T R U T H  S E R U M

location: white harbor, the north

it had not been that long since she had seen her family last, only a few months. but to her it felt like forever. over the past ten years of the war she barely had ever left the vale, for safety sake. and during that time she had her family by her side. and most of that time was spent with her sister as their brothers left to fight in their own ways. 

first arriving in the north she felt lost without having them by her side. rodrik was there for her, along with the other stark siblings but it took some time to adjust. and even still there were times she doubted herself and her place in the north.

 rosa had asked that the moment word came that the party from the vale had arrived that she be notified. her heart fluttered every time someone walked down the halls, expecting news to arrive. the moment the fresh-faced maid stuck her head into the room to give her the news, rosa had tossed her book aside and hurried out the door.

 "your majesty, please be careful!" her maid called after her. all of the staff were more cautious around her the past few weeks now that her stomach had begun to swell. the bump just barely visible under the dark navy dress she wore and the large cloak to keep her warm.

 racing down the white stone halls of new castle, she turned the corner into the main entrance. there she could spot the familiar raven-colored hair of her sister. "ravella!" she called out over the crowd, a smile on the young queen's face. she felt giddy, like a child once more as she bounded her way across the hall towards her. she gave little care to who else was there or watching as she threw her arms around her sister. "you made it here safe. i am so happy to see you."

@ravellaarryns

TRUTH SERUM

feel free to ask anything, in character or anonymously, and my character will be forced to answer truthfully.

rosa | ophelia | morra | cassana | harlon | theo | mellara

C A L L A    L E F F O R D

“How she needed just that at present; to disappear for a bit, to escape. She wanted the soothing feeling of the wind in her hair, the reins in her hands, and the simple notion of having control of at least one small thing in her life.”

penned by eva

@calla-lefford

rodrikofwinter​:

@rosaaaryn​

though many in the north would consider him to be jovial, a man who will share a drink and a laugh with his men, in the south rodrik has long been thought of as the dark wolf, a man who has made decisions others would often revile. his expression was solemn in the south, made even more so by the dour walls of dragonstone. the harsh neutrality of the grey bricks juxtaposed against the sea so turbulent the water was little more than droplets and cresting waves that crashed against the shore, both reminded him of home and made him wish that he was still in the north.

his crown, hammered bronze with spikes of black iron, was heavy on his head, though he did not wear it outside of his official duties.

( his bearing, his countenance, the way he spoke so confidently made it clear, rodrik thought, that he was the king of winter. anything more was an ostentatious showing he did not believe in )

rodrik had sparred in the training yard with a couple of his men and as he walked back into dragonstone itself, he kept from wiping beads of sweat percolating on his forehead. as he neared the hallway toward his chambers, however, he saw a familiar face though it was not one he knew well. the arryn princess his father had wanted him to wed stood just ahead and though negotiations between the families had not begun again, he felt it impolite to simply ignore her.

“good afternoon,” he said, the small talk sounding strange even to his own ears. “it has certainly been some time since we’ve last met.”

.

the days at dragonstone were coming to an end. and honestly, rosa was thankful for that fact. after everything that happened on this island, the arryn princess was ready to make her way back home. when they were first leaving to come to dragonstone rosa was overjoyed at the thought of getting to leave the vale for awhile. all throughout the war she had been stuck in the vale and honestly mostly in the eyrie to keep her safe. so getting travel somewhere was exciting for her. but now she wondered why she had left the vale at all.

but rosa couldn't let these thing bring her down. to break her. no she needed to stay strong for herself and for her family. so despite how much anxiety it might bring her she decided to go for a nice walk today. her guards following behind her to at least bring some comfort.

"king rodrik." surprise laced in her melodic voice. rosa had seen the other king during the time on the island but had never a real chance to speak with him. plus with the rumored talked of their father's arrangement she thought it might be inappropriate for her to reach out to him without knowing where people stood. but now with the two of them in the hall together there was no leaving a perfectly polite conversation. "it certainly has been a long time and much has changed. is your family well? i haven't had much of a chance to speak with either of your sisters here yet." she smiled. "and you! i hope you have been good as well with all the new pressures of kinghood."

wedbedbehead​:

where: the eyrie who: @rosaaaryn​

Sometimes, Ysilla felt that she had spent far too much time of her life waiting. It was the worst feeling in all the world, really, not knowing what was happening somewhere to people who meant the world to you. To have to wait for the outcome, and learn only afterward if all was well. But this was the story of all those who remained behind, be it for the battle that was perhaps occurring right this very moment, somewhere in the Riverlands, or for the whole of the last war.

