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inthcirhands‌:

elyse had not intentionally been following the dastardly young lord, but found herself alone with him on one of the red keep’s long, reaching staircases. she had more been searching for a reprieve from the endless yes, my lord’s and of course, my lady’s that a lord of a lesser house — and especially a lady of a lesser house — had to keep up at all times in order to get anywhere in this world.

she’d been indirectly headed in the same direction as the bolton, but she was much lighter on her feet. but he did hear her, and she stepped out of the dark end of the hall. “my apologies, lord rennick,” she said with a sickly sweet smile. “you were so lost in conversation with yourself and busy undressing in the middle of the corridor, i thought you might not have noticed me.”

OF ALL THE PEOPLE in westeros to be confined to this lonely hall, the gods have cursed him with the presence of lady elyse westerling. lady of the crag. and the very last person he wished to spend his time on.

“do you spend quite a lot of time watching others in the privacy of the halls, lady elyse?” the tips of his fingers had dropped the thinly braided ties of his tunic to stand lazily before her. drinking her in from the small distance with shoulders relaxed ; demeanor softened and careless as the blue hues of his eyes watched the sour sweet smile split across her delicate features. none of which hid the blooming annoyance in his voice. “almost like a spider wondering aimlessly in the shadows.”

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ofswesteros‌:

     that  was  almost  the  first  time  alissa  had  been  able  to  walk  alone  since  she  had  been  dragged  back  to  westeros.  her  parents,  right  to  fear  for  another  escape,  used  to  follow  her  almost  everywhere  ―  but  there,  in  the  middle  of  that  pointless  celebration,  they  were  too  busy  to  do  so,  creating  the  perfect  opportunity  for  the  woman  to  enjoy  nothing  but  her  own  company  for  a  while;  and,  perhaps,  start  planning  her  new  escape  route.  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  lie  and  say  that  the  thought  wasn’t  prowling  her  thoughts.  not  while  she  was  set  to  marry  another  stranger;  almost  as  if  the  young  royce  was  a  horse,  sold  to  the  highest  bid. 

     she’d  roll  her  eyes  and  sigh  at  the  annoying  thought  ―  her  blood  almost  boiling  with  the  perspective  to  be  tied  to  an  stupid  old  man  &  creepy,  that  would  try  to  control  her;  demanding  for  alissa  to  be  someone  she  wasn’t.  the  thoughts,  however,  would  be  cast  aside  when  a  familiar  voice  reached  her  ears.  the  woman  raised  one  single  eyebrow,  a  grin  spreading  on  her  lips  as  she  finally  allowed  the  bolton  to  see her.     “ and  since  when  do  i  care  to  be  polite?  or,  even  better,  since  when  should  i  consider  you  a  proper  lord? „     a  jest,  as  she  stood  a  few  feet  away  from  the  man  ―  the  northerner  was  one  of  alissa’s  closest  friends  while  growing  up,  as  he’d  see her  as  an  equal  and  not  just  a  fragile  lady  that  didn’t  even  deserved  his  attention.  but  things  were  a  bit  strange  before  she  left,  years  before;  and  how  she  didn’t  know  exactly  how  to  act.     “ hi  there,  nic.  long  time  no  see,  uh?! „

HIS FACE HAD DROPPED the second he saw the girl appear. brown hair. brown eyes. skin of icy ivory. cheeks of rose. the sight of her flooded back unwanted memories of two bony noble children using broken broom handles as swords meant for knights. clicking and clanking along a clearing that overlooked a river golden with sun and wisps of wild spring wind in their hair. a small paradise that only existed in thoughts deeper than the ones he had of her now. ones that weren’t of her covered in hand-me-down breeches and moreso in forget-me-not blue dresses. a lady. not a girl. not his friend.

at least not anymore

rennick tried not to study her as if she would simply float away somewhere far once again. but it was a hard task when you weren’t expecting to see an old friend after word had gotten out that they had left with no intentions on returning. someone would have thought the young bolton would be happy otherwise, yet there was nothing stopping the twinge of betrayal that laid beneath his glare and strong arms tight across his chest. he didn’t even realize his hands were trembling like an earthquake in his palms ready for chaos. “long time no see being a result faulted on your end if I remember correctly.” rennick quickly reminded. “tell me, how are the free cities doing?”

