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Alias: Sea
Age: 17
Sworn To: Targaryen
Born to: Velaryon
Location: Driftmark
Title: Noblewoman
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Joined: 22-June 17
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Jul 22 2017, 02:45 PM
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<div class="fancy">LAENA VELARYON</div>
<p><div class="meh">I have never been a calm blue sea. I have always been a storm</div></div></div>
<div class="meh"><a href="">thank you Val!</a></div>
Jul 9 2017, 01:36 AM
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She dreams more than she sleeps.


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Laena Velaryon

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17 / Little Dreamer / Driftmark

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Laena Velaryon is known well in her home as the Little Dreamer, often lost in her thoughts, she drifts through her days, content and graceful. This should not fool you, she is still her own little storm, a lady through and through, ready to take on anyone who questions her house and her loved ones.
From a young age, Laena was trained in the ways of making and keeping a house and is more than competent and confident in her ability, albeit she is easily distracted. She enjoys spending time with the horses or in the library, but is pleased to simply sit and gaze at the world. Like her mother, she is a singer and is frequently said to be humming while working on needlepoint, gazing at books (she’s probably too distracted to be reading), or just wandering through their household.
She is the youngest of the family, her three older brothers and one older sister all dream of a life on the sea, something Laena not only dislikes but often dreads. While she loves her family (or at least tolerates some of them) she fears she will never escape the island and the sea. She wants desperately to marry or if that fails secure a lady-in-waiting position, anything to keep her from having to spend her days surrounded by people who yearn for the sea.
Despite her desperation to marry, her brother Lucerys and father are incredibly protective, and so far neither have given any hint that a man should or could come near her. She’s innocent in many ways, but she is polite and graceful and eager to please and impress. All and all, this little lady is eager to find her foothold in her future as a noble woman.

</div></div></div><div class=spencredit><a href="">♥ spenny</a></div>[/dohtml]
Jul 9 2017, 12:17 AM
Nimble, practiced fingers pulled through Laena’s still damp hair as she sat staring calmly down at book in her hands. She must have read the same page ten times over but none of it was keeping her attention. The book had been an attempt on the part of the woman now working on her hair to keep her from pulling at the loose thread on the sleeve of her gown. She had admired the way the small fiber had pulled a tight little bunch in the sheer fabric. She had imagined for a moment unraveling the whole gown, which was already so light it felt as though the slightest breeze could carry it away. As though it had heard her thoughts, the breeze drifted in, filling the soft fabric and shaping the ripples around her slender arms and legs. She was delighted in the moment, running her fingers through the rippling fabric, but as soon as it had begun, it was over. The breeze had come and gone, the thread was quickly plucked away, and a book was dropped into her hands, sufficiently crushing her daydream.

Laena sighed loftily, closing the book with a dull thud. She opened her mouth to speak to the woman, who was now pulling the tendrils of hair away from her face and into soft twists, when soft, anxious whispers sounded past her door. Her first instinct was to ignore the idle gossip, as she normally might, but the start of her brother, Lucerys’, name and the sharp, hissing shush of a second voice captured her attention. She didn’t recognize the voices as anyone of her family, and the bright, chirping tenor gave clue that whomever the voices belonged to, they were female. She leaned ever so slightly forward, trying to hear more of what they were saying. The words were unclear, but she could pick out the occasional 'shame' and 'poor dear.' She could feel her pulse quicken as she leaned further, trying to make out what could be wrong with her brother. A slight tug at her hair pulled her back upright in the seat, she twisted her head to the woman, who smiled calmly and reassured her that she would be done soon. She waited anxiously as her hair was carefully looped and folded into two twists around the crown of her head and met in a graceful curve at the back of her head, her thoughts spiraling, trying to make some bit of sense of the miniscule whisperings that she had heard. Her fingers drummed on the cover of the book as she fidgeted and fretted. Then she heard them, more clearly, closer to the door than before, the worlds that nearly sent her flying, right then and there.

