly—is an affront to the pride of the west. we do not yield to demands born of spite and ambition.”

his gaze sharpened, the flicker of the fire mirrored in his eyes. “ravella seeks to undermine us, to sow discord and doubt. she demands jasper not out of concern for the boy, but as a ploy to gain leverage. we will not give her the satisfaction of believing she has any power over us. her audacity alone is enough to deny her.” tyland lannister cared not for the boy; he cared not for his sister, but rather the other in the equation he had made promises to. it was in this moment he begun to understand the knots and strings that had wrapped around arron lannister when it came to his sister.

tyland released her hand, stepping back slightly, his expression hardening. “what we must do is not yield, but strike. find something on the vale of arryn—some secret, some weakness that ravella would not dare expose. if she wishes to play this game, then we shall play it better. we will uncover what she fears most and use it to our advantage.” he turned back to the fire, his voice softening but losing none of its resolve. “you have always understood the weight of our crown, katherine. trust in me to bear it now, as we face this challenge. the lions of casterly rock bow to no one, least of all a falcon.”

katherine lingered by the hearth, her hands loosely clasped, her eyes reflecting the golden flames as she carefully considered her words. the warmth of tyland’s pride at her actions mingled uneasily with the chill of his disdain for ravella. she had earned her husband’s trust, but it came with a burden—a choice she could not take lightly.

"my king," she began, her voice quiet but firm, "I share your resolve to protect Jasper and our house from insult. Yet Ravella's intentions, however audacious, are not without teeth." She stepped closer, the soft rustle of her gown breaking the silence. "your assessment of teh falcon queen is sound. she twists truths to suit her purposes and wields them as weapons. but it is precisely because of her cunning that i hesitate to leave this matter entirely untouched. her intentions are layered, as always, and I fear there is more to this than we see."

she stepped forward, her movements graceful and deliberate, the hem of her gown whispering across the stone floor. "she demands to see jasper not for clarity or peace, but for leverage. i do not trust that she seeks only the truth, and i cannot help but question what whispers she may carry back to the vale should we refuse her outright. if her goal is to provoke or humiliate us, we must ensure she does not succeed."

katherine paused, her fingers brushing the back of a nearby chair, a grounding gesture. "if she insists on meeting the boy, let it be under our terms, in a setting we control. not paraded before the court, as she might hope, but in private—surrounded by only those we trust implicitly." she looked up, her expression calm yet resolute. "you have always been a master of strength tempered with strategy. this approach would deny her the stage she craves while showing the realm we are neither afraid of her accusations nor careless in defending our own."

her voice softened, though her gaze did not waver. "i leave the decision to you, my king, as is right. i only wish for our course to be one that leaves no room for her to exploit."

[casterlygldcs]

♔

the firelight danced in tyland lannister’s eyes, but the warmth from the hearth did little to temper the icy disdain that swept across his face as katherine finished speaking. his fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his chair, the golden lion embossed beneath them catching the flickering light. his queen's words hung in the air, their weight pressing down upon the room, yet his expression betrayed only cold calculation. “so, ravella arryn has taken to rewriting history,” tyland said at last, his voice low but laced with venom.

“how very convenient for her. rowan—a bastard. and not just any bastard, but one so false that she demands jasper be dragged into this farce. as though she holds the authority to question the blood of lions and falcons alike.” his lips curved into a faint sneer, the mockery sharp as a dagger. “it’s a bold move, i’ll grant her that. too bold. ravella means to consolidate her hold, to weaken any claim that might rival her own. and who better to target than a dead man, which would go on to indicate jasper, a boy with neither voice nor strength to defend himself?”

he rose from his chair, the motion slow, deliberate, as though the weight of his anger made him heavier. tyland’s gaze fell upon katherine, his queen, steady but unyielding. “you were right to bring this to me, katherine, but you must understand—ravella arryn’s machinations are no mere folly of the vale court. this is a declaration. she seeks to insult us, to provoke us, and to remind me, personally, of the disgrace my own sister brought upon this house.” his tone grew colder, his words cutting through the warmth of the room like a chill wind. “let her claw at her throne, let her scramble to keep her mountain birds in line. the lions do not answer to the falcons."

tyland’s gaze shifted briefly to the fire, the flames reflecting his simmering fury. “as for jasper, he will not be paraded before the vale court like some mongrel pup for their amusement with no evidence. his blood is his own, and it will remain so—undisputed, unquestioned, and unbowed for the sake of our own standing rather than any mercy to him.” he turned back to katherine, his expression softening, though only slightly. “you’ve done your duty, my queen. now allow me to do mine.”

setting: the westerlands, shortly before the remaining kingdom's depart, after katherine meets with arron to understand the circumstances better, she decides speaking with her husband, the king, cannot wait ; @casterlygldcs

as the sun began its slow descent beyond the horizon, the room grew darker, shadows creeping in from the corners. the fire in the hearth cast a warm, flickering light that seemed to hesitate in the growing dimness, throwing long, soft shadows across the stone walls. katherine's gown, gold threads gleaming faintly in the firelight, seemed to shimmer as she moved. despite the peaceful surroundings, there was an undeniable tension in the air.