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violntdeliights‌:

     all evening all anyone had to say to helaena were their congratulations on her betrothal. she knew eventually her father would find her a match, undoubtedly one she did not want, but that didn’t make her any less annoyed at the announcement that she would be wed. she wanted nothing more than to scream the next time she heard the word congratulations come from someone’s mouth. the princess let out a sigh as she saw another guest approach her, “if you have nothing better to discuss than my upcoming nuptials, you can go, i do not wish to hear another word of my betrothal.”

RENNICK, with one hand full of plump red-grapes and his other with an empty chalice, had stopped mid-walk when he heard the sudden voice of princess helaena. his head had turned to look over his shoulder as a sort question if whether or not the golden targaryen was addressing him rather than someone else like he had so willfully hoped. long lashes coating blue eyes blinked once before the young man had released one of the laziest bows, “apologies, your grace, but I did not have the prior intention of crossing your path to speak of celebrations,” his lips had the dance of a crooked smirk across them like a child tempted to break someone else’s toy as sarcasm sung through his husky voice just as easily as the music played beyond them. “but what would my family think of me now that I am in your presence without doing so? surely a princess can endure the wishes of those wanting to congratulate one of the realm’s newest alliance. the honor you must feel right now could envy thousands.”

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HE HAD SEEN what he was supposed to be wearing to the targaryen twins name-day celebration weeks ago and yet rennick still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to wear a black tunic if he was just going to switch into one later the mere minute the excitement of it all died down. 

that’s when he found himself wondering the red keep aimlessly after the pigeon pie had been served, loosening the braided silver ties on the heavy velvet fabric of his royal blue tunic. it sat underneath a leather jerkin that matched his breeches and he would have burn the stupid thing to ashes if he could. “I look like a bloody fool,” the young bolton whispered to himself as he began to head down stone steps quickly by twos until he had reached the bottom.. but before he caught himself turning the corner he could hear someone down the narrow end of the candle lit corridor.

“expose yourself. it’s impolite to lurk around when a lord is present.”

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“you think with all the gold they’ve spent on the twins’ name-day celebration that they’d at least consider allowing more entertainment to the fill the great hall.” the candied taste of gael’s third cup of summerwine was still fresh on his tongue. he had no real interest in celebrating. the idea of being anywhere this close to the lords and ladies of merciless dragons, sly lions, stubborn stags, and humorless wolves always left a sour pit grown too far in his belly. besides, these people didn’t know what a true name-day celebration looked like nor did they understand ability to keep one’s attention with one. gael was feverlessly bored with it all. his once lush voice suckled with fruit and cheese was now as dull as the muted velvet hues of his purple tunic.

and you could see written all over his face.

he leaned his frame against the stony wall outside of the great hall, his attention shifting to the only person close enough to hear him that was a guard or a flustered squire. “although, I am surprised to hear that they’ve sprung for a dual announcement with their name-day feast and betrothals.” a thick pause followed him after. coarse black brows furrowed together in thought. “they are getting a bit old, I suppose.”

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ROYAL NAME-DAY CELEBRATIONS  have always been one of dyanna’s favorite festivities. the people, the music, the chance the twirl and drink summerwine. a lavish affair that the young allyrion girl could not wait to indulge in ever since she had the pleasure of arriving to king’s landing.

this evening she had opted for gown more suited for dorne rather than the capitol by slipping into cloth that that flowed through her fingers as easily as water and embellished satins dyed in sunset hues of deep orange. even dyanna’s normally unruly hair had been brushed thoroughly and carefully pinned together with accents of little golden suns, all of which made it easy for the girl to radiate across the great hall in easy smiles and girlish dancing as jugglers and pentoshi tumblers worked around her.