“The maester said it himself. There are no signs of pregnancy in the Princess’s body.” Laena leapt up, sliding the book onto the nearest table, the room felt small, she moved to the door. “he supposed that there was never any baby at all and has no explanation for any of the swelling of her stomach.” “I could give you an explanation.” Laena didn’t hear what was said but from the peals of laughter and sudden hushes, she could only guess it was something impolite and cruel to the name of her brother's wife. She felt her cheeks grow hot with anger and she gripped the handle of the door. “Maybe it has something to do with Lucerys, he doesn’t seem like he’d be impotent, but you never can te~” Laena had enough, she pulled open the doors, violently, staring down the women in the hall, who had grown silent and pale at her display. She recognized them as the women who had drawn her bath earlier that morning and suddenly felt exposed that they had frequently seen her naked, given that they were likely adept at such bold, rude gossip.“Where is my brother?” she demanded, low, her voice shook and hummed in anger. When none of the women answered, but stole glances at each other, Laena felt herself shake. “Where is Lucerys!” she all but screamed at them. Rarely had she raised her voice in such a manner, she had grown careful at containing her emotions and keeping her thoughts to herself, but in this moment, she felt as though she might burst into flames if one of these girls didn’t say something soon. Finally, one of the women spoke up her voice exposing her evident fear, “H-he’s in his chambers m'lady...but, m'lady, I don’t think it would be wise to disturb him right now.” Laena scoffed at the woman, “I don’t give a damn what you think, but since you seem capable of it, you might try thinking about keeping your gossip for the sanctuary of your own pillow or you’ll soon find yourself thinking about how you will be fending for yourself once I’ve tossed you out of my home for you sheer lack of loyalty to my family.” She knew it was a weak threat coming from the youngest child of her father, but nonetheless, she threw one last contempt glare at the women before darting passed them and in the direction of her brothers’ chambers.

The loud slap of her shoed feet against the stone of the floor, echoed as she ran, her blood pounded in her ears. Hallway, through hallway, she sprinted until she reached her brother’s door. Panting, she tapped her knuckled lightly against the wood, but pushed open the door without waiting for a response. She spotted her brother, his shoulders sagged and she thought to herself how much this had seemed to age him. Her heart seemed to wither in her chest at the sight of him and should couldn’t find the words to comfort him. “Lucerys…” She glided across the room to him, wrapping her arms around him. She imagined wrapping a wound in soft fabric, closing it on itself, hiding it from the world and whatever could further the damage. She hugged her brother tighter, knowing that no amount of care could truly heal this wound, only time, and she doubted that it would ever heal for good.

Jun 23 2017, 01:24 AM
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<h1><group> Lady Laena Velaryon </group></h1>
<h2>17 years old. Little Dreamer. Crownlands. Cara Delevigne.</h2>
<h3>Sea. 22. EST. PM.</h3>
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<div class="genhead">After every storm</div>
<div class="gensmall">comes a calm</div>
Part I.

When your conception was confirmed, the joy your parents felt, was soon followed with fear. Your mother, whose hands were full with the care of your sister, whom had reached one year of age and had gained a strong cry and an even stronger sense of wonder, was still prone to sickness and was often treated like a fragile bird, but it was your father who feared the most. He feared your life would cost your mother’s, threaten the happiness of his living children, if your life were even to come to pass. Still, as you grew, so did the joy your mother held for you, unlike with your sister, she did not press the maesters for the gender of the babe that would soon be born, but rather she would pursue them with the nature of your health. Though their constant affirmations that all was well, every kick, each turn of stomach, or even if you were simply still for too long, she would send for the maesters. As you grew inside her, so did your father’s stress, which could only be quelled by the laughter of his children and the many moments of joy shared with his wife.
Despite the heartache and anxiety held over the occasion that would be your birth, you were born as planned, quickly and easily, to the amazement of the maesters. You were a perfectly, typical babe, with a full-head of golden hair, as short and as soft as a duckling’s down, and a spark of life in your violet-eyes and to the amazement of your father, you had a fierce grip for a girl so small. It was then that your father who had suggested your name, it was one rooted in the history of your family, given to women of such will and such passion and he hoped it would see you well.
There was a swell of hope in the hours following your birth. You were well as could be and as calm as the sea after the break of a storm’s rage. As you were bundled into your mother’s arms, for a moment, everything seemed at peace. That peace remained until your first cry which came in the early hours, the morning after your birth You had been quiet and still for so long, the wet-nurse had been convinced you would never gain your voice, but you had and as your wails grew, she realized it was a powerful one. Though she had to admit there was something song-like in your cry and as soon as it had started, it stopped, as though whatever had ailed you had been nothing more than a bad dream, or perhaps simply the need to remind them of the new life that had been so silent for so long.
You had met your brothers all at once, they tumbled in to see you, making a noise that was sure to wake you, but instead you slept. It wasn’t until they had been scolded and were to be sent off to play that you awoke, gazing at them with a calm reverence for one so young. It wasn’t until a week after your birth mother had answered your cries that you had shown any real sensation. You had curiously reached out your little hand to her nose, pure wonder in your eyes, bringing a sweet, subtle joy to her own. You were lively in way she hadn’t seen in any of her other children, you had been born with such a demure sense of peace. You truly were the calm after a storm.
Part II.

