eliarlefford

[eliarlefford]

gildcdfalcon‌:

@eliarlefford​

                     ❛   ––––––   the  north  shall  be  scandalised  if  i  wear  that  !   ❜  ursula  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  as  she  took  the  semi-sheer  fabric  from  her  handmaiden’s  arms.  ❛   their  gowns  are  so  dreary,  they  may  aswell  shroud  themselves.  ❜  she  had  decided  not  long  after  her  arrival  that  she  loathed  the  north,  it  was  not  exciting  or  vibrant,  the  meat  wasn’t  cooked  tender  enough  &  their  wines  were  too  bitter.  in the privacy  of  her  chambers  she complained  to  myra  about  the  lacklustre  conditions,  although  she  was  certain  that  even  the  walls  had  ears. ursula  knew  that  it  was  imperative  that  the  westerlands  had  strong  alliances  with  the  realms,  but  why  they  had  to  travel  so  far  north  was  beyond  her. 

her  chamber  door  clicked,  so  she  turned  to  spot  her  husband. ❛   i’ve  decided  that  it  was  a  bad  idea  for  us  to  agree  to  this  visit. cedric  is  already  complaining  of  a  chill  &  i’m  unable  to  wear  my  usual  gowns  because  the  old  hags  will  faint  from  seeing  more  skin  than  a  wrist.   ❜  ursula  didn’t  mention  the  bitter  cold  or  the  grim  looking  faces.

It had hardly been his first time traveling so far north, having spent time in Winterfell with his father on many of his meetings with the King in the North, but for his wife? It was an entirely different story. Of course, there was a blessing in having his wife - and his three young boys - accompanying him on his trip. It was nice to be able to share the world with his wife, to show him part of the world that they were allies with - part of the world they would fight for if it came to war - and it was nice to have her on his arm. Of all the fine things he could buy to dress his arm, she was the best thing he could have - she made him look better, act better, be better.

It was why he had decided to buy her something, as with his usual tradition of purchasing her a gift whenever he traveled - just because she was with him, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to adorn her with something beautiful - and with the item tucked into his pockets beneath his heavy fur coat, he made his way to their quarters. Opening the door, he watched as she turned to face him and spoke, causing him to chuckle lightly.

“And what would the rest of the realm say if Lord Lefford and his beautiful bird hadn’t shown to the coronation of their own king?” he countered, knowing that her words were mainly said in jest and at her annoyance of the cold and general sourness of the Northmen. Walking closer to his wife, he looked to her handmaiden and nodded in her direction. “Leave us... I wish to speak to my wife in private,” he spoke, and once she bowed and made her way out of the chambers, he took a couple of steps closer until he was nearly standing behind her, able to feel the warmth of the hearth upon his skin even from this distance.

“Do not fret, my love... In a moon’s time we will be back in the warmth of the Rock where you can wear your best gowns and garments to your hearts content and, with the luck of the Gods, you’ll be pregnant with our daughter,” he spoke before he leaned down to kiss the side of her cheek. “I brought a gift for you.”

[eliarlefford]

lordofraventreehall‌:

Henry Blackwood looked at the gold. The yellow reminded him of the sun and for a moment warmed him up. 

He loved the beauty of the North but he could leave the cold that was found here to others. 

“I think whomever you give that to will be thankful for it. And if they are not maybe you shouldn’t be giving them a gift in the first place.” Henry answered him. 

“For a wife or lover?” He asked. “To ornate for a mother or sister.”

The comment by the other nobleman had the Warden of the West smiling lightly, finding humor in his words, and then his question only seemed to exacerbate his mirth, causing a chuckle to spill from his lips. “On the contrary, the women of House Lefford certainly do wear quite the number of ornate pieces... We are among the wealthiest in Westeros.” The wealthiest in the Northern kingdom, no doubt, given that the Lefford’s now held two lands that contained the gold and silver mines in the Westerlands in their possession - that quickly had them with a treasury that rivaled the Lannisters of yore.

