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[General_warNpeace]

Princess Kota Martell


Laughter and joyful shouts bounced off the wall's and streets of Shadowtown drawing many smiles from those roaming the shops and markets. The wind blew through her long hair as Kota ran unbound through the streets led and followed by some of the town's children. A ball of cow skin lay on the ground as it was kicked from child to child. Skirt's lifted off the ground Kota danced and twisted through the crowded streets and after the ball booted feet ruthlessly kicking it closer to her goal.


"Kota pass the ball to me." A lanky boy with bare feet shouted from across the street. Laughing Kota passed the ball and the game was quickly ended as the boy caught it and kicked it into a bucket nearby. Winning their side the game. Cheer's rang through the air as the winning team celebrated their win. Giggling Kota happily accepted the small hands held out to her as she was pulled into a small celebratory dance.

 

[Hypnos]

Dragonstone, Blackwater Bay, Westeros.


Walder listened intently to the stag's reply, watching his face so as to catch the reaction to his words, Rory Baratheon remaining relatively calm and composed, listening carefully to his words and nodding with a knowing fashion, the only thing that seemed to catch his off guard was mention of the Blackfyre pretender though even that was only momentarily, the Lord of Dragonstone's face as hard as the stone that made up his keep.


This all changed however when Lord Walder began to speak of his brother Breadon and his escapades within the Stormlands, Rory's facade faltering a fraction of a second as he let out a short sigh, telling Walder everything he needed to know about Rory's true feelings in the matter, his next words only serving to reinforce that notion.


"He has never needed, nor wanted his brother... He will lead our house to ruin" Rory's words were as sharp as valyrian steel, the hints of a frown creeping onto Lord Walder's lips, it was true that the two brothers had not had much contact in the previous years, though he suspected that Osmund had a hand in this, it would not do well to have the rightful heir of the Stormlands converse with the one who was stealing his title, and Walder wouldn't be surprised if Osmund hadn't even informed Breadon of his elder brother position as Lord of Dragonstone, though no doubt he would find out soon enough.


"Why don't you guide his hand? Breadon didn't even have the courtesy to inform me of his decision to march on the capital of Westeros" Rory's next words rang true as well though Breadon had contacted almost no one about his intentions, even him the family's oldest friend (except mayhaps Lord Stark of Winterfell) and he had found out second hand through a letter intended for the eyes of Queen Kuvira herself.


"I..." Walder spoke up, though he was interrupted by Rory's next remark, the frown fading from Lord Walder's face, replaced with what could have been considered a slight smile "I knew that I could count on someone of your honour to help a family member in need, I am sure Breadon will glad to have your assistance, prehaps he shall be indebted to you enough that he could raise you to a station more of your liking, i am not a fool my Lord, I know how you have lusted after Storm's End, mayhaps this shall be your chance to receive it"


Walder stopped for a second before responding to his previous statement, aware he had not offered an answer "I cannot guide Lord Breadon, not like you can, I am old and not long for this world, if I live to the end of this conflict it shall be a miracle, and miracles should be saved for those that need them most. I am going to die Lord Rory, be it tomorrow or on the new moon, it is coming, the strangers cool embrace. Where I am an old cripple, that can hardly travel, useless in a battle, you are young and filled with life, with many more years in this realm, you need to be the one to guide Breadon because you're the only one that can, he will listen to his family, and with his sister a captive in the Red Keep, you are all he has left.


@Archon

---

​

Riverrun, The Red Fork, Westeros.


Tale of my beauty? Agnes thought, raising a single red eyebrow, well he's trying hard I can't deny him that though if this is the way he'll be speaking to me upon our wedding day I fear that I'll have to strangle the poor boy in his sleep. She smiled, knowing it would be discourteous to voice any of these thoughts aloud and merely accepted the compliments gracefully, thanking Rowan for his kindness.


"I must admit this is not what I envision when I thought of my wedding" she looked around the room, the Tully and Tarly soldiers talking merrily, drinking Riverrun dry "Though any notion I had pales in comparison to this, you are very... Um dashing Ser Rowan and I am sure you shall be a fine husband" Rowan is a girls name, the thought suddenly popped into her head, I am marrying a man with a girls name, she continued to smile nervously, though was a tad shaken by the realisation that this was the man she would have to spend her life with, the man with who she'd spend every waking moment, mayhaps I'll take grandmothers advice, she thought, and push him down a flight of stair before the wedding, at least then I'd get the attractive Tarly.


@WanderingJester @National

 

[WanderingJester]

Feast Hall, Riverrun, Riverlands.





Rowan watched the eyebrow rose on his betrothed's face, and kept his own impassive. Perhaps the forwardness and surge of social confidence didn't served to assist him after all. Given the situation, he smiled at the woman in front of him and said, "I will admit that up until a week ago I had no expectation that I would be standing in Riverrun about to be wedded either, let alone in the presence of more of our soldiers than our family members. I would have thought to be sleep on some dirt in the Red Mountains while out on patrol than here on my wedding bed. Still, I would do my best to make it up to you once we return to Horn Hill, and though it is more spartan than a lot of our other castles in the Reach, we have access to much of the fineries the are imported from the coastlands of Reach or produced ourselves, such as in the Arbor." He turned to see his brother giving him a "nice going" look, and, unable to tell if Orion was being sarcastic, turned back to the negotations at hand.


His father, Helyon Tarly, looked over at the other man and gave a curt nod. "I have no trouble in expecting a fifth and sixth son to be birthed by your daughter. My son is virile as I'm sure your daughter is fertile. All the terms here I agree with. Shall we commence with the ceremony then? I trust your septon here is ready for the wedding to proceed tonight?" Rowan swallowed, his nervousness coming through now. Tonight? He knew his father was eager to have his heir's line secured but shouldn't they at least wait for tomorrow night, when they were all a bit more well rested from traveling? Still, the Tarly Heir knew better than to question his father, and if the wedding was to happen, he supposed he'll just have to be married off in his armor and weapons then.


His mother must have sensed his nervousness, and came up to his side. Lady Tarly looked to Agnes and smiled, before turning to Rowan, "Ah, this young lady must be your betrothed. Rowan, be a dear and introduce us will you?" Rowan redden slightly, having forgotten about his family members around him, turned and presented his mother. The aging woman still had all the grace and manners that her septa taught her when she was younger, and carried herself in a state befitted the Lady of a house. She wore a green and red dress that, while elegant, left much to the imagination.


"Ah, of course. Lady Agnes, may I present to you my Lady mother, Mariette Tarly nee Merryweather." Mariette gave a graceful curtsied at Agnes, before smiling at her future daughter-in-law.


"A pleasure, dear. Thank you for your family's hospitality thus far. I hope you'll enjoy Horn Hill as much as we've enjoyed Riverrun in our short time here."


@National


@Hypnos

 

[TheFordee20]

The Red Keep, King's Landing


Liar. Aerea blinked. Bitch. Aerea stared, blankly. Red Headed Whore. Aerea's eye twitched slightly. Kuvira rambled on and on, but, Aerea had stopped listening. Her mind had been too busy picturing her sister's face being slammed into the swords that were on her throne. Kuvira left the room when she was informed of an emissary from Ibben arriving in King's Landing.


"I still love you..." Kuvira's last words were, before she left. She said something else, but, those were the only words that registered in Aerea's mind. I will never love you. Kuvira left, along with Ser James and The Queensguard. Aerea sat in silence for what seemed like forever. Before she stood up and walked back to her bedroom. People greeted her as she sulked passed them, but she didn't respond. Her eyes watered with every step she took. When she arrived in her bedroom, Kora and Lisa rushed up.


"M'lady." Kora said, her eyes wide.


"What has happened? You are so pale!" Lisa added in. Aerea looked at her two handmaidens, before she grabbed Lisa's neck and threw her against the wall. Lisa yelped. She thumped against the wall and fell to the floor. "Princess!" Kora gasped. Aerea walked over to the mirror that was adjacent to her bed. She punched it with her fist, letting out a roar as she did. The glass shattered and her hand begun to bleed. As red as my hair. She gripped a thin but long piece of glass and walked back over to Lisa who still lied upon the floor. Aerea knelt down and put the glass to Lisa's throat.


"Did you tell my sister?" Aerea asked, plainly.


Lisa sobbed. "I... I don't--"


"Did you tell my sister about Ser James and I?"


"No. I didn't. I swear!" Lisa had tears streaming from her blue grey eyes. Aerea gripped the glass harder. Her hand was now bleeding, profusely. She stood up and pointed the glass at Kora. "You?"


Kora shook her head. "I would never."


Aerea looked at Kora, and then back at Lisa. "Get out. NOW!" Aerea shouted. Kora helped Lisa up and they left the room. Aerea was alone.


She dropped the shard of glass and looked at her hand, all red and sliced. Aerea screamed, a shrill scream. She picked up a chair and, with all her strength, flung it across the room.


Aerea let out another shrill scream.


Since I was a girl, I thought about sitting on that throne. Aerea screamed, once more. She placed her bloody hand on her bed covers and smeared it. Now, I am not going to just think about it. I am going to do it. I will sit on The Iron Throne.


Highgarden, The Reach


Eveleen walked through a hallway with Arren. Hallie was behind them, talking with her elder brother- Erik. "Yes. He will be staying in King's Landing until Queen Kuvira has no duty for him." Eveleen looked at the paintings and portraits that hung upon the wall. She smiled as she studied each one. I hardly remember some of these.


"So you'll be in-charge of The Reach until he comes back, brother." Eveleen added. She smiled at an old woman who was coming out of a room with unclean linens.


@HuorSpinks


Fair Isle, The Westerlands


Ciar watched as The Lannister Fleet came out of nowhere. They crushed several ships around 'The Fat Fish'. "Cap'n!" Seasick yelled. "The Lannisters!"


Ciar looked at him, sternly. "I am not a blind man, Seasick." Seasick looked somewhat scared. Leech took out his sword an' so did the other men aboard.


"I say we board one of their ships and kill a few of those blond haired I'm uncultured before we die." Leech gave his idea.


Ciar thought about it for a few moments. Our King wanted us to cause commotion, and commotion we HAVE caused. "Ironborn!" Ciar gave a shout.


The dozen or so men he had with him on board looked at him as he spoke. "Today we die. But we will not die like women. We'll die like the real men of iron we are." The Ironborn gave a small cheer.


"Leech has the right of it. We will give The Lannisters a fight before we go down." They cheered again, waving their weapons around like they were a bunch of toddlers. Ciar drew his sword and gave his men a smirk-


"LETS FUCK 'EM BLOODY!"


The Fat Fish hit off a Lannister ship and The Ironborn rushed to its side. They all climbed on and were immediately met with golden hair and golden hilts. There was a loud clang of steel against steel.


Ciar slashed through a young man in armor of red. He let out a gasp as the sword cut his face. Ciar kicked the youngfella' and he fell off the side of the ship. His body hitting the water with a splash.


-


"Now!" Dent roared at the top of his lungs as several soldiers walked out into the port that was riddled with dead bodies. Dent had two small axes that he raised in the air. The Ironborn heard/saw him and they lept out of the forestry.


Dent saw Caldrink and Ilsro go down first. A man with blonde hair and a broadsword killed them in an instant. A proper Lannister.


