maskormenace |

Entry tags:

» video

( When her image appears, she may immediately be recognizable to some. She is young, with healthy colour in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes where not long ago there had been neither. )

Where I come from, there was an entire epoch in history where great heroes walked the land. One of my forebears, Durran Godsgrief took to wife the daughter of two deities of wind and sea. They rained down such a tempest upon the wedding party that Durran's family and guests all died.

One after the next, he built successfully larger castles to weather their grief. Until finally the seventh, built with the aid of either the Children of the Forest or Bran the Builder finally survived and withstood the gods' rage. He was known as Godsgrief ever after, for having caused them such a bother.

( She is wise enough now not to speak of Lann the Clever instead, as she assumes her secret must ever remain precisely that. Her green eyes hold the camera, as she tilts her head, effecting a thoughtful façade. )

The word 'hero' carries a different sort of weight here than what I am familiar with. Is it simply this world, or others? ( She wonders if hers is merely an anomaly. ) Is the definition of heroism someone with godlike powers in the songs and stories of your realm, or are some ordinary people who manage to accomplish great things?

( Myrcella is, for now, putting on the impression of wide-eyed curiosity to stem her panic at having not only been resurrected, but with the ability to maim others if this file is correct. Her features soften apurpose, and she gives a sweet smile to her audience. )

Thank you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A bit of both, truth be told. Some may be innocent enough. But most can take a turn when you least expect it. But I harbor no responsibility should you find yourself curious about looking into such things.

[ He waves his hand with a vaguely amused expression. But there is certainly nothing more that Baelish enjoys than giving advice, and he readily steps up to the helm. ]

Find out the worst problems of your individual city and begin from there. For example, I live within Maurtia Falls. And we have a large problem with homelessness. As ambassador for the city, I've been doing whatever I can to make sure no one has to sleep on the streets. De Chima, on the other hand, may have more of a problem with food shortage. It's a well-off city, but unless you are involved in a technological or medical field, it may be difficult to make a satisfactory living so many families may not have enough to eat even if they do have homes. Focus on volunteering at a soup kitchen like that lady said or running food drives where you collect goods from others and give them to those in need.

Has anything untoward been written of you, my lord?

( She's curious at the encouragement and discouragement she distinctly hears in his tone. That will inevitably lead her to falling down a rabbit hole and wishing she hadn't later.

There's a little smile on her face as he continues, as she finds no fault at all in his advice. )

It does sound as if you are doing well for yourself in Maurtia Falls. That is good to hear. My Uncle is in your employ, is he not? I hope that he is doing well.

That makes much sense, and I believe I will do that. What titles we held makes no difference to anyone here save for those of us from Westeros. I would do well to assist where I can, as it seems the city is without leadership. I will give aid wherever and however I can on that score.

( She pauses, and then decides to finally ask: ) My lord, might I ask if you've heard anything of prince Trystane Martell? How he's doing, whether he returned home or remained in the capital? Anything.

[ He has to laugh at her question. ]

Yes, I suppose it has.

[ Him and Rincewind, him and Mitch, him and Chilton. All men. The fans tend to love pairing men with men. ]

Ah, yes. I imagine he's told you, then? He is doing well. I've worked with the Lannisters for quite some time and harbored a certain fondness for them. I only felt it fitting to ensure Ser Jaime got the chance to live a comfortable life here in this world.

[ There's a pause after her question. A long and almost telling pause. News does travel. And while Baelish is not the spider, he does have a few well placed informants in Kings Landing who still send him news. He knows of Trystane's fate. The fate of both the Martell men. ]

Are you certain you wish to know, my lady? This may not be the best sort of thing to discuss over the network.

( She makes a face. )

Then I am sorry for it. That must be wholly unpleasant.

( That wouldn't perplex her so much these days as it might have before she'd sailed for Dorne. )

He has, indeed. Thank you for ensuring that for him, my lord. I hope it was equally based on his merit as much as your fondness for that side of my family.

( A chill meanders slowly up her spine, though her expression doesn't change. The pause is telling, and her heart is a hair's breadth from dropping clean through the pit of her gut. )

I am. Should it be news so terrible, I would ask you to please tell me privately. If something has befallen him, I would know. Please.

Even privately, these devices cannot be trusted. And I would hope to spare anyone from utilizing any of your reactions against you. There are anonymous spies who thrive on illuminating private conversations.

I ask that you meet me somewhere that eyes and ears cannot penetrate. My ambassadorial office. There, I will tell you of what I heard.

Truly, I did not know. Though I can't say I am surprised to hear it. Thank you for the forewarning, my lord.

I will take the train and be there as soon as I can.

