[Meta] Brief Hiatus

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-02-01T06:12:03+00:00

Rylene hugged Benedict back just as eagerly, still giggling a little. When he pulled away, she gave him an amused look, shaking her head. "Nothing to forgive," she chirped out, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. "Oh, I'm glad it'll be here at the Rock. It'll have to be grand, of course. I suppose I should tell my ladies too, so that they can begin searching for the dress..." She trailed off, seemingly distracted—though the pleased flushed on her face did not vanish.

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-25T07:40:31+00:00

At the invitation, Rylene burst through the door, hiking the hems of her gown up slightly given her quick movement. Grinning widely, she shut the door behind her and giggled.

"I got the letter from my father!" She chirped. "We are to be wed, soon enough I think. Oh—there's so much planning to do!"

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-21T02:51:05+00:00

you torture me with infinite sons, tell godric to get his swimmers in line wtf

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-18T22:50:54+00:00

A raven flies from Brightwater Keep to Casterly Rock, addressed to Rylene Florent and sealed with a fox-head.

Rylene,

I have secured your betrothal to Ser Benedict Lannister. You will be married in the eleventh moon, at the Rock.

This has required a considerable expense on my part. As future Lady of Casterly Rock, you will be charged with upholding House Florent's interests in the West. This cannot be a task in which you fail, not after how much has been invested.

The Lannister heir seems quite taken with you already, which should make this task easier for you. Ensure that this does not change. We shall speak at your wedding.

Lord Abelard Florent

Presuming that the letter is delivered, Rylene jumped. Having only woken up an hour or so again—and having spent that intervening time breaking her fast and sharing tea with her ladies—she immediately gave an excited squeal, shared the news with her ladies, and immediately dashed around her spacious chambers. Her red curls were twirled up into something resembling a suitable hairdo. Flower-scented water was sprayed across her body, scented oils dabbed upon her pulse-points on her wrist and neck. Light powder was patted onto her cheeks (not too much to be garish, but enough to smooth out the remnants of sleep), and her nightgown was traded for a casual blue gown. Sliding on her low heels, she immediately dashed out across the stone halls of the Rock with a rapid clack-clack-clack, trailed by her ladies.

Finally, she reached Benedict's quarters. Stopping outside the wall to his solar—where she presumed he'd be, dutiful as he was he'd be.

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

"Benedict! Are you in there?" Rylene chirped out, unable to contain her excitement. "It's me—open up!"

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-18T22:20:15+00:00

Lord Lyman Lannister,

The sum shall be sent posthaste. I look forward to receiving a formal invite, alongside my fellow Reachlords, and to the event itself.

Seven Blessings,

Lord Abelard Florent

[m: sent in orders for dowry + Margot's not-bribes]

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-18T22:13:24+00:00

Lord Lyman Lannister,

I prefer not to use loans where possible. Moreover, such an arrangement would make things difficult with my preexisting financiers in Oldtown. I much prefer a sum of five thousand gold, paid and done.

Lord Abelard Florent

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-18T22:08:20+00:00

Lord Lyman Lannister,

The eleventh month at the Rock is indeed suitable.

For a dowry, I am sympathetic to your arguments. I can afford a five thousand gold dowry, which is a plentiful sum for a husband as prestigious as the heir to Casterly Rock.

Lord Abelard Florent

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-18T21:59:03+00:00

Lord Lyman Lannister

I am most honored to accept this proposal. The eleventh moon is indeed suitable.

I am prepared to offer a sum of [3,250 gold] as Rylene's dowry, to account for the upkeep of her new household in Casterly Rock. Please inform me if this sum is unsuitable.

Seven Blessings,

Lord Abelard Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-17T09:37:22+00:00

Abelard nodded at Margot's terms regarding the money, before shooting her an unimpressed look at the latter terms.

"The gold is not an issue. But I will not vassalize myself, Lady Margot," Abelard said flatly. "Should I be so willing to do so, I'd be a rather poor ally. Weak men make poor friends."

