#also i did not proof or doublecheck my edits so its Mess idk

[rdwyns]

          hey y’all, it’s kit again ! swapping jeyne out for anya, my muse from the last iteration of warofcrowns but with some obvious edits ! if you remember her from the old version, fair warning, she’s gotten significantly worse. her intro is still absurdly, ridiculously long, i am well aware and will not apologize. but if you do manage to read the whole thing you have my eternal gratitude & admiration ! i’d also really, really love plenty of plots and connections for her so if you want to plot, here’s how: like this post if you don’t mind me messaging you, or get a head start and shoot me a message either on IMs or on discord !

⤷ ( kit. cet. 22. she / her. violence against children. ) the courts offer bread and salt to anya caron née redwyne of house caron. many say the twenty-five year old ruling lady of nightsong is known to be poised and insightful, though ill tongues whisper that she is insecure and volatile. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of a faint light in a sea of fog, sweet fruit souring into wine, & a dark stain spreading over silk. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

        tw - discussions or mentions of alcoholism, childbirth & pregnancy, domestic abuse & neglect, suicide by drowning, food & disordered eating, forced marriage, mental & physical illness, misogyny. ( yeah it’s a lot, don’t mind me. )

basics.

name. anya caron née redwyne. nicknames. age. twenty-five. traits.      + educated, reverent, insightful, poised, curious, resourceful, sentimental.      - guarded, resentful, volatile, insecure, transgressive, dependent. titles. ruling lady of nightsong. loyalty. house targaryen.

family.

desmond redwyne, ruling lord of the arbor. ( father ) viola redwyne née ???, ruling lady of the arbor. ( mother , deceased ) ??? redwyne, heir to the arbor. ( half-brother ) ??? ??? née redwyne, lady of the arbor. ( half-sister )

??? caron, ruling lord of nightsong. ( husband ) amerei caron, lady of nightsong ( sister-in-law )

pre - history ; house & parents .

the redwynes were always military men. had to be, really, being island people, more isolated and often more endangered than their mainland counterparts. really, there was nothing quite so loved as war, except perhaps wine.

an old, proud house, the redwynes and their fleet have fought for targaryen kings for centuries — they stood by aegon in the dance of the dragons, stood by jon & daenerys against cersei lannister, and even stood by maegos against the dornish and northern rebellions.

lord desmond redwyne took his father’s seat in the reign of king aeron. in a prosperous and peaceful time, men drunk on dreams of a glorious war grow restless — so he hunted, and whored, and drank, and none of it so much as touched his reputation. no, lord redwyne was an honorable man, a true servant of the realm, an example to many.

lady viola redwyne might have said otherwise, had anyone asked her. prone to bouts of melancholy, often disagreeable, and with a reputation for refusing suitors, she might have even succeeded had she not been so beautiful. lord redwyne must have her, and her father could not refuse.

his second wife, fifteen years his junior, and unhappy with the match, she could not love him, nor his other children, nor the arbor. a lack of love in such close quarters sours into hate over time, like bad wine. one of her few reliefs was that he already had an heir and a spare. poor health and misery would not have made her a brood-mare of any longevity.

family history & early childhood . 

as it stood, anya was more an unexpected result than a desired outcome, and ultimately even a bone of contention. she bound her mother by love, to the arbor and the man that she hated.

they were left well enough alone, for a time, viola and her daughter, the septa, and the maidservants. even the wet nurse sent away. anya’s infancy brought a modicum of respite, but it would not last more than a handful of years.

by that time it aroused suspicion. lady redwyne would hardly leave her chambers, refuse to let the child out of her sight, would not see her husband and even refused food for periods at a time. it was unhealthy, unnatural, they soon started saying. in inns and winesinks at ryamsport men would murmur ‘poor lord redwyne, imagine a wife that beautiful going mad on you,’ into their cups, laughing at their great fortune to have avoided his.

and perhaps there was something real to it, perhaps there really was something unsettling about the arrangement. perhaps not. but in the end it was only the talk that mattered. once it reached lord redwyne’s ears, red with shame at being laughed at by traders and fishermen, he put his foot down. viola’s whims were not to be indulged or tolerated any longer, and besides, ‘the child’—by this he meant anya—‘must grow to be a fool or a half-wit if left in her care.’

and so anya was removed to the care of a cousin, mostly sheltered from her mother’s influence. there were fights about it for months. the withdrawn lady redwyne who would not speak but to her daughter and her maidservant and looked to the window whenever anyone looked at her had disappeared. she raged, schemed to steal her daughter away, wept, wandered the halls at night, and made trouble.