( At least her ~~father~~ uncle will be there in case the news is especially terrible, as she fears. True to her word, she arrives later that afternoon, escorted in by his assistant.

Standing tall and proud to effectively mask the turmoil of emotion welling within her chest, and curtsies and smiles faintly, all politeness. )

Please, tell me. What has become of Prince Trystane?

[ Petyr stands to meet her, dismissing his worker in order to close the door and lock it. His hand comes out to gently touch the fair Myrcella's arm, cradling it. ]

Come, your grace. Sit.

[ He leads her to the sedan couch in his office, sitting her there before pouring two glasses of expensive wine. It may be against the rules of this country for her to drink, but she is of the ripe age for it back home and she will need that wine to wash down this news.

Petyr settles beside her, drawing in a breath before he starts gently. ]

There was an uprising in Dorne. Ellaria Sand and her daughters are said to have killed Prince Doran. But it also grieves me to tell you that Prince Trystane was also found dead on the very ship that brought you back to King's Landing.

[ Also dead. But Petyr omits that part, uncertain if she had experienced that much just yet. ]

You have my sincerest condolences for your loss, Princess. I was there when the marital arrangement was made. [ And also part of Tyrion's little game concerning Myrcella's proposal. ] I know these matters of marriage are complicated and political, but at times, we do have the rare opportunity to fall in love with those we've betrothed.

Edited 2017-07-04 19:16 (UTC)

( She flinches a little; almost imperceptibly, but not entirely so. Since returning to life, she's not touched anyone save for her ~~father~~ uncle when she'd taken his arm or hugged him.

But he is gentle, and kindly, at least by appearances. Myrcella eases swiftly, and follows him to be seated upon the couch. )

Thank you, my lord.

( Your Grace. How strange it sounds to hear now. The presence of wine merely reinforces her prior apprehension, and she stiffens again. And as he continues, she blinks as if she might think herself in a waking dream. Or nightmare, more like. Her mind delays in processing his words; but when it does, her face turns pale, and her mouth presses into a firm line. No. What had they done to deserve that?

Why had Ellaria blamed her for her mother's choices? Why had Trystane, gentle and beautiful and good, paid for loving her with his life? Something cracks, and then shatters within herself as she reaches forward and takes a long draught from one of the offered wine glasses. Myrcella doesn't weep; but the pain is there in her green eyes as she turns to look at him. )

Why? They are—were— ( She almost chokes on the word. ) Good. Decent. I have seen a little that such facets of character can mean one is not long for the world, but I had thought...

( Hoped. Prayed. ) That we could bring about a new beginning. It was enough that they blamed me for my mother, for His Grace, my elder brother.

( If she had been innocent, then Doran and Trystane had been tenfold as much so. Taking a deep breath, she glances away. A chill runs through her, preventing her from weeping. It settles, as she looks back at him with all the cool anger and ferocity she bears toward Ellaria Sand and her daughters obvious to see. )

They are most appreciated, my lord. ( A knot rises and coils in her throat, all the emotion she refrains from displaying openly. It takes her a moment to swallow it back and continue: ) He didn't want anything from me, other than me. I will never find that again. And he deserved so much happier a fate than what has befallen him.

( All because of her, and her association with Joffrey and her mother. A bitter truth that makes her stomach roil. )

I did love him. And I always will.

[ It's an impressive display of control. Moreso than he thought possible. But he had only known Myrcella as a girl -- a tiny child who had not yet learned not to cry. And yet she had not cried nearly as much as her younger brother Tommen. While she was away, she had blossomed into a woman grown -- a woman who would have made a fair wife and mother, a woman who would have made any man lucky. And Trystane had been lucky.

Until that luck ran out for both of them.

Petyr reaches out, his hand pressing lightly over her own -- a warm comfort offered. It's almost paternal. Baelish had never been a father, but he had learned how to play the part when it came to Sansa. (Of course, he would from time to time step over the line there.) But fortunately for Myrcella, she is not a redhead nor Catelyn's daughter so she's safe from his advances. ]

There is a chance that he could find himself in this world much like you. This world has been known to cheat death for some and become an afterlife. So I would not believe you will never see him again.

[ He smiles, leaning in as though sharing a dear secret. ]

This world works in mysterious ways.

[ His expression sobers, becoming solemn. ]

Unfortunately in our world, those who are good or decent are not protected from an ill fate. Those with dark intentions can surpass and triumph over those who are full of light.

[ Petyr looks down at their hands, curling his around hers to bring it up into his other -- cradling it as he makes his point. ]

I always say, there is no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You cannot expect fate to take care of your enemies. You must be willing to do so with your own hands.

