Heather Lynderly Birth Name Heather Lynderly Titles Lady of the Snakewood Alias The She-Snake Gender Female Date Of Birth 9th Day of the 2nd Moon 415 AC Culture Valeman Religion Faith of the Seven Status Alive Occupation Lady Holdings The Snakewood Physical Information Eye Color Blue Hair Color Brown Build Slender Height 5'10" Weight 125 Relations Father Edmund Lynderly † Mother Arrana Waxley † Children Rolland Stone † Siblings Alaric Lynderly † Arwyn Lynderly Liege Godric Arryn META Player Username Snakewood_on_a_Plane Name on Discord dracar1s Alternative Characters Symond Frey

Heather Lynderly is the current Lady of the Snakewood. The eldest child of the late Lord Edmund Lynderly and his late lady wife Arrana Waxley, her brother's untimely passing saw Heather become Heir to the Snakewood and Lady of House Lynderly following Lord Edmund's sudden death in 435 AC.

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Appearance and Character

Heather Lynderly sports the smooth, milky complexion typical of her father's House, with hooded eyes blue as any newborn babe's oft filled with unspoken melancholy. Heavy brows frame fragile eyes, with a prominent nose and sharp cheeks. Heather's lips, full with gentle curves and never quick to smile, are her softest feature. Whatever struggles Heather held with assuming the expected aesthetic of a proper Lady were only exacerbated by her tall, lanky frame, only granted nominal curves when she entered womanhood. Exercise proved useful in filling out her bottom half, but by the time she came of age she no longer cared. From youth to the twilight of her maidenhood, Heather wore her hair short, in part due to her close relationship with her father. Mostly, she despised the tangles that would result from the wear and tear of adventuring. Even well into womanhood, she misses the days of a tight cut. Her fingernails used to be worn from frequent biting, a habit she thankfully was able to abandon. Typically Heather will opt for dark silhouettes made of sturdy material be it a gown or trousers.

The person Heather was before the death of her father and who she is as Lady of the Snakewood are not entirely different; there was always a stubborn distance to Heather, but never had she felt so heavily as she does currently. The only person Heather seems to hold closely is her younger sister Arwyn, of whom she is fiercely protective. At first born out of the death of her mother and furthered by her father's inability to cope, Heather possesses a stability and sense of realism few members of her family could boast. The traumas and challenges of her childhood molded her skills into what they are today, and Heather carries a certain rigidness in knowing they were born of necessity and not a patient teacher. Despite her straightforward, sarcastic, and at times cynical nature, there is a maternal side to her buried well beneath the surface. She favors the wild expanse of the Snakewood to courtly life, and thus could be considered something of an introvert. Fierce determination and unbreakable aloofness clearly separate her tendency towards solitude from shyness.

History

Early Life

The contents of Heather's earliest years stretch beyond even her childhood, but long before her conception. At the conclusion of the Mummer's War following the death of Alaric Arryn Heather's grandmother, Rohanna Lynderly, Lady Regent of the Snakewood, vanished without a trace. Edmund Lynderly had once been a squire to Lord Arryn, and the loss of both a paternal and maternal figure- though it would be incorrect to assume his relationship with his mother, a notoriously bitter and narcissistic woman would be anything resembling a functional mother-son relationship- caused a boy once hushed by the hardships of life to become more distant still. The now-Lord Edmund was of a different stock than his daughter would be though, and retreated further into himself. As he advanced farther into lordship it became harder to balance duty with family, ultimately leading to a distant relationship at best with the siblings remaining.

Despite his excursions away from the Snakewood being infrequent, he fell for a girl while on business in Wickenden whom he considered much out of his league. Arrana Waxley was a tall drink of water, with warm blonde hair and eyes like deep pools. She relented to his advances however, and the two were wed in the later half of 414 AC. It was said that for every inch Lady Arrana loved her husband, he loved her a mile. Lord Edmund proved himself potent enough to get her with child soon after their marriage. Whatever love Lady Arrana could not bring herself to devote to her husband, she found easily fell upon her child. A girl, as the gods would have it. Lord Edmund was no less thrilled for it. He doted upon his daughter with such frequency that he seemed finally freed of any fabled curse, that he would be given the opportunity to continue forth as a young Lord finally at peace with the misfortune of his childhood. Unfortunately, dark clouds do not stay away forever.