"your grace," she said, her voice polite but laced with the urgency she carried. she dipped into a graceful curtsy before moving closer to her husband, pale hues betraying the elegance and sense of calm she managed to maintain up to this point.

she straightened her back as she took a seat across from him. letting out a small, controlled sigh, her fingers absently smoothing her gown as she spoke. "i’ve just returned from a meeting with queen ravella, and i fear the matter she brought before me is one that requires your immediate attention." she paused for a moment, the words lingering in the air.

"she claims that her late brother, king rowan, was not of true arryn blood, she insists he was a bastard," the queen of the west continued, her tone steady but tinged with a quiet disbelief. "and as if that revelation were not enough, she has demanded to see young jasper to confirm whether he is truly rowan's son or not."

katherine studied her husband's face, trying to gauge his reaction, her own expression calm but faltering as a hint of the nerves she worked hard to keep under control began to creep up. "i assured the queen that i would consult you before any decisions were made." she clasped her hands before her, leaning forward slightly. "i do not know what her next steps will be, but it is clear that this is a matter of great importance to her, and potentially to the stability of the vale."

she let the words settle in the space between the two of them, taking a deep inhale. "i am not even sure if the princess is aware of such matters."

[casterlygldcs]

who: @arronlannister when and where: flashback prior to jaehaerys targaryen taking the throne from queen daenaerys targaryen, tyland has met with jaehaerys upon hearing the plans of him wanting to take the throne of the crownlands and the stormlands alike. context: jaehaerys targaryen claims he wants to marry guinevere to secure westerlander support for his takeover, and tyland is willing to see it done. he speaks to arron about it, during one of his trips to casterly rock from fair isle.

the sea air was crisp, carrying with it the salt tang that always clung to fair isle’s ships. the isolde’s deck was a place of sturdy wood and steady purpose, her sails taut against the western winds. tyland lannister stood near the prow, his golden cloak swept back by the breeze, the lion of casterly rock in all his sharp-edged regality. his brother, arron, stood nearby, his presence quieter but no less commanding, the faint creak of his leather boots the only sound besides the waves.

"welcome home." tyland's voice carried over the deck with a casual majesty; ringing out across the sounds of the sailors and the current beneath their feet.

tyland turned his gaze to the horizon, a thoughtful glint in his pale green eyes; he watched the way the sun danced upon the horizon of the sunset sea as he mind trailed back to his conversation with a certain green prince. and when he began, his voice was low but unyielding, like the stone of their ancestral seat. “you’ve always had a mind for strategy, so i’ll not insult your intelligence by wrapping this in riddles. i’ve spoken with jaehaerys targaryen. his intentions are clear, his ambition sharper than most would credit.” he let the words settle, watching the subtle tension in his brother’s posture. arron was a man of action, a captain whose domain was the open sea, not the stifling halls of court.

yet tyland knew his brother’s mind was as sharp as any blade, and this conversation would require that intellect - regardless of how much he attempted to make himself appear as though he were simply the social lion, the golden child - the golden son. “he means to take the crownlands,” tyland continued, his tone measured. “and keep the stormlands with it. a bold move, but one i believe he can see through." that were not to say he did not believe the man was childish, or a brat still; no, there would always be that element of jaehaerys targaryen; something that could be reigned in further. tyland shifted his gaze to arron, his expression unreadable.

“he’s asked for guinevere.” the name hung in the air like a dagger, glinting in the sunlight - he knew not why it felt like such a betrayal to utter the words to the prince of fair isle. “to wed her. to seal the west’s support for his claim. and i intend to see it done.” he held up a hand before his brother could respond, the motion commanding silence. “spare me your indignation, arron. you care for her, i know. but the world does not turn on the whims of our affections. guinevere has always known her duty, as have you, as have i. it is not as though she has not played the role of a queen before - we are lucky he would even consider looking in her direction after what she done.”

tyland’s gaze returned to the sea, his voice softening but losing none of its edge. “jaehaerys is no fool. he understands the strength of an alliance with casterly rock, just as i understand the value of his ambition. we fought for aegon in the dance; our fates are intertwined, whether we will it or not. better to have a targaryen king who remembers that.” with that, tyland clasped his hands behind his back, the faint creak of the isolde’s timbers beneath him a steady reminder of their place in a world forever in motion.