lord redwyne even tried being gentle, for a time, speaking in soft pleading words for her to be reasonable, but gentle or harsh it made no difference. if she saw anya twice, even three times a day, it was not enough — to her mind, he had stolen her daughter, stolen her life, stolen her freedom and anything else he might think of taking, and she wasn’t wrong. but when she threatened to throw herself from the eastern tower, she sealed her own fate.

on horseshoe rock, one of the smaller islands in the waters surrounding the arbor, a small stout keep was furnished and staffed, and lady redwyne was sent out of sight, out of mind, and certainly out of the way, where she couldn’t cause another such a stir — and most importantly, after a while, the talk died down.

personal history .

with all the difficulties tended to, and all the loose ends and loose canons carefully tied down, anya’s upbringing was left to a succession of septas, servants, and after a time, an aunt, newly widowed  and returned to the arbor.

out of her father’s favor for as long as she could remember, with a rocky relationship with her siblings ( i won’t go into detail in case my wc is picked up ! ), anya found little relief within the castle walls. she attended her lessons dutifully, could sew and sing and smile, recite the houses, their sigils and heroes, and it all meant little and less to her.

she wanted to set sail, she had always insisted — since before she knew what it really meant, just uttering phrases picked up along the way the way one does around seafarers — but desmond redwyne would not suffer any of his daughters to venture so far beyond his control. he knew better than to trust sailors, and certainly never trusted women.

so instead anya spent years at her window, watching sails shrink and disappear over the horizon ; by the sea, swimming in a cove under the watchful eye of the septa ; sneaking in the fields during harvest, stealing grapes ripe to bursting. searching desperately, maybe shiftlessly, for a little bit of sweetness. all the while she visited her mother only rarely, on namedays and holy days and days when, for whatever mysterious reason, her father’s pity won out over his good sense.

she studied too, though silently, mostly unnoticed. the kitchen girls, the household guard, the way people talked when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention. watched her father most of all, and had no illusions about him. even if she still aspired to please him, somehow, to gain his approval, she knew: he was a cruel man, harsh, childish, selfish, drunk on wine and himself, and yet still too clever to let all of that be his ruin.

her betrothal, like any lady’s, was inevitable — on the horizon of her future, marriage appeared to her like a fog, uncertain in all aspects but its impending approach. in the end it was a transaction, as these things almost always are. a dowry of ships, wine, and gold ( but really, mostly ships ) was enough to make anya a desirable bride despite the whispers of madness that clung to her mother, and she was promised to the heir of nightsong without even the illusion of being well-matched.

demure, docile, even shy, few suspected that, days before she was to leave for her wedding, anya would disappear in the night. would sneak from the castle in the dark, with a torch and one gold dragon, paid to the wife of a fisherman who, in her husband’s small boat, rowed anya to the shores of horseshoe rock to say goodbye to her mother one last time.

it was a mistake, but she couldn’t have known that. she came at night, the only time she could, but to viola, startled from her sleep, she was a ghost in the moonlight. after the truth came, ‘i’m leaving. father says i must,’ her mother, in tears, threw herself in front of the door, on the ground, wept in fits and refused to let her leave. it was the first and last time anya ever truly believed her mad. with promises that she would refuse her marriage and sail home as soon as she could, she left.

she was guilty, of course — so guilty it ate her up, and very nearly killed her, but not so guilty that she turned back. her mother could not bear for her to go, but anya felt she would die — truly die — if she were forced to stay.

the preparations were already well underway by the time word reached them from the arbor. lady redwyne had disappeared. alseep in bed at night, swore the servant, but gone in the morning. the island was searched for weeks, coasts scoured, sailors and captains interrogated, but to no avail. some say she escaped, others that she was kidnapped, and yet others know with conviction that she simply walked into the sea and drowned

though she wore the her house colors instead of black, anya was married in mourning. the wedding was a ridiculous affair, lavish and splendid and festive, and it only made her all the more self-conscious. she was polite, sweet, but in the momentary lull of conversation she looked lost. doe-eyed — not innocent, but wary, reproachful.

