#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

when : first round of the joust. where : the bleachers, unfortunately some odd seats away from the king with : @vedritied ( seda yildiz dayne )

being in the healing tents would give him a reprieve from running into people he didn’t wish to see, but if there was one activity hisham was enthused about was the tournament, and for that, he had forsaken his new - found duties, pleased to be by corner next to the one assigned to the council. a knowing hand rests upon his wife’s knee, while the other holds one of hers, actively keeping her from moving too much. nervousness was fresh — within him too, keeping him awake at night and glancing towards where euron harlaw had stood on the hallways at days — but they had accorded to move on. “i’m not sure if i am relieved that no one has asked for your favor, so i do not have to share it, or that i can not do it myself. or are you past these chivalrous nonsense already, my love?”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #no gifs at work <3

[perfervvidus]

who : seda yildiz dayne - tarly @vedritied​ when : the masquerade ball where : the ballroom

          a king’s will is absolute, unless it comes to children — there is no way for lucerys to inforce and control what the tarly children do, not when their parents are barely capable of doing so, and it is by the mouth of babes that hisham is warned that his wife “has wings” tonight. though apparently a mindless information, for the ballroom of the red keep has become a sort of mythical place where all sorts of beasts have come to gather and mingle, hisham still keeps it in mind, eyes skimming through the crowds in search for his winged lady.

when he finds her, he can not help the scoff that leaves his lips, and he almost smacks himself for not noticing earlier, when, if you look long enough, it is obvious who she is, if not by attire, then by frame and voice — both of which he has known for too long not to recognize. “could he have made it any more obvious?” the dormouse whispers to the scarlet dragon, annoyance melting into tenderness as he places a knowing hand on the curve of her waist. he can feel the scales brushing against his fingertips, and with a roll of his eyes, the man leans in, this time whispering against the shell of her ear for only her to hear. “what shall he do next? shackle you along with the real ones in the pit?” the dormouse shakes his head, denying his own derision. tonight, seda was more of use to the king than his dragons, safely stored under the hill of rhaenys, were.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #sorry seda ur husband is getting his head cut off for shit talking the king soon <3

[perfervvidus]

where : one of the medic tents. who : @servtudes​ ( aeron dayne )

there is no denying he enjoyed tournaments, even if the time and the reasoning behind it often soured his moods. despite the need to tend to any scrapes and bruises gained by the participants from the rounds, hisham did not stray from his seat until the second last match; then, he is almost pushed by his wife to go down the stairs, and he does so with some grumbling, peeking as the lion goes against the rose. “ah, the sword of the morning. would have been embarrassing if you were to lose to that green boy, isn’t it?” the jesting is as light as it could come from him, extra merriment brought only to those that were family. with a nod of his head, hisham sends aeron’s squire to fetch them cups, once he is finished with removing the top of his lord’s armor. “i should be paying more mind to the boy whose shoulder you almost broke, but well, a brother is in his right to be biased, is he not?” with zahur thankfully not in the lists, aeron was the closest thing hisham had on the tournament, and he had no qualms in living vicariously through him. “truthfully, how hard was it?”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

when : a few days after stefan’s arrest where : the tarly apartments within the red keep who : addisyn marbrand @crownscost​

though hisham had never seen the masquerade with good eyes, finding it futile and dangerous, seda and him had agreed this trip would serve as a mean to trial the possibility of bringing their eldest child to court — sirin was eleven, and of age to trail after her mother — but it is the least to say any plans of that happening were going to be permanently delayed. for, if anything, if he had his way, he would have already taken his brood, and his wife and left this city, not to return for several years, but reality is much different; he knows horn hill is in good hands with his sibling, yet he can not help longing for the patch of land he had often dreaded ruling over.

the closest thing to domestic haven he had been able to muster was the tarly apartments within the keep, and even then, all of them knew it paled ahead of their actual home, where their innocence was permeated by distance from the capitol, any harm filtered away from their cognition. this afternoon, hisham had armed himself with an ally on that endeavor, albeit to recognize addisyn as such, when he, too, had tried to shield them from the world’s worst once. looking at them now, old enough to have children of their own ( or nephew, though after aren’s unfortunate passing, he knew addi had taken in the child almost as their own ), it almost aches but with all the conflict and sorrow and anger outside of these rooms’ walls, he is content to keep them otherwise.