[casterlygldcs]

who: @princeaidantully when and where: the celebration festivities celebrating the birth of prince arthur lannister, the lion king purposefully takes his time in order to welcome the prince of the riverlands back into the fold - no doubt trying to work out if there was something more to the prince's return. context: tyland believes aidan should be king of the riverlands, rather than iona as queen because...he's tyland?

the great hall of casterly rock glimmered with the wealth and grandeur that only the lannisters could command. gold banners draped from the high ceilings, shimmering in the glow of countless candles. the air was thick with the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the faint tang of sea salt carried in from the nearby coast. tyland lannister sat at the high table, his crown gleaming under the flickering light, his gaze sharp and watchful.

though the festivities were meant to celebrate the birth of his son, prince arthur, the lion king's attention drifted elsewhere—to the young man seated further down the hall.

prince aidan tully, the long-lost son of house tully, now returned to the riverlands. a curious piece on the board, tyland thought, and one worth examining. he had never thought much of the tully prince; brutish, lacking of intelligence and the practicality needed to truly be a determining force. and yet, he was the son. he had not seen the boy in years—or rather, the boy who was now a man. aidan had grown into his frame, broad-shouldered and steady, with a presence that could rival any knight of renown. his hair, a fiery auburn, caught the light like the embers of a hearth.

the freckles tyland remembered had faded, leaving behind a chiselled jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in everything - and yet, boyish mannerisms continued to present themselves. it were a good thing, considering that meant boyish naivety and foolishness would also remain in the man's bloodstream. a side effect of the war on many of the men in the current generation; all forced to grow up in the danger of the dance of dragons.

"prince aidan," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of their shared history as his voice called from the room; it were an obvious painstaking acknowledgement, done in public, only some days following tyland telling iona tully that her womb had already failed her. this action was intentional, and entirely political; a public show of where he stood, if any still had anything to question and wonder about. "the years have changed you." tyland pressed on, his tone measured but insistent. "as the years have changed what is considered traditional by the riverlords."

he straightened, his golden cloak catching the light as he stepped from the dias, closing the distance between them as he studied aidan’s face; was he truly so unbothered? to focus on the flowing drinks and the women, when a birthright had been robbed from his hands entirely? "and the riverlands deserve a leader who embodies the strength of their history—not one thrust into it by convenience." his voice was plain, little done to try and flower up the words or make them kinder.

[casterlygldcs]

♔

tyland lannister stood before queen iona tully, his presence suffocating the space between them, his cloak sweeping behind him like a river of gold, heavy with the weight of his crown and the years of power he carried. his eyes of striking emerald, cold and unblinking, lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, noting the composed appearance she wore. she barely appeared a queen: most women in the west seemed to dress better than her, there was nothing about her presence which commanded respect or authority.

"the riverlands are rich in resources, and they rest upon a border that holds great strategic value. it would be a mistake to let these talks fade away into nothingness. i would see this matter resolved, one way or another."

the silence in the room stretched taut, but it was tyland who broke it, his voice low, formal, a rumble of authority. "your words are bold, queen iona," he began, the low rasp of his voice filling the room like a distant thunder. his eyes narrowed, fixing her with an unyielding gaze. "still, they betray your lack of understanding of the nature of things. the matter of succession is my concern - the riverlands sit upon my borders, and all too often does the riverlands turn to festering mud for the sake of war. if it is not you and your brother now, it will be your offspring when you are both dead. you are not blind to the implications and my patience is not unlimited."

his expression did not change, but his tone quietened slightly, as if he were explaining a matter of state to a child who had missed his lessons. the same way he spoke to everyone in his life; regardless of who they were. "speak with your brother if you wish, but know this: i am not going anywhere. and the longer we delay, the more difficult it will become to find common ground. so let us speak, and find another way to move forward." he did not speak of them being equals still; yet knew he would try to push this conversation through - it was not meeting in the middle, but rather drawing another line entirely.

he stood there, watching her, silent but observant, as if weighing his words and her response on the scales of his considerations. it was clear that tyland did not think much of her, not really, but knew he had to respect the power she currently held, that power could be shifted and swayed, there was nothing money and time could not do. "you need to wed. the prince of fair isle is recently widowed. it is a fitting union to cement our realms."

Iona’s fingers were laced together as she waited for the Lion King in the audience chamber. It felt like a calculated offense in some way, to have her wait. It was something she'd expected, of course, to be reminded in every possible way, subtle or not, that Tyland Lannister did not consider her a rightful queen. And then the Lannister monarch entered at last, adorned with a cloak, golden thread in his clothes, the large crown on his head. He was as opposite a monarch as Iona was, whose garb was never ostentatious. Her status was indicated by her torc necklace, the ancient brooch that adorned her dress, and the pearls and beading that adorned the traditional carved circlet she wore as crown.

