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[WanderingJester]

Ser Benjicott's Chambers, Riverrun, the Riverlands.





Watching the scene in front of him, Ser Carth Flowers could feel the tension in the room even before Lady Barba Tully walked in. After she did, it became so thick you could cut it with a sword.


Carth never knew his father, though his mother said he was some minor lord in the back end of the Reach somewhere. He never did found out. What the boy did learn was that his none present father still cast his shadow over his entire life, even when he might be feasting in a castle hundreds of miles away. No one would associate with him and his mother. The highborn would turn their noses at them for his mother birthing a bastard, while the lowborn would snub them for being to "above their station," even though they had just as little as the rest of the farmers, craftsmen and other lowborn around. His mother not once patronized anyone, yet everyone would treat her like some arrogant lady coming down from their ivory towers to grace those that lived down in the dirt.


The women would shun his mother and him as though she had whore herself out for the closest lord that stopped by, while the menfolk treated her like some wench from a brothel, often getting slapped across the face for their troubles or, when Carth grew up, broken bones. His mother never spoke of his father, though sometimes he could catch her reminiscent about the past when she thought he wasn't looking. While Carth grew up to be a strong and healthy young man, he couldn't find apprenticeship for work anywhere. One was due to his bastard status, but also because he would often get into fights defending his mother's honor. Carth had gotten quite good at them actually, often fighting alone against multiple people due to being friendless.


They would travel where jobs were available, and often only got the ones no one else wanted. One thing his mother did was that she never whored herself out. It wasn't that she hadn't the looks for it, but she would rather scrub floors, wrestle pigs, wash dishes, and nearly anything else. Thus Carth often moved with her, working where he could and fighting when men's hands wondered. Finally, one day they arrived in Tarly land, and after having been thrown into the brigs for brawling with some drunk guards, he got offered a job as a soldier under the Tarly banners, while the guards were flogged for undisciplined behavior.


Men can say what they want about Helyon Tarly, but to Carth he was both stern, but fair. Helyon would objectively approach problems within his ranks and during battle, regardless of birth or appearance or ability of those involved, and solve it in the most efficient way possible, and his men came to respect him for it. When Carth's unit got trapped in a canyon during a patrol by bandits and he led a group of men to cover the retreat successfully, the officers pulled him out to fight in a melee with other promising members of the common folk. When the melee came to the point where only five others stood, they were chosen as squires for existing knights that needed them, even Carth. When Carth proved himself in the last expedition against the raiders in the Red Mountains as part of Rowan Tarly's forces where his master got killed, Helyon Tarly knighting Carth himself, despite his birth.


Now he watched as the man who he owed nearly everything to turned towards Lady Barba Tully, and calmly replied, "Lady Tully, I was merely asking for the expected time and strength of the full host of House Tully, which I had requested due to the content of the message that had just arrived concerning Reach. As per the contract, which your son agreed to on House Tully's behalf. We will only have until morning, where your grand daughter and my son finish consummating their marriage, before we must make our way south to war. Time is of the essence now."


Carth could see Ser Orion Tarly's fingers flicked towards his sword, much like the other times when he expected a fight in the near future. Orion made a competent commander, but given the choice, Carth would choose his older brother to fight under any day of the week. Rowan, despite his fair looks, had more experience and confidence when it came to warfare and leading, plus he actively cared for the men under him. Orion was more of a master-at-arms/castellan type of man, quite able to march an army to war against an enemy, but better at safekeeping the home in both peace and security behind the frontlines.


@National


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Ser Benjicot's Chambers, Riverrun, Westeros.


"Contract?" Lady Tully smiled innocently, raising a singular red eyebrow, her eyes remaining fixed upon the face of Helyon Tarly, only dipping for a moment to view the slight movement of the hand in the younger Tarly brother, whose name Barba didn't, nor need, to know "May I read this contract before we go any further? I'm afraid I am out of the loop here" Ser Benjicot looked like he was about to speak though she shot him down with a glance, standing patiently as the Maester, who had entered the room just after she had, procured a document from the inside of the sleeve of his long Maester robe, presumably procuring it from the scribe, whom Benjicot had earlier tasked with the transportation of the document, the Maester liking to keep informed on the goings on of the castle handing it to Lady Tully.