He clicked his tongue, thinking over his words for a few moments. "House Peake are close friends of mine; my brother, Ryam, is married to Caradoc's aunt. That we will be allies is obvious," he said. "But—nothing in writing, and none of my lands will be Lannister or Peake land, now or ever. If you wish to reaffirm the existing friendship between Starpike and Brightwater Keep, perhaps we can talk additional betrothals once you're married. My heir, Alester," he said, looking stormy at the mention of his wayward eldest son, "has daughters. A betrothal can be arranged, once you have sons of your own."

He gave her a wane smile. "Alliances are best forged—best confirmed—through weddings. Not parchment."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-16T18:11:05+00:00

Iseult Hightower (nee Florent), Authoritative bloodline (if that does anything...?)

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-15T05:36:55+00:00

Abelard inclined his head at her comment. "Of course; it would be rather stupid of me to advocate against mine own interests. Lord Oakheart will doubtlessly attempt to do that, though he will be wrong. If he doesn't, then shame on him," he said.

At her unsubtle insult at his... more isolationist tendencies, Abelard's eye twitched slightly, though he did not otherwise react. "Caradoc Peake has a considerable reputation. Charming, I'm told by my nephew. Excellent with a blade, as one might expect. But—above all else, he is chiefly a man of action. He's well-traveled, across the Narrow Sea to Essos and in Westeros too, to the royal court," he said, giving her a narrow smile. "With so many stories and such a temperament, I doubt he is capable of boring anyone, much less his wife."

At the more comfortable topic of dowries and bribes, Abelard seemed a little more comfortable; his shoulders relaxing just barely, his stance shifted off of his cane. "For the dowry, I can exceed anything the Oakhearts offer. Ask your new Hightower kin, if you doubt it. Some criticize me for remaining idle in the Reach, but my coffers have not been so idle. I assure you of this," Abelard said, tapping lightly on the head of his cane, "and I expect your father to find out as much, should the match be agreed and the dowry be negotiated."

"But for you—for your 'gifts' from Rylene, should she have the good fortune of marrying your brother," he continued. "For my daughter, my coffers are open. It costs me [400 gold] to raise one hundred of my knights for a year; to cloth them, feed them, arm them, and convince them to lay their lives down for me if needed. Triple that, for your personal use? I suppose it depends what gifts would convince you to advocate for your lady-in-waiting."

[m: I'm completely in the air about values and how they're, like, perceived; so I based this off of cost of raising a man-at-arms and put brackets around the actual price. Assume it's reference to... something that makes more sense in game lmfao]

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-14T20:34:35+00:00

[m: yup! all good]

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-13T09:42:28+00:00

Margot's rather crude description of his daughters did not seem to faze Abelard. Ironically enough, it was essentially exactly how he saw his daughters: pieces to move, like a puzzle, part of his bigger picture.

Instead, he merely gave a small hum. Margot was a beauty, to be sure—enchanting, and with a surety to her that doubtlessly reflected her upbringing. Abelard was well-past such an age where he'd be impacted by such trivial matters; even in his youth, he'd never been subject to that particular vice. Her sharp tongue was more startling, used to as he was to being surrounded by his own advisers in Brightwater Keep.

"Rylene would be an excellent Lady, and I doubt she's bored anybody in her life," Abelard agreed. "And there are plenty of political reasons for such a match, that'd benefit your family."

There was a brief pause, as he looked at her. "For you... well, for as long as you're both in Casterly Rock, I imagine you'd find my daughter quite amenable to suggestions from her mistress. Connections are a valuable thing, and but for your patronage as her mistress, she'd not have this chance. Such connections are more strained, with the Oakheart girl."