Her face remained composed, her chin held high, as the man spoke. She let the silence stretch between them for a moment, gathering her thoughts to avoid responding only viscerally. It wasn't her way, even when offended. Iona had prepared herself for the route she was sure this conversation would take. After all, Tyland Lannister was a vestige of the old world, of those who valued only gold, a strict religion, and a man's cock. “My womb is not your concern,” she said plainly. “Only the man I call husband is entitled to speak of it in any capacity. Now, Lord Westerling is no longer with us so I will do him the courtesy of not speaking about his inability to plant his seed”. And that was all Iona had to say on that particular matter.

“I do not speak of how you ought to conduct your realm. Let me mind my realm and my people,” the Queen of the Rivers said in a steady voice, her hands clasped in front of her as she spoke. She was not here to excuse herself, to offer apologies, or ask for permission to rule her lands when she had been legitimately chosen by those she respected the most in her realm. “There is no succession crisis, you only see it because you choose to. The Riverlands have an heir in my brother, and the heir will remain an heir until I have children of my own, or he succeeds in the only way an heir gains a throne: when a monarch dies”.

Her expression was a calm one, but the steel in her voice remained. “You may delay, you may deny, but my position as queen is not one you must acknowledge to make real. It simply is”. She let her words settle, the weight of them hanging in the air. “It is me you must speak to, not my brother. When you are ready to speak as equals, you will find me willing. Until then, we may remain as we are”.

[casterlygldcs]

who: @iona-tully when and where: the westerlands, following the blessing of prince arthur of house lannister. it has been some time since iona arrived to casterly rock, and tyland has yet to formally acknowledge her as queen. their hands have been meeting, but there has been little progress. and now, they finally meet.

the audience chamber of casterly rock was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. the stone walls loomed like the past itself, cold and unyielding, as tyland lannister strode toward the dais. his cloak trailed behind him, a river of gold and fur, the weight of his authority present in every step. his crown sat upon his brow, heavy and unspoken, a symbol of the supremacy he held over all in this room. queen iona of house tully was waiting.

they had asked him, time after time, why it was he did not agree. why he would not sign to an alliance, to terms of peace?

he had heard the tales, of course. the riverlands had placed her on the throne when they thought prince aidan tully had perished in the wars. a woman—chosen by men who had no better options at the time. and such options had now changed, considering the return of the legitimate male heir to the riverland throne. tyland could never respect such a decision. the thought of a woman ruling a realm, let alone one as vast and wild as the riverlands, was beyond his understanding. it would only be a matter of time before the lords revolted against her rule and her claim; whether she married one of their disliking, or picked one over the other.

he thought a woman ruling the riverlands would make the realm weaker. it were already fragile enough. and this would simply make it the fairground for the lions. "what holds me back, you ask me." he uttered, looking upon her.

she had once been married to lord westerling, and had lived in his court for a time. as a subject. tyland had seen her there, though he had never paid her much attention. a quiet, unobtrusive presence—like a faded tapestry in a hall full of noise. she had never produced children, and that, to him, was a mark of weakness. a barren womb spoke to a woman’s true worth, or lack thereof. as he looked across at her, he noticed her posture—composed, regal, as any queen might be. but to tyland, it was only the facade of strength. a distorted reflection.

"your womb is your greatest failure."

the words fell from his lips without hesitation. if she wanted to be a ruler, she would be spoken to as rulers spoke to one another. bluntly, with no silver linings. those were for their courtiers, for their pawns. "you provided lord westerling no heirs, and no legacy whilst a subject in my court. and what can a woman who cannot bear children truly offer a realm except from a succession crisis, whether it be in five years, or fifty?" the air between them seemed to grow heavier, but tyland did not flinch. he stood firm, unwavering, his gaze unbroken. "the legitimate heir to the throne is due to return. our talks will then resume. until then, we remain as we were. divided."

[casterlygldcs]

who: @cerissalefford when and where: following the end of a religious ceremony blessing prince arthur lannister in the sept, tyland lannister crosses paths with his cousin. context: tyland lannister faces up to his past mistakes.

the deep, resonant toll of bells still hummed in tyland lannister’s ears as he descended from the sept atop casterly rock. the cold, crisp air of the heights kissed his face, carrying with it the faint tang of the sea far below. the procession flanked him on all sides, a river of crimson and gold flowing through the carved stone halls of his ancestral seat. ahead of him, banners embroidered with the roaring lion of house lannister caught the flickering torchlight, their threads shimmering like molten fire.

behind, the court followed: lords and ladies draped in silks and velvets, their faces radiant with forced smiles and calculated reverence. trumpets heralded his every step, a chorus of triumph that resounded off the high arches.