Barba looked over the contract with growing interest, her face retaining the smile which she it had earlier donned, remaining courteous and composed, not once reacting even though she wanted to "Lord Tarly?" She said at last looking up from her reading "I'm afraid this document is invalid" she calmly laid it upon the table pointing to the signature at the bottom of the letter "You see this contract bares the signature of Ser Benjicot Tully of Riverrun, a knight in the service of Lord Walder Tully of Riverrun, the rightful paramount of these lands, and whilst the first half of it seems perfectly fine it is the second with which I draw issue" She sighed dramatically looking down upon the parchment.


"You see this contract promises the support of House Tully of Riverrun in any conflict regarding the Tarlys of Horn Hill, though by which right Ser Benjicot deems to speak for the House of Tully of Riverrun I do not know, last I checked it was Walder that spoke for the Tullys, not one of his Knights and in the absence of Lord Walder" she paused "That right falls upon his regent which just so happens to be yours truly, now I know that I certainly didn't authorise the signing of this document and since Lord Walder hasn't been present since your arrival he couldn't have either, which makes this contract more useless than the parchment by my chamber pot" She crumpled up the parchment, letting it fall to the table, she knew that Lord Tarly would have copies but at the moment she didn't care "Honestly Lord Tarly, if you are to deem this contract valid then any knight within the service of House Tarly could swear off your entire force, something I am sure you do not want"


She turned her gaze to Orion Tarly, steel in her eyes "Please lad would you be a dear and keep your hands away from your sword, I know this talk of war must be stressful for you but, unless you intend on breaking guest right there is no one that you can kill here"


@WanderingJester @National

 

[WanderingJester]

Ser Benjicott's Chambers, Riverrun, the Riverlands.


Carth Flowers' eyes widened. Had they come all this way for nothing? He could see or sense the similar tensing from the other Tarly forces in the room, with the sole exception from Lord Helyon Tarly. The man was too schooled in the art of self control to overtly give anything away. However, even his eyes narrowed at the Lady Regent of Riverrun as she spoke, especially when she chided Orion at the end. Carth knew Helyon was less angry at the woman but rather at the lack of discipline from one of his children. Through gritted teeth, Helyon addressed his second oldest. "Orion, take men, go outside and get a bit of fresh air."


Orion, in a display of further lack of self-control and sense, something Rowan might have picked up immediately with his father, turned to the Lord of Horn Hill. "But father-"


"Orion, leave us." The poor son froze, as the command cut through him like the winds of winter. Paling, he nodded before turning to the others, excused himself politely and in a small voice, before exiting with two other knights from their house. Carth almost wanted to shake his head. It would not be a pleasant conversation the next time Orion faced his father. Still he turned his attention back to the scene in front of them, with so many questions running through his head. Would the marriage be canceled as well? Should they leave immediately? What did this mean between the two houses? He only got snapped back out of of his thoughts when Helyon spoke up again. "Please excuse the boy's rudeness, rest assured he will be punished."


Helyon specifically looked over at the Lady Tully sitting in front of him, as well as Benjicott Tully next to her. Though his face seemed passive as ever, but from the glare coming from the Lord of Horn Hill's eyes, if looks could kill, a full Valyrian Plate armor would not be able to save the two in front of him. "You are correct in that my knights do not have that authority, however I expect that my heir, Rowan, to be able to speak in my house's name, as I did with Benjicott Tully here. However, I respect your point and accept your mistake, though I feel that the air must be cleared here. Are you, Barba Tully, as Lady Regent of the Riverlands, annulling the contract of the marriage alliance between House Tarly and House Tully signed by your son, Benjicott Tully, tonight? Am I also correct in saying that you have no intentions of agreeing to the terms listed in the said contract should I have another prepared, with similar conditions?" The Lord of Horn Hill waited for an answer, his eyes unblinking as he studied the mother and son in front of him.


Carth had to physically force himself to take a breath and relax. Depending on how this conversation goes, they may very well have to fight their way out of Riverrun tonight. The bastard knight doesn't know if they would be able to save everyone, including Rowan, but he knew for certain if that was the case, a lot of people would die before the next sunrise.


@Hypnos


@National

 

[Hypnos]

Ser Benjicot's Chambers, Riverrun, Westeros.


"No need to scold the boy for a simple mistake" Baraba replied, disregarding entirely Lord Helyon's wrathful look, she was used to stares like this from much larger and more intimidating men than him and his eyes didn't even phase her instead continuing on with the conversation, acutely aware of the Maester behind her, shrinking back at the sight of the Lord of Horn Hill.