“But ‘tis for a wife, a woman that has thanked me with three sons and hopefully many more in the years to come.” While he was happy with the family he currently had, loved his three boys, he wanted a large family - and he knew that Ursula desperately wanted a daughter, so he was more than happy to keep adding to their family. After paying the merchant with the necessary coin, he slipped the money back into his pocket and took the velvet bag that contained the items into his possession before he turned to the lord to his right.

“But pardon my manners, my lord... I am Lord Eliar of House Lefford, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West... ‘tis an honor,” he spoke, moving to bow lightly in the man’s presence.

[eliarlefford]

neinalefford‌:

@eliarlefford​

        if  their  father  had  been  a  better  negotiator,  perhaps  neina  would  have  been  by  harlan’s  side  on  a  day  like  this,  instead  of  a  greyjoy.  it’s  what  she’d  expected  as  a  girl.  after  all,  what  was  the  point  in  the  years  she’d  spent  here  buried  in  the  snow  if  not  for  a  strong  alliance  with  the  starks  ?  still,  he  fumbled  the  opportunity,  now  she’d  have  to  see  to  it  herself  that  she  may  still  be  able  to  negotiate  a  prince–  failing  all  else,  she  supposed  a  karstark  would  have  to  suffice.  she  watched  her  brother  with  curious  eyes,  thankful  that  his  wife  wasn’t  lingering.  another  fumbled  opportunity,  she  thought  scathingly,  however  this  one  was  of  her  brother’s  own  making.  ‘  i  thought  the  next  time  i’d  be  here,  i’d  be  a  bride.  ’  after  five  long  years,  and  almost  catching  her  death  last  winter,  she  figured  that  was  what  it  would  take  to  see  winterfell’s  walls  again.  it  was  bittersweet  to  be  wrong.

neina  swallowed  a  gulp  of  frigid  air,  the  hearth  still  yet  to  fully  warm  the  room.  this  would  be  her  last  peace  and  quiet  for  the  evening,  she  knew  that.  the  last  moment  without  guarding  her  face  and  thoughts.  though  she  thought  he  had  foolish  tendencies,  it  was  clear  to  anyone  who  spared  a  glance  that  she  adored  her  family.  she  trusted  her  brother  more  than  anyone.  (  still  remarkably  less  than  she  trusted  herself.  )  adjusting  the  silver  white  fur  atop  her  shoulders,  she  turned  to  face  him  fully.  ‘  you  will  be  sure  to  speak  to  the eligable  northern  lord’s  for  me  tonight,  won’t you  ?’  she  asked,  her  tone  somewhere  between  a  plead  and  a  demand.  it  would  be  far  too  much  for  her  alone,  and  with  father  gone,  it  was  eliar’s  responsibility  to  aid  her  with  this  mess.

It was hardly the first time that Eliar had been to the North - he had accompanied his father many times whenever he had opted to visit the King to assure their loyalties to the North, but he knew he didn’t know the North like his sister once had. And he knew that his sister was, no doubt, plagued with bittersweet feelings about being back in Winterfell, wearing her winter coats once more and watching as the snow rested against the near barren tree limbs that reached for the sky. It was, after all, a hope that his sister would eventually wed Harlon, to further solidify the West’s ties with the North, but it was a notion to be put to rest.

But that didn’t mean that there weren’t hurt feelings.

Deciding to give his sister a visit, he reached the quarters that housed the Westerland’s men and found his sister’s room. Almost as soon as he entered, she spoke up - practically confirming his suspicions about her having feelings. “Come now, dear sister... Do you really think you would have truly enjoyed living the rest of your days in the North? You belong somewhere where the sun shines, even in the dead of winter, as it casts a beautiful color to your already gorgeous hair.” The trademark of a Tully, scarlet that seemed to shimmer when exposed to the sun.

