calla-lefford

[calla-lefford]

Calla Lefford killed any presence of Garland Hightower in her mind the moment the word 'whore' began to be associated with her name. She'd done away with the memories and the emotions immediately, that took time, unfortunately. She wished she could have cast it all aside after that last conversation in which he announced his intentions, insulting her more than anyone else had in all her life. His final acts as her husband had been his cruel manipulative words and the nonsensical notion that she, a Lefford, would wish to steal from the likes of him. Even then, the red lioness did not fully erase him. She only managed to do so when she felt the hurt and the rage of being the one who took the brunt of it all, while the cripple of Oldtown managed to sustain a decent life.

Still, despite wishing to not hear a thing about the man, news and gossip continued to reach her, as if it was something she'd cared about. Garland Hightower could do whatever the fuck he pleased with his life or alternatively, drop dead, and Calla would not care less. The only thing she moderately cared about, if only because resentment was something she had a natural knack for, was the distant wish that fate would deal back some sort of retribution. She did not think life was just, but she could only dream the currents of destiny might deal that man a blow similar to the one she suffered.

Calla's eyebrows rose slightly as her brother spoke, trying to pinpoint what he meant. He gave enough clues as to what the topic was fairly quickly. Admittedly she felt slightly offended that Leo would wish her to speak about Garland Hightower of all people when there had been such a chasm between the brother and sister for some time. She ignored such offense and quickly replaced it with a sense of ease, reassurance even, that her brother wished to talk to her again, and by not accident, but because he'd wished to have this private time with her. She missed Leo.

“Gods, the options are endless. Maybe his brothers have risen up against him and locked him in his tower. Or the Septon has excommunicated him for marrying outside of the faith, so the poor lord of Oldtown has been cast out of good, upstanding society. Maybe he's misplaced his cane and refuses to just hop around the keep, so he's confined to his bed,” the lady mused with deadpan sarcasm before she lifted her cup for a sip. It was in bad taste to mock someone for their injuries, but in Garland's case, she frankly didn't fucking care. She owed him no sympathy or respect. “Or perhaps he's found his latest romantic whim. He could be too busy planning or annulment, or could be gloriously burning in his gardens, set aflame by his wife or new lover”.

who: @calla-lefford where: golden tooth, after the return from the crownlands, the two eldest siblings speak

rumours were spreading about the ruling lord of hightower. the sailors sailed down from oldtown and brought the whispers alongside the goods they traded with. garland hightower was not heard from in some time, not making an appearance in a formal setting nor being seen in a private one. he was a lord of a great house, the head of a city as magnificent as oldtown. this was not the norm. but there was no official proclamation made, and everything the people talked about were hearsay and unfounded gossip. but the lord of golden tooth believed something big was about to happen. and he knew the one person who would follow the story as closely as he did.

the eldest son and daughter of house lefford sat together in the main dining chamber. the rest of the siblings were yet to join them, since the dinner was an hour away. but the lord of golden tooth stumbled upon his sister in a chamber he believed to be empty some moments ago. and as much as he did not want to believe in blind destiny, the solitary meeting between the two seemed fated to happen. he had stated his wish to speak to calla in private, already motioning the servants to bring them wine. and as the red liquid filled their golden cups, the brother looked at the face of the sister sitting next to him. leo wondered if she wished misfortune on the hightower. he would not fault her for it.

"what do you think it is?" he asked, followed by a sip of the wine. "disease, abdication, running to braavos after his wife? or is he stuck in his grand tower, the bad leg preventing his descent?" there was a glint of amusement in his words, as his blue eyes watched calla, waiting for a response.

#leo: 05

[calla-lefford]

Closed starter for @cerissalefford Setting: King's Landing, New Valyria. During the latter half of celebrations in honor of King Jaehaerys' coronation.

People began to retire from the great feasting hall. The fact that she'd not seen her sister during dinner became her sign to go look for her as soon as she finished her meal. Thus far Calla had been keeping an eye on Cerissa. Her sister had certainly adapted rather well after her return to the West, slowly but surely finding her footing after her kidnapping. Ceri might smile and nod and keep her voice gentle, present herself as an entirely agreeable woman of the West, but the red lioness was aware that there were parts of her sister's harrowing experience that would forever linger within her. She wasn't sure if this large of a gathering could be overwhelming for her little sister, so she kept the mental note to check in on Ceri from time to time.

Calla's steps led her from the great feasting hall to the guest quarters where the Lefford siblings were housed. Her chambers were adjacent to Ceri's, and so she planted herself before the door and knocked twice. It was not yet so late that her sister would be asleep already. Or at least that was her belief. “Ceri, it's me,” the older Lefford announced herself.

#cerissa: 03

[calla-lefford]

Lenora began to lead her away, surely afraid to have witnesses to the words that were being spoken between them. Her sister asked that she listened to her reasons, even though Calla was certain what they were. She was not daft, she knew King Jaehaerys shared blood with the Hightowers. “I know the ties your husband has to them,” she stated, her tone a controlled hiss to avoid raising her voice. The red lioness was nowhere near as skilled as Lenora was in the art of hiding emotions, or veiling them with propriety.