"I think you understand correctly, I have nothing against you Lord Tarly, I truly don't, nor the fine lad that you've raised, but does your previous contract not seem a tad unfair to you? House Tarly may have the strongest and best trained men in Westeros, due in no small part to yourself, but last I checked they numbered only six thousand, and no matter how good your men are, six thousand men will never be equal to five hundred centuries. The men of the Riverlands are a proud people and I refuse to waist their time by having all of their men slog through the the Reach for a war they don't care about, especially considering it may be over by the time they arrive" She examined her finger nails, showing Lord Tarly how little she cared about the situation, his men may fear conflict, but Barba had no such qualms, if anyone was to initiate conflict it would be the Lord of Tarly and she could die content knowing that not only him and all of him men would be slaughtered and hung up on the walls of Riverrun but his house would ever be cursed as oathbreakers, in defiance of the gods.


"I believe a new contract would be in both of our interests, I have no problem with the arrangements made about the marriage and honestly I commend you for being so generous in allowing House Tully to keep the majority of the children, though I would like to add Ser Lothar would not be Ser Benjicot's heir in case of a lack of children, I do not know about House Tarly but here in Riverrun we respect the proper rights of inheritance, which dictate the passing of titles onto Benjicot's second child the Lady Gwenys, though I would add that this has little chance of happening, my daughter is fertile and I am sure your son is capable of reproduction, perhaps tonight should be the night that my great grand child shall be conceived" She tapped her fingers upon the table to her side, looking over the Knights in the room, good men and strong enough to put up a fight if need be.


"May I take this opportunity to mention my displeasure as to how events have unfolded? I am incredibly sorry to hear of the attack upon the shield islands and your dear friend Ser Luthor, do not take my unwillingness to sign your contract to mean that we shall not lend aid, on the contrary, I shall ask Lord Mallister to lend you his fleet this very night so that they can transport you back to Horn Hill and lend aid in the conflict, after all we in the Tully family protect our family, as our words say. Lord Mallister is actually here in the castle, if you had not heard, he was actually invited to the wedding, though I fear you so rushed the ceremony that he and his men missed the occasion, as did the Lords Vance, Ser Roote and Lord Piper of Pinkmaiden, each of which have several dozen men, confused as to why they were invited all this way for a ceremony that was over in the blink of any eye" Barba's mind whirred, Lord Mallister had been asking for new ships for nigh a decade now, complaining that his current fleet was old and out of date, this may be the perfect opportunity to grant him his wish, she would have to remind him to load the boats with as few men as possible, not wasting the man power on a minor raid from the Iron Islands. In truth she had only brought up the matter so she had an excuse to remind Helyon that they were not alone in the castle and that Tully out numbered Tarly almost ten to one.


@WanderingJester @National

 

[WanderingJester]

Ser Benjicot's Chambers, Riverrun, the Riverlands.


Carth Flowers' head turned quickly as he busied himself observing the place where his, and the other Tarlys', lives would be decided by what came out of Helyon Tarly's mouth next. As Lady Barba spoke, the Lord of Horn Hill maintained his demeanor, with the only emotions coming from him were his narrowed eyes that bore into the elderly lady. When she finally finished, Carth looked back over at his master, who looked more in control of himself. Helyon Tarly sat up, and addressed the older woman in front of him. "Then I shall respect your wishes, and announce the annulment of the marriage contract between our houses. Perhaps we may agree on a more compromising contract in the future, but for now I must have my rest for the long journey we must make in the morning. I accept your offer of transportation with House Mallister's fleet. If you would be so kind as to get us up the Red Fork, we may ride the rest of the way from there to meet up with Lord Luther Redwyne's ship upstream of the Mander." He began to get up, turning his back to the two Tullys and headed back to the door of the room.


There, he paused, "as for the hastiness of the wedding, I urged the two to complete their union as soon as possible, in fear of something sudden like this to be happening. As you can see, my fears were well placed. I had hoped to have Tully's full and honorable host with us in the wars to come, yet it would seemed that this would not be the case. Please give my regards to your bannermen." Helyon Tarly didn't apologize, and knowing his commander as he did over the years, Carth knew he had no intentions of apologizing. Still the knight could feel a sense of relief flooding over him as they left the room.


They would not need to die in Riverrun this night. It was a small relief to the man, as they would need to ride hard on the morrow in order to reach the besieged Shield Islands in time.


Lord Walder Tully's Chamber, Riverrun, the Riverlands.