“But you know I only have your best interest at heart.” While he would find a suitable husband for his sister, he also didn’t want to force her into something she didn’t want - or with someone she didn’t even find attractive. “Are you dead set on taking a man from the North? Because I have heard whispers that the last Greyjoy boy is looking for a bride.” But then she ran the risk of becoming widowed, losing her husband to the sea as their cousin had. “And of course, there is Lord Tyrell, too, though he follows the Southern King and I have a feeling father would roll over in his grave if he were to know I shipped you to the South.”

[eliarlefford]

GAINED BY ASCENSION 

@eliarlefford

[eliarlefford]

@gildcdfalcon

[eliarlefford]

stormlanded‌:

            the north was an adjustment katherynne had scarcely prepared for. the climate was like nothing she had experienced , and the landscape was vastly different to the home she had left ( where was the sea ? where was the rain ? ) . nor had she prepared for the emotional implications of the voyage : the ghosts of her past all converging at once , the looming threat of whispers ( the baratheon failure , now close at her brother’s heels ) . her nerves frayed & heart tired , katherynne had bid the pardon of her family and sought out the one place she might find solace . how many times she had sat in front of the weirwoods at storm’s end , learning of gods that were not hers & wondering if they were kinder than her own.         heavy furs encumber her , making her walk strange and uneven . still , she ventures forward , light eyes transfixed on the deep red hues , the stark white of the heart tree. it is only then that she realizes she has disrupted another . she stops , dips her head. her fingers smooth the fabric of her skirts ,           ❛❛ forgive me , i had no intention of disrupting your prayers or your quiet . i’ve never seen a weirwood in its true home . it looks more right here - more true, somehow , than anywhere else. it makes the godswood of my home seem a farce. ❜❜

It was always a bit overwhelming, coming to Winterfell. While he knew that it was where his sister had spent a good number of years during her childhood, and had one day hoped to call it home as she took the newly-crowned King’s hand in marriage, it was still overwhelming to find himself in a place with so much history. The Starks were a name that had stood the test of time, descended from the First Men and had remained steadfast despite the Andal Invasion - and the Starks were a name that had managed to prosper even after the second Targaryen dynasty had formed. 

It was that kind of name that his father had wanted for the Lefford name - a name that had only grown significantly after the Lannisters of Casterly Rock were dispelled and a name that had only held significant power in the last century. It was why his father had wed a Tully, wanting to combine the house with another one of the greats, and it was why his father had insisted on setting him up with an Arryn - thereby effectively tying House Lefford with the North.

But another reason he had found that it had overwhelmed him was because of the Godswood. There was a weirwood tree in the gardens of Casterly Rock, though they hadn’t been used for worship until the past century, but nothing compared to the grand forest in Winterfell - so whenever he came to Winterfell... he always took it upon himself to spend some time with the old Gods. It was there, sitting upon a large tree root, that he realized someone else had come.

“All is forgiven, my lady,” the lord spoke, shifting his attention to her and her apology. “I was merely paying my respects to the Old Gods. They deserve it far more than my prayers.” Prayers he thought that would’ve been left unanswered, as they had when his father had fallen ill, but the Old Gods were still Gods and they deserved his respect - lest he wishes to lose one of his three hearty, healthy boys.

“Do you wish me to leave? I would hate to keep a beautiful woman from being able to convene with the Gods.”

[eliarlefford]

[eliarlefford]

Setting: Wintertown

Timeframe: Midday

It had become almost customary - that whenever he had left Casterly Rock to attend to his business as Warden of the West, he would go to the merchants to find the most beautiful things that were on sale to bring home to his wife. Now standing in Wintertown, appraising the various wares that the vendor had promised him were absolutely genuine - bright and colorful jewels, golden necklaces, silver wristlets - Eliar could only mull lightly as a light chill overcame him. 