There were bonds of blood, there was the need of not taking a side, as the Queen of New Valyria said. Yet, it continued to feel like a serious affront, a hurtful betrayal, by the one who had been at her side before. Not anymore. She felt truly alone, for some reason, as politics continued to claw away her siblings. “It's a lovely justification, it truly is, being diplomatic and mediating, working for peace on behalf of your husband,” she murmured, her voice laced with caustic sarcasm. “Gael Hightower is not even involved in any of this,” she gestured around, looking at the paintings and drawings on display, at the pieces put on display, “He's a writer”. What in the Seven Hells did a grand poet have to do curating a gallery? “There must be dozens far more skilled and experienced. You still went out of your way to get a Hightower”.

But that wasn't the part that hurt the most, was it? “You could not even let me know beforehand?”. A head's up from some sort before her sister reached out to Garland's brother would have lessened the blow. Lenora knew all the ways in which her former husband had destroyed what Calla Lefford once was. She knew why that house became the source of such hatred, of such resentment. And still, her little sister was able to set it aside, for what? To please her husband? To do something Jaehaerys had not even asked her to do? Or if he had, Calla had to wonder if Lenora had even pleaded her family's case, letting him know how House Lefford had been dragged through the mud with Calla as the face of all that shame. Gods, she was feeling that way again— the mess of contradictory feelings, potent impulses, the spiral. So when Lenora said she still was on her side, Calla did not believe her. Not anymore.

The Lefford lady ran a hand through her fiery curls, before she looked away. She took in the gallery, still seeing red. Lenora would do what she felt necessary to assert her place as queen, damn her blood family for the sake of the bigger picture, the bigger strategy. “I know what to expect now,” she stated plainly, turning to look at her sister.

even without the bond of sisterhood, it was obvious that calla was angry with her. the red-haired lady never hid it well ― or perhaps she seldom tried to hide it. the sisters were different in that regard. lenora's smile instantly faded as she processed calla's words. her sister was furious that she had planned the exhibition with a hightower. there was enough bite in her words to make that quite obvious. lenora had not written to warn calla about it. in fact, she had not written to her family in quite some time. all her energy had been spent getting used to her role as queen, planning the coronation and dealing with her pregnancy. which was another thing she had not mentioned until her family arrived at the door of the red keep.

she ignored everything calla said and instead took the arm of her sister before beginning a stroll to a less crowded part of the hall. "i know you are angry with me, but i just ask that you listen to me." she kept her voice quiet, her face pleasant despite being faced with her sister's anger. lenora tried to casually draw calla away from as many people as possible. the last thing she needed was for anyone to overhear them and start gossiping. it would also not do house lefford well to have more rumours spread about them. "my husband is part hightower, sister, and as queen then i cannot be involved in a feud with a powerful house of the reach, a house that my children will be related to by blood." it had not been until she stood in her green wedding dress that she fully appreciated the fact that she was marrying a man with hightower blood running through his veins. in her eyes, jaehaerys was so purely targaryen that it was easy to forget that part of his family tree.

when they were at the very end of the hall, a good distance away from the crowd then she finally looked directly at calla. "my feelings on the matter have not changed though. you should know that i am still on your side." lenora still found it hard to picture that she would ever forgive lord garland. but the lord of oldtown was not the only member of his family. "there is a reason why i decided to approach lord gael and not his brother. i am trying to make peace without actually having to do so with garland." gael, along with harlon, was also qualified to aid her. she did enjoy the works of gael hightower. but her decision had mostly been ruled by her wish to mend the bonds broken between house lefford and house hightower by the divorce. to her, it seemed a completely logical thing to do. so logical that she had forgotten to think of the emotional impact that her actions might have.

#lenora: 02

[calla-lefford]

Lord Marbrand's remarks about what was unbecoming for a lady were so incredibly easy to dismiss. It wasn't the first time she'd heard such a thing being said directly or via veiled words. His opinion didn't matter to her, so she simply skipped in her to what he said next. “I am not averse to answering, my lord. I merely pointed out simple facts,” the Lefford lady stated, lips curving into a smirk that she managed to fashion into an amenable smile afterward.

A man like Eren Marbrand was bound to speak of her reputation like that, of course. Weaponizing it to get what he wished to gain from her. Calla merely looked at him with a steady expression, emerald eyes locked on his. Frankly, the Hand was giving her far more credit than he seemed to think he was, believing that her former husband had welcomed her into all affairs regarding his house. “I can tell you he's an incredibly fickle man, guided by his latest whims. He's charismatic enough to draw in support and build bridges, but ultimately he will manipulate any situation into what suits him best. He's someone who guards the affairs of his house with utmost jealousy. In my time at his side, he did not even include his brothers in the affairs of his house, so that gives you a hint of how much I was involved,” the red lioness spoke in a serene manner, though a part of her did feel some of the rage she'd buried deep within. All the hurt and ire wasn't directed towards the man she wed once, not really. These days the damn cripple was lucky if he even occupied a thought of hers. Calla still held some anger about the aftermath of it all, though, of the rigged system that dictated she was to lose everything while he remained untouched.

“He operates under the illusion of caring about his close family, his house's legacy, his friends. I can tell you Garland Hightower works to serve the needs and wishes of Garland Hightower only,” was the most crucial thing there was to know about him, really. “Mark my words, Lord Marbrand. A man like that is bound to cross every single person in his life and die alone”. Calla held his gaze, dismissive of whatever judgment was passing through the mind of the man before her. “That is what I know”. A pause. “Anything else you want to ask, my lord?”