“oh!” dyanna lowered herself in a short curtsy (one she was sure could have been better attempted if she hadn’t be in such a haste) before dipping a soft hand into the palm of the person before her. a light squeeze and a tug towards the crowd, the dornish brunette seized the opportunity to meet someone new while she was drunk off her own giggling glee, “will you do me the honor of coming out to dance before all the men get soiled off their wine and bore themselves into their chambers?”

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House Dayne of Starfall

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“The Boltons have always been as cruel as they were cunning..” - A Dance with Dragons by George R.R Martin

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vvintercse‌:

❪ — ✕ ⁞  she was expected to be inside, helping her sister to look after her nephews. but as a good wolf, minisa wanted to explore the red keep. it was a good change. when she received the news that her family was travelling to south, she was not fearless & excited as she thought she would be. the tales of the past, of starks going south and never returning started haunting her dreams, with sights of her siblings dead corpses clear as the day. yet, minisa could not show weakness and nervousness. she was a stark of winterfell, and while she was with her pack — her brothers, sister and nephews — she would survive. but the south was a good change, especially the weather. she was used to having to wear furs and heavy clothes, and while she felt a bit uncomfortable with the dress she was wearing, minisa felt like a bird, lightweight and ready to fly. taking some turns to see the skirt of her dress flying, she laughed. she felt at peace, but something was still bothering her. maybe her silly dreams. however, her smile fade away when she saw someone looking at her direction. recomposing herself, she spoke in a quiet voice. “ i am sorry. you’re not supposed to see that. this is so different from my home that i got carried away. „

rennick hated the south. who in their bloody right mind wanted to say in a plain land where it was warm all year? glistening sweat beads began to form across his hairline. his northern skin warming pink against the dark threads of clothes as he rode through the bronze doors of the red keep, sore and tired. a terrible combination for the young bolton.

he had ripped off his leather riding gloves and tucked them into his belt once he had retired from his riding. his attention focused on finding food and water before the sudden surprise of woman twirling in her dress caught his eye. what a surprise indeed. a look of satisfaction had been displayed briefly before the girl had noticed him, a crooked boyish smile stretching out across his features in the middle of it all. “it’s not every day I get to see a stark girl free furs and thick gowns,” nic shifted his weight just enough so that he was leaning against the wall of column. “best mind where you do that, though. the people here in the south can be a bit faulty I’ve noticed.”

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regalitybit‌:

ric had always hated the heat. maybe it was the northerner in him — never managing to survive beyond anything that wasn’t below freezing; or maybe it was the sense of smothering, feeling like it was pressing against his heart, his chest and robbing him of life. ( or maybe it was the image of nourah, pale and clammy in their bed, sweat dotting her brow as the fever claimed her. ) maybe it was all of that and none of it at the same time. — either way, ric hated the fucking heat, and had no desire to be in the crownlands.

with a huff, he removed his riding cloak, throwing it on a nearby lounge, ungracefully throwing himself down next to it. “bloody heat.” he cursed, eyes slipping shit. “bloody capital.”

to gael, the crownlands seemed more beautiful in print than in person. surely there had to be more to the land than what was being shown upon his arrival. even throughout his long ride he could remember reading tales of those who described the south as beautiful plains and river valleys coated with thick lush forests, only to be humbled by gael with watered down versions of it all. a true disappointment. he almost dared to say that dorne in all of its glory was much more appealing to the eye that this mess of a land. and a lot less crowded too.

he had left his party of those crossing in from starfall earlier in the day, taking his lonely chances by roaming king’s landing on his own before being sucked into the masses at court. gael, ever so intrigued, found his time deeper into the castle, roaming and gobbling fruit to past the time before his fleeting attention was caught on another arrival. “take it you aren’t finding the open arms of king’s landing to your liking?”