Rowan had woken up as the sunlight stabbed into his eyelids. Disoriented, the Fair Tarly had to collect himself before remembering where he was, and who was in his arms. There, sleeping on his chest, Agnes Tarly looked almost peaceful, despite the tear streaks that had dried on her face. The poor girl; she had gone through so much the last day or so. Still Rowan couldn't help himself, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She stirred a bit but remained in slumber, snuggling deep into his chest. Then it hit him, they didn't consummate their marriage yet! He looked over to the smoldering fireplace, which had more or less gone out by now, without anyone to tend it in the middle of the night. Rowan sighed, perhaps she might hate him after all, taking up a lover as soon as she arrives at Horn Hill and he leaves for war.


A loud knock caused Rowan to almost jump off the bed, and Agnes truly begun to wake now. The Heir to House Tarly quickly jumped up and stripped off his shirt, revealing his well muscled but only slightly scarred chest. He took off his boots quickly and then realized that Agnes was still fully clothed on the bed. He went over and, with an apologetic look at the still waking girl, lowered the straps down on her dress so that she looked naked under the sheets. Rowan then unbuttoned his trousers a bit before heading to the door, looking harried with putting on some clothing on when he found Orion behind the door, grinning like an idiot. "So... Did the Tully make the Tarly an honest man yet?"


Rowan ignored the jab, and looked to his brother. "To what do I owe the pleasure of the morning call brother? I trust you didn't just come to sneak a glance at my lady wife?" Orion was indeed trying to confirm if the naked (so he thought) Agnes' carpet did in fact match the drapes. After realizing that he wouldn't be able to get past his older brother to see more than Agnes' sleepy face and her upper shoulders, Orion turned back to Rowan.


"Actually, we had bad news last night. One of Lord Luthor's men arrived last night. The Iron Fleet's sailed against the Reach, and we're needed back home. Father's already borrow one of the crows here from the maester to send a message back to Horn Hill as well as to Lord Luthor. We're to sail upriver on one of the Riverlord's ships then ride to the Mander, where a ship with await us. Mother, Eran, Arianna and your lady wife will come back with the rest of the guards later. Get your armor brother, iot's time for war." Orion grinned, before glancing one more time at Agnes direction before heading off.


Rowan shook his head at his little brother. The horrors of war haven't yet touched Orion completely, and he lusts for the glory and honor of combat more than the Fair Tarly did. Still war had come and he had his duty to complete. Heading back over to Agnes, he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek before whispering, "do not be sad my dear. With this war, you may be rid of me sooner than you think." Rowan leaned back before putting on his armor, weapon and shield. When he was done, he looked at the still unreadable Agnes and gave her a smile. "Take as much time as you need to say goodbye here. My mother and the rest will understand. Smile a little Agnes." Without looking back, he left to join his brother, and together went out to find their father and the guards which would join them on the hard road back home, as well as the ship to take them up the Red Fork.


@Hypnos


@National

 

[Elendithas]

Ibbenese Emissaries - Red Keep - King's Landing



​

"My liege, The Shadow King, sends us offering assistance in the inevitable war to come between the Crownlands and the Golden Company. Forty thousand warriors of Ibben and five hundred specialized cavalry are his offer. In return, all my king asks is for a sizable holding in the North and a cementing of the alliance. Of course, this alliance would come with every perk one would expect, including a call to arms should the Crownlands be threatened by another faction of some sort." The leading emissary stated after standing tall as he could, his chin slightly elevated. "I'm afraid I must convey. The Shadow King was quite adamant that the means to cementing the alliance be a marriage with one of your family. He would not explain why, but his reasoning is most often sound." The emissary at this point was somewhat nervous. A holding in the North was a fair enough offer, but kings and queens didn't often marry their siblings away so easily. A wasted journey, or perhaps a dangerous one if the queen took any offense to the Shadow King's offer. He was sure that wouldn't occur, but the Targaryens were known for their unstable sanity.

 

[General_warNpeace]

Adele


"Your Lady Grandmother is a clever one. I would respect her for such a mind if it didn't cause so much trouble." Revina sneered staring out the large window that oversaw the entrance to Riverrun. Men hurried to ready the horses in preparation to depart for the Reach. The Tarly's would be leaving without the Tully's men to back them. Adele resisted the urge to chuckle at the sight of the men stumbling about as he stood at his mothers side. He barely maintained his calm and cold expression, learned from his mother, as mirth filled him. Yes, Lady Grandmother is a clever one pointing out such a flaw. One I had thought would be missed. I am glad I was wrong. It seem's to have ruined some of mother's plans. I just wish there was a way to make the marriage itself void and not just the contract.