To the surprise, and occasional concern, of your parents, you were nothing like your siblings. You spent much of your time tucked in the folds of your mothers skirts, not out of any fear or shyness, but simply because that’s where you were content. You spent most of your young years at her side, interested in what she tried to teach your sister and what she would do. You loved to hear your father’s stories, and as he spoke you would often dance around the room, the stories playing in your head like music. For the most part, you did not run, though on many occasions proving you knew how, evading the grasp of your nursemaids or seldom your brothers, but you climbed. You were silly and charming, rarely raising your voice, you were often given what you wanted without much asking, simply because you were young and disinterested in the games your brothers played though you were very fond of them and your sister, wanting to be near them if ever you could. Once or twice you would join them in play, but would often get bored quickly or simply forget to keep looking for them, much to their displeasure.
As you grew, your family started to see how truly different you were from your siblings. The first time they took you swimming you had hesitated, far longer than your brothers had or even your sister, with the warnings given to her about being careful, you had stood on the shore, tucked into your mother’s side and no amount of coaxing would get you to budge. Finally Jacaerys had pulled you from the comfort of your safe hold on the shore and into the cold water where you had stumbled and fallen. Stricken and startled, you had cried, unable to contain the fear and contempt within you. Lucerys had been the one to stop your tears and get you to calmly experience swimming. Once he was sure you were comfortable he returned to your brothers and sister to play. You had stayed in the water a little while longer, wading through the shallow water to find shells and pebbles, before returning to the shore with your treasures gripped in your small hands, where you waited until you could return to your home.
When your lessons began, you progressed with ease, pleasing those around you, singing came almost naturally to you, and your calm hands made sewing easy, however your distracted thoughts often meant pricked fingers and occasional misplaced stitches, nonetheless, you were a little lady. You had tried to comfort and coax your sister kindly when she cried to be outside to little avail. Eventually your attempts to see eye to eye with her were kept to yourself, knowing she would only become more agitated and strident with you for trying. For all that you could do within the lessons, the one thing you were never truly good at was sitting through a book. If you were read to, it wasn’t long until your eyes had gone glassy and you had lost yourself in your own dream world. When reading yourself, you would remain on the same page, and if asked to account your readings you could begin but would soon divert and account fantastical stories which had little to do with what you had actually read. When your sister had started horseback riding, you begged to be allowed to, you wanted desperately to find common ground with your sister. It was not long after she had proven a skill in her riding that you were allowed to join her. You had been given a mare, as docile and demure as you had been. You loved her and you loved to ride and would dream of riding her away to some land away from the sea.
Part III.

As you grew, so would the distance between you and your siblings, your brother Lucerys had been sent to the Westerlands, far away from your home. You had never been playful with your brother as the rest of the children had been, but when he left you cried for what seemed like days, but as those days turned into weeks, then into months, your tears dried and you had started to find peace in yourself. That peace faltered as your brother Jacerys left, but somehow his travels seemed less permanent. Within your brothers’ absences you were left with your half-brother Aurane, who would frequently disappear, doing as he pleased never you mind, and your sister Coraly, whom you had given up on trying to relate to, despite both of you dreaming of doing more than you were allowed. She dreamed of the sea and sailing ships like your brothers, you dreamed of anything but the sea. You dreamed of traveling far away to the beautiful and exotic cities you had heard of in stories and lessons, or as much of them as you had heard, you dreamed of marrying a noble man and living your days far away from Driftmark. You and Coraly rarely spoke, you cared for your sister, but she would never be your companion, and that suited you fine.
Both good and bad came of the time you spent without your brothers. You had become more confident and determined. You, with much effort, could sit through a book, you found a love for languages, learning to speak more eloquently. Most of your time was spent in the library on your own or with your mother, learning the household, though you still spent plenty of time with your horse in the open fields. You learned and grew and had started your path to becoming an independent young woman. In spite of all this, your independence also saw you lost in your thoughts more and more. You were lonely, and the only place you felt less so was in your dreams. You would dream of the future you would have, wherever, with whomever you married and your entire house to keep your company.
At age twelve, you had the first taste of those dreams, as you were told that your family would be traveling to the Westerlands for the name day of a Lannister. You could hardly contain you joy at the thought of this venture. You would barely focus in your lessons and although so elated you could burst, you had grown even quieter and more lost in your daydreams. You frequently stared out over the ocean, sighing and humming, you would take your horse out to places were you could gaze at the horizon as she grazed. When the day finally came to set sail, you suddenly were filled with dread, you had never felt comfortable on the deck of a ship, much less now that the length of the journey was looming ahead of you. You had decided to focus on the arrival, not the journey and had stayed reserved from your family, claiming you were ill. Once at Casterly Rock you had stayed obediently by your mother’s side, though once or twice she, or one of your father’s men would have to hold you back as you drifted, your mind completely preoccupied with wonder. Despite your lost and somewhat ill-behavior leading up to the trip, you were charming, you desperately wanted to know more about the people you were meeting, hoping that your father might one day press a match for you with one of the many noble families. You chatted and smiled and curtseyed, many remarking on what at delight you were and how you would make a dutiful wife one day, much to your immediate delight. Though it seemed as soon as you had arrive, you were leaving. When you returned to the ship you had retreated to the cabin away from the others and wept dreadfully, wishing you could stay, wanting not to be on the sea or back to Driftmark once again.
Part IV.