But if Ysilla was frightened for her brothers, then Rosa must be doubly so, for her brothers and her new husband. Ysilla had been in the very same position some years ago, and even now she woke at night dreaming of waiting, waiting, not knowing—but aware somewhere in the back of her mind the raven that was going to reach them any day, knowing exactly what it would say. But what good was it to wallow in her fears and worries? Thinking about it would send her mad; and so she would not, save where her own history meant she was the perfect person to assuage the fears of another, fears newer and so likely more painful for it.

“It feels as though it’s been forever since we had the chance to speak,” she said, turning from the window to face Rosa so she could hear—that was, see. “Which is only natural, of course, with you married now. I’ll have to make certain my hand is better when you leave, so you may read my writing without all the difficulty everyone says I gave them the last time I had anyone to write to.” She wrinkled her nose. As much as she enjoyed conversation, letter-writing had never been a great skill of hers. She never knew what to keep and what not to. “I know this is a troubled time, but I am glad we have the chance to speak. So—Your Grace—how has being the Queen of the North suited you so far? Well, the parts you’ve seen of it.”

.

the way the sunlight streamed in through the window illuminated the dark haired woman perfectly. it felt warm. welcoming. it fit perfectly as she was getting to see her friend again, after having been so busy she barely had time to think. the two of them having agreed to meet today to catch up. rosa couldn't help but hugging her friend as she approached. "i'm sorry i have been so busy. my mind is all over the place lately but i should hve done better to manage my time to see you sooner." she told her, pulling away.

"i apologize in advanced for the copious amount of letters you will be recieveing from me. i will not care what sort of handwritting i am getting in return as long as it is a letter from my friend then i will be happy." ysilla had always been a true and loyal friend. it was evident in the small gestures she had given to rosa throughout their friendship. even something as little as moving herself to be better seen by rosa in order to lipread better. small moments that didn't need to be asked but were just done. a small gesture sure, but true friendships were built on such things. it was small things that rosa remembered in the longrun. rosa had tried to reciprocate that back to ysilla throughout the years as well. wanting to be by her side, holding her hand when she was sad. being there to tell her over and over again that she was enough. that the terrible misfortune that had befallen her was in no way her fault. that one day rosa wanted her to utterly and perfectly happy. ysilla deserved it afterall.

"oh please, you are one of the last people that need to be calling me your grace. especially when it is just the two of us here." the redheaded laughed softly. "it has been....interesting. i've been trying to talk with some of the other northern women who are here. some have been very kind to me and others are wary...i cannot say i blame though. i am a stranger to most of them. i would never want to demand a friendship out of them all so soon." truthfully it was hard to navigate all of this without rodrik by her side. he had left her in good hands, with people to help teach her about the north and help to guide her. but there was so much she felt like she did not know. so much she just wanted to ask rodrik, but he was so far away. "is it silly to miss him, so much?" she asked her friend, her voice low and quiet. like maybe it was foolish thing to think, not wanting anyone else to know but her. "i know we haven't gotten to be married for long but i already miss him."

wyattgrafton​:

who: @rosaaaryn​

where: white harbor, godswood in the wolf’s den

heavy feet hit the pavement made clumsy by fatigue. an effort had been made in the first weeks of his stay in the city to familiarize himself with whatever culture and entertainment white harbor had to offer but somehow his troubles followed him everywhere, plaguing his thought and even alcohol in excess did nothing to drive them away. he’d even visited the famed godswood in the wolf’s den but in his troubled state even spirituality was no fit remedy. the gods in all their magnanimity and wiseness had been no match for all the questions he had. questions only he could answer. and yet in the grand scheme of things the pride of one wyatt grafton nor the fate of house grafton weren’t of great importance. not in light of recent developments. not when westeros was facing more threats than ever before. still how was he meant to fill the role his king had entrusted him with when he was so aimless, so lost as to where to even begin to rebuild both himself and his house. 