Raising his cup of tea to his lip's he sipped at it as he returned to his usual seat by the fire. He had just sat when his mother joined him and picked up her own tea. She didn't sip from it but cradled the warm cup in her hands her lips thin with anger. Setting his cup on it's saucer he leaned back in his seat and broke the silence. "Why is it that you wished to raise our men and send them with the Tarly's exactly? I would think it would be wiser to keep them close and stay out of the oncoming war. Ensure we do not get into something to over our head's unless we really must. I seriously doubt the Tarley's give reason to."


"Of course they don't." Revina snipped coldly turning her cold stare onto her son. The icy gaze almost mad Adele flinch. He had noticed a change within his mother the past few months. Where once she was sweet and only lightly tangled in the politics of Riverrun she has grown colder and began trying to get a part in the big kid games. It would amuse Adele if it where anyone else but as it is his mother it just made him sad. "I feel we need to involve ourselves into this war and best sooner then later. We are barely noticed tucked away here in Riverrun and I doubt we are respected outside of the Riverlands. We need to gain respect to survive. Fear would be better but I hardly see that peace loving fool Walder doing anything to invoke such a feeling. If the other houses fear us, or at least respect us, they will be less likely to wish to attack us. I am doing this to protect us all."


"I see, " Adele nodded. He kept his face blank to not display his shock. Hearing the sound of men getting ready to depart Adele stood and bowed his head in respect to his mother. "May I take my leave now? I shall like to say my farewell to dear Agnes and the her husband before they depart."


"Go, then. We shall continue this talk at another time." His mother bid him farewell. As Adele walked through the crowded halls of Riverrun he couldn't help the worry the touched his brow. Something more is going on here. Mother never wished to involve Riverrun within war before or any violence. Her change is to sudden. I hope she doesn't do anything drastic before I can find my answers.

 

[Leusis]

Roland sat on his throne as nobles gathered in the grand hall, speaking among themselves as they awaited their new liege lords words. The doors of the hall swinging shut Roland would begin counting the number of nobles, just over twenty in total. Having been taught what Maester Merek could teach him in a day and a half he knew that these were all the nobles of the isle as well as their eldest sons. "Welcome, please break bread with me before we begin" Roland spoke as he shifted in his throne, the fine silks and cotton of his new attire bothering him slightly. A few servants going around the room gave bread to each man and let them dip it in salt before eating, doing the same with Roland himself. "I know what you have all been through here, not just in the past few days, but for centuries Ironborn have raided your lands. In the most recent incursion House Farman was terribly killed within their own home, and it has fallen upon me by the will of Lord Tiber to take over where they left off. I know I am a stranger to you and many of you likely know little to nothing about me. But I swear upon the old gods and the knew that I will protect the people of this isle, if you would only lend me your aid".


The nobles seemed to whisper among themselves for a moment as Roland paused. Picking up on a few words Roland could tell that many of them were skeptical of Roland's words, as how could a man such as him who has never led protect the entirety of Fair Isle. "I request that all of you recruit every willing man from these lands and bring them to Faircastle to be trained by me and my men". There was a sudden silence in the room as all of the nobles soaked in what had just been said. "And who are you to give such an order!" boomed the voice of the man likely in his thirties who had been in Roland's castle yesterday. "Telling us to give you every able bodied and willing man from our lands so that you can use them to protect yourself? I would call you a craven ser!" he yelled again, Roland's eyes narrowing on the man as nearly all the lords rose as one in agreement. Only emboldened by the support he was getting he continued "You have no right to retain lordship of this isle. It should have been given to the eldest and most powerful house, my house!". So this was Edward Clifton, the man Merek had warned him about the previous day, he was an entitled man, feeling above everybody but the Farman, and sadly many of the nobles agreed with him. His knightly house holding the largest keep and the biggest levy other than the lord themself he was an obvious choice to become the new lord. But still, his forces were three dozen men at arms and a knight or two at max, something that could not hold a candle even to the weakened levy of Faircastle. "You wish to take the title that was given to me by Tiber Lannister?" he questioned the older man, simply standing before Roland with a look of determination. "Then I challenge you to a duel for the right to Faircastle, you may choose any champion you wish, and if you defeat me the right is yours. I say this before all the nobles of this land, and I hold no heirs so no contract should be needed".