Eren found her attitude as insufferable as he found her face. The low sigh. The smart response. And then the flippant way she spoke to him. Eren felt his face turn to stone, his shoulders settle as he looked at her. He took a step, closing the distance between a bit more. "Before we start, I would like to remind you that it is quite unbecoming for a lady to behave this way. While we are in these times of questionable judgement it is wise to not seem so adverse to answering a few questions." She was getting off to a bad foot and there would be no returning from it.

"Whether you know little or not I would like to know more about what you know. See, you had a relationship with Garland Hightower. Enough of one to warrant ruining your reputation and sullying your home so I expect you know a great deal more than you're putting on now." He could be anal about it, he could have her turns searched. Her closest staff questioned, tortured. Eren could operate within every measure of the law and what would she do about it? What would her house do about it? Nothing. A spy and a soldier.

"Now, tell me of this relationship you had that was enough to risk everything. What do you know of the Garland Hightower you risked everything for?" Eren could believe that she was one to never enter a sept even in her sorrow for her mother. And because of this he was certain the mother burned in the seven hells for her other children were sinful and full of rot.

#eren: 01

[calla-lefford]

PARIS PALOMA — “LABOUR”

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant Just an appendage, live to attend him So that he never lifts a finger

#the emotion in this song feels very calla-coded #calla: music

[calla-lefford]

Calla Lefford was perhaps the worst example of what a woman of the Westerlands ought to be. She had strived to be a favorite in her mother's eyes, but much to Lanna Lefford's dismay, there had always been a part of the red lioness that never quite allowed to be shaped and molded to embody such elegant perfection. It simply was not in her nature. That capricious and defiant essence of her was her undoing, possibly, but it was her. Fully her.

In the Westerlands she would always be seen as the sum of her mistakes and as the creator of the dark stain upon the Lefford name. But maybe some individuals from other realms —who didn't uphold themselves to the same impossibly high, dignified standards of the West— wouldn't immediately fault her for her mistakes and her unbecoming attitude. People like Margaret Blackwood were a breath of fresh air because of that.

“Isn't that the mark of bravery? To do something despite feeling so scared?” she mused, as she thought that applied to the story of Maggie's childhood. Tears or not, she'd done what she set out to do. Gods, and the things one did to impress one's parents were potent motivators too. The Lefford lady found herself smiling then, hearing the Riverlands sounded so confident to do now what frightened her as a child. Not everyone grew out of those terrors of one's infancy.

“Perhaps I will,” she replied, her tone soft, somewhat low. Truth be told, Calla thought at some point in the past years that she would have been a mother by now. She wished for children of her own, even if those dreams had been with an entirely wrong person. Motherhood was something she did wish for her future, but wasn't sure would be as attainable now, for none sought to wed a woman like her. Not with her history, not with her shame. “They will be fun traditions, something that fills the children with excitement instead of dread or boredom. Something enjoyable for the sake of mere enjoyment,” she mused, certain that she wouldn't institute the sort of tradition that revolved around proving one's worth.

And then Calla found herself smiling due to Maggie's reaction. She wasn't quite so used to such open kindness. It would do her well to keep a friend like Margaret Blackwood, she thought at that moment. Someone who was quicker to cheer than to criticize, keener to hear and understand than to judge. “I would love to attend a Yule ball. I've never been to one before,” she responded, a smile present on her lips. “If my brother allows it and I do go, we will definitely sing together, Maggie”.

though maggie did not give any inclination of her opinions, she had always thought a woman of the westerlands would be snooty and perhaps insufferable. calla lefford proved to be neither of those things, in her eyes. the lady of raventree hall was a social creature, always enjoying conversing with those from other regions, even if she had her beliefs, a chance was all anyone deserved, so she thought. she knew little of the other woman, other that what may be whispered about her, but whispers rarely spoke the truth. she had a way of seeing people in manners that most other’s didn’t. all to say, maggie thought calla was perfectly kind.

she laughed at the others’ comment. “brave is one way to describe it. i think i cried the whole way across.” maggie admitted with a shrug. “but i was desperate to impress my da.” she added with a sigh. “it was scary then, but i could do it in a heartbeat now. if we find a river i may have to show ya.” she gave a wink. hands relaxed upon the horses reins as she listened to calla’s own traditions, not wanting to pity the other, but feeling sorry for her all the same. she did not seem to care for that, either. “well perhaps you’ll come up with something new when you’ve got yer own.” she offered with a reaffirming smile.

the lady’s mouth gaped ever so slightly at the voice that emitted from the lady of golden tooth. truthfully, she was biased in thinking those of the land of rivers had the finest voices, the most lovely songs, but calla lefford surprised her once again. she gave a round of applause as the woman finished her final note. “calla lefford.” she exclaimed with a bright smile. “i tell you, if you bring that out you’ll catch any lad’s heart. you’ll have to visit us during yule time, if yer family will allow it. we sing all the time, but especially during yule.”

#wrapping it so we can have a newer thread for these two #margaret: 01

[calla-lefford]

There was something about Lady Bracken's demeanor that Calla found welcoming. There was a sort of unpolished ease in the way she spoke or behaved, no high-brow pretense, which for a woman bound by the rigid ways of the West was reason to feel both comfortable and envious. The red lioness studied the bat in Brianna's hand for a moment and then nodded, grabbing it. She'd not played before, but was willing to test her luck and take a shot.