Dent threw one axe at a man who was behind The Lannister. The axe lodged in his face. Dent dodged a few swords and tumbled over to the man's dead body where'st he took back his axe.


The port filled up with noise as The Ironborn and The Lannisters collided.


@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

Off the coast of Fair Isle, the Sunset Sea.





Captain Clarrik Holt viewed the battle around. Already it had begun to wind down with the long ships got literally broadsided by their strike force. The Ironborn knew they would die, and intended to take as many down with them into the sea. The ones that managed to latch on to Lannister ships were fighting to the last breath, willing to go to their precise Drowned God still swinging their weapons in their hands. Holt would be glad to buy each and every one of them a one way trip to the bottom of the ocean. A voice to his right called out, "Captain! They're boarding the Vallard!"


Sure enough as Holt looked over to their flanking ship, one of the Ironborn vessels managed to launch a counter attack on their own forces. From the look of the sails it looks like House Myre with their Warrior forsaken nooses. Turning, the captain watched the battle on board while yelling at the helmsman. "Bring us closer! We'll see if we can relief those boys over there before they lose their ship!"


"Aye captain!" The Westward Strike sailed over closer to its sister ship, and the closer they got, the worse the image got as Holt got a better sense of things. Either the captain of the Vallard underestimated the opponent or just got incompetent. Either way the soldiers aboard the vessels were getting massacred left and right. It wouldn't be long before they lose control of their ship. Holt made a decision right then and there.


"Archers ready up! Fire Arrows!" They had gotten within arrow ranges, but still too far for men to leap from ship to ship aboard the Strike. All around the deck, archers carefully prepared their munitions. Fire was a fickle thing enough when utilized on land. Aboard the merciless sea, it would be deadly to anything in its path. Finally, when the arrowheads were wrapped in cloth dipped in pitch, the archers drew their bows. They worked in teams, with on man doing the wrapping and lighting of the arrows while the other draws and fires it at the other ship. Holt lifted his arm into the air, before calling out. "Draw!" Dozens of bows drew back with arrows being lit by the loader, then a second later, the order came. "And loose!"


A volley of glowing arrowheads flew at the Ironborn and Lannister ships latched together. Many of the munition's fire went out during the flight, colliding ineffectively against the wet wood on the side of the ships. However, some managed to snag the sails on the masses and small fires began to ripple out from them sending smoke out from the sky. "Draw... and loose!" Another order came, and another volley flew over to the ships. This time the archers aimed at the inside of the deck, where the men still fought and where the wood's likely to be more dry. Again a good number missed completely, hitting the larger side target, but enough got through that they had properly lit fires on the decks of both ships at this point, though the larger vessel caught more quickly due to the height of the deck above the waterline.


"Draw," Holt repeated the action a third time, wanting maximum effect. The sound of taunt bowstrings greeted him back. "And loose!" A third, and final wave of fiery missiles flew over to the interlocked ships, and now the flames from both vessels licked into the air. Men could be heard screaming from both sides, and Holt wondered just how many of the boys from their fleet were still alive on that vessel. He turned to the archers and gave one last order. "Regular arrows. Fire at will!" Now the pace of the arrows picked up as targets revealed themselves. Men too busy fighting on the other ship's deck couldn't see when the volley came, and iron arrowhead struck figures on board who were still standing. Several of the silhouettes jumped overboard to avoid suffocation from smoke inhalation or burns from the fires. Depending on the armor they wore, either the bobbing figures in the oceans got a rope tossed out to them or an arrow to the face when they came up for air.


Captain Clarrik Holt watched as the Vallard went up in flames alongside the ship next to it, knowing that he'll have to add another ship to the casualty reports.


Fair Isle Port, Fair Isle, Westerlands.


The second strike force deployed just as Tiber and Edwyn Lannister originally intended for the fleet to do, as part of the amphibious assault on Castamere and Tarbeck Hall. The transport and landing ships, with reinforced hulls underneath, sailed directly into the port, either landing on the beaches or the copse filled docks, and the soldiers jumped off into the surfs or on to the wooden planks that made up the walkways before rushing forward to secure the town. Meeting them, a fair number of Ironborns rushed out of the surrounding forests and crashed into the Lannister forces, rushing both to their deaths and their final hours amongst the living as they tried to take as many with them as possible.


Martyn Lannister's ship actually arrived at the docks somewhat late, being at the back of the formation. Before the ship even came to a stop however, he leaped off the deck, landing on the large catwalks beside them with a roll and quickly getting back up again to survey the area around them. Had he his normal heavy armor on he would never have done the move. However he had on a hybrid armor, a mix of leather and steel plates so that should the Mountain Lion be tossed overboard for whatever reason, he wouldn't sink to the bottom as a normal knight would. The Lionsguards around him also did the same, preferring mobility at the sacrifice of armor as opposed to certain death in the water. Making his way forward, Martyn stepped over the corpse of a young woman who had her throat slit.


A group of Ironborns had muscled their way beyond the lines of their ranks, which was being steadily pushed back, and rushed towards their position. One of the men stepped forward, and with a wild look in his eyes, swung his long sword at Martyn's face. The helmet-less Mountain Lion looked almost bored as he took a step back to avoid the blade by inches, before raising his large broadsword in an overhead smash, brought the weapon back down into the gap where the man's neck meant his torso. The sword sliced into the flesh where the armor of the Ironborn connected, breaking through the joint and killing the man. A second one stepped forward with a short spear, thrusting the weapon forward at him. Martyn released one hand from his sword, still stuck in the other guy's torso, and wrapped the free arm around the spear, just below its head. He placed a leg on the corpse to give him additional leverage, pulled the broadsword out of the dead guy's chest then brought the hilt of the broadsword down on the spear, snapping it into two and sending splinters flying from the broken weapon. Picking up the part with the head still on it, Martyn stuck the spear head's tip into one of the eyes of his attacker, before kicking the corpse to the side in order to see what was in front of him.


The Mountain Lion had just enough time to spot the flying axe sailing at his head and ducked. Unfortunately, one of his Lionsguard didn't move as fast, and took the weapon straight to the face. Martyn turned to see one of the Ironborn rushed past him, the raven hair fellow wrenched the axe from his guard's skull before turning to him, evidently wanting to do the same thing to the Mountain Lion. Martyn gripped his weapon to circle this pale man when he hear a step from behind. He twisted just in time to step out of the way of a two handed battle axe came down at the center of his back.


The single headed weapon still managed to clip him on the shoulder, and though it didn't break his armor due to the angle of descent, it stilled drew blood underneath using sheer force. However, if the wound affected the Mountain Lion, now filled with adrenaline, he didn't show it. Martyn twisted just to see the surprise on the raider's face that he actually dodged the blow, and sent a horizontal slice with the sword at his attacker. Evidently the man didn't expect a warrior of Martyn's size to be able to move that fast, and the shocked expression burned into his facial feature as the cut form Martyn removed his head clean off of his body, before turning to face his original foe who had a penchant for throwing axes at people. All around, the Lionsguard were as a whole making quick work of the raiders, who had burned a lot of energy and sustained wounds just to fight through the main Lannister forces ahead of them in order to reach Martyn's group in the first place.


@TheFordee14

 

[General_warNpeace]

Klanna


"You look beautiful miss. Just like a Lady. " Septa Marie stated proudly as she looked up at the young girl before her. "You will make a Lord very happy one day. Hopefully soon."


"Thank you Septa Marie. " Klanna muttered just loud enough to not get tsked at for speaking so shyly. Nodding the aging woman went to put her night gown away leaving Klanna to stare at herself in the mirror before her bed. I look like I'm trying to hide myself within pounds of fur. Though I guess it's not so bad. A good disguise if I'm surrounded by dogs. She thought bitterly amused as she picked at the fur on her sleeve. At least it's comfortable. She paused as the thunder of horse hoofs approaching blew in through the window.Their home. Gathering her skirts she ran from her room, ignoring the Septa's shouts, and out of the castle. She slowed as she stepped outside and calmed her smile into a smaller version of itself as she saw her friend Tomas break away from the group. He approached her as he let his horse be taken and grabbing her hand they silently made their escape and soon she was laughing as he told her about King's Landing and they shared jokes. Settling at the base of the wall she watched him scale the walls with no small amount of worry. He may be a expert climber but she would always worry.

 

[Pyromaniac]

Liliana Blackfyre - King's Landing, Red Keep

What right did the young princess have that let her rummamok in the Red Keep? It wasn't as if she tried to hide her identity, in fact she exposed herself quite quickly when she arrived. But did it really matter? Not to her. Would this stay the same once her half brother took the throne? How much would this castle change? Or perhaps it would stay the same. Liliana always approved a queen rather than a king, but a king always seemed more fitting, after all, her nannies often told her how men were far superior than women in times like these. She was just more fragile. Pulling a hood over her dark black hair, her violet eyes probing each individual face, trying to judge whether or not they deserved. Had she been queen at the time, this wouldn't have taken place. But she didn't want to be queen, not in a million years. The stress would only cause her to age, something she just couldn't afford. She lacked a woman's virtue, it'd be hard to marry her off. Turning, she heard the voices of guards and the young girl pulled her hood closer to her head before heading off.

 

[TheJester]

Targaryen SummerHall

Cyrus, woke up, he was cold but not too cold...the kind of cold one would get as if they had been drenched. He looked around him seeing his silver hair began to look weightless. He had now remembered He was in a bath. A dirty one at that using one of the old rusted bath. His hand clenched the sides of the tub and he lifted his body up showing a skinny body barely scared and barely any muscles. He stepped out the rub and walked to an old Targaryen dresser. "What to where...." He said thinking about the dead Duncan Boys who passed in the fire. "Help me out guys...." He said as a joke tying his hair into a ponytail back. He stood up and awaited his chance taking percaution on which clothes he choose, he then decided to wear an old armor that collected dust long enough. He waited a moment then looked out one of the shattered peices of glass that was once a window. "I gotta get the hell out of here...."

Spoiler

He stood tall after dressing


A paper, what seemed like a message that wasn't meant for him. He gracefully hit the ground in its arrival. He bent down in the armor making a clack noise to see. what it wrote. The Letter (That I photoshoped :3)

It read

And those of you who cant read It






To my eldest Mother,


I hope all is well, in recent news ,Viserys Blackyre captain general of the golden company. Declared himself true heir to the throne of westeros.That General bastard....at the same Haelga Greyjoy- A reformer trying to change the Ironborn's way of life, bloody fool....that one she wont make it till sunrise with that thinking. Roland Wilds, Iron-blood Knight, mostly known for slaughtering men all over Westeros, drinking more than your average I'm uncultured. As thus a true man whore...


Mother These people seem dangerous so keep on the look out. Haelga as I mentioned before is conspiracy to have brought an dragon egg to Conn Greyjoy...Mother to a GREY JOY....out of all the fucking people. I hear mother Corbis runs an underground fighting pit in the Dragon Pit's...the nerve... -Your Eldest Child Jullian


He took it an read it "Who the hell is Jullian of House Roselyn (An actual Oc that I had xD in a Game of thrones App Game.) "Doesn't matter..my brother..."Cyrus considered Viserys. "The Golden Company..." His face had seemed to Light, he hadn't smiled this way in years. I can't wait to see him at last...THE ONE TRUE KING!..." He garbed his sword and stood up proud. "Brother here I come...I just have to find you..."