Ah, the cold - no matter how many times he had gone to Winterfell, both with his father and on his own, he had never been able to grown accustomed to the chilling temperatures. Not when the weather at the rock was almost always calm and fair, the winters mild compared to the near sub-zero temperatures of the frigid north. 

Grabbing the lapels of his furs, he moved to enclose them further over his chest in the hopes to shield himself from the brisk temperature as he moved along the tables, gaze stumbling upon a fine piece of jewelry. A necklace imbued with sapphires - almost perfect for the Lady of the Rock. “Tell me,” Eliar spoke almost suddenly, turning to look at the nearest body to him to gain their opinion on the jewels he now picked up, watching as the sun gleaned off of the golden fixtures. “What do you make of this? Beautiful, is it not?”

[eliarlefford]

[eliarlefford]

[eliarlefford]

⤷ ( m. est. 27. she/her. none. ) the courts offer bread and salt to ELIAR LEFFORD of HOUSE LEFFORD. many say that the THIRTY-EIGHT year old RULING LORD of CASTERLY ROCK AND THE WESTERLANDS is known to be CHARISMATIC and INTELLIGENT, though ill tongues whisper that HE is LICENTIOUS and CUNNING. when his name is uttered , one is reminded of whispered words behind closed corridors, fingertips brushing along smooth silk and a knife hidden under a cloak. may he be blessed and protected in this war of crowns. (fc: michiel huisman)

The eldest son of the late Lord Lefford, Eliar knew early on that it was his duty to follow in his father’s footsteps and ascend the title of ruling lord when it came to his passing but Eliar? Well, Eliar truthfully didn’t want that for himself. He had always had a fascination for the arts, music and theatre and everything beautiful in the world, and he wanted to travel to see it all. But alas, his father saw to it that he stayed to his studies so that he would grow up a good lord, a man worthy of being the lord of the Westerlands.

As he grew older, his fascination for things beautiful began to transcend to the women of court. With an eloquent tongue and a charming smile, Eliar was able to woo most women with perfected ease and he began to be known as quite the charmer, a man of nobility that wasn’t to be bothered by the thought of betrothal - despite his father urging Eliar to find a woman of noble birth to wed so that she could bear him heirs. For many years, the young nobleman continued life like this - tending to court, but wooing the ladies and taking them to bed almost as quickly as he changed clothes - until, eventually, his father introduced him to the daughters of Lord Arryn. What caught his eye, though, was Lady Ursula.

The girl was beautiful, beyond so, and though she was a few years younger than he was, he certainly found himself wanting to take her and show her how beautiful he believed she was. And by the Gods, it seemed as though Ursula felt the same. It wasn’t long before the two were announcing their marriage to the Westerlands and soon enough, they were wed. Not much longer after that, they welcomed their first child - a boy - into the world. It was just a couple of months after his boy’s arrival into the world that his father passed, and soon he was ascended to his birthright.

It’s been five years since then, and though it wasn’t something he had truthfully wanted for himself, he took to it pretty easily. Much like he did wooing women, he was able to use his words to calm his vassals and allow their faith in House Lefford to grow, and with his wife more than just a trophy that blessed him with now three sons - something that was pleasing to him - he knew he had what it took to lead the Westerlands to prosperity.

He has skill in both the flute and the harp, but where he truly shines is the lute and his voice is one that can rival some of the best minstrels in Westeros.

While he was taught how to wield a sword, he much prefers using a knife for his fighting - he enjoys the rush of the close-combat. The sword he wields on his hip is mostly decorative, though he has been known to unsheathe it if someone questions his or his wife’s honor.

Though he has more attraction for females, there has been a male or two that have fallen into bed with him - if you ask him, he believes he has the soul of a Dornish men, both with the way he loves all things beautiful and with the way he detests the Targaryens.

Growing up, he had heard his grandfather’s tales of what the Targaryens did to the Westerlands and as such, he has a deep hatred for them and he is intent on keeping the West aligned with the North.

[eliarlefford]

[eliarlefford]