tyland walked with measured grace, his gilded doublet and heavy fur-lined cloak exuding a presence few could match. his every movement spoke of control, of purpose. the blessings given to his newborn son—his son—were the culmination of months of meticulous planning and providence. a boy born under his reign, his legacy secured. and yet, as he approached the bustling great hall, a shadow fell across the golden sheen of the moment.

she was there.

he saw her before the courtiers parted, her form small against the sea of richly adorned nobles. lady cerissa lefford, his cousin. her presence was unremarkable to most, easily lost among the swirl of velvet gowns and jeweled collars. but to tyland, she was unmistakable. she had returned some months past, brought back by westermen after the ironborn had finally released their spoils of war. the cost of her captivity had been steep, though not in coin. tyland had chosen to preserve the rock, to preserve his hold on the west, by standing firm in decisions others called callous. the ironborn had sacked the coasts, taken what they would, including cerissa.

a mistake, they whispered in the courts. a failure. no one dared say it openly. but here she was, a walking symbol of that failure, forced to kneel as he approached. his jaw tightened imperceptibly. "rise," he commanded, his voice deep and unyielding, cutting through the quiet like the edge of a blade. she rose slowly, and as she did, tyland allowed his eyes to meet hers. there was no warmth in his look, but neither was there cruelty. it was the gaze of a king: appraising, distant, absolute. "lady lefford," he said, the words rich with the weight of his authority. "you are returned to your family and to the rock."

turning without further acknowledgment, tyland continued toward the dais, his velvet cloak of regal furs swaying behind him. the court resumed its murmur as he ascended, but in his mind, her presence lingered, a symbol of his decision that even the roar of a lion could not entirely silence. and perhaps, when she thought it were over, a pageboy was indicating for her to join him up the steps.

[casterlygldcs]

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[casterlygldcs]

♔

there was a resounding silence following the final words that were uttered, that seemed to even make those bones and dust within the hall of heroes even momentarily sit up in anticipation. with breath held. to hear, to know. to see. all the while, the lion king remained sat within the grandness of this specific chamber, noting the tapestries across the wall of great chapters of westerland history.

of the prides grazing freely amongst the open plains, in reminder of the brutality of nature. of how, even nature, force those to leave their pride.

his piercing gaze fell upon his brother, prince arron lannister, who had recently returned to casterly rock. arron’s request had not gone unnoticed, but was there more to it? did he wish to adorn the hand upon his doublet, the same way he brought down bloodshed and order with the swing of his giant longsword. such a position could not be granted lightly, even to his own blood. not even to his own pride. his voice deep and resonant when it finally spoke, akin to passing judgement.

“the crown cannot bestow such a title based solely on kinship or proximity. it must be earned." the king's gaze turned contemplative, the shadows of the past flickering in his mind. “our lineage is one of great strength and power, but it is also one of duty. we cannot afford to act on emotions or personal desires. the realm comes first, always. and there are matters we must put first.” there was a pause as the king rose from his throne, and stepped down; the last golden rays of the golden hour pouring through stained glass.

"the once firm grip i held over jaehaerys targaryen seems to loosen with each passing day. it cannot all be attributed to lenora’s influence, though she certainly has her part to play. the winds of change are strong, and our hold over the crownlands must be reinforced.”

and then they were stood some inches apart, his younger brother towering over him. a true image of the purity of the blood of fair isle, of the westerland warrior. of a lannister. "show me that you are worthy of standing by my side as my hand. demonstrate your prowess in matters of state, your ability to maintain order, and your capacity to serve the realm above all else. start with new valyria.”

as tyland finished speaking, the silence in the chamber was heavy with unspoken words and shared history. the path before them was fraught with challenges, but the lion king remained steadfast, his resolve unbreakable. the realm depended on it.

No. There was nothing for him to battle. No one for him to fight against. And he traveled his waters he found himself growing bored and wishing to feel the rush of ramming Ironborn ships and descending on their decks with his great sword or ax and he missed cutting through him, cutting them down. But, they destroyed those people and all but wiped them off the face of Westeros. And as much as it was celebrated among those of Fair Isle, it was the Prince himself who felt the absence of duty and purpose.

Under the gaze of his brother, it was as if their father were standing before him and Arron put down the cup and put his focus on the man. The King. And at his words he waited and when Tyland didn't give him a place he almost frowned but he thought against it. Thought better of it. He would do something else. Arron ran his land over his face, then hand his fingers over his hair to keep it out of his face. He would need to visit Guinevere after this meeting and have his hair trimmed.

What changed his mind? Well, it was Guinevere but he wouldn't tell Tyland about that as there was little purpose in sharing that information with Tyland. Arron had his own reasons beyond the need of his love who wanted him there at court. Who needed him there at court. "I am a Lannister. And if I am to be a Prince of the West then I should split my time more appropriately. And you're my brother." Tyland needed him even if he didn't know it or didn't agree. They were stronger together. The presence of crimson and gold clad Lannisters in the guilded halls of Casterly would just bolster their regal presence.