“Reginald? He has a very old man's name,” the redhead pointed out, glancing briefly at the cat. Fitting, she supposed, if the cat was as ancient as Brianna hinted he was. She'd not hit him intentionally, of course, but gods knew what her aim would turn out to be like. She didn't wish to make an enemy of Lady Grafton for hitting her cat, even if the lady had not been subtle at all in her glances toward her just moments ago.

“Oh, it's your first time coming to King's Landing?” she asked, intrigued to learn a lady of Brianna's age would not have been presented in prior gatherings of the realms. “No prior trips outside of your realm, huh?”. Calla was surprised that was the case but her tone didn't convey any criticism of the matter, just the simple surprise of an experience so vastly different to her own. “You do not miss much, I must say. The journey to a new place can be quite exciting, or at least I feel that way. But most of the time, it all follows the same cycle. Feasts, balls, gossip, returning home. If our companions are feeling creative we might witness some scandal, a lover's quarrel, broken betrothals or perhaps even a divorce,” she raised her eyebrows, making fun of the society structure they lived in and the experiences she went through herself. Just as she said the word 'divorce' she hit the ball.

The result was far better than she'd expected. Beginner's luck one could say. Calla laughed, pleased with what she'd accomplished even if it wasn't a perfect hit. “It is nice to properly meet you, Lady Bracken,” the redheaded lady added with a quick nod, accompanied by a smile.

Calla had indeed heard about Lord Ronan Bracken, had even crossed paths with him once or twice already. An agreeable man. And up until this point, she also found the lord's sister an agreeable lady. As far as first impressions went, House Bracken happened to have a marvelous track record.

“But well, what do you make of your first gathering, my lady?” the Lefford lady asked then, holding out the bat for Brianna to take again. To take a shot herself.

♣️

for someone that was so impulsive and frankly informal, there were patterns of naivety that danced within her wide, doe-like orbs as she looked between the facial expressions the ladies shared between one another as she stood in the middle, with a bat, as though she had not been busy practicing her technique sneakily just some moments prior. for a moment, brianna thought the flame haired lady had approached the three of them, however it became apparent that the lady had only wished to speak with one of them.

her own dark brows furrowed slightly at the tension, and for a moment brianna was going to tell all of them to build a bridge and get over whatever issue was here she knew not of, when the other two women walked ahead after assuring they would wait for her at the end of the gardens.

"want a shot?" brianna asked,as the woman's striking jewel orbs looked upon the bat she held at her skirts. she extended it over to the woman, as though she would have no issue with the woman taking the opportunity, using the heel of her shoe to roll the ball into position. "just be sure to mind reginald, he do be quite old and lady grafton be very protective of him." she used her hand to shield her gaze from the sun for a moment to be sure to mind where reginald was, deciding there was enough space. she heard the woman's accent, and she sounded entirely proper; civilised. the type of lady one would find in portraits. she were a westerlander or a reach woman, it were clear to see in the way the woman carried herself with a level of confidence that was different to brianna's own brash sort of confidence.

"this be my first gathering but i do see what you mean." brianna spoke; the other would have had the opportunity to come across many other people time and time again. "lots of faces. lots of small talk." now, she found herself trying to remember names she truly cared not for, or trying not to talk about people she found odd. it always happened anyway, considering knowing looking were shared between the three who were always joined by the hip. when the lady introduced herself by name, brianna's vivid orbs flickered over to the woman's direction, holding her gaze. why did that momentarily cause her to stop all she was doing? why did that matter?

"oh really?" brianna's words were not meant to be a dig. it were true, during the annulment, it were all anyone heard. all anyone listened to.

she nodded as the lady introduced herself, her aura warm. "lady brianna of house bracken. my brother, lord ronan…you'd have heard of him, i do believe." she found herself trailing off on how. because how would feel the need to bring in the ruling lord of golden tooth into the conversation - all knew of the closeness between the two men that shared the battlefield together. "it is nice to meet you, my lady."

#brianna: 01

[calla-lefford]

The visit to King's Landing didn't excite Calla quite as much as she thought it would. The prospect of a trip was usually riveting, but the Lefford lady held no particular appreciation for the new dragon king or any of his kin, frankly. He was her brother-in-law now and that brought no sense of closeness or devotion. He'd not earned it yet. He was just a husband picked by Leo for their sister and nothing else. Calla played her part, though, for the cloak of her past shame still around her shoulders and she knew she was meant to behave.

A gathering of the realms such as this one offered the perfect occasion for the Calla to meet with whatever friendly acquaintances and friends she still kept. The red lioness was chatting with Lady Margaret Blackwood when Tyland's Hand approached. It didn't quite feel like crossing paths but being interrupted.

Maggie excused herself, offering to find her later. “Paths tend to cross when one walks with such intent to meet, my lord,” she stated with a low sigh. In every possible scenario, she would choose to keep talking with her friend rather than engage much with Eren Marbrand. Calla had managed to befriend Aslan to some extent, if only because of her closeness to the late Lady Rabia Payne. But whenever she found herself in the company of the Marbrands, she never quite connected with Lord Eren.

“If you must, ask your questions, Lord Marbrand” she smiled politely. An empty gesture. “Know I've not much to say in the matter of Oldtown. My time there was brief, for we travelled to Sunspear little after I wedded the Hightower cripple”.

| @calla-lefford | | setting :: during the feast post coronation | | summary :: in the thicket of crowds within and around the red keep the hand of the westerlands king begins the first steps in his plans beginning with chatting to calla lefford. |

The Hand of the King played his game carefully. He moved as ordered and only did as instructed, his suggestions were soft prodding's with indication of his ability to think on the fly, to plan in depth, and to ensure things went smoothly and at the start of their fourth year, his fourth year as Hand, then it was time to continue on with plans, his desires. Aslan would need a better position, one worthy of the brother of the Hand. The stain of executioner would leave their shoulders and their house. While it wasn't as lowly as page or rat catcher, executioner just wouldn't do.