@SirDerpingtonIV


@TheAncientCenturion


@Leusis


@TheFordee14


@ And everyone else.

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Haelga Greyjoy, Pyke, Iron Islands


THE ESCAPE Part I



​

Haelga sat upon the bed in her room, tapping her right foot impatiently upon the floor, plans of escape racing through her head. She knew she simply couldn't just wait it out, as Conn couldn't have the best plans in mind for her. It had been a whole day since she had been placed here, a whole day gone to waste, and it was already half way to another day wasted. She knew she had to act fast. She had considered using her bedsheets as a rope in order for her to climb down to the window below her, but decided in the end that the bedsheet would likely snap and send her falling to her doom. She knew two guards were stationed outside, having seen two there as she was led to the room that would act as her cell. Two were a problem, but better than what could've been there. Conn had forgotten to take the weapons of her mercenaries, but her uncle had been a portion more cautious. Being weaponless would make this escape much harder than it had to be. She had been trying to fabricate a plan in her head, but nothing seemed to appeal to her, but in her desperation, she decided to act now.


She moved herself towards the door, standing on one side of it, pressed up against the wall, her elbow held in a ready position, prepared to swing towards whomever entered the door. She had been silent so far, but suddenly, she let out a loud, piercing scream. The door practically blasted open, as one of the guards entered, holding an axe, shield strapped across his back. She swung her elbow out, catching the guardsman in the throat, caving in his windpipe before he could register what was happening. He fell to his knees, hands upon his throat, dying silently. She knew she wouldn't be able to pry the axe from the dead man's grip before the other guard was upon her, so she simply slid a dagger out from the man's belt as the second guard, armed in a similar manner, entered the room, beginning to raise his axe for a killing blow. As he did so, she pulled back her arm, before hurling the dagger forward, end over end into the man's eye, the only portion of his head that was unprotected by his helm. He dropped the axe, raising his hands to pull the dagger out, beginning to scream. He swung a fist into Haelga's gut, causing her to gasp in pain, before his scream was cut off by a blow to the temple from Haelga's fist, knocking him out.


She stood over the two corpses, breathing a little heavy as she dragged them over towards the window, praying no one was looking out any windows below, as she heaved the bodies over the window sill, letting them plummet down to the jagged rocks below. She picked up both of the guards' axes, hooking one into her belt and the other in hand, as well as picking up one of the guard's round shields, still wincing in pain from the force of the guard's punch. She knew the guard's scream and her own weren't exactly silent, and that guards would soon be there. She could hear their feet drumming up the stairwell down the hall, so she ran the opposite direction, feeling adrenaline course through her veins. Haelga turned around a corner only to realize that the hallway ended in a dead end. She let out a curse, turning around as a few guards rounded the corner. One of them was an archer, whom had an arrow already knocked. He raised the bow, having just enough time to pull back the drawstring before Haelga's axe hit him dead-center, causing him to collapse. Haelga pulled her second axe out, eyeing the three armed guards. She knew it was unlikely that she'd be able to take them out, and cast a few desperate glances around her as they began to advance, shields raised. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen hit one of his comrades in the back of the head with the handle of his axe, causing the man to crumple unconscious. Haelga held her surprise off for a moment, as she ran forward, cutting her axe into the side of the startled guard as he turned to face his new attacker. For a few moments, she kept eye contact with the guard who had saved her, not even particularly bothering to ask why before she simply made a waving motion with her hand, leading them both towards the stairwell the guards had come up.

 

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


(Wendel Baratheon)


Wendel dashed up the flight of stairs in front of him, skipping the occasional step in order to save some time. In his left hand, he was clutching a stack of letters, their seals all broken by the Stormbringer not too long ago. Maester Barret would be more than displeased to find out about his actions, not that Wendel paid much mind to it. If anything, he saved the poor old man from making another arduous trip to Braedon's chambers - which was absurdly high up in the castle, for whatever reason. Careful not to drop any of the sheets of parchment, he turned the corner before being greeted by yet another flight of stairs. Nevertheless, he made quick work of the steps, arriving at Braedon's door within the minute.


Wendel barged into the room, never bothering to knock before entering. Lo and behold, the Lord of Storm's End was in his usual dwelling, back turned and looking out the window to the sea beyond. He never understood his brother's affection for watching the water - he himself never appreciated life by the coastline. Even despite Wendel's rude and sudden entrance, Braedon didn't move, firmly holding his ground on the other side of the room. Awaiting some sort of reaction, Wendel remained by the entrance, even after the little patience he had was long gone. There was no doubt that Braedon wasn't in the best of moods at the moment, and Wendel didn't want to add more fuel to the fire. It was a good minute or two before Braedon finally gave in and broke the silence.


"What do you want, Wendel?" he asked, though not in the hostile tone that Wendel had expected. Instead, Braedon's voice had a hint of curiosity in it, perhaps legitimately interested as to why he was here.


"How'd you know it was me?" Wendel whimsically responded, wanting to lighten up the mood. "You do realize that Astris is the one trapped in a castle, right? You don't have to spend your entire day gawking out the window."


Turning to face his brother, Braedon managed a light chuckle. "You're the only damn idiot in the Seven Kingdoms who doesn't knock." Admittedly, it was true. Not knocking was a dead giveaway, and people were quick to learn of this habit. In any case, Braedon's quip was a good sign that he wasn't absolutely down in the dumps.


Shrugging, Wendel conceded the point he brought up, not necessarily being able to refute the statement. "Perhaps, but this idiot brings valuable news," he explained, revealing the letters that he had smuggled from the rookery. "I hope you can forgive me for opening these - you know how my curiosity gets the better of me from time to time."


"What news?" Braedon questioned, raising an eyebrow. "It's a miracle people still bother writing to us." His eyes wandered to the messages - quite a few, it seemed. Wendel tossed the letters to Braedon, who had barely managed to catch all of them, thankfully preventing the mess could've happened. He glanced over each of them, briefly skimming over most of them.


"Well for one, the lords of the major houses have been released from King's Landing. Except for Arryn, that is - he's the new Hand. Quite clever really, dragging the Arryns into the thick of things," Wendel started. "Anyways, the Ironborn are busy being Ironborn. They've attacked the Westerlands for whatever reason. They never learn their lesson, do they?"


Braedon nodded, clearly deep in thought. It was all pretty obvious to Wendel what was going through his mind. It was fortunate timing - if the Ironborn wanted to fight against the Iron Throne once again, it would cause the Crown additional trouble - which could easily be taken advantage of. Between the Ironborn, Viserys, and Braedon's inevitable revolt, it was all very likely that the Targaryens would fall from their seat of power. Seizing the Iron Throne definitely seemed possible with support, though holding it would prove to be a bigger challenge. "Have the Starks responded yet? And what of the Tullys?" Wendel asked. The two houses would be their biggest potential allies, after all.


"Not yet," Braedon answered. "It'd be best to give them their time - Lord Stark is ill, after all. I figured it would take Lord Walder some time to return to Riverrun, and it would be best to wait for his arrival before I write to him."


"Fair enough," Wendel responded. Although, he did find it somewhat concerning that technically speaking, besides the other houses of the Stormlands, the Baratheons were still ally-less. Pausing for a brief moment, Wendel was careful in choosing his next few words. "Have you considered contacting our... dear brother?"


"Rory?" Braedon scoffed. "I haven't seen him in years."


"Well, you know what they say - war has its way of bringing a family back together," Wendel fired back.


"And tearing them apart. Look at us now, Wendel. Our father is dead, and our sister is rotting away in the hands of Kuvira Targaryen." Braedon's voice was deep now, showing his hatred for the Targaryens.


"Rory has men, and ships," Wendel started. "I know you hate to admit it, but he's got a good tactical mind. Must I remind you of what happened to the Knight of Glass?" Braedon's only response was a sigh, which Wendel took as a signal. "Well then, this was a nice talk, but I must be off. I suppose I owe Maester Barret an apology, don't I?"


With that, Wendel left Braedon to himself in the room and began his descent down the castle, wanting to get some fresh air.

 

[Huor Spinks]

Arren - Highgarden, The Reach


Arren nodded, giving a small shrug in the process. "I suppose I should have expected that," he said quietly. He would have done the same thing too, really, if he had been in the same position as the new Queen. Meet up with all the Lords, ascertain their loyalty, find out about the state of their territories (if they were willing to divulge, that was). Their father would not have much to report on the Reach, he had to admit. They were more or less untouched by fighting, farming and food production was still going on as smoothly, the people were reasonably happy and contented, the Reach was still a stable region and the Tyrells were still extremely popular there. Perhaps the main reason why the Reach was still stable was because the Tyrells had yet to be drawn into any conflict. If rumours of war were indeed budding, he was not sure if the Tyrells could remain untouched. Especially since they were loyal to the Targaryens...


He only hoped, however, that his father had not been too overt with his expressions of loyalty. That could prove potentially embarrassing. Arren preferred to wait and obverse, witness if the new Queen had the personality suitable for a good ruler before he indeed acted on his loyalty.


It was then, that he saw that they were already within the quarters that Evaleen and her family were to be staying. He stopped then just in front of the sitting room, and bowed. "I will go no further; beyond are your quarters. Take this time to rest, I will see you at dinner if you so wish." With that, he said his last greetings to the remaining members of Evaleen's family that he had yet to greet, even exchanging a few pleasantries with Ser Erik and inquiring after his health as well as greeting the younger Erik. Filicity he had lost track off, he assumed that she had gone of to her own chambers. He felt rather guilty, that he had not even managed a greeting towards her. Even if there was barely anything that could be said between them, he did not want to make any of his family members feel neglected. He supposed he would see Filiclity at dinner, or so he hoped.


And then he made his way to his own chambers. Specifically, his office. There were a few things he needed to clear out of his way. And then conduct some research in his own great library.


@TheFordee14

 

[Archon]

Dragonstone


Lord Rory Baratheon


Rory assumed his usual facade, his form once more bending into steel, as he wrangled with the implication of what his own actions meant - and would lead to. "I'm an ambitious man, Lord Walder. But no kinslayer, nor scoundrel. Storm's End is mine - by right of birth, and by right of name. But I would not see my family fall so I may grasp at power - as so many have done before. It is not honour, to come to my brothers aid. It is duty." Even if I'm the eldest... Rory thought with a spike of annoyance, his hands placed firmly behind his back in a solid clasp - his tone was akin to a septa, preaching the way of the Seven.


For the first time Rory had ever known, the image of what was once his idol faltered. Causing the Stag to realize that mortality was heavy upon the Trout's mind. "Valar Morghulis, My Lord, a phrase I picked up from an old brother-in-arms. All men must die. But you yet live. I trust House Tully will support him? He may need guidance, but he also needs allies. You can offer both." Rory said with powerfully, natural authority seeping into his voice - even without intent. The Raging Stag didn't wait immediately for an answer, instead he slowly approached his door - opening it to full effect with a deep protest from the old wood.


"Ser Thrask, organize the Dragonstone fleet - have the men drilled for war, I want 4,500 strong by the time I return, no less. If you see Ser Mandon, send him to me." Rory ordered with haste, prompting his martial's face to twist in surprise - a protest, or inquiry on his lips, yet the Lord reinforced his look of command, causing the man to ignore his natural curiosity and follow the orders given.