( note --- everything that follows may be changed at a later date if / when her husband is applied for ; i’m trying to keep it as vague as possible for that reason, sorry. )

it was a relief to be gone from the arbor, that she could not deny, but things at nightsong were not better. she was withdrawn, in mourning, clumsy in her attempts to draw affection from her husband and all the while mistrusting him ; even at the arbor she knew the household, was familiar with the scullery maids and the maester. here she was a stranger in her own home, and resentment blossomed as easily and intractably as wildflowers.

in the end she found she had traded a familiar prison for one completely alien to her. in the end it was probably worse. she did not sour quickly, no --- it took time, but sour she did. 

tl ; dr , personality .

a traumatic, tense, and lonely childhood, ghost-like and disconnected. mommy and daddy issues, because why not. that and a poor marriage leaves her bitter, withdrawn ; there is a deep, foul darkness in her that she does not have the strength to keep at bay.

haunted by rumors of madness passed down from her mother, hard to disprove when she seems to be turning into her more and more every day. more recently questions of her fidelity have been raised ; she ignores them publicly but remains wary. honestly she’s not ‘mad’ it’s just what they call women with big emotions and opinions, y’know.

despite all that she still seeks sweetness, tenderness --- she is seriously traumatized and seriously sentimental, but not necessarily a good person. she might try to be or think she is, but in the end she’s also very shady and good at lying to herself, or aspiring to goodness. wants intensity above all else, whether good or bad. 

basically what happens when you put a sweet, sensitive girl into the rough, careless hands of men ; even when they do not mean to misuse her some damage is inevitably done. that’s not to say she’s only a victim ; she can be as cruel as she is tender, and hurting only makes her want to hurt more.

very insecure, which manifests itself in a lot of different ways ; does she try to make herself big and powerful ? does she try to turn herself into whatever it is she thinks someone wants ? does she overthink things and say too little end up seeming like an absolute whacko ? does she get overexcited and yes.

poised and image-aware but resents it. she should have been the daughter of a miller or a fisherman or even a knight, but not of a lord ; harbors secret dreams of simple domesticity but she’s been told at every turn that makes her weak or small-minded so she dreams of nothing instead.

plot ideas !

cousins. i haven’t yet decided what house anya’s mother is from, so there are plenty of options for familial attachments there, though probably a house from the reach / southern kingdom ! her father also probably had sisters, although they’d probably be another generation older and have adult grandchildren at this point, so. second cousins ? i think ? 

failed or cancelled betrothal. this is also super open ! again, would probably be someone from the southern kingdom, all things considered. what their relationship would be or whether they had even ever met is all very much up in the air. 

former flings. again i like to keep my plot ideas open to customization and further plotting ! but i also think that she may, probably, arguably, definitely have sought comfort elsewhere after realizing her marriage was not going the places she was hoping. idk man she just wants to be touched. how intense it was or how long it went on or what it meant are all very very open to discussion, i love a little drama but i definitely don’t need this to turn into a ship or anything ! and again this would be open to any gender because all my muses are bi !

enemies. i cannot stress this enough, i love enemy connections. maybe anya’s jealous and petty which she is perfectly capable of being ; she loves herself a backhanded compliment and has a bad habit of lashing out when she’s feeling upset or otherwise justified in her shittiness. could also be enemies due to bad blood between their families, since her dad is fairly shitty also. 

family ward. could go two ways ; either someone who spent some time in their childhood at the arbor or somewhere anya might have been sent for some time in her childhood ? she was fairly isolated at the arbor for most of her childhood but i would love for her to still have some childhood connections or something.

#badreputation friends. anya adores her sister-in-law amerei more than she can express ; both of them have a dark cloud of a bad reputation hanging over their heads. anya’s a madwoman and a whore, and amerei’s killed all three of her husbands, if the rumors are to be believed. which means that anya absolutely adores any lady with a bad reputation, especially if that reputation is only bad because of misogyny. they also don’t necessarily need to be friends, but anya definitely finds them more interesting than most others.

little sibling-ey relationship. yea i’m braindead and not thinking of cool names for these things anymore. anyway, gimme a muse who’s still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and brings out the very best in anya ; she’s always been the youngest sibling but with an intense need to protecc ( catch her rehabilitating birds with broken wings and defending the baker’s boy from bullies ). also has loads of mostly half-bad advice to pass on ! 

literally anything else ! please ! i just love intense, extensive, or lore-heavy plots but also anything casual and fun i am not picky ! i just ! want plots and connections and muse to write !

#crowns.intro #i clearly have ... problems !! hnstly #also i did not proof or doublecheck my edits so its Mess idk #i. other kept silences ⦙ dev .