"Lady Calla Lefford." The Hand spoke as he approached the copper headed shame of House Lefford. Whore for the Hightower, a fool who still married and then divorced her. Though, if the rumors were true, the Lord of Hightower's second marriage was also a failure and perhaps a second failure in the span of 12 months would be what the family could use when hoping to marry off soiled goods.

"We must thank the Gods that we have crossed paths for I have been wishing to speak with you." And he didn't find her important enough to ask for her to come to his solar for a meeting. Eren found a distaste in having women in his solar, sitting on his chairs and touching his things. Let alone a woman with such low repute.

The hand smiled. "May I ask you a few questions about your time in Oldtown?" A formality. He could ask whatever he wanted.

#eren: 01

[calla-lefford]

Of course she'd heard, for it had been no secret at all, that her sister had enlisted the people of the poetry-writing Hightower lord out of all the artists in the realm to arrange the exhibit. A Hightower lord. Calla had read the man's work and agreed his artistic skill was the one saving grace a man of his house could have, but what the hells was a poet doing arranging a gallery? Harlon's involvement in the whole affair made more sense. Or perhaps it simply didn't make much sense in the red lioness' mind that despite the history of Leffords and Hightowers, Lenora had still decided to do what she had.

The Lefford lady walked in, a tense and sour expression on her features as she looked around the space. One might call it a beautiful gallery, a thoughtful execution in the display of each piece. But Calla wouldn't be the one to offer such praise. Instead, she walked around silently, only half-paying attention to the paintings, sketches, and sculptures that adorned the area. Her sister was there; the grand hostess of this particular segment of her husband's celebratory events.

I need not look for a name, I'm familiar with this work, she nearly stated, swallowing the words at the last second to spare her sister a scene amongst her courtiers and guests. Calla's arms were crossed over her chest, and the redheaded lady glanced down at the charcoal lines across the parchment paper as she came to stand by Lenora's side. The eldest Lefford sister had no artistic inclinations beyond her appreciation for music, the more reason why she grew up praising Lenora's pastime. The more reason she admired her sister's skill as it developed beyond a mere hobby, turning into something Lenora was genuinely talented at doing. “I have my guesses about the artist's identity but I might be mistaken, sister. I'm no art expert after all. Lord Hightower is around, isn't he? Your dear collaborator could aid with his knowledge, perhaps,” the redhead smiled, a tense gesture that was meant to be recognized as disingenuous. “He could share more theories about the grand mystery behind this particular artist's identity. I'm dying to learn what were his expert opinions when you two picked these pieces to display”.

open starter. setting: king's landing, the red keep. during the art exhibition as part of the coronation celebrations.

lenora tried not to linger around the group of drawings hung among the portraits and paintings of the exhibition. however, it was hard to resist the urge to eavesdrop on the people who stopped by the drawings to look closer at them. the fact that anyone did made her heart race. she had never intended to display her own art, but when they had gone through the art pieces already found in the red keep and found old sketches with no name on them, a chance had presented itself. she had initially been excited to make them part of the targaryen art collection, figuring one of the targaryens in the past had drawn them.

however, when she had been styling how they were to be exhibited, her gaze had drifted to the drawer that contained her drawings that had been spared from the fire. there were a few pieces that she had torn out from her sketchbook. one of them of a dragon. it had been inspired by another piece of art in the red keep, a portrait that she had grown fond of. the first one to make her see beauty in the scaly creatures instead of only horror. the only one not drawn with a pencil or charcoal was a drawing of the sea during dusk. the rest of the drawings were of nature, of a fox, a sketch of a septa, and a drawing of the sky. none of the drawings revealed her identity, so she swapped the old sketches found with her own. she aged the paper by crumpling the parchment a little and staining them with tea at the edges. lenora decided that it would not be wrong to display them in the targaryen collection as she did technically carry the name. in the end, it was a harmless little trick and no one would be none the wiser. but she would get a taste of what life could have been like if she had been born with a different destiny.

when another person stopped to look at the drawings and leaned in to inspect them closely, she had already circled the hall once and could afford to spend some time by the sketches. the queen strolled over to them. "there is no name if that is what you are looking for." she took a step closer to the drawing of the sea herself, pretending to study it closely. lenora could not help but smile at the entire situation, but she hid it well before turning around to look at the guest.

it was fortunate she was a good liar. "the artist is unknown although there is a faint hint of initials. unfortunately, it has been smudged beyond recognition. we think the last initial might be a t, so naturally, we have assumed it's been done by a targaryen." in truth, lenora had done that herself just for effect. just as she had specifically chosen drawings of different styles to make it even harder for anyone to recognise. she was sure no one would. she had never displayed her art before ― and who would recognise something quickly seen in a sketchbook? if confronted, she would concede it was all a bit childish of her, but it had been so long since she had been allowed to do something purely for herself, to have fun with no fear of consequences. "we found the drawings when picking what art to display during the exhibition."