Turning back to Lord Walder, Rory paused slightly, knowing the Lord Paramount was both injured and old. "I would sail for Storm's End without delay, are you able?" The Baratheon asked with formal concern, Lord Walder's reply would of course be yes - even if it wasn't, Rory would leave without him - but that didn't mean he had no concern for the Trout.


If he couldn't talk Braedon down from a march on King's Landing, then they'd have to take the city by force; a challenging task, yet despite his hate for Dragonstone perhaps this location would be a key strategic position, and even a tide changer in the wars to come. An assault on the front gates would be folly, a force of massive magnitude would be needed to breach the main gate; yet perhaps the Blackwater could be used to the Baratheon's advantage.


Rory may have possessed but a small force of 4,500 men - but it was his navy which shined, and Rory had no doubt that Ser Mandon could enlarge the fleet significantly through use of his connections, and reputation; both as an admiral, and a pirate. Combined with the might of the hosts of both the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and their respective fleets - it was hard to imagine defeat.


However the day was still young, should the Tyrells or Lannisters declare for the crown - this war would turn brutal, and bloody in an instant.
​

@Hypnos @JustWhipIt

 

[Hypnos]

Dragonstone, Blackwater Bay, Westeros.


"Aye, I am able, and I m ready, I see little point in delaying our arrival, especially considering the damage that could be done if travel is postponed and Breadon marches without aid, I shall ready mine own men and have them and have them back aboard the ship and ready to sail presently, I have also brought grain and ale from Maidenpool which I trust will be to your liking, I entrusted Lord Eddard Bracken with delivering it to you steward soon after we left the beach, I know of the strain that lack of the supplies brings, and I have heard of Dragonstone's lack of fertile land" Walder pulled himself to his feet, his can knocking against the cold stone floor, Rory was a good man, and an honourable one, he would not go back on his word to aid his younger brother even if his resentment was clear and his fleet would give Breadon a clear advantage, if he accepted it that is.


Walder bid farewell to the Lord of Dragonstone, leaving him to ponder his decision in his solar, this trip had been more successful than he thought and Rory had been very compliant, Walder had been on Dragonstone for not an hour and they were already setting off for their next destination, "mayhaps I am a better diplomat than I initially suspected" Walder thought, moving down a short stair case and beginning his walk back to the port, a few of Rory's men moving to accompany him, "let us just pray that this is enough, the crown was not particularly fearsome alone but when added to the forces of House Lannister, House Tyrell or even House Arryn they could certainly put up a fight, that reminds me" Walder paused for a second, making a mental note, "when I arrive at Storm's End I should send a letter to Barba at Riverrun, informing her to raise the banners and to begin marching to Maidenpool, I suppose informing Lord Tiber Lannister may be a good decision as we are to be family after all and though I may not be able to win his favour, I could prevent him from raising his armies in the crown's defence"


The journey to the port was about as uneventful as the journey from it, nobody even offering a glance to the Lord of Riverrun, let alone stopping.


"So your mission was a success?" Lord Bracken asked, as Walder returned to the deck of the Ruddy Salmon, noting the disturbed yet somewhat pleased look on the old trouts face.


"Aye, I would say so, tell the men that they have an hour to gather their strength and then we sail once more"


"Where to this time, Lord Walder, do we return to Riverrun?"


"Nay" Walder replied, a determined glint his eye "This time we set sail for Storm's End"


@Archon

---

​

Riverrun, The Red Fork, Westeros.


Agnes was about to reply to the Tarly's words, questioningly, wondering whether he often found himself sleeping the dirt of the Red Mountains, and whether he would continue to do so after there wedding though she was saved by the arrival of Lady Mariette Tarly, a graceful woman, who seemed courteous enough, certainly making a better impression than her son.


"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady" Agnes offered, giving the elderly woman a brief curtsy "I am sure Horn Hill shall be lovely, I have heard great things about the ancient Tarly fortress, and I am honoured to marry into such a noble and prestigious family" it was a half truth, whilst it was certainly true that she had heard many great things about House Tarly over the years and how their soldiers were the greatest and most disciplined in The realm, none of what she had heard led her to believe that they would make good husbands, something that was only reinforced when she looked at the man that was Lord Helyon.


@WanderingJester @National

 

[National]

Riverrun Kingdom


Benjicott Tully





Benjicott curtly nods to the older man, cracking his knuckles before taking the parchment and handing it to a scholar.


"Please take this parchment and store it into the library."


The scholar nods, and quickly scampers out of the feeding hall, vanishing from sight.


"I thought so, I knew you were never a man of waiting around. I believe my daughter is already ready for this. Though I do wonder where my mother is. I will send some of my servants to prepare Agnes for the wedding. I will send more servants as well to escort your family to the rooms you will be staying at. Is there anything else you need to ask from me?"


@WanderingJester @Hypnos

 

[Archon]

Dragonstone/Sailing for Storm's End


Lord Rory Baratheon


Rory, whilst thankful for the supplies, gave no further comment to the Trout, instead he simply paced throughout his study in silence for what had to be nearly 30 minutes, his mind and soul in heated conflict over his actions, and where his allegiances lay. He was to support his younger brother, in a bid for the Iron Throne. It left an uneasy taste in his stomach, and a feeling of great discomfort and envy; yet it was the only right way forward... Had Rory the power to do so, he'd wage his own campaign for the throne - alas he had no such strength, and it was better a Baratheon sit the throne than a Targaryen bastard, or a Blackfyre bastard.


That familiar steel of protest was heard once more as the chamber doors were pushed open to reveal the one person Rory wanted to see. "You sent for me, My Lord?" Ser Mandon asked directly, interest piqued on his features. He'd likely spotted the Tully making his leave, a telltale sign that negotiations were over. Rory straightened, and moved to speak only to find the words lost - he had strong doubt, but steel did not bend. "I make my way to Storm's End within the hour with a small armada, Ser Thrask will rally our men for war." The Baratheon exhaled with a stone-hard expression of determination, "My brother plans to take the crown by force, we march with him. Our navy is 170 ships strong, but I would see it stronger still." Rory finally explained, his eyes adjusting to focus on Ser Mandon - gouging his reaction.


The man stood firm, a smirk playing at his lips. "Aye, I could call in some favours... I predict you'd command around 210 ships." Ser Mandon reassured, his eyes examining Rory closely. The Lord knew that his friend had uncovered his plan; to attack from Blackwater Bay, Tully and Stormlander soldiers atop Tully, Stormlander, and Rory's ships. King's Landing would be vastly outnumbered, and set up to fall - he only hoped the Tyrells and Lannisters remained neutral in the war.


"How long? I need them no later than two days from now, time is of the essence." Rory quipped, he needed ships. But he needed them fast. "Two days it is. I'll have them." The knight reply, causing Rory to nod appreciatively. Little further words were offered, and the two men made their way to the docks - ignoring the near lifeless townsfolk, much to the martial's credit. Soon enough, they reached the dock - the fleet in the process of being organized, and unmothballed.


"So be it, I shall see you on my return. At that moment, I suspect we'll be sailing to the horns of war." Rory said grimly, his eyes focusing at the darkening sky, or was it always so dark on this miserable isle?


"The horns of war it is then, be safe My Lord." Ser Mandon offered in return, boarding his own ship - ready to set sail, as Rory did the same. Unlike Ser Mandon, and Lord Tully, Rory didn't set sail until hours after, as he made his way to Storm's Ending with a small fleet of 10 ships and a token force of 500 men.
​

@JustWhipIt @Hypnos

 

[TheFordee20]

Highgarden, The Reach


"I will see you at dinner, brother." Eveleen said as he walked off. Erik and Hallie went off to their rooms. Eveleen had some servants draw her a bath. She hadn't washed properly since King's Landing. The bath was refreshingly cool. Afterwards; she dressed in a skinny gown that was embodied with golden roses. She then met with her husband, Ser Erik.


He sat by a fire, drinking his third cup of ale. At least I've counted three thus far. "Husband." She said, politely. She took a seat next to him. He didn't respond. He only drank. Ser Erik Rowan had been nearing his mid-forties, yet, he was still a handsome man.


"Wife." He replied after a minute or so.


Eveleen watched the fire burning in front of her. It made her relax a bit more. She didn't know why she was even stressed to begin with- she was home!


They sat in silence for a while before that silence was interrupted by their children. Erik and Hallie appeared in a door way. Erik was as handsome as ever, and Hallie was true flower. My beautiful children.


"Has anyone sailed through Old Valyria?" Hallie asked her brother, as she held his hand. Although he was only a boy of 17, he looked like a man grown. He almost will be a man grown. "Many have." Erik responded as he looked down at his young sister. "Although few live to tell their tale."


Hallie shook. "I bet it is very spooky."


Erik laughed. "Maybe one day we can journey through, sister." Hallie didn't like that idea at all. "I'm not sure I'd want to."


Eveleen smiled as her children approached her. She got up off of the chair she sat upon and gave Hallie a gentle hug. "You look beautiful." Eveleen said. Hallie smiled widely. Eveleen then turned to her son. "And, you. As gallant looking as ever."


Erik smirked. "You flatter me, mother."


We will need to find him a wife soon. I was about his age when I married his father. "Shall we get going then? Dinner awaits us." Eveleen chirped. Her children nodded. Ser Erik gave a grunt. "I am not hungry, go without me."


Gladly. Eveleen put her hand on her husband's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. Before she and her children left the room and headed towards the dining hall.

Spoiler

Fair Isle, The Westerlands


Dent stared his enemy down. Fuckin' Lannister. Dent couldn't hear a thing but fighting. He looked around, quickly. The Ironborn were taking heavy losses. "Fuck." Dent muttered under his breath. He readied his axes.


"You'll 'ave this axe, boy!" He roared as he ran towards The Lannister. Dent ducked as he ran and scraped one of his axes across The Lannister's knee plate. Dent then tumbled away, to make sure The Lannister wouldn't immediately put his sword through him. Dent swiftly stood back up and threw the axe in his left hand at The Lannister. The axe hit into his arm, but Dent was unsure if he had actually hit him.


Only an axe left. Dent gripped his final axe with both hands. The Lannister was going to try and make a move on him any minute.


-


Ciar killed another Lannister. The young man choked on his own blood as Ciar's sword impaled his neck. Ciar heard a scream. He looked to his right to see Seasick with a blade through his eye socket. Bastards.


Ciar pulled his sword out of the young man's throat and readied it. Several Lannisters surrounded him, their swords big and shiny. Ciar swung his sword frantically. He sliced a few of 'em. But they were too many. Leech fell into the ocean, his insides on the outside. Ulick Pyke was nowhere to be seen, either. They were all dead. Ciar's sword slid from his hands and flew into the sea.


Ciar tried to grab for his dagger, but he felt cold steel enter his leg. "AGHHH!" He yelled. Another sword went into his shoulder, and Ciar dropped to the deck of the ship. Blood flowing out of him like piss.


@HuorSpinks

 

[WanderingJester]

Feast Hall, Riverrun, Riverlands.





Rowan almost gulped at his father's suggestion, and turned to see that Helyon was as serious as he always was. The young man only half heard his mother's reply to his betrothed, though he managed to turn his attention back in time to see her analyzing stare complete their work on Agnes Tully. "Well, it will be our honor to have a lady of House Tully join us. While I've done my best to spruce up the place, Arianna is much too young to understand the importance of interior decoration and one woman can only do so much, you know?" She joked, though the older woman could see the hesitancy within the younger red haired one opposite of her. She stepped in a bit closer, and lowered her voice to where Rowan couldn't hear and said, "Do not worry. Rowan might not be the most... eloquent of knights in the court, but you will find none more honorable or kind than him south of Blackwater Rush."