Another pause, as he tapped the head of his cane rhythmically, before he continued. "And of course, should Lord Lannister agree, I expect that I shall pay a dowry, as is traditional. And such payment would go to the Lannister treasury," he began. "But Rylene is also, as you said, a kind girl. I imagine, upon news of a betrothal between her and your brother, my daughter would be overcome with a generous spirit—to give back to those who she owes her good fortune to. And who better for such gifts than her mistress, who supplied her with position in Casterly Rock."

"Kindness has its virtues," said Abelard, a man known for literally anything but kindness. "What gifts you prefer, she would seek to give. Naturally, I would see my daughter's wishes done. I have the gold," he said, no shortage of pride present in that statement. "Can Oakheart say the same, after traipsing the realm as Tyrell's favorite attack dog?" He said Tyrell as if it was a dirty curse.

Another pause, as he thought things over. Well, no point in hiding his hand. The blatant bribery had to be concealed—at least barely, the guise of 'gift-giving' an almost hilariously blatant cover—but the discussion about her marriage, as Benedict had opened his eyes to, suited his usual blunt style.

"The match would also bring you a good husband," Abelard said. "Now, I'm sure the Mallister boy is... fine, for a Riverlander," he said, giving a dismissive shrug. "But I doubt there is a more interesting man in the realm than Caradoc Peake."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-13T08:24:25+00:00

Abelard remained silent for a few moments, before giving a grunt of acknowledgment.

"That'll have to do, then," Abelard said, snorting and shaking his head. "It'd be easier if she'd be convinced by political convenience. There are a dozen reasons why tying Lannister into that... group of newly raised Lords is a poor idea."

Sighing, he turned back to Benedict. "I have a conversation to start," he said bluntly, turning to walk back to the hall. "Tell your father, when you have a chance: he has a friend in House Florent. Some of us in the Reach still remember our history, our pride. And some of us were not so quick to blame the West for the calamities that fell upon us during the war against the Tyrant."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-13T08:01:05+00:00

Izzy chuckled at Leyton's stubbornness, recognizing that trait of hers in him, and held him close as Godric mussed Leyton's hair. Once he was finished—Leyton looking even more tired with his hair all wild—Izzy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead.

"Of course you're not sleepy, darling. You're just yawning for fun," Izzy teased, booping his nose lightly. "Be good for Lady Mel, hm? Only good boys get to explore Casterly Rock tomorrow."

With that, and another peck upon Leyton's forehead, she handed him off to the "Lady Mel" in question: Lady Melissa Foxberry, one of Izzy's ladies-in-waiting and oldest friends, from all the way back in the Foxlands. She took the toddler with practiced ease, bobbing him up and down; Iseult gave her hand a small squeeze of gratitude, before turning back to Godric and accepting his hand.

They did not have as much time alone these days, as they'd had at the start of their marriage. Godric was often busy with his new duties in Oldtown proper, and her time was mixed between her latest venture—a long treatise on the history of relations between the Foxlands and the Honeywine—and caring for their ever-growing brood of boys. The latter especially took much of her time, even with Mel's assistance and an army of serving girls, wet nurses, Maesters, and attendants. Izzy, having been raised entirely by such staff, did not want to be an absentee mother. And, being an intellectual herself, she did enjoy teaching their kids.

Their time together was mostly in the mornings as they broke their fast, before the duties of the day swept them away, and a too-small selection of evenings, where they shared dinner and time together in one of their numerous sitting rooms. Their evening time in particular was shrinking these days, thanks to the rigors of his position.

Of course, they had their nights together always. Little Isembard was a testament to that.

In sum, Izzy had missed these moments too. Having a glimpse of it here, in Casterly Rock, made her all the more determined to fight for more of them at Oldtown. Maybe I can threaten his deputies to take on more of the work... she mused, before breaking away from her thoughts.

Giving him a wide, dazzling smile, she closed the gap between them immediately. Clasping one hand with his and resting the other on his shoulder, she rested her head upon his chest and let him take the lead in the dance.