Yet in 417 AC, Lord and Lady welcomed a son and could not be happier, whom they named Alaric after Edmund's closest thing to a fatherly figure. Little changed for Heather, but the presence of a male heir did much to soothe concerns of the household. As a young child, Heather's headstrong nature made itself apparent, as well as her affinity for spending time alone. The girl did not struggle in social situations, she simply took no joy from it. Young Heather could oft be found playing with toy soldiers alongside baby dolls, though there was one thing she dreaded most of all: needlework. Even as a woman grown, her needlework is sloppy if not illegible. Her mother doted on both of her children, even if her eldest often struggled to assert her independence. Soon enough their brood would expand, when Lady Arrana gave birth to her second daughter Arwyn in 420 AC. From the moment of her birth, Heather shared an especially strong bond with her baby sister, no matter the half a decade separating them in age. In 421 AC young Heather took it upon herself to abscond into the pantry with a dull knife and gleefully chop off the majority of her hair. Her mother cried while her father laughed, but both decided it was time to invest in a proper education for their eldest lest she take to spending her extra energy on less superficial forms of destruction. To their surprise, Heather took to books, always with a fascination on the factual. She had a soft spot for epic tales, either with or without the fair maiden in distress. More oft than not she fantasized about being the one doing the saving, of which her baby sister made the perfect princess stand-in, her brother the treacherous dragon dividing them. Heather felt more comfortable in the forest surrounding her ancestral keep than inside the place itself, namely because it was more familiar to her; from a young age her adventuring was governed by "go here, not there" or "this place is off limits". There was an ancient feel to the place, the cobwebs spawning on seemingly every surface attested to that, but Heather knew the reasons went well beyond the natural in her father's mind. Her grandmother, peculiar a figure as she was, was not the only Lynderly of legend: aunts who sung over kettles in the dark, second cousins dancing naked in the moonlight, eccentric lords who buckled under the weight of their despair. In many ways the Snakewood seemed more like a story than anything she read in her books. So small was her family that she felt the only way to know them was through the stories, though it became quickly clear to her as she grew that they were just that: stories. In the year of 424 AC it became evident that life could never be anything like a story. In that same year, her father bestowed a gift upon her: a bow, so that he may hunt with her in their family's forest, a passion of his youth he'd long hoped to share with his own children. From this age, Heather's familiarity with plants began.

Motherless

The Snakewood never boasted an especially magnificent construction, vast as it seemed. Countless corridors went unexplored for decades if not century, a sort of wilds that Heather has yet to map fully as a woman grown. The danger this time, however, was not in the unexplored portions of the house but a simple railing. It is impossible to know what took place before, but Lady Lynderly found herself leaning too close onto the dusty wooden railing and fell over, landing on the ground headfirst with a solid thud. Servants were quick to walk upon the scene and alert their master. By the time the maester was sent for, it was already too late. Lord Edmund was broken, never to be fully whole again. He shrunk into only a shadow of himself, a phantom's phantom. That is when life delivered its first lesson to Heather: she may not be the heir, but she was the eldest and thus the de-facto head of house, at least where family was concerned. A harsher lesson still awaited: winter was coming.