"Two Lannisters should sit in that council room."

[casterlygldcs]

3.02 "The Purge" —︎ The Borgias (2011–2013)

[casterlygldcs]

♔

"strong." the words were a blessing to his ears which was why he recanted them; and it did everything to settle the whispers in the back of his mind. the constant worry of his age, and his lacking of an heir: his oldest and only brother a mighty warrior, but a king? impulsive, fierce and reckless; they were qualities which reigned upon the deck of a war ship, not upon a throne. "good."

and within the flicker of a moment, within the time it took for one to inhale a short breath, there was a changed expression upon the features of the lion king - an expression which was hard to read for it were utterly nothing. a calculating stillness that was enough to make a sudden sense of discomfort come between them at this table, where just moments before there had been laughter and warmth - all because of a small, fleeting comment made by the queen. by his queen, the woman who carried his lineage.

it was enough to cause his mind to tumble into many a situation, clashing worlds in his head; the gods could not be vexed with him. the gods knew of his path, of his might, of the glory he intended to bring upon his realm. they would reward and bestow upon him a sense of bounty, of blessing. "then you will rest." tyland's voice came unnervingly stern all of a sudden, and the only sound that came briefly was the sound of his knife against the porcelain - the veal was then sliced open, revealing what remained nearly pink inside.

"you will rest. confinement should be brought forward much sooner." he spoke of the practice amongst women of the west; to prepare oneself to bring forth the child to the world. mentally and physically, anything that could bring any sense of harm upon the child is eased. prayers are issued, the bed is anointed with holy oil; he remembered his mother going through it upon the birth of her only daughter, still too young to remember anything about arron other than the day he first met his brother.

his spare hand moved to rest atop of her own, only rather than lace his fingers with hers, he held his hand over hers. as though to stop her from her next train of thought. "these matters are not for your concern, nor for you to worry about. not in your current situation." her next words caused him to think, and he merely looked at her - as though he expected her to have the answer. he did not involve himself in the politics or role of women, no. most women were simply taught that by their own mothers, and their betters before them.

"you'll not travel to silverhill until you have recovered from the birth." because he would not lose her too. "send it forward if you must."

[casterlygldcs]

♔

"the king of new valyria is due a conversation regarding the finer details of our agreement. should he remain wishing to make amendments and additions to terms of legitimacy, it will be reciprocated." jaehaerys targaryen was a targaryen, where gold ran through his veins; the gold of oldtown. banking, coin and finance was in his blood, and in his ear through the words of otto hightower for many a decade.

"it is not of my accord to inform an anointed king what can and cannot be done - only to consider what is worth it."

it took one look upon emerald orbs that appeared similar to his own to be able to identify that the shift in her position, the change in her life, had been one which had been turbulent: women were sentimental creatures, and suffered largely as a result of loss and the political cataclysms of shifting allegiance. the lady of golden tooth would continue to mourn that which was now nothing but distant memories of a crimson stain, the lady of golden tooth could continue to look over her shoulder in worry in feeling the walls closing in around her.

but the queen of new valyria, the rightful queen of new valyria, could do no such thing.

it were for that reason tyland lannister did not speak on all that had happened, did not speak on what had reportedly befallen his kin within the land of valyrians. she would need to survive, for once he had settled and supported her as his representative, to pick and support another would only prove his judgement incorrect.

tyland lannister cared for his judgement, for the resounding nature of his voice and his final say - to go back on lenora lefford, would be to go back on himself. that were the only reason he thought he would not do such a thing.

"yes. it is all on you, lenora of house lefford." and that resounding flatness came once again, with a level of certainty it were akin to a final nail of a coffin - she did not need any reassurance, or reminding of the fact it were indeed all on her; but it were. he would not let her forget it, not let her forget the way in which the honour of her brothers and her royal kin remained upon her shoulders.

she not only represented herself, but represented the land of the westerlands - their strength, their piousness, their volition. "should you wish for me to see you as worthy of being second to my line of authority in a great chain of being, you will remember that. do not fail."