and so here he was on his knees, hands joined in prayer, searching for the words. there had been prayers on the kingfisher, only far less solemn ones. the men in his employ would often make some up to gods he’d never even heard of, gods he suspected were for a good half at least partly invented. he hadn’t prayed for much over the years. when he was a child he had made a habit of praying for strength and courage. two qualities his father insisted he lacked. and when the strength and the courage he found all on his own proved to be no match for his father fury, he’d stopped praying. there was no use in sending wishes up to the heavens, hoping against all hope that one day he’d be what waleran grafton expected of him or even more grotesque a wish that he would be himself and that would be enough. the gods couldn’t change him any more than they could transform his father. so he’d ran and turned his back on the gods and now here he was, hands shaking and joined and praying anyway. standing up and dusting snow off of his dark coat he made to leave but stopped in his haste as he heard distant footsteps, reflexively looking for a place to hide but finding to his dismay that he was exposed for all eyes to see, with nowhere to hide. catching a flash of red hair he immediately bowed his head in reverence. whether they belonged to a tully or an arryn he was no doubt in the presence of royalty. the face that came into his view still managed to surprise him though and he stuttered an incredulous “Your Grace. What a surprise! Should I leave? I wouldn’t want to intrude between you and them.” He let out, looking up at the sky with his finger pointed to the clouds, with a wink.

.

it had only been a month since everyone had arrived up in her new kingdom. just a few weeks and yet it felt like they had been living through all of this for a year now. each new arrival of news ready to seed the next roots of worry and paranoia within all of them. what else could happen next? the question itself had struck fear into so many of their hearts. and now all of them needed to move somewhere safer. somewhere they could be together and still keep their distance. the close quarters halls of new castle felt like a chessboard to maneuver through. part of her was almost thankful to leave.

however there was something she wished to do before she left.

heavily guard, rosalyn stark walked through the streets of white harbor towards where daemon targaryen had met his final moments. she had wished she did not see what had become of him. she wished she could keep the memories of him in the vale instead. all of them so young then, so unaware of everything to come their way.

the guards around her, stayed close as they neared the weirwood tree. not only were they protecting their queen but the child she was carrying. now five months along in her journey, there was no hiding her stomach. clutched in her hand was a beautiful bunch of winter flowers. walking into the garden that held the tree she paused when she noticed another man there. her heart beat raced until she realized who it was. an unusual relationship the two of them found themselves in. "please lord grafton, no need to hurry away on my account. i only came to leave these behind." she said motioning towards the flowers. "i hear from my family that the vale is leaving soon for barrowtown? are you joining them?"

A E G O N    T A R G A R Y E N

“the fire had been put out, ten years had passed in a flash, and aegon was only ‘home’ for a few days, before he was to sail back to braavos. ”

penned by L

@facelesstargaryen

Lucrezia Borgias rose dress in The Borgias 1x03

throughout most of her life, rosalyn had been led to believe that her destiny lay within the north. her father, in those rare moments of interaction with his youngest daughter, would tell her over and over to prepare for the north. there she would be away from the vale, from his sight and someone else’s issue to deal with. after all, her sister ravella would be sealing an alliance with a powerful vale lord, making her a valuable asset for the kingdom closer to their own. in this intricate dance of politics and marriage, his other daughter could be used to help the kingdom close by them. thereby securing alliances and ensuring prosperity. but the tapestry of fate often weaved intricate patterns, and the eventual upheavals of war and death transformed their predestined lives.

and yet, here she stood once more, poised for betrothal, this time not to a stark lord but to a stark king—a union that would elevate her status to that of a queen.

upon the first engagement announcement, rosalyn had delved into a tome detailing the teachings of the old gods. recognizing that her children would grow up worshipping these ancient deities, she diligently pored over the book's pages, seeking to imbibe the knowledge. yet, as the days elapsed, the book eventually returned to its place on the shelf, its purpose temporarily fulfilled. now, however, she found herself pulling it down again, gently wiping away the dust that had gathered, ready to plunge into its wisdom again.