Before Rowan could hear more however, he heard a throat clear and turned to see his father standing in front of him. The Lord of Hornhill gave him a look over. "Not the best armor for a ceremony perhaps, but it'll do." He began walking to the front of the hall where the wedding would take place. "Come Rowan, you have a duty to perform." Rowan nodded even as his father had already walked off, and hurried after the man, who had told Benjicott Tully. "We'll to our lodging later, when the newly wed have settled into their beds themselves. Do what you must to finish preparing your daughter now. Rowan can wed within his armor."


Together the Tarlys went to their seats, or in Rowan and Orion's case, stand next to the alter by the end of the great hall, waiting for the septon to begin officiating the ceremony and, of course, the bride to walk down the aisle with her father. Rowan subtly swallowed quickly, was this happening too fast? Was he ready to be a husband, and probably a father by the end of the night? He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as he stood next to Orion, who looked without a care in the world. This was a duty, just like the patrols, and hunting the bandits. The goal now was to make his new wife as happy as possible, and when she was ready, share the bed together and possibly sire and heir. Focusing on those thoughts, the Fair Tarly calmed himself, and turned towards the end of the aisle, where the septon and Agnes will walk down soon enough.


@Hypnos


@National


The Docks, Fair Isles, The Westerlands.


When the Ironborn charged him Martyn took a moment to spot where on his body the wild warrior was aiming to strike. When the raider went low, specifically on of the Mountain Lion's knees, Martyn lifted his leg, so that the tougher shin guard plate took the glancing blow instead. Knowing he had no time to swing the large sword in his hands, he instead prepared to strike once his enemy recovered from his roll. A good thing too, as the warrior took the axe in his left hand, yelled something that broadcast his next move like a fool, and chucked the weapon at Martyn. The Mountain Lion reached out with his free hand, grabbed one of the Ironborn who had strayed a bit too close to him as he fought with one of the Lionsguards protecting him, and pulled the Drowned Man in front of him. The axe struck the human shield full in the chest, on the other side of where Martyn held him, so he didn't know whether it went through the armor or not. Not wanting to take the risk, the Mountain Lion stuck his broadsword straight through the man he grabbed from behind, and dropped the sword, along with the corpse that held it, on the dock.


Now, pulling out his shield and long sword, Martyn closed in on Dent, who only had one axe left. He began with a quick but short horizontal cut across the top of the chest, so that if the man ducked it would catch him somewhere near the top of his skull. The short cut allowed a quick follow up shield bash, which the Mountain Lion put a good deal of power behind, swinging the other way, utilizing a pendulum motion in order to string his attacks together. The long sword then followed the shield bash, now swinging the other way, and opened up to a longer and wider cut through the air, and used to either push the opponent back if he still had to mobility by then, or as a coup d'grace if he did not.


@TheFordee14

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Red Keep, King's Landing


POV: Vladan
​

The Grand Maester watched one lord after another make an excuse, proclaim their loyalty a second time. It was only Gelgin who Vladan thought was sincere, but the old Hand was forced into the position, the others were free to go as they pleased. 'We should of demanded their children as hostages. Secure their loyalties to the crown and have them fight off Braedon the Niggard.' Many things had gone wrong, the most surprising being Lord Walder's sudden growth of a spine. The Tully lord he had heard of was a true representation of his realm, a weak man split on what to do more often than not. But his sudden shift in favor of remaining neutral dispelled all those thoughts. 'He's a cunning old fox, a scoundrel who'll ally with Braedon Baratheon if given the chance.' A dark shadow obscured Vladan's face, leaving his icy orbs to shine through the room. 'He won't live for much longer, let his heir be more prudent.' Tiber Lannister began to explain why he had to leave, the Ironborn were at it again, not to his surprise. They picked a prime time though, if they were strong enough they could keep any of the regions bordering the Summer Sea from helping Braedon. 'Yes,' he thought, 'The savages are useful indeed. If Conn survives his ordeal and we crush the lone Stag, I'll have him pardoned and made lord of Storm's End.' The Grand Maester took a step before Tiber spoke directly at him.


"My security reported that a girl claiming the name Blackfyre is within the Red Keep. It's probably another pretender with no real bite to her bark, but I thought her Grace should know."Tiber's false concern did little to warm the old Bolton's heart. He had known of the girl, not that she called herself a Blackfyre, but she had been living in the Red Keep for years now. She fashioned herself a princess despite being nothing more than Maeryn's bastard. It was for that reason, the blood of the old king, that Vladan didn't wish her gone. Liliana Waters hurt no one, she was a regular at court, with a reputation as a queen of whores abound. 'She can be a Blackfyre or Darksister if she wants.' He shook his head. It wasn't a friendless bastard he was wary of.


"Liliana Waters? I'll have her grace be made aware she's now retooled herself as a Blackfyre. The girl is innocent, though. At least of the crimes Viserys has comitted." The bastard with the Golden Company wasn't something he was concerned with. Mercenaries across the ocean were not nearly as threatening as a greater lord rising up against the crown. His army could be smashed in a single battle by a united Crownlands, yet alone the entire Realm against him. Tiber left immediately, even as Vladan spoke those words. 'A spitting image of his father, he has a fear of actual work and duty. No doubt a real war on the brink of erupting has him soiling his small clothes.' Vladan moved from the room, he had work to do. The city itself needed to be made aware of what was happening. Kuvira wished to deal with Braedon herself, a folly he'd soon rid them of, but King's Landing needed to begin to ration grains should Braedon's host be marching on them. 'We have Astris.' He was reminded as he climbed the steps to his rookery. 'I'll hang her myself if he attacks the gates.'


The journey to the top of the tower was longer than Vladan anticipated, it seemed as if every two steps were miles apart. But he finally made it to the top, where the ravens squawked, hoping to catch the attention of the maester and be fed. Several new ravens came in, Vladan made a note to inspect their letters later, but he had more important work to do. Vladan grabbed a pen and parchment, scribbling down a quick letter to Lord Stark at Winterfell. It was short and sweet, wishing Lord Stark good health and calling for his support in the coming conflict. He was close to the late Osmund, that would be a fickle problem for the Starks of Winterfell to push through, but Vladan needed to try and sway them. For now he would offer them the Three Sisters and the New Gift back from the Night's Watch, recalling how bitterly the Stark Lord's of old fought against the New Gift, surely they would wish the land to be returned to them. 'If they don't comply, I'll merely have to switch tactics.' The old maester wasn't keen on rolling over as some young lord claimed a throne that belonged to the Tagaryens.


'Sweet Kuvira has been tutored, taught how to rule kindly and with mercy. Her council is full of wise men all eager to help. Braedon will ruin these seven kingdoms.' The North would be fierce adversaries, but their attention would always be to keeping their home and families safe. As Vladan climbed back down the stairs, his ugly grin was worn proudly. 'I'll dispatch two hundred men to the Shadow Tower and have them turn their cloaks, see if they can't help some Wildings through South of the Wall. Tadhg's bannermen will have to choose between fighting against us in the south or helping the Night's Watch.' The plan grew with every passing step, why stop at one of the forts being attacked? Eastwatch By the Sea was equally as vulnerable as the Shadow Tower, if it were to fall the savages beyond the Wall might take their canoes and paddle across the bay of Seals. 'A few thousand of the Wildlings and two fallen forts will keep the Stark's busy long enough for us to combat Braedon.' The only question came down where he would find loyal men to take the black. There were men in the black cells he could surely bribe, but not enough for an attack of this scale. 'The Goldcloaks might be willing, if later pardoned. I'll convince Kuvira to do as such, when all is said and done.' The Grand Maester was sure he'd find sellswords in the city slums who'd take up this mantle.


With seemingly the North now out of the war, Vladan felt himself confident in keeping the Targaryens in power. 'The city will need to close several gates. The mud gate will be walled up with stone long before any host arrives to sack the city. I'll see if we cannot acquire the Redwyne fleet to keep the city safe from the sea. . Rory Baratheon still sits on his grim island.' The older Baratheon was a wild card, he had long been silent, doing his duty to the kingdom, but his control over Dragonstone and the surrounding islands would prove troublesome if they needed to escape by sea. Different tactics went through his mind, thinking how best to combat Braedon and Walder if they should ally, which he had a sneaking suspicion the Tully Lord had no plans in staying neutral. He'd hope for Conn to deal with them. 'Sending a raven is too risky, should it be on paper the entire kingdom might rise up.' The Ironborn were universally hated by all, raiders who gradually conquered Westeros for hundreds if not thousands of years before the dragons came. Bad and old blood still soaks the shores of their enemies. 'No, let the old gods stray his hand towards Seaguard. If not then Lord Arryn's Valemen will fight alongside the Trident.'


Later on Vladan figured he would have to share his plans with both Kuvira and Gelgin. The queen called for a meeting of the three, and it was best the others knew how the Grand Maester would make the best of the situation. 'Who knows, perhaps Gelgin will improve upon my own thoughts.' He might, Vladan begrudgingly admitted to himself.


The sound of feet hitting the tiles of the hall alerted Vladan to the approach of several people, all of whom sounded to be in a hurry. The Grand Maester turned to look at them, curious as to what purpose they were racing throughout the Red Keep. He spotted three soldiers and a pair of handmaidens, the group out of breath and wearing matching worried expressions. They slowed down and called out to the maester once they spotted him. It was one of the guards who spoke to Vladan.


"Grand Maester there's urgent need for you." He motioned at the two women behind him. "It's Princess Aerea, she's hurt herself."


"Aerea?" His throat tightened at the image of a bed ridden Aerea, worse yet one soaked in blood. "To what degree is the injury?" His legs moved quicker than his tongue could spout the words. The poor child injured herself in grief, no doubt. The toll of losing Maeryn was hard on her, the entire country knew that. 'Mayhaps the talk of war broke her gentle heart.' The Grand Maester needed to get Aerea far from the city, safe and out of the grasp of the political parasites that infected every hall. Maeryn's eldest daughters were frail flowers, not meant for the hardships of this world.


The same man as before answered the Maester. "A few of her handmaidens informed us she cut herself on glass."


"Glass?" Had she dropped a hand mirror or accidentally shattered a window? "Venture to my chambers and bring to me what I need to rid Aerea of her ailments. There will be a vial of milk of the poppy in the chest before my bed, I'll also need red wine and a pail of fresh, warm water. Make sure it's fresh from boiling, the hotter the water is the better." The heat helped purge impurities, or so the Citadel had taught for generations. Wine likewise would cut down the risk of infection. "Be quick about it!"


"Yes Milord." The guard took the two servant women with him, heading the opposite way as the Bolton and Keep guards. For a man of sixty seven, the Grand Maester enjoyed himself a quick pace, the likes of which younger men would envy him of. Even still, he wished to be younger, to move with more strength and speak with greater passion. 'The dream of all men once they turn the hill in life.' His usual grim face found itself replaced with a look of despair, althroughout the nigh five minute trip from outside the rookery to the Princess' chamber Vladan drilled the remaining two soldiers on what they were told. It was more of the same, she hurt herself breaking a mirror, her hand was definitively cut though other injuries may be present. Vladan pursed his lips once they were done explaining the situation. 'The princess needs a soul to care for her. . When I speak to Kuvira on strategy tonight, I'll have to stress the importance of getting her married and quickly. Starting a new life with children and an earnest lord might fill the gap her father left.'