lenora could not help but think that his view was one born of arrogance. it was not wrong that anyone else would be a step behind, nor was it wrong that jaehaerys seemed to favour the alliance between new valyria and the west, but it was wrong that it did not matter what others did. she had already almost met her death at the hands of another, someone unknown pulling the strings from the shadows. it had been mere moons ago. perhaps tyland was not worried since he could simply send jaehaerys another wife from the west, but there was no guarantee that she would produce an heir ― nor did it mean anything to lenora. the alliance was for tyland to worry about. she only worried about her own life and that of her future children. perhaps it said something about her too that these fears were constantly in the back of her mind. if jaehaerys' first son had still been alive when she became queen and gave birth to the twins, she knew could not deny that there was a chance that she would have made a move to see her own son crowned as heir. she would never harm a child, but children did not stay children forever. lenora expected a second wife to feel the same way. after all, it would only take a drop of poison, a cut to the neck, and suddenly her own child would be set to inherit the throne. no amount of skill at politics could bring back someone from the dead, sometimes brute force was enough to make the difference.

she wanted to remind him that while jaehaerys might favour the alliance with the west, it did not mean that everyone in new valyria did. but then tyland said something that made her pause. the man is a child, undermined and weakened by his desire to feel and be loved. and she almost replied that she had never been right for a man like that. what lenora wanted was a sparring partner. she wished to be able to speak honestly with someone who respected her. she wanted there to be mutual respect, a shared understanding of duty and sacrifice. as awful as it was, she found it hard to love those who desperately craved it. the dance had claimed everything from jaehaerys, she knew that, and she should sympathise. but it was hard because she just did not understand. her own need for love was much lesser than wanting to be understood. lenora had always known it was only through someone understanding her that she'd ever fall in love.

but she also knew that to someone like tyland then what she wanted, what she was capable of, did not matter. it mattered not what she felt, only what she pretended to feel. he wanted her to take an active role in the game. what she had done until now was not enough for the lion king. she recalled her mother's honey sweet words that curled around throats until people choked without even realising. was that what she needed to become? could she look a man in the eyes and lie about loving him if it gave her power? but it was not like she did not care about jaehaerys. the vows she had spoken when they wed actually mattered to her. perhaps she could show more of that care, maybe use it to her advantage. but she also believed tyland was underestimating her husband. jaehaerys targaryen was many things, and while he might be desperate to be loved, there was also strength there, an intelligence, even if it became muddled by his temper and quickly changing moods at times. it was frustrating to watch jaehaerys be his own worst enemy.

lenora felt as if she had been chastised by her father. it irked her. one of the benefits of being queen was that she did not have to lower herself to anyone ever again. and yet tyland spoke to her like she was a child. she knew her concerns were legitimate. she was the one who had to endure the challenges of the dragon court, the one who spent most hours of her day by the side of jaehaerys. “i understand what i have, and house lefford is grateful for it. but i also know i am wearing this crown because you needed someone of your blood, and since i am less important than guinevere, and my past less complicated than that of my sisters, the choice fell on me.” she had known this as fact from the very moment augustus had told her that she were to wed the targaryen prince. she had never believed she had been picked for a special reason. she has simply been the logical choice out of the available options.

for once in her life, she returned the hard gaze of her cousin instead of shrinking. it was not defiance, but it was closer to it than she had ever been before. “he wants your approval, he looks up to you. taking a second wife when his first wife is of your blood and the marriage was part of an alliance will be an insult to you, your grace, and it will be seen as such. jaehaerys knows it too.” she had to make an effort to stop it from happening, even though she felt confident that it was in vain. but rather to have attempted it than doing nothing. “i will continue to play my part in this alliance, i will do better.” her hand went to the small swell of her stomach. as soon as she had a son in her arms, they could all rest a little easier. “i am just asking you to play the part you can play too.” that had been what she wanted to build towards initially. lenora knew nothing she said would change the mind of her husband, but she hoped that tyland could. let the decree be the decree if need be, as long as jaehaerys swore not to marry someone else.

[casterlygldcs]

♔

"strong." the words were a blessing to his ears which was why he recanted them; and it did everything to settle the whispers in the back of his mind. the constant worry of his age, and his lacking of an heir: his oldest and only brother a mighty warrior, but a king? impulsive, fierce and reckless; they were qualities which reigned upon the deck of a war ship, not upon a throne. "good."

and within the flicker of a moment, within the time it took for one to inhale a short breath, there was a changed expression upon the features of the lion king - an expression which was hard to read for it were utterly nothing. a calculating stillness that was enough to make a sudden sense of discomfort come between them at this table, where just moments before there had been laughter and warmth - all because of a small, fleeting comment made by the queen. by his queen, the woman who carried his lineage.

it was enough to cause his mind to tumble into many a situation, clashing worlds in his head; the gods could not be vexed with him. the gods knew of his path, of his might, of the glory he intended to bring upon his realm. they would reward and bestow upon him a sense of bounty, of blessing. "then you will rest." tyland's voice came unnervingly stern all of a sudden, and the only sound that came briefly was the sound of his knife against the porcelain - the veal was then sliced open, revealing what remained nearly pink inside.