“it is a pity the little one could not join us, but i wouldn’t skip on my afternoon nap either, if i was them.” hisham voices, barely keeping fairuza from climbing up addisyn’s lap; when he tries to grab her, the willful toddler clings to addisyn’s braid, and settles properly on her lap. “beta...” the father sighs, furrowed eyebrows in reprimand to the child becoming softer as he gazes upon the fiery haired marbrand. “though i suppose we are not lacking of infantile companionship to keep you busy.” between fairuza on addi’s lap, adil sitting next to him and sirin somewhere, probably on her own chambers, the gods knew this was trying enough.

#i have no idea why i rambled #so on god CUT THIS SHIT OUT BESTIE #⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

when : a couple of days after the masquerade where : the streets of king’s landing, take your pick who : daella targaryen ( @flowrsrot​ )

as much as hisham was glad the seat his wife occupied on the council had nothing to do with numbers, he was unable to keep his mind off of the expense and the waste whenever the king hosted a celebrity as large as the masquerade — while he knew it was natural as events like these were also a show of power, he could not stand to see how most of the leftover food would easily be discarded or left off rotting, despite how only a part of it was more than most of the population of king’s landing has ever seen in their entire lives. the common folk was hardly a priority, much less so on the aftermath of a tragedy within the red keep, but hisham was content his request for sparing some of the food had not been a sole one, but one backed up by the second lady of the realm, his liege lord’s little sister daella herself. 

“the children miss you, your highness,” not his own, who were mostly privileged to be able to have audiences or playdates with daella’s, but the ones of the city, the same ones that come rushing towards the stuffed carriages as they see the nobility approach. “it is good that you’re doing this yourself,” that you are seen doing this yourself is implied, for the both of them knew the power of images, daella most of all — for hisham, to see it was not all a play, however many times he came along, however, mattered most. “a good deed and a good distraction. necessary for both cases.” he gives her a smile before looking over to the servant unloading the containers of food to give away.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #took this long and its. like this. well

[perfervvidus]

# 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒗𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒖𝒔 : a  dependent blog containing muses for @/thronesfm written by mina ( she / her & 25 ).

 —  —  AEREA TARGARYEN, princess of westeros.

information / study / aesthetic / threads / visuals / character updates

—  —  HISHAM TARLY, ruling lord of horn hill.

information / study / aesthetic / threads / visuals / character updates

—  —  GALENA BLACKWOOD, née BRACKEN, lady regent of raventree hall.

information / study / aesthetic / threads / visuals / character updates

⧼   physiognomy   ⧽   —   𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

⧼   dialogue   ⧽   —   𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

⧼   analysis   ⧽   —   𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

⧼   demeanor   ⧽   —   𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

⧼   update   ⧽   —   𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

-

⧼   physiognomy   ⧽   —   𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

⧼   dialogue   ⧽   —   𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

⧼   analysis   ⧽   —   𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

⧼   demeanor   ⧽   —   𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

-

⧼   physiognomy   ⧽   —   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

⧼   dialogue   ⧽   —   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

⧼   analysis   ⧽   —   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

⧼   demeanor   ⧽   —   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

⧼   update   ⧽   —   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

#⧼ physiognomy ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #⧼ analysis ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #⧼ physiognomy ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #⧼ analysis ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #⧼ update ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #⧼ update ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #⧼ physiognomy ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍. #⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍. #⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍. #⧼ analysis ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍. #⧼ update ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

where : the maze who : @stcrfrost​ ( lysara marbrand, née redwyne )

the children running ahead of them may as well have been aren and his eldest, he with his flaming hair and they with their dark mischievous eyes, yet hisham knows they are but spirits; he does not dare to speak of aren to his mother anymore, knowing that if it was his own that was a ghost, he would not react as kindly as one would expect. still, it is a heart - warming image, and he almost gets lost in the melancholia of it — almost. “ihsan, hold jamie’s hand.” he remembers to warn; gods forbid that he’d have to chase them. “i’m surprised you have the patience for this. motherhood didn’t change you, being a grandmother is what does it? how will it be when it’s addi’s?”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #idk what this is