The small group approached the door, Vladan's heart raced and his feet dragged against the ground below him. A dire wish was made, for the safety of the princess, to allow her injuries to be minor with leaving little trace behind. 'The south doesn't have a weirwood. None of my gods will listen to me here.' It was a hard truth. The door was in front of Vladan now, and with a hard breath, the man stole himself. "Princess Aerea, I was informed you hurt yourself." He had no other way to put it, so he put it as basic as possible. He gripped the door knob tightly, twisting it twice, a small sign of his impending arrival. "I. . " He sucked in more air. "Let me inspect your hand, princess. I can't imagine it feels too well." Vladan was always poor at showing how he truly felt. The concern in his voice was even muffled by his naturally serious nature. The pushed the door forward, stepping inside the bedchamber, pale eyes looking for Aerea and what damages might have been done.

The Reach, Highgarden


POV: Viserys (In the Present)
​

The castle that was Highgarden dwarfed the environment around it. Trees became blades of grass under its shadow, the closest town was practically an ant hill. For miles the Blackfyre king found himself staring off at the formidable citadel, only too happy at the journeys end in sight. The Dornish Marches brought Viserys forced back memories from his youth, and as wistful as they were, Viserys couldn't afford to linger on them. The wise words from Ser Rodrik would serve some purpose, that much the mercenary was sure of, but the rest was but information from a past life altogether.


Atop Wind Cutter, Viserys was trotting through the town, his packhorse Philly not far behind, forced forward from rope tied tightly around his reigns. The trip had been brutal on the beasts of burden, Philly the most. Viserys had forced Wind Cutter to keep a constant and quick pace whenever possible, and the packhorse wasn't always eager to meet that. In the end, Philly was always forced to gallop or canter with Wind Cutter, but with wild cries of resistance echoing throughout the marches. Both horses were exhausted and likely needed a day or two of rest, something Maeryn's bastard was willing to give them. The time he spent planning his reveal to Lord Tyrell was unproductive. Viserys had yet to find a way to make it into the lords service, he'd have to consider his options later though. His head was pounding like a drum in the midst of battle, his stomach refusing any more salted beef. 'I'd forgotten the loathsome meal.' The Golden Company was more often than not a practical mercenary band, never indulging too much in fear of over spending. But even the boiled locust or horse meat in Essos was preferable over the provisions Viserys bought by Wyl Castle.


As he moved through the town, Viserys kept an eye out for an inn or tavern. A place to feed his horses and nurture his own thirsts. He found a lively population in the streets, selling and trading, children playing, women in provocative dress attempting to lure in any man who seemed well off. The King Beyond the Sea ignored them, to the best of his efforts. His tired gaze eventually found an inn, the name was of no consequence, a reference to the flowers of Highgarden, no doubt. Pulling on the reigns, Viserys slowed Wind Cutter before directing him for the stables to the left of the inn. A few children, the oldest likely fourteen, appeared once Viserys was close enough.


"What can we do ya'fer, Milawd?" A freckled child asked, staring up at Philly, studying the poorly conditioned armor strapped on the horses back.


The violet eyed bastard smiled down at the children. "I've had a long journey, my steeds need fodder and water. Rest as well." He gave the children a scrutinizing stare, digging through a purse of coinage tied to his hip. "Treat them well and keep my belongings on their back, and you'll find yourselves rewarded." He pulled out a gold dragon, holding it between two fingers, smirking before he hid it in the palm of his hand.


"Aye Milord. We'll do just that." Another of the stable boys assured him. "Wha're names?" His nose scrunched up at the question.


Taken aback by the boys curiosity, Viserys took a long moment to answer. "The stallion is Wind Cutter, Dornish bred with more moxie in it than a drunk Florent." One of the boys giggled at that. "Philly is my packhorse, I've been especially hard on him. Be respectful, children." Viserys dismounted, sure to keep his swords on hand, with Blackfyre's pommel being molested close to every five minutes. The assembled stable hands began to take the horses away, not before the would-be king grabbed the apple covered round shield. Dueling wasn't on Viserys' mind, but should the need arise for a shield, the mercenary leader would rather have one on hand then resort to blocking blows with a mere sword. The Blackfyre king strode forth, waltzing into the inn with a smile no warmer than a Northern Summer. The inn was sparsely populated, with a few men deep in their ales, and what others were around were discussing some trade. An older man was in the far left of the inn, stirring a pot over a fire. A woman came from between two tables, smiling at him.


" 'Ello Ser." A serving wench beamed at him. "How may I be a'service?"


"A warm meal and cold ale would be appreciated, my lady."


"O'course, please Ser, take a seat. I'll grab'em some fresh stew if that's to your liking." She led Viserys towards the back of the inn, lightly tapping a rounded table empty of others for him to sit at. "Denin just caught a rabbit this mornin', fresh for the stew." The wench gave Viserys a lingering smile, her eyes dancing over his form. The Blackfyre king found himself growing uncomfortable with the woman before him, especially at how she eyed his hair. 'Had I gotten the dye, I'd be much easier to forget.' His white hair and violet eyes left him as a remarkably familiar sight, even in the towns and villages in the Dornish Marches. People openly gawked when he'd barter, to the Westerosi smallfolk he seemed like a queer interest. He'd always smile and brush it off, explaining his mother was from Lys, but being remembered by the smallfolk wouldn't help him elude Kuvira's agents, should they discover he was back in Westeros. 'She should have larger concerns than her half sibling.'


King Viserys nodded, dropping to the wooden chair, placing the shield on the table before him. "Stew sounds phenomenal, my lady. By chance would you have rooms available as well?" As the young king hadn't yet finished his plan for convincing Lord Tyrell to support him, he'd have to spend a night at the very least in the town. His horses would need the rest, he was sure, though sleeping on a bed of feathers would do him good. 'I'd forgotten the life of a hedge knight. No roof over your head, grass for a bed and rocks for pillows.' Ser Rodrik would jape about the benefits of such life styles, "Hard ground makes fer a hard knight, ya' don't wanna end up like a prissy knight afraid o' gettin' dirty." His large lips would party cheekily, "They'd mistake ya' for a woman. No man wants to be protected by a little lass." For all of Ser Rodrik Strong's words, he took great efforts in making sure they stayed at inns whenever they could, where he'd have at least hay to lay atop of.


"Aye Ser, plenty this time'o year. Most a'the travelers made for King's Landing way, to see the Queen's crowning." Excitement was clear in her voice, longing too, if Viserys understood her correctly. The Blackfyre King had a suspicion that Kuvira was crowned already, but Wyl wasn't a place that frequently received travelers, nor were the Dornish Marches anything but a backwards place. He'd have to ask about that later, feeling as if the details of that day were important. What lords swore vows to serve her, and more importantly what the Stag of the People did. An itching excitement nigh consumed Viserys.


"Truly? I've not been informed she took King Maeryn's chair." A mirthful smile trailed behind his words. "A knight of the hedges is often late on news of lords and ladies, as it turns out."


The serving girl seemed puzzled by Viserys' statement, questioning him further. "You're a hedge knight, Ser? Pardon me, I took you for a knight of lords and ladies yourself."


"Why would you think that?" The Captain-General had a shallow smile remaining, true humor having left his voice long ago. Every angle of his face seemed to deepen as his violet eyes focused in on the barmaid. Viserys had gone through the effort of donning worn armor, taking a shield that had been worn in battle dozens of times over, the horses he rode atop of were even beasts that a proper knight would scoff at. 'How is THIS woman seeing through me?' He asked himself, angrily. He was on the edge of his seat, ready to leave the inn should things turn south.


"Tis your voice and manner of words. You've got a lords tongue'n ya' sound like a knight of King's Landing. Pardon me, Ser, I didn't mean to offend." The wench must of noted his rapid change in posture, for her voice was meeker than moments ago, taking a few steps from him and his table altogether.


The Blackfyre King found himself feeling extremely vulnerable in that moment. Not having taken account of what words he used nor the accent he had, that bit surprising him most of all. He'd spent thirteen years away from the disease ridden city, though the accent he adopted early on lingered still. Viserys had thought he was rid of it long ago. "No harm taken, my lady. . I was a knight to a lord in King's Landing once. An age ago, mayhaps." His weak smile faltered entirely. "The stew now, if you please."


"Yes! Yes, of course Ser." The wench hurried off across the inn, over to the firepit and the chef, possibly owner of the establishment. Moments turned to minutes as he sat at the lonely table, taken aback still by what the wench claimed. He thought himself a great mummer, but the finer details of his ruse were sniffed out by a woman working at an inn. It made him want to laugh, how unlikely everything was. She returned, dropping a bowl filled with the steaming hot stew and a flagon of ale on the table. The Blackfyre king smiled at the food, practically feeling its warmth inside him. The gold dragon was handed off to the barmaid next, payment for the room and stew. "Here Ser." She eventually returned, dropping a handful of coppers and silvers on the table. "If ya' need anything holler." Her eyes remained focused on his hair before walking off. Viserys would have to find dye in this town, surely they had some.


Viserys grabbed her by the arm, holding her loosely as to not offend. "You mentioned men were away at the coronation, would the lords of Highgarden be gone too?"


"Nay Ser, they are back already. Saw it me'self." She looked apprehensively at him. "What me heard is worse off, dark words drifted with the Tyrells. The queen's coronation was interrupted by an assassin, a servant tryin' cut our queens throat! Can you believe that?" She was louder than Viserys wanted, attracting the attention of a few other occupants of the inn. "The lord of the Stormlands fled after a knight o'guard killed the assassin. He left his sister behind, laughing all sinister like on his way to the stormy keep. He's hopin' for a headsmen, they say."


Viserys found himself containing his excitement, though barely. "A servant woman tried to kill Queen Kuvira? How horrible!" He said the words, but his mind was thinking of other matters. 'Braedon, oh Braedon. Few men have made worse decisions.' The barmaid was ready to continue the talk, if a man several tables down didn't holler for her. She apologized to Viserys and walked off, leaving him with his thoughts and food. The Golden Dragon pulled the food closer, inspecting the bowl curiously, staring down at his own twisted reflection in the brown stew. He dug his spoon into the bowl, enjoying the chunks of meat and carrots it offered, but the Blackfyre was anxious to move now, confront the Tyrells, for Braedon had made himself all too transparent in his goals now.


Letter to Winterfell

Spoiler

To Lord Tadhg Stark of Winterfell,


It is regretful to hear of your current status, Lord Tadhg. Many friends missed you at the coronation that just passed, and all of us wish you the best of health, none more so than Queen Kuvira. It pains me to write to you whilst you're under these conditions, but for the security of the realm I must ask much of you. Braedon Baratheon has declared himself the true king of Westeros, a very high offense that will lead to war in the south. It has occurred to myself and several others that you were close to the late Osmund Baratheon and may take part in Braedon's war. Kuvira would wish it to not be so, hoping that the Stark's will not support a pretender to the throne.