The next few years passed, grooming you into the lithe, graceful, beauty you were born to be. You had continued to dream but had finally made it clear that you had no interest in sailing, much to the upset and disapproval of your brothers, Jace and Aurane, and especially to the disdain or Coraly. You father had solemnly, almost sadly, accepted that truth yet it still did not seem to push him any closer to securing a new path for your future. Your mother, seemingly able to read your unhappiness, would often encourage your patience and scold your infrequent upsets and outbursts, which never happened in the presence of your father. Ultimately, she would become busy in her concern for your sister, her wildness seemed ever-growing and her contempt for a settled life became a thorn in your side, as she was rejecting everything you wanted, though you supposed you had done the same to her by rejecting the sea and what she thought was freedom.
Your relationship with your brothers had changed, in your maturity they teased you for your ways and you chided them in return, but if ever questioned you would proudly and fiercely defend them. It spoke to your prowess, when no one was looking you had blossomed not only in your beauty but in your command of words and ideas. Your parents began to realize that their youngest daughter who had been born the calm after the storm had now become her own little storm. Unlike the hurricane that was your sister, uncontrollable and unpredictable, you were quiet and calm as always, but clever, deceiving all into thinking they were ready for you, but if unprepared, you could blow them over and continue on your way, unflinching and elegant. Even so, this didn’t stop you from losing yourself in your head, as clever and ladylike as you could be, you would always be lost in a fantasy, their little dreamer.

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The day was warm, though not unbearable, that much could be attributed to the stretch of clouds that had cross the sky, covering the sun almost entirely. Laena, perched on the ledge of the window in her room, she gazed over the stretch of land, covered with soft grasses and sand, peppered occasionally with trees and rocks that melted away into the sea, whose waters undulated and glittered in the peeks of sunlight that shown through the clouds. To her the sea looked like a monster, a rippling dragon ready to swallow up the land and everything it held. She would never understand why her sister wanted so badly to roam the sea, to fight that insurmountable beast, with no real direction.

She heard the voice of one of the servants prompting her on her impending lesson, breaking her, momentarily, from her thoughts. She nodded and continued to stare out the window, mumbling a nonchalant reply and thanks for their reminder. When they finally had gone, she turned and gazed around her room, her eyes stopping on the small, leather-bound journal she kept on her desk. It had been a gift from her mother, with the hopes that she could write down all the thoughts that filled her head, as though that would be any use for keeping them from filling it back up. She hadn’t needed to write her thoughts, nor had she wanted to, she would rather keep them to herself, so she could escape back to them whenever she pleased.

She sighed and stood, gathering her hair off her shoulder and neck momentarily before letting it cascade back down over her back. She hummed to herself as she made her way through rooms and halls into the library. She wondered when she married, if her father would ever actually let a man court her, if she would have a room this lovely. Peering around, she realized that she was early and moved towards the stacks of books.

Although the appeal of books had never been able to keep her distracted mind occupied as a child, Laena had always been fond of this room. Running her hand along shelves and spines, she thought back to stormy nights when she so often curled into her mother’s arms as her father told stories or days when her mother would sing and she’d twirl and skip her way around the room, completely content to be in this place. It was in this room that she had learned to lose herself in daydreams. She could go as far away as she pleased, away from her sister’s scorn and her father’s overbearing protection.

She became increasingly frustrated that her thoughts, no matter how far they took her lately always seemed to come back to one thing, her family’s insuperable ability to keep her here, unwed, and ultimately alone. Her brothers seemed content doing whatever it was they were doing and at this moment she couldn’t bring herself to care what her sister might be doing. All she knew is that once, she felt like the one who was free, she could lose herself in her thoughts, dream of exotic lands with handsome men, but now it seemed like she might be the one who wasn’t free at all, trapped here waiting forever.

Laena’s thoughts returned to the present as she ran her fingers over one of the shelves, when she withdrew her hand she felt the familiar residue that the coastal air left on many of the surfaces in their home. She rubbed her thumb across her fingers, feeling the somewhat salty, seemingly, but not quite wet texture. Maybe she would go somewhere cold. She could wrap herself in warm fabrics and furs and nothing would be damp. She thought of herself, walking through the snow, her breath forming little clouds, the air would be crisp and dry, and finally, for once, nothing would be damp, but then she thought, the dampness wasn’t really the problem.
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