#lenora: 02

[calla-lefford]

A low “Ah” of acknowledgment left the lady's lips as her companion informed her the tradition of the balls were tied to the Seven. It made sense, even if the Riverlands wasn't as strictly pious as the West, for what she knew. The Riverlanders held their beliefs and practiced them in a very different way from the rites and customs of her own kin, it seemed. There was more merriment here, less a feeling of hard devotion and looming punishment if walking outside the lines. “And which of the Seven do we honor in this feast, my lord?” she asked casually, raising her goblet once more, as if to toast with a deity itself.

For a woman of Lannister blood, Calla wasn't nearly as devoted or godfearing as she ought to be. She could never claim the gods weren't real, —her pride and arrogance didn't reach such height— but she'd long abandoned the profound belief with which she was raised. Her mother's murder had been a turning point of sorts on that account. The red lioness felt so entirely abandoned in more ways than one after that; having the last parent she still had taken from her, finding no comfort at all in a most distant and apathetic husband, then losing her siblings' warmth little after. When she asked for the guidance of the Seven back then, there was only silence, there was only loneliness... Everyone else could celebrate the Seven and revere them if that sweet illusion brought them comfort.

When Lord Ronan commented on the fact that she was once more present in social events and engaging with others, Calla could only smirk and let out a light scoff. “Well, it was time, was it not? I'm too young to be a matronly hermit,” she said with mild amusement, even if her past seclusion had not been a choice, but a punishment of sorts for the shame she brought to her house.

“I can assure you, my lord, I already feel much more at ease than I did during the last trip I took,” the red lioness replied with confidence. Her last journey had taken her to the Reach, and she had no interest in setting foot in that court if she could help it. The Riverlanders didn't come off as hypocritical snakes some of the Reach folk had proved to be. “Oh yes, my dear cousins will be joining these celebrations. It is most thoughtful and kind that you and the king wished to have some of us Western folk amongst you for the feasts,” she mused, believing fully that there were intentional reasons for it beyond mere kindness.

ᕯ

the seven winter feasts began officially within the keep at riverrun, though it were important to house bracken and those of the clover that the celebration of yule was held amongst those they considered their kin, before putting on a show to the rest of westeros. whilst the feasts within riverrun were opulent, this evening within stone hedge was intimate. the festivity was seen within the decorations around the ancient keep, various candles and towering trees all decorated. the music that played was lively and informal, requiring a quick footing and stamina to keep up with the dancing.

he emerged from the middle of the crowded dance floor, having just been relinquished by rhea tarly from a circle of dance that would have been enough to make any man dizzy.

as he saw an empty seat, he moved to sit in it, locking eyes with a particular lefford who had accompanied her brother to visit. truthfully, lord ronan bracken found himself surprised to hear the lord was planning on bringing his oldest sister; all in westeros had heard of the tensions that occurred as a result of the breakdown of the hightower marriage. ronan bracken had seen calla lefford in the months following the announcement, though she never was quite as relaxed as she seemed now.

"probably something to do wit the gods above us, lady lefford." ronan spoke, his tone warm but respectful as he leaned forwards to clink his glass with her own. "good for you, it be about time you got out and started speaking wit people again. the folks you'll find here are amongst the best, no doubt. riverrun is where you'll meet most of the other guests. i believe yer cousins are coming, the prince and princess."

#ronan: 01

[calla-lefford]

bed, bed behead: lysano prestayn, adrian serrett, owen stark

“Is that how the game usually goes?” the red lioness chuckled, taking notice of the emphasis on bedding people of that list. “I've no intention of ever bedding a king,” Calla stated, some aversion present in her expression at the thought of what such a thing would entail. Gods, how messy it would become a king's mistress. “So my choices for bedding would be Lord Prestayn and Lord Serrett”.

( @owenstark, @riverscommand & @adrianserrett )

#calla: answered #( owen stark ) #( lysano prestayn ) #( adrian serrett )

[calla-lefford]

Closed starter for @ronanbrackens Setting: During the Yule Balls of the Riverlands, some of the Lefford siblings arrive at Stone Hedge for the First Ball.

Calla had begun concocting some theories as to why they had arrived at Stone Hedge before any of the other guests the Brackens were to welcome for the First Ball. It was to be a smaller affair than the celebration at Riverrun; relatives and close friends, for what the red lioness understood was the tradition. Of which the son and daughter of House Lefford were neither. Though she suspected they would soon be.

The Lefford lady was nursing her drink, subtly studying the way her brother conducted himself around the Lady of Stone Hedge. Good gods, he was smitten, wasn't he? Her brother was every bit the dignified man of the West he was brought up to be, courteous and most proper, but there were the smallest signs only someone who'd known him all his life might be able to detect. A smile that reached the eyes. A glance that lingered a heartbeat too long. Truth be told, Calla was happy, even if she was still operating on conjectures and nothing that had been directly confirmed to her.

Someone pulled the chair next to her, and Calla saw Lord Ronan taking a seat. In silence, but with a pleasant smile across her lips, she rose her cup to him. Their glasses clinked and Calla took a sip without looking away from the man. “Thank you for having us, my lord,” she said after setting her drink aside. “It is my first time attending a Yule celebration and I must say I'm quite enjoying it,” she easily admitted. Despite her realm of origin, Calla much preferred gatherings of this nature, not quite as stuffy or overly polished. “How come there are seven feasts. Lord Bracken? Forgive me, but I'm unfamiliar with the tradition”.