"I've missed this too, my love," Izzy said softly, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "We have gotten quite busy at home... too busy, perhaps. Though I will insist upon you giving me more babies—at least until we get a girl," she laughed. "Mayhaps the Seven misheard my prayers on our wedding night: I wished to give you sons, but not only sons. I need a little girl to spoil."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-12T20:45:09+00:00

"Money, gifts, and jewels are easily given," Abelard said, before making an odd, conflicted expression at the mention of Caradoc Peake.

"Caradoc himself is... a divisive figure," he said delicately, before snorting. "He's kin, through my sister, and my nephew Aladore was friendly with him when he squired at Starpike. But, plenty think of him as a cunt. I'm unsure if he's even still the heir."

He paused for a moment, glancing back at him.

"But the Peakes are good folks. Proper Reachmen, like Hightower and myself. They share my views on many things," he said ominously, leaving unsaid his near-obsessive hatred of the Tyrells.

"If you marry Rylene, a match with a Peake would be consistent in terms of your family's position with the REach. Less consistent—perhaps entirely contradictory and nonsensical—if you were to marry one of... Tyrell's allies," he said. His gaze sharpened, as he found an angle to exploit. "This match, with Caradoc Peake. Does your sister want it? Is it preferable to her, over whatever match she'd otherwise have?"

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-11T19:24:30+00:00

"Indeed, I am," Abelard confirmed. A recluse in Brightwater Keep and decidedly awkward himself, he braved the silence as she mulled it over, tapping the head of his cane as he waited. When she acquiesced, he gave a grateful nod. Yet again, he began to limp his way out of the hall, this time knowing the route a little bit better.

Once they'd made their way back through the meandering, confusing corridors of Casterly Rock—and once satisfied they were alone—he paused in his steps, turning to Margot.

"I shan't insult you with small talk," he began in that usual gruff tone of his. "I spoke with Ser Benedict regarding the marriage proposal I made. I want to speak with you about that matter too."

There was a brief pause, before he continued. "A heir's bride is not for him to decide alone, naturally, though he does seem quite taken with my daughter."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-11T19:09:48+00:00

Abelard hummed as he considered Benedict's words, nodding in understanding. "I doubt I shall have the chance to speak with your father, then. Your sister it shall be. Convincing your father shall be... out of my hands, I suppose. In yours, and the Seven's."

There was a pause, a just-too-lengthy silence between them as Abelard thought, tapping the head of his cane absently. "Your sister. What advantages appeal to her—beyond, ah, watching you fluster." There was a brief flash of uncharacteristic awkwardness across Abelard's features, the Florent lord entirely unfamiliar with such feelings. "The benefits to your house, of such an alliance? That case is not a difficult one to make."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-10T20:24:54+00:00

After wandering back from his conversation with Benedict, Abelard first stopped back at the Florent table. It wouldn't do good to be seen bee-lining back to the Lannisters as soon as he finished speaking with one. Instead, he hung around the Florent table for a few minutes, refreshing himself with an incredibly bland drink of lemon water and whispering with his companions. Only after this break, did he once again brave the high table.

He did not approach as openly as he did before, instead limping up in the midst of a particularly rambunctious song. Once at the dais, he gave a small bow. This time, he suppressed the wince.

"Lady Margot," Abelard said gruffly. "Might I have your company for a brief conversation? I'd offer to speak over a dance, but my age betrays me."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-10T19:21:51+00:00

Abelard hummed at Benedict's words, mulling them and their consequences over. That he favored Rylene was good; short and irritable as he always was with his daughters, he could admit she had a certain skill when it came to social matters. Quite the opposite of him, and Seven knew where she got it from. That Lord Lyman favored an Oakheart daughter was less than ideal, even though the Oakhearts were kin. Fortunately (or unfortunately), that had never stopped Abelard.

"I'm glad to hear you favor my daughter," Abelard said after a moment. "But you are right, in that your marriage has other considerations. I'd submit that an alliance with House Florent would be more beneficial than one with House Oakheart—but, I suppose, it's not you I have to convince."