"you will rest. confinement should be brought forward much sooner." he spoke of the practice amongst women of the west; to prepare oneself to bring forth the child to the world. mentally and physically, anything that could bring any sense of harm upon the child is eased. prayers are issued, the bed is anointed with holy oil; he remembered his mother going through it upon the birth of her only daughter, still too young to remember anything about arron other than the day he first met his brother.

his spare hand moved to rest atop of her own, only rather than lace his fingers with hers, he held his hand over hers. as though to stop her from her next train of thought. "these matters are not for your concern, nor for you to worry about. not in your current situation." her next words caused him to think, and he merely looked at her - as though he expected her to have the answer. he did not involve himself in the politics or role of women, no. most women were simply taught that by their own mothers, and their betters before them.

"you'll not travel to silverhill until you have recovered from the birth." because he would not lose her too. "send it forward if you must."

a gentle laughter escaped her, cheeks flushing lightly at the small show of affection towards her. naturally, a hand floated to her belly that had begun to visibly swell as the time passed, more quickly than she had imagined it would. and still, there were not a doubt in her mind that she carried a son, but perhaps she were protecting herself from the possibility of great disappointment. even so, she did not let that thought linger in her mind too long. she would face those circumstances if on the small chance they came.

because that was the nature of katherine serrett. she faced an issue head on when it was in front of her, but she would not dwell on instances that had not yet occurred, for she could not control certain things. it were not that she were unprepared, naive to what occurred around her, but she wholly believed there were matters that she not be involved in, and matters where she would need to place herself within as queen, as the woman in the west that the ladies needed to look upon as an example. she were entirely aware of her place in this court, and within that place, she took notice of all that occurred within it.

and so when her husband seemed quite occupied so soon after they arrived back to their lands, she knew it were for good reason, and he would communicate as to why, in time, as he had always been forthright with her, but perhaps she made a point of bringing it to the table herself.

bright smile came over her features as her hand moved to her stomach. "he is well, strong. i do not think he hardly rests, and therefore, i do not." she laughed, hues flickering downwards, still in awe.

and when eyes rose at the words of her husband, eyebrows furrowed together slightly in confusion - or perhaps it were frustration. she knew not how her brother allowed such things to occur in their own lands, no less. she took a deep inhale before responding. "i assume my brother is handling those matters." katherine observed. "would word and alms from their queen and lady provide any resolution to this?" she did not know if such things would help, but given it were her own families lands, she felt more inclined to act on this.

[casterlygldcs]

who: @jaehaerysiitargaryen when and where: during the lion's celebrations during the proclamation of prince arthur lannister, the lion king comes across the dragon king. context; this is in the aftermath of his conversation with lenora lefford, set earlier in the timeline: the doctrine of exceptionalism had been issued.

the blacks prince and princess of dragonstone were individuals tyland knew only in a limited manner; and yet, the increased presence of their names within the whispers circled by various spy masters and mistresses of the realm only made him pay more and more attention. even if they themselves were not a threat, it was who they could be propped up and used by; upon hearing the news of jaehaerys visiting the isle of dragonstone, there came a silence over tyland lannister that indicated he were thinking.

it was one thing to summon your subjects to you in kings landing, but to go out of one's way to visit those who held the greatest claim against your throne, and against the claim of two sons, was something tyland believed to be a mistake.

"and what use is this alliance for me, should you choose to do as the rumours suggest, and take another wife for queen?"

this nonsense of first, second and third wives trickling from the corrupted, sickened mind of the valyrian men living at the heights of what they believed to be a new age was nothing but an affront to tyland lannister. the deal had been made months ago, the promise of support in exchange for a specific sort of alliance with the dragon king - one that was unique. there was no unique alliance should one find themselves married with not one wife, but two - possibly even three. the lannisters drew hard bargains, and their patience could be and would be drawn thin - the issue with the reach's ships and prince casimir tully refusing to take his rightful place was second on tyland's mind. first, was the state of their alliance.

"the choice has caused much displeasure within this court." his voice came stern, as the men finally took the time to speak; it had been months in waiting, considering the doctrine had been published years ago - too many discussions of second wives, third wives, of possibilities. of people wanting to be put beneath the nose of the dragon king, for the sake of allowing some lesser house means to climb. to forget themselves, and their place. "and your choice is one i find great issue with." jaehaerys targaryen was no longer a little boy - he wanted this crown. he would be spoken to, with a crown.

"there was an agreement. specific, detailed, and planned out in advance - you made no mention of any wish to make lawful the abomination that is taking two or more wives." the lannisters made their deals. they settled their debts. he would not stand for loop holes, or conditions; he had stuck to his deal. lannister coffers funded his conquering. the debts owed from the crownlands had been given an extended time to be paid back, and there was no pressure being applied on that front. "you have crossed a line, jaehaerys. i am not in the business of redrawing lines."