#ronan: 01

[calla-lefford]

Russkiy kovcheg (Aleksandr Sokurov, 2002)

#calla: muse #( cerissa lefford ) #( guinevere lannister ) #( lenora lefford ) #( lefford siblings — the greatest gift our parents ever gave us was each other )

[calla-lefford]

Calla took notice of the way the other two ladies looked at her, fairly used to such expressions. They often ranged from being subtly scandalized to downright open contempt. The red lioness merely held their gaze, a confident pull at the corner of her lips, raising her eyebrows. Off you go, her demeanor seemed to say. And they did, walking away to grant some time for the Lady of Stone Hedge and the Lady of Golden Tooth.

“That looks fun,” she commented, glancing at the bat the Riverlander held. She wielded it somewhere between a weapon and a child's plaything, making Calla recall the less-than-ladylike games she liked to play with her brothers when she was younger. Before her mother began her attempts to shape her to be a dignified woman of the West. How much failure had there been in such an endeavor, more so for the red lioness' passions and capricious nature than for any shortcomings of Lanna Lefford.

“I am quite well, thank you,” her diction and accent entirely different from that of the woman before her. There was a particular spirited nature in the way Brianna Bracken spoke and carried herself, so it intrigued her that Leo would find himself drawn to someone so opposite to him. It was a pleasant surprise, really. “Oh fret not, my lady, we see so many faces in every gathering, don't we? We'd not been formally introduced, though. I'm Lady Calla Lefford”.

♣️

there was nothing strange about seeing the lady of stone hedge, the lady of ninestars and the lady of gulltown walking together during occasions such as this; when the realms finally gathered together, it were as though the three were joined at the hip. and this bright, sunny day within the gardens of the red keep; only, if one looked carefully, the three were up to no good. peering from a distance at a game of bowls that seemed to be taking place upon the playing fields, they had managed to sneak some of the wooden bats from the men.

and as the women seemed to promenade ever so gracefully within the gardens of the red keep, from time to time, you found them using a bat to attempt to swing a ball they had also stolen borrowed from the group of vale knights. one may see the little cheers they let out, and it was only when the lady of gulltown briefly bent over to pet at her faithful, four footed reginald, brianna bracken used the opportunity to send a ball straight into the lady's behind. "no, no wait!" brianna called, her accent wrapping around her words as she held her bat out defensively as fiona moved towards her with her own, both laughing as though they were ready to use them as swords. and then suddenly, there came the sound of a voice calling her.

out of them all, brianna was the most social - she enjoyed speaking with people, genuinely. but she was sure she had not seen this lady with flaming red hair before, let alone spoke to her. she saw the other two's faces change briefly, half curious, half judgemental. "i'll catch up wit ya?" she offered, briefling nodding in their direction, knowing whatever this conversation was about, there would be two ladies peering over their shoulders before them. and then brianna turned towards the lady, bat still in her hands; interesting game of bowls indeed. "aye, you may m'lady. are you doin' quite well?" she asked, briefly looking over the woman. not a clue. "apologies, have we met before? quite sure we ain't done, but i wanted to check, ya know?"

#brianna: 01

[calla-lefford]

His reply piqued her interest, admittedly, while the sound of alarm in her mind went off at the same time. Lord Uller had a charming way of speaking, of keeping his eyes trained on her. Was he aware of his charm? He most likely was, she thought, which only made that internal alarm ring a bit louder. But gods, how she wished to dance and feel somewhat carefree, especially with how on the defensive she was in such a place, a realm that she considered hostile territory for what it did to her life and reputation.

“You really are quite resolute on that, aren't you?” the red lioness replied with a subtle arching of her brows. I wish to dance with you tonight, Lord Uller had stated with determination, and the sort of easy allure that would have driven her younger self to make decisions impulsive never revealed to her mother. Being free of the fear of judgment was a blessing, for sure. A subtle smirk graced her lips once he admitted that. “A reputation is all a man has, is it not?” she mused, emerald eyes looking down at Lord Doran's hand before her.

Yes, the alarm bells were ringing. Calla glanced up, took notice of his smile, and then met his dark eyes. A single dance would cause no harm, she decided. Ruined as she was, derided and carrying the disdain of so many, she still felt deserving of a little bit of enjoyment. A single dance represented a fraction of her freedoms and contentment of old. “Very well, then,” she said, laying her hand on Doran's. “We can have one dance, Lord Uller”.

.

the spymaster, arched an eyebrow at her words. did she assume mockery so readily? perhaps the harsh currents of suspicion had worn away any inclination for trust. he assumed that this defensive stance might be a consequence of frequent encounters with those who reveled in derision.  it was a shame really.

"i do not mock you, my lady. merely because i find no offense  gazing at a beautiful woman doesn't imply others share my sentiment." he articulated, his tone a measured cadence. in the westerlands, where customs held a firm grip, the mere act of a man casting eyes upon a lady could be misconstrued as scandalous, as if such a gaze was a flagrant transgression. gods only know how they all survived their time in dorne.

doran let out a laugh but not one directed at her. but at the thought he may simply wish to pass her over because of the gossip of others. or that somehow he was wrong in his choice to ask her. "“if i wanted to dance with one of them i would have asked one of them. i wish to dance with you tonight," he continued, his words laced with an inherent charm that effortlessly danced on the precipice of diplomacy and allure.