outwardly, she adhered to the tenets of the faith of the seven, a virtuous woman of the vale, as expected. but always, there lingered that fractional part within her—a questioning spark. it was not solely due to the old gods book she had perused; rather, it was a lingering sense of unease that never seemed to abate. how could she reconcile the cruelty of her father, who wielded his power like a merciless blade, with the reverence he received within the sept? the hypocrisy of it all gnawed at her. in a realm where faithful followers constantly bickered, killing one another, how could these acts be deemed righteous? for years, she had sat in the sept asking the gods to reveal answers, but none came. a veil of guilt shrouded her thoughts for entertaining such heretical notions, leaving her to ponder whether her father's maltreatment was somehow justifiable. her uncertainty deepened, threading uncertainty into the future she envisaged for her children, whom she hoped to raise in the worship of the old gods.

the eyrie's godswood provided the setting for the newly engaged first real meeting—an apt fusion of the old and new, a bridge between two belief systems that had yet to fully intertwine. a strange kinship settled within her as the ancient trees that should be watching over them, sharing her sense of a divided spirit.

"many attribute the statue to alyssa," she shared, a soft, knowing smile gracing her lips. "my mother was among those who believed it. strangely cruel, isn't it? to cast a statue of her weeping while she ceaselessly sheds tears over the giant's lance.you know the one name my father forbid my mother to name any of us was alyssa. he thought it would bring bad luck down upon them." a faint laugh colored her voice, but it was a laughter born of contemplation as the thought of her father caring for his own daughters. at least he didn’t curse them with bad luck.

as the topic shifted to the godswood's trees, rosalyn's gaze turned towards where the tree should be. "attempts have been made to transplant the heart tree here, but the very rocks seem to thwart the endeavor. an unfortunate pity, for i can only imagine the beauty it would bring to this sacred space," she mused, a yearning note in her tone. “i have read of the weiwood heart tree in the north many times in my books but have never seen one in person before. i am looking forward to seeing the one in winterfell.” 

his next question, led to the briefest of pauses in her response. as she fashioned her reply, it could have been perceived as her merely searching for the right words or perhaps due to the intricacies of her needing to lipread. but deep within, she battled the impulse to reveal her innermost thoughts. yet, in this initial meeting as fiancés, restraint triumphed. "yes, i have been raised within the faith of the seven from infancy. within the vale, there are not many who veer from this path," she replied, maintaining her calm facade. her eyes met his gaze, a subtle challenge in her demeanor. "and you, i imagine you are a practitioner of the old gods. i've delved into texts, but true understanding often evades the confines of mere pages."

| a starter for @rosaaaryn​ | | time: flashback, year 2 | | setting: the day before their wedding, king owen stark and princess rosa arryn speak in the godswood of the eyrie |

They were betrothed once before. Back in a time before the dance. His father thought it would be a great way to unite their houses and their regions, before the dance. Before the war that came and dissolved most unions in favor of others or security. His father talked about it so often that when they weren’t fighting, he tried to avoid the man’s gruff words. And now he would do anything to hear those words again. Sons were meant to bury their fathers, didn’t make it hurt any less. He missed the man now, not half as much as he missed his mother, but he was close to his father. They spent so much of their time together that he often still found himself entering what was once his father’s office and sitting at the table instead of the desk only for Jon to tell him to move.

The godswood of the Eyrie wasn’t a godswood at all. The godswood contained no heart tree. Owen thought it more of a garden than a godswood and he looked forward to the day he would go home again. There was something more important than being homesick and it was securing his family, the royal line, and making alliances. Military and trade alliances and it was best to start close to home. They were once betrothed, years ago. They were quite different now, at least he felt different. Ten years on, war changed him and the crown he wore felt quite heavy.

“Princess Arryn, they say this statue is Alyssa Arryn.” Owen spoke as he walked up to the marble statue of the legendary woman. The crypts of Winterfell were filled with statues of Starks and their direwolves. The godswood of Winterfell didn’t hold any great statues or fountains, only the many trees, the small and cold pool at the ancient weirwood heart tree. “Our learned men say weirwoods can’t grow up here…” Owen didn’t know why he was speaking of the Gods. It seemed a good place to start.

“And you, you follow the way of the seven?”

what's your relationship like with your siblings now that you have moved to the north?

“i still love them all dearly. i wish i was still close to them as i feel like i cannot be there for them as much. and i feel like there are things are they are not telling me because i am married into another family. but i will never stop loving them, ever.”

@ravellaarryns @kingarryn @falcxnprince