[perfervvidus]

when : two days after the tarly’s arrival to horn hill, around month one. with : brynden marbrand ( @servtudes )

dear brynden,

i address this missive to ashemark, hoping it has reached you well. i have also written to your mother, though i am doubtful she will decide to respond to me before you do, nor am i inclined to believe she will be objective about things. do not see it as a slight to her, for you know i love her dearest, but she is a mother, and the events must have shaken her to the core — do tell me how she fares, and your father, and your siblings? i believe i have seen addi with another flame haired person, but it is not up for me to discuss such things in a raven. perhaps they will be able to come visit her uncle, and we will talk it over ourselves.

but most importantly, how are you? the night must not have been any easier for you. you were often in my thoughts while we left the city, but i could not return and try and find you to see if you were well. below is a list of herbs for nebulization i know can be helpful to aid you at night, your maester or addisyn herself can fetch them at the nearest market. it seems that winter is coming, and though it is unlikely any of the southerners shall feel it much, i know any hint of cold can wound us two easier.

breathe in the herbs, don’t overindulge on arbor red before bed.

your uncle, 

hisham.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

where : one of the many gardens at summerhall when : around a week after the massacre of the vale who : aegon targaryen ( @crvwnfought​ )

hisham had never been one for stillness, finding that not being able to explore further than he already had — and keeping the books proper, but at least he could use his own maester for this nonsense — to be the most distressing part of ruling a land of his own, yet the moons in the capital, particularly the disastrous manner in which they had departed, had left him more or less willing to be rooted upon horn hill. however, he knew he could only delay what must be done for so long, and there was comfort in the manner in which the roads between dorne and the reach had not yet been flooded by the exodus of valemen escaping from the fires of the hell lucerys targaryen had incited; the lord tarly tried to remain focused on the lullabies fairuza sang on the road to summerhall, even if he could feel a stone in the pit of his stomach at the knowledge that he was willingly going towards where one of the monsters resided. 

thankfully, the white she - dragon was nowhere to be seen, and it would be many hours, a bath and a nap until he was to be receptioned by the prince of the keep, on his arms a little girl of his own. “princess rhaenyra,” he gives her an exaggerated bow on purpose, before poking at her stomach, which prompts giggles from her lips in response, arms outstretched for a familiar bearded face; the weight is also familiar to him, and he takes the child with an easy smile. “fairuza will get jealous if i carry you for too long,” he whispers to her, purposefully low enough only for her to hear, so the girl mentioned grabs and pulls at his trousers, then at rhaenyra’s feet. “rhaenyra!” she demands, and the princess promptly comes down with her friend, hisham exhaling a small grunt with the effort. at once, the girls hold hands, and begin to walk away, leaving their fathers by themselves. 

“you have lost weight.” he notes. aegon doesn’t receive a bow, respectfully or playfully, but hisham has known the other for too long to bother with such poise, even more now, when he felt…wary, to say the least. it was not that he believed aegon a monster as the dragon he rode, or his father, but he could not help the hesitancy in his spine. still, he reaches forward, two fingers lifting the prince’s chin. “you should eat more so daella does not worry. she has plenty on her hands as it is.” a pause, and his eyes soften, less of a physician, more of a friend — it is what they are, are they not? aegon has given him leave for it, after all. “as do you. have you plans on staying, or shall you join your father on his new…” graveyard, is the word that sours his mouth. aegon had been a murderer, too, so however comfortable they are with each other, perhaps that is not something he wishes to be remembered of. “court?” his hand drops, and his fingers curl around his cane’s head, before he takes a step to motion them into movement. “you should write to oldtown, to send for more maesters to care for the injured. if you have not already, that is.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #this got long for no reason. if you match i WILL bite you. #death tw