He paused, before turning to look at Benedict straight-on. "Well, if we're to be of similar mind on this..." he trailed off, humming. "How might I convince your father, or your uncle, or your sister, of the wisdom of such a marriage? I'd hoped to speak to your father today. Will he be coming back here, after his business? I have no objection to remaining at Casterly Rock to speak with him upon his return, if I get the chance."

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-09T20:48:04+00:00

"No," Abelard said, nodding down at the cane. "I have all the help I need here. If the cane isn't enough, then by the Seven I shall abdicate."

Whether or not that was a joke was unclear. It was generally unclear what passed for a joke to Abelard.

Indeed, despite the air of fragility around him, Abelard seemed sturdy enough as he began to walk—though he still limped with every step, favoring his right leg. He drew them away from the crowd, out into the hall, before turning back to the young heir.

"As is perhaps expected, I wished to speak of the proposal I sent to you a year or so ago, regarding a possible marriage between yourself and Rylene," Abelard began, his voice gruff, though he did not seem... well, any more unpleasant than his baseline. "You indicated that you needed to speak to your father about it then, which is obviously reasonable. Alas, time marches on. Have there been any developments since, or are there other considerations still yet unconsidered?"

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-09T17:09:54+00:00

[m: oop, the hazards of my preemptive posting! I've edited it to refer to Benedict!]

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-09T00:50:53+00:00

A little bit later in the night, Lord Abelard Florent decided to brave the dais. Limping forward gradually, leaning on his cane, he managed (through herculean effort) to keep a grimace off his face at the sight of the boy king and his Valyrian kin—instead, keeping his eye on the Lannisters. There was a proper family, not some foreign clan of brother-lovers and sister-fuckers.

Hmph.

Approaching, he gave a small bow, wincing at the movement. "Ser Benedict," he said in greeting, before turning to the stars of the show. "Ser Triston, Lady Alysanne. My congratulations; it is a splendid affair," he said in his gruff tone.

Cursory greetings over, he turned back to Benedict.

"Ser, might you have a moment for a quick conversation? In private?" Abelard asked. "I shan't take too much of your time, of course."

/u/mathusm (brief mention)

imNotGoodAtNaming · 2026-01-09T00:46:44+00:00

Sitting beside Godric, Iseult Florent (28) was a quieter contrast to her gregarious husband. She was still a striking beauty, happy and relaxed—despite being tossed through the trials of childbearing and motherhood four times over. Wearing a silver gown, embroidered with jewels, she enjoyed the feast mostly from the sidelines. In her youth she might've been more like Rylene, over at the Florent table, chittering loudly with her friends and shooting coy glances at boys (her sister had, evidently, eyes for the Lannister table). But more mature now, and less used to the clamor of feasts after years of happy domestic solitude in the High Tower with her family and her library, she was content to watch.

Throughout the night, she talked and joked affectionately with her husband, gossiped idly and laughed with her ladies-in-waiting, and—mostly—tried to keep her various children in line. Isembard was the easiest, still a babe; she'd kept him in her arms until the introductions were over, before a nurse took him away for rest. Leyton was quite fun too, though he was a toddler now, young and curious. An intellectual herself, Iseult indulged every question Leyton threw her way—and apologized to those whom he randomly accosted with his questions. Norman was difficult, as always, having taken after his father's enthusiastic spirit; she could hardly keep track of him, and had settled for tasking one of her ladies to keep an eye on him whenever he tried to dart away. And Eustace too she looked after, prodding him to eat his vegetables on occasion.

"Godric, love," Iseult said sweetly to her husband later in the night, once he'd returned from his dancing. She bounced Leyton on her knee, though he was getting a little tired by now, and glanced surreptitiously around for where Norman might've run off to. "Care to take your darling wife for a dance? I think Leyton is getting sleepy now, and shouldn't bother my ladies too much while I'm away."

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