"there are things in this life that frightens mee. their judgment, however, does not."  he said motioning towards the general crowd. they could think of him as they wish, they already had. they already would. why stress himself to try to please the notherens? he could not blame her for her hesitation. but he held out his hand, offering a warm smile. 

undeterred by the potential judgmental whispers, he extended his hand with an affable smile. "if you would indulge me in a dance," he offered, a request wrapped in the velvet of a charming of his smile.

#doran: 01

[calla-lefford]

Margaret Blackwood was still practically a stranger to her, and yet as far as first impressions went, Calla had already decided she appreciated the friendly sense of kinship that appeared to be forming between them. She would very much like a relative like Maggie, she thought, as they wondered whether any branches from their family trees had ever come from the same place. Distantly related or not, the red lioness at least accepted happily that she wished to be friends with the Lady of Raventree Hall. Most of her friendships had ended at the time her failed marriage did, after all.

“Brave little things,” Calla mused as Maggie stated their rite of passage had to be done prior to turning eight years of age. Most rituals and traditions were practiced when boys and girls began to reach adolescence, reaching the cusp of becoming adults and marking their transition out of childhood. “That's quite impressive. Was it scary to do it? Or were you so used to the rivers that it was familiar?” she wondered, curious as to how such an experience felt like, beyond what it represented. “We do not, no. Not in Golden Tooth, at least,” the lady answered, as there had been nothing beyond what was expected of lords and ladies born into a wealthy family with such close ties to House Lannister. “We must learn to display our pride and dignified elegance before we learn to walk, other than that, nothing quite so special,” she added with a slight scoff, evidently making a little fun of the matter.

Calla held the reins of her horse loosely, paying attention to Margaret as she sang. A peaceful expression settled on her features as she listened. “Thank you for that. You've got such a lovely voice, Maggie,” she praised then, even raising her hands to clap for a moment. The red lioness smiled for a moment, then rolled her lips to consider what she might sing. She didn't sing as much as she used to, but gods did she love to do it. A melody she heard many years ago during one of her escapades from the Golden Tooth keep came to mind, as it remained one of her favorites. “Swaying like the children singled out for praise, the inside out on the open with the straightest face,” Calla sang, her voice almost opposite to Maggie's honeyed harmony. There was something deep and aching in the notes. “As the sad-eyed woman spoke we missed our chance, the final dying joke caught in our hands, and the rugged wheel is turning another round”. Calla's voice was beautiful, a voice that had been undoubtedly trained, yet there was a sort of bewitching melancholy in her singing that made it feel a bit more raw, a little less polished.

the lady of raventree nodded, red curls bouncing along with the movement. the world was vast and interconnected, after all, and the possibilities of their families crossing paths at some point didn’t seem all that far-fetched. a feeling a pride welled within her chest at the thought of her homeland. maggie had always laughed where she was from, and truthfully she did not want to imagine leaving it one day. “perhaps so.” she grinned, a fleeting thought that somehow all the woman with hair of auburn most have some common ancestor.

“aye, it is.” hands found themselves naturally loosening their grip on the reigns of the horse, a subtle sign that maggie, too, found herself relaxing in the presence of the other woman. she were not unaware of the whispers that surrounded the other woman, but she bore them no mind, now that she had briefly come to know the women on her own terms. “gods,” she took a moment to think, lips pressing together and a brow arching. “i think if ya don’t do it by year 8, your sort of an outcast.” there was a humorous tone to her words. while certainly there would be jests and pressure in such an instance, there was also support and encouragement. “have ya got any traditions like that back home?”

a grin crept across her features at the prospect of introducing the other to an old tune she loved, and learning a new one in return. “you’ve got yourself a deal.” she answered, giving her throat a soft clear before she began the words. “oh, the roadside rose, in the meadow it sways, whispering secrets of olden days, underneath the azure where the river flows, dances the enchanting roadside rose.” she sang the melodic tune, voice rich and sweet like honey. “that one dates back to the days of the river kings, a fine ballad, it is.” she took a deep inhale, soaking in the perfumed scent of the flora that sprouted on either side of the path their horses trotted on.

“alright now calla, let me hear what you’ve got.” she insisted lightheartedly.

#shamelessly using ''dorian'' by agnes obel because i hc calla sounds like her; plus the lyrics are hauntingly beautiful #margaret: 01

[calla-lefford]

Closed starter for @briannabrackens Setting: The Crownlands, King's Landing.

A smile upon Leo's face was a rare thing these days. Perhaps that was the reason it caught her attention in such a way to have seen him appear so content, so at ease, as he danced with Lady Bracken during King Cedric's wedding. Calla made no comment then, waiting for her brother to eventually open up to their siblings. He would not come to her to speak of his interests or plans, not anymore— He'd confide in Ceri, perhaps, and in turn, the red lioness would gain some insight into what was going through her brother's head. She'd teased him in the past about stubbornly refusing to find himself a bride, the eternal bachelor of Golden Tooth who ensured his siblings wedded before he did. A part of her wished she maintained their closeness of old so she might tease him about potentially having had his head turned by the pretty Riverlander.

King Jaehaerys was to be officially crowned very soon and her own sister named his queen; the first of several, if the dragon king's Valyrian traditions were to be considered. And so the realms gathered once more in a single kingdom, giving Calla the opportunity to approach Lady Bracken when the opportunity arose. And such a moment did come when a few noblewomen were promenading in the gardens of the Red Keep. “Lady Bracken,” the redheaded woman called as she approached the Lady of Stone Hedge, “May I join you on your walk?”

#brianna: 01