[perfervvidus]

with : @shesiren​ ( shaera targaryen, née rogare ) where : somewhere in the gardens.

after a decade of coming for festivities, and always finding a way of sneaking out of them, hisham considered himself an expert of excusing himself from stuffy ballrooms and unsavory companion, which was always a constant in king’s landing — tonight, the theme of the night makes it just a little harder, and he finds that even as he steps to the soft ground of the gardens, there is cacophony following him, maidens gossiping, kids giggling and running around, lads laughing, couples attempting to be conspicuous. he tries to be quiet himself so he may burrow himself in a place to hear his own thoughts, and perhaps catch a glimpse of the star, but as he turns a corner to a place he knows to be more secluded, he discovers the other star of the night. there is a halt in his step that while imperceptible, the weight of his cane on the stone pathway is not — he had been trying to avoid her for over a moon now, but seeing how little success he had with her father, it was understandable he may fail with her as well soon enough, though hisham did not expect it would be now, when she should be entertaining her guests. 

“byka embar qēlos,” little sea star. it had been fitting then, when she was but a small, lanky girl he would pick up in his arms and try and sneak out of the manse, promising she’d be ever safe in his arms, for her, and for his father. it feels odd in his tongue now, and hisham knows it is not only because he hasn’t spoken valyrian in decades. “where are your ladies?” he finally decides to step closer, shedding his cape; making a bundle of it in his arms, he seeks to offer it to her, and, wordlessly, he tries to fixes the darker material around her shoulders, concealing the twinkling whites of her dress, something too easy to spot. “already you seek solace from the dragons? i thought this was all you ever dreamed.” or what her father dreamed — it is a low blow, but he had been sheathing the sharpness of his resentment for so long, it slips before he can control himself.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #i babbled dont match pls <3

[perfervvidus]

🐆 — hisham t.

although his wife had been partially tasked with commanding the interrogations, for obvious reasons he had been called by someone else — he does not recall their name, but he knows a white cloak when he sees one, and tries to keep any sort of sentiment beneath the surface as the man begins the questionnaire. he has been seen leaving early — “ah” he responds, with a nod — and the king must know of his whereabouts. hisham’s tongue tickles with impertinence, wishing to let out a response that would likely shortlist him to a visit to the dungeons but, alas, the night before has already tired him enough for him to be locked up for being brash at the age of one and forty, so he swallows the words and the anger and the curiosity and lets out a sigh. 

“as you might know, i have four children under the age of five and ten. my youngest one, fairuza, despite being born here, finds the place unfamiliar and spent the night terrorizing her nurses, so much so both me and her mother had to be fetched from the ball to tend to her. she slept on my shoulder, though i have since switched out the drooled out shirt. didn’t seem proper, even for an interrogation.” his eyes squint with the small jest that slips out of his mouth. he does not particularly care that his alibi is one easily fabricated, as it was nothing but the truth, boring as it was. 

“i am sorry for maester samuel, and i hope the perpetrator is brought swiftly to justice, but as of now, the only whispers i have been aware of are of my children wanting to know of the ball, or what lockdown means.” his jaw tightens slightly, but he bites his tongue from saying any more. supporting himself against the table, he rises to his height, grabbing on to his missed sturdy cane. “if there is any information i hear of, pertinent or not, my wife, and by extension the king, shall hear of it. i intend to visit the street of steel, perhaps the killer has sought to dispose of the weapon or bought it there; if you require it, i can ask about it. i shall be less threatening than a golden cloak, at the very least.” his eyes go towards the other guard by the door.  “if i may be excused.” is the last he says, before turning on his heel and exiting the make - shift interrogation chambers that is soon enough to be filled by another.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #thrones.task #thrones.masquerade