The Blue Winter was no less biting in the Snakewood, at its onset in 425 AC when it arrived with relentless rain soon turning into blizzards. It became obvious trade would be near impossible, and survival became young Heather's priority. There was nothing she could do for the old or unfortunate servants whom she'd known her entire life as they withered away. Food became scarce and even rationing only seemed to delay the inevitable. Heather did what she could for her siblings, wandering into the hazardous woods on many occasions to shoot down whatever she could. Seldom did her catch yield much meat, but perhaps there was a calm to being out in the wilds instead of inside, freezing and feeling the pangs of hunger. Many times she would go without so her siblings could have something. As her father decried their family curse, Heather turned what little energy remained to studying. Things such as botany, which previously she had devoted a crude journal filled with pressed flowers and other such specimens, geography, and history caught a growing Heather's interest. Though the plant journal ultimately became firewood, other objects such as an in-progress map of the Snakewood's keep and surrounding lands became an ongoing passion to the present. In a sense, understanding the inner workings of her family's castle brought a small peace to Heather, as if helping her come to terms with the death of her mother. It was a peace her father would never know. Heather's interest in history took on a military focus as winter's winds bared down on the Vale. There was little any could do in the way of transporting an army during the pits of winter so it allowed the master-at-arms plenty of time to field Heather's ever-growing questions. Hunger had withered her much, but it could not dull her mind. Her younger brother Alaric passively learned alongside her, and it was from this period that she retains most of her memory of him.

But Alaric, like most in her family, became most memorable to her in death. His came just as swiftly as their mother's, though the means were completely natural: a wasting sickness that came one night and took him the next. They could not afford a grand burial, and so Alaric was away as swiftly as he was taken. Heather's father was a broken man. She told herself not to doubt his love, as Lord Edmund was never the type quick to anger or violence, but catatonia left him a shell of himself and it fell to Heather to step outside of herself and be there for Arwyn. This was the first instance of a long-standing tradition of Heather burying her own emotions in favor of keeping her House afloat.

Visenya Silvermoon came to the Vale in 427 AC, and oddly enough the Snakewood became one of the stops. At the age of twelve Heather handled the princess' visit while her father hid away.

Some Day You Will Ache Like I Ache

Heather and her family lead a quiet if hollowed existence as the Blue Winter faded away. Lord Edmund's condition continued to deteriorate but through the cloud of grief there was something warm poking through: boy or girl, Edmund could not have asked for a readier successor. While of a more brash temperament than Lord Edmund cared for, his daughter proved a keen survivalist, student, and sufficiently military-minded. Heather entered womanhood with the heaviness of her youth on her shoulders, creating a disparity between herself and her naive younger sister. In 434 AC while hunting in the Snakewood she was set upon by Mountain Clansmen, and though she was able to make it a close fight she would have fallen had it not been for a passing knight. It's hard to say if it was gratitude or a mounting sense of isolation, or perhaps a fleeting desire to shut her mind off for a while, that lead her to bed this knight in a clearing of the forest. It felt only natural to become a woman in a place that oversaw so much of her girlhood.

Even the best parental relationships can be tested by the flames of adolescence, and Lord Edmund and his Heir were no exception. As she grew older, she blamed her father- and herself- for their losses up to that point. Hardly were these feelings manifested as they truly were, but in other acts of aggression or stubbornness. It is this, her sister's growing timidness, and her father's superstitious paranoia that lead them to Gulltown to quarter with their Aunt Tyta, her merchant husband, and their two children, Lyra and Jasper. Lyra was a girl around Arwyn's age, so the young girl took better to this time in the harbor city than her elder sister.

Massacre at Gulltown

Even the moist naive could not ignore the mounting tensions between faiths in Gulltown heading into 435 AC. Both Heather and her Aunt Tyta did what they could to shield Arywn from the worst of it, though her Aunt already accepted Heather's independence. This manifested usually in the form of exploring the city aimlessly, and on one such journey she came upon her mystery knight. Many dalliances followed, in a tavern or back-alley or sometimes in her attic room. Far more than romance, Heather enjoyed his company. Theirs was a strange companionship, one in which she enjoyed the side bits but primarily valued this knight as a rare confidant of sorts. It was night following one outing with the knight that what would become known as the Gulltown Massacre began.