( Their good fortune had run out. Her father had told her just how lucky the pair of them had been. It was too good to last.

And that causes a bitterness to rise in her, keeping her very still as a hand is laid over her own. Myrcella glances away and forward, breath carefully measured as she inhales. It takes a supreme effort to maintain this control, yet she manages. Having to omit the fact of her own death to most everyone until this moment has begun to forge a steel in her. The comfort is tolerated, and then accepted as she turns her head to glance back at him. )

I can hope, but I must also learn to accept the world as it is. If he should arrive, I would be glad of it. But the truth remains that he and his father both deserved better.

( The her, she thinks, and wisely keeps to herself. As he leans over, she blinks, smiling faintly. )

I am here, and so I must agree with you.

( She nods her head, her small smile fading into obscurity. Tears yet threaten and sting at the corners of her eyes, but she wills herself to hold them back. )

Is anyone either dark or light? People are complicated creatures. Perhaps the lesson is that one must trust no one in order to survive. Prince Doran would rather have spared the mother of his nieces than execute her. He trusted in her to change, and our retinue with his son's safety.

( What she is—what others have failed to see—is perceptive. She'd trusted Ellaria Sand, in the end. And it had led to her death, too. Now Lord Baelish holds her hand captive, and she knows not whether to trust or keep her own counsel. She has been so desperate to know of Trystane's fate and is so aggrieved by his loss that though she should know better, she does not extricate her hand. )

To cease being a game piece and become a player? You know? I would. My previous life was comprised of choices made by others. No longer.

( She knows what he's saying; though as of yet, she doesn't know who her enemies might be beyond possibly the Targaryen Princess. )

That is why I intend to try and become De Chima's ambassador. My life would be my own, and my choices would affect others positively.

[ It wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to De Chima if Myrcella became ambassador. It wouldn't even be the worst thing to happen to Baelish's plans. But realistically, what are her chances? She simply hasn't had enough time. ]

A noble path, my lady. It is an excellent stepping stone. But it will be a challenge to accomplish. You have many things working against you -- most notably that the imPorts have not had the opportunity to truly get to know you. So you will have to work twice as hard as some of the others running to win their attention.

When I ran, I had only been an imPort for three months time -- not a very long period at all. I stood against two imPorts who had been here for far longer.

[ He won't mention that one of them was a dog... ]

So what I did was I reached out to individuals. I got to know them on a personal level. And in turn, they rewarded me with a chance. You don't have to sell yourself. Most often, simply the act of reaching out is enough. Nothing will show them you care more than making an effort to talk to them because it is one hundred times more than what your opponents will be doing.

( It's more the attempt at the moment which she focuses upon than the end result itself. Her mistake, perhaps. But having something to do and live for with however much borrowed time she has in this place keeps her from sinking into a pit of grief.

All the more important now, given the news she's just been given. )

I'm aware, my lord. And even with all that interaction, I may yet not win. It allows me to make myself known, for others to see what I stand for and why. If nothing else, that alone accomplishes a great deal. And if I do win, then I can put those things into practical application.

I see. Were they like Ser Bruce or Ser Erik? ( Charismatic, well-spoken and loaded, basically. )

( Oh, dear. Best he not, that would be amusing. )

That makes much sense; when one can choose their leader, there would be no reason to support an unknown quantity. I am that right now, completely.

( She might seek out allies, anyway. It's an uneasy thing to exist in a city of Starks who mostly would be wary of her if not outright hostile, in her estimation. )

How different do you think Westeros would have become had Aegon reached out similarly?

( Not to say she thinks he should have. Or would have, for that matter. It's framed as whimsy, but she's actually curious. )

Likely he would not have been known as Aegon the Conqueror at the very least.

[ Petyr replies, mildly amused. Imagining any of the warriors of old being civilized enough to deal with politics was entertaining. None of them would ever have that sort of patience to navigate disagreements without swinging a sword. ]

As for who I ran against -- one is no longer in this world and the other was Count Dooku. I'm certain you've heard Count Dooku's political broadcasts Counting Truths -- he is rather unsupportive of this world's government. Which means it would have been ironic that he would take a position working for them directly.

[ How long would Dooku have managed to hold the position before the government decided to extract him from it? ]

But it is good, my lady. That you're aware of your odds and that you will continue to fight on regardless. Many do run a second time and their chances greatly increase. And I have it on good authority that the position in Maurtia Falls may very well open up soon...

[ He brings his finger to the edge of his lips as though he's telling her to keep it secret. But it's really not that large of a secret. People of Maurtia Falls know that Baelish is gearing up for a mayoral run. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

» video

video;

video;

video;

video;

video; private

video; private

video; private

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;