the first thing merei admittedly noticed about the man beside her was the clear burn mark upon his face, though it to not take away from the handsome features he so clearly possessed. it almost drew her more into the other. it must be a mark of the great war that ravaged these lands, so she believed. where dragons fell from the very heavens and set aflame anything in their wake. the lady of lys had read and re-read much of the writings of the dance, but she didn't realize until this moment just had recently it truly had occurred.

the second thing she noticed, was how fluidly he, too, spoke high valyrian.

he did not speak it in a way where it came secondary to the common tongue of these lands, a tongue she struggled to comprehend and speak as well as the one native to her home. the man spoke it as proudly as his ancestors surely did of old valyria, which was so clearly apparent in the silver of his hair. dark hues briefly scanned over his attire, and decided he was likely from one of the great valyrian houses. which one, she hadn't a clue. perhaps one would simply ask, but merei thought it more intriguing if she happened upon the answer.

brows rose as her gaze drifted back down to the gardens, the dimming light casting shadows over the gardens, hindering her ability to truly see the greenery from this angle. "is that so?" she questioned, "what kinds of unique flowers does this garden possess? i would be very interested in seeing them." lips curled upwards into a smile as hands went from leaning upon the banister to resting in front of her.

"i would love a drink, thank you, my lord. perhaps there is some unique spirit here to you would surprise me with as well?" the lady questioned, the jest apparent in her voice, though she would not deny she would curious if there were more intriguing secrets to uncover within king's landing. she had been impressed very little until now.

He didn't noticed her. Not at first. Lost in his own thought as he stared over the balcony, watching those below them. The people on the balcony around them standing at little tables, chatting and drinking and laughing and it all sounded the same. His mind running endlessly. There was so much to do as a King. These celebrations would be over and he would be back to his planning. Coffers needed to be secured. Decisions had to be made. And soon he would have to look over the many, many documents and papers from years past.

When he heard her voice, when he heard her speaking High Valyrian with a perfection one didn't find often. Jaehaerys turned to look at her. These were moments when the King thought it important he didn't wear his crown every waking second. It was important to gauge one from their conversation starters of choice. "Yes, it's lovely." He responded, speaking in the shared tongue of High Valyrian. Where was she from? Perhaps Lys or was she Volantene? He would say Lys.

"You would find more roses in the Reach that is true. Though if you explore through the gardens long enough you make even find flowers even I have never seen in these many years." She was pretty, more than that he thought her beautiful. As a serving girl walked by he raised his hand and stopped her. "Would you care for a drink, my lady?"

The longer he stood there the more he wondered if he had seen her before, had he seen her somewhere? Were the Gods playing games with him? Did they fill his coronation with beautiful women to test the limits of his doctrine? To make him question what he always thought of beauty? The Bracken girl, The Dornish Princess, and now this woman. Beautiful and she spoke High Valyrian as if the language was hers and hers alone. And that, that intrigued the King of fire and blood.

merei had admittedly found herself a bit bored, no, overwhelmed, by all that was happening around her. though the lady of house rogare had prepared herself as well as she could for stepping foot onto westerosi soil, but it were an entirely different experience actually being here. the common tongue felt strange to her, despite her understanding of it, it were not nearly perfect. the events that led them to leave lys, for the time being, also felt heavy upon her shoulders. a mindless task felt necessary in this moment, and so she made her way to the markets, deciding upon a lovely shop full of beautiful silks - perhaps not as good as ones she were used to, but maybe some treasure lie within.

and soon after entering, there it was. some glistening blue colored silk, it were a deeper blue, almost indigo, which merei greatly preferred, but as she approached the fabric, ready to place her claim, another put her hand on it.