Heather was sufficient enough with arms to keep herself alive on her way back to her Aunt Tyta's manse with only one thing in mind: she and her sister were going home, and they were never returning to this place- if anything even remained of it. Heather was no stranger to death but never had she seen it in such a volume as she did that day. The siege of Gulltown made that plan impossible. Much as she wished to somehow sneak her way out of the city, she knew that even if she managed as much, her sister was not cut from the same cloth. Perhaps it would be safer to hole themselves away in their Aunt's house. Besides, Arwyn had bonded with Lyra and was sad to be separated. For her sister's sake, Heather swallowed her dread. Then came the Arryn host.

The city had grown especially restless this day and it was when she heard the first shriek of a dragon that Heather no longer cared. She was leaving, and taking her sister with her; join her or not, she told her Aunt, she would be gone in the night. Aunt Tyta refused to leave, and soon she was not given a choice when Jasper entered with her husband attached to his side, a gaping wound on the man's abdomen. Despite Arywn's teary-eyed insistence to stay, Heather would spirit both herself and her sister away that night. It was while pacing down a back-alley that Heather heard something unlike anything she'd heard before or since; a deafening shriek that shook the ground, far too powerful to be human. Then the ground shook below, nearly sending her on her ass. Despite the odds, no matter how shaken and shattered and starving they were, the Lynderly sisters escaped Gulltown with their lives. Their Aunt Tyta and her family were not so fortunate. Heather would struggle to accept that neither party would've survived had they stayed together.

Arwyn was inconsolable for weeks upon hearing the news. Heather simply resumed her silent ruling of the Snakewood.

Things Fall Apart (Again)

It was not long after returning from Gulltown that Heather had come down with a sickness. Much as Arwyn wanted to cling to her and waste away with worry, Heather pushed her sister away. If this was indeed the Stranger, their courtship had lasted far too long; something inside of Heather was ready. Indeed, there was something inside of her. Heather Lynderly had found herself unwed and pregnant, with the child of a man whose name she knew and whose family name was known throughout the realm. No doubt seeking out the father would secure a comfortable future for her House, at least in terms of caring for a child, but there was a two-fold issue: first, Heather had come to care for this man in a way that was heavier than love. She wouldn't burden his name with a bastard, nor did she particularly think she needed him in order to rear a child. Second, it was not exactly hard to understand that Heather was not an oft affectionate woman whose condition at first seemed to shock her father than stun him. She would be Lady of the Snakewood one day and she would need an heir, and it went unspoken that marriage was never a priority for her. Much as it hurt him, Lord Edmund seemed to strangely warm to the idea over time, in the grips of melancholy as he was. Arwyn for one, was thrilled to have what she swore would be a niece, no matter the sin of its conception. How log had it been since life was brought into their family? For the first time in a lifetime, life seemed well. As Heather swelled she became more accustomed to her situation and the idea of motherhood, growing quite comfortable with her secret. Peace was never in her stars however, and soon her joy would crumble to dust in her mouth.

It was a calm day in late 435 AC that Heather went searching for her father, only to be answered by the gentle sounds of creaking wood.

Arwyn sobbed in Heather's arms at their father's burial. What other option was there? They were all the other had left. Possibly her condition or perhaps owing to the unspoken love for her father, Heather softly wept too.

So it was that Heather Lynderly rose to Lady of the Snakewood, raising on the dais as gracefully as she could with a heavy belly.

Perhaps it was simply stress brought on by grief or the curse her father seemed to fear so much that suddenly brought on her labor. It was long and nearly bloodier than anything Heather had ever seen, but more than that, it was for nothing. Her child, a baby boy with wisps of black hair and puffy cheeks, was born sleeping. Rolland, she named him. Soon enough he was in the ground with all the others. She grew catatonic as her father had been. If ever anything could draw her from it, it was Arwyn. Her only family became what she had to live for, as Arwyn made her swear that she could not shut down anymore. She was needed, and that was enough to get her through the year.

She would rule quietly from the Snakewood until present day.

Recent Events

TBD.

Family and Household

Lord Jon Lynderly b. 375 AC d. 406 AC

m. Rohanna Lynderly b. 376 AC d. ???