War is not a future any of us wish to wake to, Lord Tadhg. I would have peace, but Braedon is determined drag us all to the field of battle, to settle old scores. Queen Kuvira understands any apprehension to this conflict you may have and has given you two alternatives to joining Braedon Baratheon in his quest for violence and death. Should you find yourself remaining neutral, Queen Kuvira is willing to spare the life of Braedon Baratheon and send him to the Wall to live out the rest of his days, in service to the realm. The Three Sisters south of White Harbor will be annexed into the North, a token of Queen Kuvira's appreciation. The boons of war are greater still. The New Gift, promised to the Night's Watch over a hundred years ago, will be returned to the Lord of Winterfell to do with as he pleases. Alongside the ownership of the Three Sisters and the life of Braedon Baratheon, still in service to the Night's Watch.


Loyalty and honor is what the Stark's are known for. Queen Kuvira and I direly hope this reputation is not tarnished in these unsettling times.


Spoken by Lord Gelgin Arryn, Hand of the Queen


Transcribed by Grand Maester Vladan

@SirDerpingtonIV


@TheFordee14

 

[TheFordee20]

Fair Isle, The Westerlands


As Ciar lay bleeding, a parade of arrows shot across the sky. They were all tipped with fire. Several soared into the sea, whilst others ripped through the sails of The Lannister Ship. The sails soon became engulfed in flame. Fire is a terrible way to die. The Lannisters' all begun to scream and shout as their ship caught fire. They all begun to ignore Ciar, who was greatly wounded.


This is my chance. I can get back to 'The Fat Fish'. Ciar turned his stare to where 'The Fat Fish' stood afloat. Ciar's face dropped as he saw his ship was, too, on fire. A second stream of arrows came- one of 'em hitting a man in Lannister armor. Ciar could only do one thing. Crawl into a corner and watch, as he was wrapped in orange.


The Red Keep, King's Landing


The doors opened. Vladan walked in, his robe black. Aerea sat on her sheets. Her hand red and raw. Blood had mixed with the redness of her dress. His eyes widened as he saw her state. What will I say? Aerea put her hand out for him to inspect. As she did this; she caught her reflection in the shattered mirror. She looked warped, and distorted. I feel that way as well. Vladan came closer and carefully took her hand in his.


Aerea tried to think of something that'd make sense as to why she had a large cut on her palm, but nothing came to her mind. She was still very upset.


"I slipped." She gave a croak. Her voice had gone hoarse due to her screaming.


@TheAncientCenturion


Fair Isle, The Westerlands


Dent felt like he was flying. The Lannister's shield had definitely broken a few o' his ribs. Dent landed next to a few barrels, filled with fish. He coughed up blood. "Fuck." He managed a gasp of air. He could feel a cut on his chest as well. Dent looked down to see a thin line of red, leaking from his mail. Dent grabbed his axe, if only there was an axe to grab. Dent patted his hands on the ground around him in attempts to find his axe, but, it was gone. It must of flew away like Dent had.


Dent tried to get up on his feet, but he stumbled back into the barrels. "Fuck!" He swore, again. He could do nothing...


@WanderingJester


Highgarden, The Reach


Filicity sat in an inn, 'Nymph's Drink'. Adair sat beside her. He was drowning his sorrows in ale. Filicity was eating from a bowl of cashews. She casually popped some into her mouth every minute or so.


Adair sighed. "I feel like shit." He put his ale to his lips and drank. Some of it missed his mouth and spilled onto the table. Filicity sat back. "You look like shit. You need to bathe." A bard, with golden locks of hair, sat next to them- softly plucking the strings of her harp. Her sweet music was silence compared to the chorus of shouting and laughing that came from within the inn. It was only dusk, and it was already full.


I should be getting back soon. I'm probably late for dinner. Filicity picked up a handful of cashews and threw them into her mouth. She looked at Adair, who was very sad and very drunk. She looked around to see a young man with hair of silver.


@TheAncientCenturion


The Sunset Sea


It had only been a day. Conn leaned over the edge of his ship- 'The Skinned Tail'. The seas slammed against its port side. Was it a day? Was it more, or was it less? Conn shrugged. He didn't know and he didn't care. As long as he and his men got to The Shield Islands. There, he'd conquer. The islands would only be filled with Ironborn by the time Conn was finished with 'em.


Then he would be off to Oldtown. I want to attack it, but, I would never be able to take a city so big, let alone The Redwyne Fleet. Conn knew who couldn't barge into The Citadel, waving a sword like an idiot.


He would have to be more clever. That's why he'd kill a Maester and steal their robes. Conn would then take an elite group of men and infiltrate The Citadel, where'st he would find some way of hatching his egg. My egg.


Conn clutched his satchel that he hadn't taken off since they had left Lordsport. He smiled and looked out at the wide expanse, known as The Sunset Sea.


Soon it would be his...

 

[Huor Spinks]

Arren - Highgarden: Dining Hall


In the absence of Lord Hollis Tyrell, it was Arren who sat in his father's great chair at the long table where the most immediate family sat. Surrounded by the chatter of his family members, namely the Rowans, Arren seemed rather distant, as if he was deep in thought. Though that was not unusual; Arren was quite and contemplative by nature and most knew to leave him alone when he was wearing that facial expression that screamed silent contemplation. It was probably due to the fact that they had learnt it the hard way; that Arren tended to get intensely irritated when people interrupted his train of thought. His extremely short answers and that barely controlled irritation was enough to deter even the most chatty of his men. Though not with his immediate family of course, for their sake Arren remained polite, even apologetic if he had not caught what they were saying. He had sent a smile in the direction of his sweet niece as she greeted him, the food soon arrived, and they began to feast.


The main reason why Arren was so contemplative was because of the information he had received from a meeting he had held prior to dinner with the most trusted and loyal of his father's men. Things were reaching a turbulent state in Westeros. Already there was talk about fighting in certain parts of Westeros; between the Greyjoys and the Lannisters. There had been an assassination attempt on the new Queen. And most worrying of all, there were rumours of a strange man in the Reach itself, a man with silver hair. Only the Targaryens had that hair colour (and was it not strange that Queen and the second Princess did not). It was the implications of this that had set Arren on edge. What business did the man have in The Reach of all places? Already he had sent out two of his knights to ascertain if the rumours were unfounded, and no doubt he would hear from them soon enough.


It was just then that he heard Evaleen inquire after Filicity. He remembered that the last time he had seen the young woman was when they had just returned from Kings Landing. He took a quick look around. Filicity was nowhere to be seen. This was extremely strange. "Evaleen," he said, sounding rather concerned now. "Was Filicity with you earlier? Last I saw of her, it was when you had all just arrived, and that was a few hours ago. Have any of you seen her since?"


@TheFordee14 @TheAncientCenturion

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Red Keep


POV: Vladan
​

The distressed look washed over his stoic features, his feet carried him across the room quickly. Aerea looked like a child sitting there, a crimson hand leading a trail of blood across the room. Her eyes looked red, puffy from crying he was quick to note. As Vladan stood before her he took her injured hand gently into both of his, inspecting the damage. 'A few small shards stuck under the skin.' It could be worse, though they would still be difficult to remove, he'd have to give her milk of the poppy before pulling them loose. A sigh of relief escaped him, most of his worries were unfounded. She would survive another day. "Slipped?" He asked skeptically. "You are not covering for someone, are you? Had someone done this to you, it's fine to tell me." He knew he sounded cold even then, but the maester couldn't find warmth to bring to his words. "I'll punish them for hurting you."


He let go of her hand, looking back up at her eyes. "Your hand will hurt for days as it heals and pulling the shards free won't be devoid of pain either. But you'll be alright. . You had us all worried." He me worried, he should of said. "What caused all of this, Princess Aerea?"

Highgarden, The Reach


POV: Viserys Blackfyre
​

It took Viserys under two minutes to finish off his stew, with the flagon of ale barely lasting after it. Sufficiently full, the Golden Dragon set his sights on finishing his plan. Highgarden was in front of him but he hadn't a way in. He figured they would eventually throw some celebration, such a place where he might impress them one way or another. 'There's the Lannister Wedding too.' The country side was mad over the affair. 'Most Lord's do hold a tourney in honor of their spouse, what better place to find allies than that?' He was tempted to make off for the Rock of the West in a day or so, leave the Tyrell's behind until a later date. 'In two days time I'll leave, if I cannot devise a way to work my way into the garden, so be it.' He still hadn't an idea where to start, but the time would give him an opportunity to rest. The long travel had chipped away at him, he'd need all his strength at the Lannister Affair, anyways.


The serving Wench would provide him with much needed details, but the inn found itself crowded now. She was far too busy to sit and speak with Viserys, has she had done before. 'The rest of them must know some things. Maybe a guard or servant from the castle's drinking and feasting here as well.' It wasn't unlikely, with the inn so close and the seemingly social center of the region, for the lowborn at least, he was sure to find a man who could help him. The silver haired man stood, his violet eyes surveying the men and women around him curiously. Most seemed to be farm hands, nothing unusual for The Reach, and as he was ready to turn away a woman caught his attention. The two locked eyes, but the dragons gaze drifted over her form. She looked different from the rest of the inn attendances, where they were dirty she was clean. Her choice of clothing was nothing grand, but the sigil she wore was. 'The Tyrell rose.' He grinned. Most lords forbade commoners from wearing their sigils. It was deceitful in nature, Maeryn told him so much when Viserys deemed himself worthy to wear a Targaryen dragon embroidered on a cloak. 'She's one of them, though from her clothing, a lesser branch, maybe. No one important. . But she could be my opportunity to get inside the castle.' Viserys grabbed the apple covered shield on the table and began to move through the inn, pushing past several men.


As he approached the table where she sat, Viserys noticed another man, well into his ale next to her. The companion might prove to complicate things, but Viserys wouldn't let the chance pass him by. Once in front of the table, Viserys gave the pair a soft smile. "Pardon me my lady, Ser." He dropped the shield next to him, sitting across from the two. "I am passing through this region and was hoping someone might give a traveler kindly advice. And you appear to be the least intoxicated person here, my lady." He looked over at the Tyrell Girl's companion, quick to add to his statement. "Not that there's much wrong with enjoying some wine, Ser."


@TheFordee14

 

[WanderingJester]

Off the Coast of Fair Isle, the Sunset Sea.





Captain Clarrick Holt watched as the ocean consumed the two flaming wrecks in front of him, drowning the fire as well as the remaining men aboard the two former vessels as they sunk under the surf. He glanced around, only battle scarred Lannister Vessels remained around these waters. Aside from the wreckage floating around on top of the Sunset Sea, no signs of the Ironborn remained. He turned and looked at the deck of the Westward Strike. The men looked tired, but in good spirits nonetheless. Some had sustained wounds from the battle, but none looked serious. Some corpses of Ironborn littered around sparingly, just a few exceptions that made it on board through either stupidity or desperation, and were cut down immediately for their efforts. Still, as he looked and counted the ships remaining around him, Holt had to give it to the Drown God's children: they had tenacity, even if they lack the intelligence to match it.


One of the sailors came up next to Holt and saluted. "Captain! We're done with the preliminary reports for the casualties."