The nobles seemed to be a mix of confused and excited by Roland's challenge and Edward's acceptance. "Bring you champion to the training grounds, I will meet you there" Roland spoke as he exited to a room in the back of the hall. All the nobles exiting the hall would immediately head to where the duel would take place. Maester Merek rushing up from behind Roland would place a hand on his shoulder "I would suggest you reconsider, Edward may be an older man, but he is still the best knight on the isle". "If how this isle fared against the Ironborn says anything then I have nothing to fear from their best" Roland spoke as he entered a private training room with several racks with blunted weapons. Gripping a longsword by its hilt Merek would look to him in shock, thinking Roland was insane if he meant to fight with such a weapon. Spinning the longsword in his hand he stepped past Merek to make his way to the duel. "I have no intention of killing this man, only to put him in his place".


Approaching the dirt field inside the outer wall the nobles would laugh loudly as Roland approached still in his lordly garments and a blunted sword meant for training in hand. Edward on the other hand was placing his helm on his head, wearing full platemail that had been strapped to him by his son. Handing Edward his longsword and shield all of the nobles seemed amused, most of them speaking loudly of how they expect Ser Clifton to kill Roland quickly and bring Fair Isle to true glory. Stepping onto the field along with Edward, Roland would simply nod with a casual expression, indicating the man could begin. Roland holding his blade lazily at his side seemed to offend Edward and he let out a roar as he charged forward intent on slamming into Roland with his shield. Sidestepping to the left to dodge the charge Edward would swing his blade for Roland's chest, which he deflected upwards with relative ease. Allowing the man to pass him by Roland would swing his sword towards the back of Edward's knees. Easily one of the weakest joints in the suit the man would groan in pain as he tumbled to the ground, rolling and then standing again.


His shield in hand Edward raised it, only leaving his eyes peaking over the rim of the kite shield. Swinging his sword rapidly towards Roland he would take his blunted sword in both hands, parrying each strike that came his way. His footwork perfectly guiding him backwards as Edward continued to push forward. Catching the armored mans blade with his guard Roland would side step, guiding his own knee to the back of Edward's while he brought the mans hand behind his back. Pressing on the back of Edward's knee with his own he would put pressure on the mans shoulder by pushing his arm forward. Forcing the man onto his knees Roland would raise his sword high into the air before bringing it crashing down on Edward's helmet with a loud metallic cling. A grunt of pain and frustration coming from Edward's he released his longsword before Roland brought his own sword crashing down on his head again. A weaker whimper coming from the older man Roland would bring the bottom of his boot to the mans back before pushing hard to send him face first into the dirt. Even a bladed would have of course never made it through the helm, but a well placed strike at its top could easily put enough force into a mans skull to bring him to the ground.


It was as Edward laid in the dirt that the nobles finally took notice of the approaching mounted force coming from the port. It was half of Roland's total army, having been brought by the ships that remained on Fair Isle and a few scouting ships from Lannisport. Watching the nobilities jaws drop as they watched four-hundred knights and each of their squires enter the castle brought a smile to Roland's face. It seemed with the look in their eyes that they were beginning to believe that Roland might actually be able to bring Fair Isle back from the brink. Watching Edward roll over Roland extended a hand to him, the older man taking it as Roland pulled him to his feet. "I apologize Ser Clifton, I did not wish to harm your honor, I only needed to assure that the nobility of this land would follow me, and you gave me an opportunity to prove myself to them". Glancing over his shoulder at the knights that were entering the castle now "And that seemed to be so perfectly timed that I couldn't have planned it myself".

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Red Keep

POV: Vladan
​

"Thank you, Grandmaester Vladan." Her sweet voice carried throughout the room. "Thank you very much."


It warmed Vladan's heart to hear that, the princesses voice sounding sincere too. He felt accomplished in that moment, as if the worries of war were distant. The maester said little though, nodding with a half crooked smile, waiting for one of the handmaidens to finish rinsing Aerea's hand. "I work on the letter at once and speak to Lord Tyrell on the morrow. Worry not, soon you'll be frolicking in fields of green and yellow." The woman, Kora, finished her task and Vladan moved back in. He grabbed the gauze from the floor, the thin white fabric nearly translucent. "Give me your hand, princess." As she did just that, he unfolded the gauze and began to wrap it around her hand, finishing after she had several layers. "Wash the hand daily, princess Aerea, and always replace the bandage. If you need help summon me or one of your maidens."