"how nice." merei replied, not even a feigned smile upon her features, but a simple raise of her brows. "it would wash you out. you'd best leave it to me." a hand reached to grasps another corner of the fabric.

who: @divinetwilight

setting: during the coronation of jaehaerys targaryen, the bastard of hellholt tries to lift her spirits with material things. in one of the many shops of king's landing, she finds a worthy opponent.

king's landing was not dorne. amaia hated almost everything. the mansion that belonged to lord belaerys was an impressive sight, but it unsettled her. to the people here she was not the beloved niece of lord uller, but just another dornish bastard. she hated the demotion. she hated these people, and the way she had to smile to their faces while cursing them in her mind. and today proved to be particularly draining. at least her pockets were lined with gold and she could shop away the frustration. in her experience a pretty thing always made the day more tolerable.

entering a shop located on the busy street, amaia could not mask the frown on her face. after a moment of browsing her eyes landed on a beautiful piece of silk. she believed it to be from qarth. it would do for now. as her hand went to grab the fabric, another figure appeared before her. targeting her find.

"i saw it first," she replied briskly, not in the mood for pleasantries.

the political intrigue of the west was not so different from that of lys - pleasant conversation and plastered smiles on the face of every nobles engaged in conversation that she observed. it was interesting, if not more dangerous than she had envisioned, for the lady of house rogare was far more used to the great influence of coin and votes over titles. some of the tongues spoken in the air around her were foreign to her ears, either by her own stubbornness, or simply because there were so many guests who traveled from all across the continent and beyond to attention such an event, and bear witness to the next targaryen king in the long lineage of rulers.

slender figure had been within the crowd, observing a jousting tournament in which it seemed a king from the vale had made himself a participant against an unknown knight, brows furrowing in vague recognition of something about the other man. there was not time for the lady to gather her thoughts before suddenly the king practically took flight, a blow that was intended to be deadly and dodged at the last moment. she supposed the west was not so different, after all.

the gasp of the crowd, elicited an expression of concern in her features, not quite understanding the weight of such actions until guards seized the other man. the king, luckily, found his feet, and demeanor stood as if the whole ordeal was simply a hazard of his role, which merei supposed in a way, it was. she understood this far too well. gaze shifted from the king down to the knight forced to his knees, helmet removed, and suddenly, suddenly, she found herself truly surprised.

merei approached one of the guards after the man had been taken to the tent to alert him that she was certain she knew who he was. image stood tall as she was lead into the tent, led to two men to explain how she knew the man, and was immediately met with yelling and berating in her ancient tongue from the would-be knight on his knees some paces away. it took much for her not to mock the man, though perhaps he did not intend for her to know him, or speak up, she simply watched him continue to lose a grip on himself. dark hues lifted to see the queen of the vale approaching her now.

the lady of house rogare maintained a pleasant composure, though she did not offer introductions, but simply observed the woman. icy demeanor and tone was interesting, but unbothersome to the lady. "it has certainly been beneficial to you in this instance, your grace." merei stated, eyes flickering to the man who still knelt nearby. "his name is moreo, he is a steward of my uncle, syleros rogare."

the lady shifted slightly in her stance, giving pause for a response for a brief moment. "i shall have no purse, your grace, perhaps your time, instead, as that, too, is valuable." the opportunity to have the queen of the vale's ear was something merei could not pass up.

who: @divinetwilight when and where: an hour following the initial incident with graham royce and a mystery rider attacking him in the joust, the show needed to go on. during one of the jousting breaks, ravella arryn rises from the stands to make her way over to a tent in which the knight continued being held. the flaps of the tent opened, in which the knight was being transported to the cells of the red keep.

it were important for the activities to continue as was planned during the day: as was insisted by the vale court, whom had always developed a sense of not wishing to partake in theatrics and whom had understood that matters needed to continue. the world did not come to a halt simply because of one event, gods knew the amount of times it appeared as though the sun had risen and set on the falcon throne and yet the world always continued; a king had risen from the dead and the world had continued when he was dead once again, and continued when his murderer was the man that sat on the throne beside her. her gaze was silently upon axell royce as the trio stood in discussion with lord cargyll, who appeared to be some close association with the king - his trusted companion. jaehaerys targaryen had called him by name as his first initial reaction.

ravella continued to silently look toward the high commander, her arms folded before the strings of her bodice; her conversation with jaehaerys targaryen continued in her mind. it appeared as though the ghost of runestone had left quite the memories; rumours that she did not particularly care for. there was a twisted sense of curiosity however. "then let him be transported to black cells." ravella confirmed, her arms remaining folded, her facial expression clearly displeased; it seemed as though none were able to identify this individual, to the point where they had brought in some courtiers one by one to see whether there could be any to identify the man's identity.