Turning to the sailor, Holt looked at the young man in front of him. He looked young, almost at the age of Holt's little brother, but the harden muscles on him as well as the calluses on his hands showed that he had some experience sailing before, and had probably been at sea for at least a year now, maybe more. At least he looked healthy though, but then again, the Lannisters made sure that every ship had a healthy supply of food, so that seaborne illnesses that often came from malnutrition didn't strike the fleet. Holt nodded. "Proceed."


"Five ships lost, three sunk during the battle, we had to scuttle two due to irreparable damages done to the hull and keel. Two more had enough damages that we'll need to drag them to a dry dock, but the last five could be patched up either at sea or quickly done at a port. All ten of the enemies' long ship had been sunk, sir."


Seven ships out of commission in exchange for ten of theirs, not bad. Holt nodded at the boy and gave his order. "Await the all clear at the docks, then send a copy of the report to Casterly Rock once you get the losses on shore as well. Let the men have double rations today and the rest of the day off for a job well done once we set anchor." The boy saluted, before running off to relay the orders to the others. Holt finally cracked a smile since news of the attack reached him nearly two days ago. With a satisfied glance around one more time, he headed to his cabin for a glass of Arbor Red and some food as well.


The Docks, Fair Isle, the Westerlands.





Martyn Lannister gave a quick look around for any remaining threats in the general vicinity before approaching his fallen opponent who had been sent flying when the shield bash connected. His weapons were both up though, as the Mountain Lion knew all too well fights that would've ended differently had the apparent victor maintained his composure until he was sure his opponent was dead. Still, when the man, who scrambled for something, probably a weapon, found nothing in the vicinity, he got up only to stumble backwards into a bunch of loaded barrels. Martyn readied himself, since every cornered man was dangerous, even an unarmed one. So the Mountain Lion didn't go for anything fancy, just direct, and quickly executed attacks.


He rushed forward, and before the Ironborn could do anything but raise his arms, pinned the man against the barrel with his shield. Once pinned, the long sword came over the top, and stabbed into the raider, again and again. After the third stab, Martyn eased the force up from behind his shield, allowing the corpse to slide down against the barrel, which leaked the rum within from where the sword pierced it after going through the dead man's body. The mixture of alcohol and blood made weird patterns on the deck of the port before dripping off the side into the sea. The Mountain Lion turned with his shield up, only to see the last of the raiders being executed by his Lionsguards. Even in the distance, the fighting seemed to be dying off. Walking forward, Martyn looked to one of the Lionsguards awaiting instructions. "Get a total of the losses on both sides, then send the report to the fleet to deliver back to Casterly Rock."


The knight nodded before heading out, leaving the rest of his comrades to guard the Lannister still on the dock, who sheathed his weapon and went to the corpse with his broadsword still in it. He grabbed the hilt of the weapon before ripping it out of the corpse, and placing it where he carried the thing: on his back. The Mountain Lion's brown eyes scanned around for anything else that might be of concern, and finding nothing, headed back on board the ship he arrived on, waiting for it to depart back to Lannisport after things were secured on the Docks and around Fair Isle castle.


Courtyard, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.





The guards opened the gate quickly, as a tired Tiber Lannister rode through and back within his own castle since Queen Kuvira's coronation. The others looked no better, as many seemed wary after such a hard journey, not due to terrain, but the speed of the pace at which they traveled. Several servants and even soldiers had to be helped off their horses, while many rushed from the main keep to lend a hand to the others. Ignoring most of the activities around them, Tiber headed over to Ser Tidus, who was in the process of helping Astris off of his horse. Leaning in so that only the young Baratheon daughter may hear him, he spoke.


"I did not bring you here so that you may be a prisoner in the Westerlands instead of the Crownlands. However I will insist that you have a few guards around you, due to the nature of your departure. Please feel free to make yourself at home here, and I ask that you write to your brother to reassure him of your safety and location, if only to ease his heart from worry and hand from rash actions. Let him know that when he arrives for my wedding, you will join him back to the Stormslands then."


@LittleWolfie


Turning to Tidus, Tiber continued. "Place your most trusted men with her."


The Lionsguard Commander nodded. "We'll guard her as if she was a Lannister my lord." Tiber gave him a grim smile before turning to find House Clegane's men around their lord. Tiber raised his eyebrows. He would not have blamed them to split off and head to Clegane's Keep back a few leagues past at the crossroads, but instead they came here with him. At least they're loyal. He went over to Lawsen Clegane before placing a hand on his shoulder.


"Great work back at King's Landing Lord Clegane, and I thank you for your assistance to our security in getting back to the Westerlands safely. You may return to your home now. I trust I'll see you and yours at the wedding?"


@AnnoDomini


After hearing Lord Clegane's response, Tiber smile before patting the man on the shoulder again and headed to the keep, now joined by the tired but content Wilhelm next to him, both walking briskly up even as the light began to fade from the evening sky above them. Opening the doors, Tiber quickly made his way to the Great Hall, where he found his betrothed hurrying over to him. Leanne embraced him without slowly, pushing Tiber back a few steps and provoking a laugh from him. Letting go, she gave him a look over at arm's length.


"My lord, pardon me, but you look terrible." Tiber gave her a smile before a quick kiss on the lips.


"All the better to showcase your beauty my dear. Now, please attend to our new guest for me? I brought over some important company and she could use another lady to help her settle in." Leanne looked questioningly at Tiber, but said nothing as she curtsied, gave another kiss to him, and excused herself to attend to his request. Turning back to the other occupants of the room, he found his Uncle just finishing his own greetings to his son with the other officials of Casterly Rock and turning to him. Opening his arms wide, Tiber greeted the older man. "Uncle! How goes things here? Have there been reports from the counter attack at Fair Isle yet?"


Edwyn nodded, and went over to Tiber with a letter in his hands. Handing it over, he spoke as Tiber read the document over. "Seven ships out of commission from the first strike force, around 40 dead from the second strike force, including Ser Lonnel Brune of the Lionsguard. 70 more injured but only 20 or so will have permanent damage. We sunk 10 long ships and killed around 230 of the enemies on shore, with the early estimation of enemy forces lost at sea to be around 100 or so, but they're still combing through the debris. I expect we'll never get a full count, what with the sea taking back the dead and such." He handed another piece of parchment to Tiber.


Tiber nodded, then took the next piece of parchment, reading it over, he whistled. "By the Warrior Uncle, you have been busy." Scanning the lines on the page. "Uncle Edwyn, did you double our auxiliary forces since I've been gone?"


Edwyn cracked a smile, "We've got about 30000 men at ready at this point, with some still coming in from around the Westerlands. More sell swords arrive every day, filling the auxiliary. I wouldn't be surprise if we hit 35000 by the time your wedding's finish, or even more. Speaking of which, Roland Wilds arrived with his band of knights with the earlier convoy."


"Did they cause any trouble?"


"No more than any other band of sell swords, I imagine the brothels are making a killing right now with all of them around." The older Lord of Lannisport walked with Tiber up to the throne of the Great Hall and turned to counsel him. "Wilds seemed to be... eager, to work out a deal with you. It would seem he wants a bit more than the usual rates he charged." Tiber sat on his seat, contemplating. After a moment he looked up and said to the nearest guard.


"Inform Ser Roland Wilds that I have just arrived and would hear of his proposal if he isn't indisposed now." The guard nodded before heading out of the room, presumably to follow his task. Edwyn looked at Tiber skeptically.


"Should you not rest a bit first? Maybe meet him tomorrow when you're fresh in the morn?" Tiber smiled and shook his head.


"No uncle, the man have waited for me enough. I can at least give him the time of day to hear him out without delay."


@Leusis

 

[Leusis]

@WanderingJester


Roland rolled out of bed, crashing to the floor with a thud, fully waking him from his short nap. "Shit" he muttered as he stood, taking a quick glance around the room to spot John fully nude in his own bed with two handmaidens clinging to either side of them. Wincing at the mere sight of the man he considered to be family in such a fashion he would rip one of the sheets from his bed to toss it over John's lower body. It had been like this for days, the first handmaiden visiting to see if "The giant was just as big below the belt". And with how the handmaidens and whores streamed after her, it seemed as though she had told half of Casterly Rock about John's nether regions. Moving to the corner where he kept his equipment he would slowly strap his longsword to his hip and put on his boots before hearing a knock at the door. Sighing to himself Roland would simply continue to put on his clothes and equipment, minus his armor. It was when the figure outside proceeded to bang on the door louder and more often that Roland yelled back "Put your fist on the door again and I'll shove it up your arse!" and suddenly the knocking ceased.


Striding over to the door he would open it to spot the knight Tiber had sent for him, the man speaking simply "Lord Tiber has returned and is waiting for you in the great hall". Smiling Roland would walk out into the hallway, beckoning for the man to lead the way, and then following him when he did. "Sorry about the threat Ser, just caught me right after I woke" Roland spoke before chuckling, the knight simply shrugging his shoulders "No harm done". Roland's happiness aparent with how the Lionsguard was able to shrug his words off rather than stew over them like most men of his status would.


Entering the Great Hall behind the Lionsguard Roland would quickly walk ahead when he spotted Tiber on his throne. "Been a while!" Roland called from across the hall with a smile, the shock on a few of the lesser men in the halls faces easily visible. It seemed most were not used to Roland's lack of proper manners in the face of a lord, and some were likely frustrated by it. But after a war between lions, no doubt Tiber had likely grown accustom to Roland's mannerisms. Making his way only a few yards from Tiber Roland would stop and bow before he decided to continue. "I'm gonna make this short and sweet for you m'lord, for my loyalty and services, for this coming war and all to come, I wish to be granted lordship of Castamere" he spoke with a smile. It was obvious to Roland what Tiber's answer would likely be, but he asked regardless, for any man who knew anything of haggling for the best price, you always start high and let the other man try and work you down as far as you'll go.

 

[WanderingJester]

Great Hall, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.





Tiber smiled at the mannerism of Roland as he came in. Just as casual and irreverent as the most ignorant children, Tiber could see many lord that would treat the man as such, and they would also be dead before the next sunrise. However, Tiber knew also how deadly the hedge knight in front of him was, having seen him in action first hand during the War of the Lions. "Hello Ser Roland. It has been indeed." He took a cup of water from a nearby servant who had it ready, sipped on it. "Straight to the point then, very well." The Lord of Casterly Rock seemed to ponder about the offer for a moment in silence, while the others in the room seemed affronted or straight out offended by the offer. When Tiber didn't say anything for a bit, Edwyn spoke up.


"Oh please don't tell me you're actually considerin-" Tiber raised his hand, silencing his uncle. He might be younger than the Lord of Lannisport, but he still outranked him, and both men respect the order of that. Looking up at Roland, he said.


"Are the terms negotiable?"


@Leusis

 

[Leusis]

Roland smiled as Tiber's uncle butted his way into the conversation, and nearly chuckled as he was silenced with a mere wave of the lords hand. Listening to Tiber's reply he would ponder for a moment, as if he was actually thinking if he would consider a different offer. "Of course m'lord" Roland spoke simply with a oddly charming smile on his face. After all, outside of combat Roland was only known for one thing, and that was being liked by the commonfolk and even a few of the less pompous lords of the land. It wasn't in his manners, as they were crude at best, it was simply how he carried himself, as if he was your greatest friend and ally before you even began speaking with him. "But a lordship is the only payment I'll accept for me and my mens services, and don't try and pawn off some little out of the way village as a lordship. I may not have as keen a mind as you Tiber, but I'm no fool".