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valerystargaryen‌:

valerys was right drunk. just because they had visitors didn’t mean he was keen to change his routine in any way. he was the prince, after all. no one told the prince what to do. ( except every living member of the targaryen clan. and cullen. cullen also told the prince what to do. ) making a rather sharp turn down the corridor, valerys stopped himself dead in his tracks when he nearly ran into the innocent passerby. “nothing to see here!” he chirped, straightening his shirt and trying not to wobble. “unless, of course, you like what you see?” he laughed, hearty and genuine. he was nothing if not real.. holding out his cup, val raised it in an offering. “care to partake?”

dyanna had the silky hems of her dress ruffled between her smooth fingers. gods the capital was confusing to maneuver! she had spent nearly half the day getting lost within the castle, peaking through other’s chambers and getting lost in stony corridors. it was embarrassing. and the southern heat clinging to her dornish skin wasn’t helping. “seven hells, where am I?” a quick mutter to herself and a swift turn had lead the young allyrion down the corner of another unfamiliar corridor, and instead of being greeted with the bronze door that she assumed would lead her to the great hall, dyanna was met with a man’s body smashing against her own. “oh!” dyanna held her hands out to steady the wobbling man in front of her, dress falling back to the grounds as her attention fled to who she now realized was the prince. “your grace,” with flushed cheeks and a bow, dyanna tilted into a proper southern curtsy. “your pleasantries are much welcomed, but I’m afraid I’m only given a cup during feasts.”

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We grew up in paradise, and indeed, she was a gracious host.

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( tommy martinez, he/him ) — high greetings to lord gael of house dayne, the fallen sun. the twenty eight year old is known for being perspicacious but has the tendency to be impetuous too. ( you are more than just fire and fear. you are a man born from the skies hot with love and power that forge you together. this is how you tell them all that you have always been half-god and half-hell ) 

WOOT. last one!

still unfinished.... lol. I suck! I know! this is also the most rushed. forgive me! 

I. STATISTICS

NAME: gael dayne

NICKNAME(S): none

ALSO KNOWN AS: the fallen sun 

AGE: twenty eight 

TITLE: lord gael of house dayne 

ORIGIN: starfall

REGION: dorne

RELIGION: faith of the seven

MORAL ALIGNMENT:  neutral good 

GENDER: male , he / him

HEIGHT: 6’0

FACE CLAIM: tommy martinez  

POLITICAL ALLEGIANCE: house dayne, house martell, house targaryen

CULTURE: dornish

SIGIL: white sword and falling star crossed on lilac

II. PERSONALITY

unlike dyanna and nic, gael is actually genuinely sweet. I wanted to make a pretty romeo-esque type of guy who fills his day with poetry, music, and beautiful souls. he has zero interest in politics and war. which really pisses his family off, but he doesn’t care. very careless, actually. he’s a speak when spoken to sort of guy so most of his opinions, regardless of how well though out they are, are usually only granted when asked. he stays out of plenty of matters whether he’s in kings landing or starfall. nobility bores him, so you’ll find him regularly out with commoners drunk off expensive wine and tangled up with their naked limbs. while dyanna might display a more forceful presence of where she’s from, gael plays a more seductive role. hide you wives + husbands. okurrr. 

- I’ll finish this up later omg 

III. ABOUT

|||. |||. |||. |||. (  I’ll brief those who want to plot with him with a little blurb! )

IV. AESTHETIC

a starlit sky, the feeling of sand touching your skin, midnight breeze, late hour dancing, dornish wine, gold foiled embroidered robes, riding freely on horseback, the taste of foreign food, stories from valyria,  conversations about magic and dragons, summer nights, clothes of deep purples, silks and satins, citrus trees, paper fans, nameday presents, hearing various styles of music from all over westeros, warm sunsets, steel spears, the history of the faith, beautiful souls from essos, snake charmers, baked bread, tanned skin, the heat of the sun against your cheeks 

V. WANTED CONNECTIONS

|||. best friend: |||. a past/current lovers: |||. familiar dornish faces:

+ I’ll fill this out soon!!

VI.PINTEREST

gael dayne