"a word, high commander." ravella spoke, as domeric emerged back into the tent where the man was being held. it were obvious he were from across the narrow sea; though the had no obvious physical indications of where he could be from, and whether he worked for any westerosi. ravella's mind trailed back to the court of the lions; golden idols, remaining high upon their alter; she would see it wiped with the blood of their youngest cub should their claws be found in her realm still. and then, when she were ready to speak to the high commander on the conversation she had with the dragon king merely an hour earlier, she heard a stirring.

they had brought in another woman, a guest of jaehaerys himself to see whether there could be any luck; and it seemed as though the man had quite the reaction to her presence, for he began to exclaim in a language that was not her own. not westerosi, that was sure. it was for this particular reason jaehaerys ought to be weary of how many foreigners he allowed into his realm. and when they entered the tent, there was some raven haired woman stood within the tent, speaking with lord cargyll and lord stone. she was wearing some scent that was incredibly strong, and when she turned, ravella got a better look at just who was stood before her.

one of the lyseni individuals, though she knew not exactly who the individual was or what relation she had to the other. or whether they held any significant importance - the obvious answer being no, considering the highest position would merely be the head of a family bank. "how useful it is that you recognised one of your own." ravella commented, a clear scathing xenophobic taint in her voice: the lyseni were hedonistic fools with a limited understanding of what was beyond power than mere gold and commerce. heritage, traditional, values. none of it. "you may inform us of the name, and you shall receive your purse."

setting : during the coronation events of jaehaerys targaryen, merei finds a moment of peace upon a balcony of the red keep as the sun begins to set over the blackwater bay ; starter for @jaehaerysiitargaryen

navigating the social circles of westeros was an interesting feat for the lady of house rogare, who was not necessarily shy to striking up conversation, but suddenly finding herself taken about with the chatter that swirled around her. the common tongue, though known and spoken by her, was not her forte, and though many of those she conversed with spoke valyrian as she did, it was not always a perfect translation. the lady had been left to her own devices for the time being, her brother off attending to business with the newly crowned king, though she had not had the pleasure of an introduction just yet, so she managed to navigate the people around her on her own, as she tended to do. though things seemed to be going nicely enough on her visit thus far, she found the barrier of tongues to be exhausting at times, and felt best seeking a moment of reprieve upon a nearby balcony.

figure clad in silks of deep blue and silver of a traditional lyseni style drifted towards the banister, hands placed upon it as she took in the view. it was only fitting that she was drawn to this place, the sun setting over the bay in the distance, beams of twilight now casting colorful rays upon a once blue sky, this was her favorite time of the day - though bittersweet in this moment as it reminded her of home. she supposed king's landing was not too bad, however, if not for the stench that seemed to constantly linger in the air, or rather new valyria as she had heard the newly crowned king had dubbed it, though she had not bore witness to the man herself.

the balcony was large, enough so for some others to linger and chat paces away, though not so much she overheard them. merei had not even noticed the figure that stood nearby, even unsure as to whether they had just appeared there as well, or if they had been lingering the whole time. once her eyes had drifted to him, she offered a cordial smile. he was clearly valyrian, hair of silver and eyes of lilac, features of her own culture she did not possess herself, though that was greatly due to her lengii heritage from her mother. "it's a lovely view, isn't it?" she stated, in a tongue she believed the other would understand perfectly well.

taking a deep inhale, she hoped to enjoy the fresh scent of the gardens below, only to realize once again, that smell had filled her senses. nose scrunched slightly as amber hues drifted downwards to the greenery below. "i suppose roses do not bloom as well here as they do in the kingdom of the reach, so i hear."

setting : at one of the garden tea parties, a large gathering of women from all over the realm is in attendance, merei sits at one of the tables with two of the ladies that accompany her ; starter for @mourningblood

the weather was particularly nice this afternoon, the suns rays peaking out from behind white fluffy clouds that were scattered about the sky. it was, perhaps, the nicest day of merei's visit, thus far. she found it difficult to see king's landing as remotely comparable to her home in lys, but she was making an effort to explore the grounds and give it a chance. tea parties seemed to be the norm for women in this realm, especially when visiting another. it seemed the perfect opportunity to chat, gossip, and, in merei's case, observe others.

and observe she did, the giggling of some younger ladies to one side, heated debate between some older ladies on another, no doubt mother's who were arguing on who's daughter was best suited for which available lord, as if they were brood mare. at least some things did not seem to really change between realms. merei sipped from the tea cup in her hand, not particularly enjoying it, finding it blander than she is used to, but nonetheless she attempted to let her palate get used to the flavor - or lack thereof.

eyes scanned the crowd some more, noticing a woman with silver hair nearing her table. before she walked past them entirely, merei lifted a hand to get her attention. "excuse me." she stated, with a tone that was laced with honey, speaking in high valyrian, certain she was speaking to one who would understand her, for her common tongue was not quite as refined. "i am curious how these parties tend to go. do women just sit and chat? are there games? food? better...refreshments?"

setting : during the events leading up to the coronation of king jaehaerys, the lyseni envoy of lysarr rogare arrives to king's landing ; starter for @myriamas

this city was strange and foreign. though adaptability was always one of merei's strongest traits, she felt entirely lost amongst the cobbles outside of the red keep. though she were not lost in a geological sense, having made herself familiar and acquainted with the space just outside the castle, extending to the gardens, and no further yet, but she felt entirely adrift in terms of her place here. the people both sounded and looked different. her common tongue was not as polished as it could be, though the sound of valyrian gave a semblance of comfort now and again. still, her entire visage down to her dress and hairstyle of choice was certainly different from those around her. merei did not necessarily feel insecure about it, but rather, took great notice of it.

even over the sweet floral scent of the perfume upon her skin, she could still sense the odd smell that seemed to be this city itself, finding no reprieve even amongst the gardens, that surely should offer some more enticing aroma's. merei recalled hearing of the unique smell of the city, but she did not anticipate this sort of experience. still, no one seemed to notice it, or if they did, they didn't complain about it within earshot of her.

figure walked along the green path, attendants following close behind as she simply familiarized herself with this place. she were not entirely impressed, but perhaps it had it's own charm, somewhere. ears perked up with the sound of a familiar tongue chatted nearby, and amber hues scanned the area to see the visage of myriam allyrion in conversation with another.

she should not have been surprised to see the woman, only she perhaps did not expect to run into her so soon. surely, she would be attending the coronation of another noble of this realm, it was similar to an election of a magister, a renowned event that all would flock to. inhaling deeply and straightening her posture, she approached the dornish regent, a hint of a smile perking up her lips, though eyes remained almost cat-like in nature. "your grace." she chimed in when the conversation the other was having had ceased.

long ago the two women had become acquainted in braavos whilst merei traveled with her family on business, and the princess consort had traveled with her husband, prince mors martell. at that point, interactions were tense at best, though merei had thought perhaps were they not so different, valyrian and rhoynish, there may have been potential for more than just distrusting glances and feigned niceties. that intuition came back to her when lys and dorne formed an alliance, and she took to writing to the princess directly, mending differences and beginning a friendlier relationship.

"i am glad to have the opportunity to speak to you again, in more than just letters." if merei saw anything in this moment, as well, it was the opportunity to extend an olive branch, align herself with someone else who must feel on the outside, in some sense.

♛ → LYS present(s) MEREI ROGARE, the LADY of HOUSE ROGARE of LYS when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the GREENS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the THIRTY year old FEMALE who was STRATEGIC & DETAIL-ORIENTED before they saw the first of the flames, is now CONCEITED & STRONG-WILLED after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the scent of may roses, jasmine and vanilla, a cat perched upon a relaxed figure's lap, amber hues twinkling in the rays of the twilight sun. ( shay mitchell. )

bio | connections | spotify | pinterest