She looked tired, Vladan noted, and nodded his head a final time. "Rest well." The old Bolton stood to his full height and exited the room. To his astonishment, more then the three gold cloaks he left were awaiting him. His eyes turned dark. "Do you have need of me?"


"Milord there's been a breach of security." Vladan's eyes narrowed, his breathing quickened. "Two of our boys were found dead in the Doe's room. . She's gone too." He said the last part slowly, fearful of what wroth might awaken from Vladan. The maester was furious, concerned, and most importantly, ready to be rid of this business.


"Escort me to her chambers." He began to walk quickly. He didn't need them to trail him, but they might still possess some information on what happened. He'd inquire more about the situation once he fully assessed the room.


@TheFordee14

Highgarden, The Reach

POV: Morath son of Myraen.
​

Morath gladly assisted the drunken knight. This wasn't unusual for him, to be caught between a crowded inn and a man past his wits. With renewed confidence, Morath increased their pace towards the exit. The hedge knight had a strong connection to the Tyrell's now, the silver haired man wanted to leave both a good impression and get into Highgarden quickly. "Naturally my lady." He would of given her a wide grin, one that said he was honored to serve, if he didn't need to keep constant surveillance over her friend, 'Adair was it?' The loud sound of the inn, the bards, farmers, all of them grew distant as they passed through the town. The muddy ground caked his black boots thoroughly.


"If it's to your pleasing, I'll need to stop for my. ." He paused. "Gods." Adair pushed the hedge knight away and purged his stomach clear of all its contents, the orange substance sticking to the stone walls of a bathhouse next to them. The smell caught Morath off guard. 'What did he eat?' He held his nose, tentatively throwing an arm back around the drunk man. 'It'd be worse off if he falls in it.' His breath smelled fouler than horse shit. "There there. . " Horrid memories of his own drunken escapades replayed for Morath, knowing precisely how Adair must of felt. "When we get to Lady Filicity's keep, sleep on your stomach, eh?" He'd heard tales of men dying, choking on their own putrid filth when they slept on their backs.


Morath would of kept going, if not for the sound of horses heading their way. The number of men on horse back called forth his attention, and he found slight worry as they were revealed to be knights. 'Her bannermen.' He gave the men a wide smirk, remaining his confident self. 'Cocky, Silverspear would call it.' He hadn't thought much of the Golden Company the last day. He would have to work out some way to send them a message, and soon. 'No doubt Ser Lucas is already taking contracts with Lys for the next five years.'


Lady Tyrell and her knights were talking, Morath had his attention split and heard little of what they said. It was Filicity staring back at the two knights that caused him to refocus his attention on his surroundings, and less across the Narrow Sea. Each knight was eyeing him, taking him for some threat or sellsword, possibly. 'They aren't too far off.' He would of laughed, but Morath doubted they had a sense of humor like his.


In a minute Filicity and the leader, a man called Ser Jon, discussed what to do with him. His earlier misunderstandings in the inn were completely washed away, if they weren't already, on Filicity. 'She defended me.' It gave him hope. 'She's a fool for doing so. But the Tyrell's will inherit Storm's End for their loyalty.' Morath would see to it Filicity was married off to an honorable and powerful man as well. "I must thank you my lady. I know few so kind to defend a stranger." The hedge knight spoke, keeping his voice down, his own attempt to hide the accent or mannerisms that were starkly not low born. "I am in your debt." He began to follow them, still holding onto Adair Fossoway tightly. The highborn knight looked ready to fall on the muddy road unconscious.


@TheFordee14

Astris' Former Chamber, The Red Keep

POV: Vladan
​

Outside the "guarded" room was a trail of blood, leading directly into the room that should of held Lady Astris. Two bodies in pools of their own crimson liquid were carelessly dropped inside. As they said, the Baratheon woman was no where to be seen. Some of what she came to the city with remained, what Kuvira let her take to her room that was. The hallway had twenty guards in it, not including the eight that Vladan brought with him. Inside the room five more stood, all around their leader. Cethann Celtigar.


In his black breastplate and long gold cloak, he paced the room. Most men might be angered at their subordinates demise, being made fools of by a woman no less. Cethann seemed as enthusiastic on the topic as an old whore would at the mention of business. "Commander Cethann." Vladan refused to call such a man lord on principle. "What happened here?" Unlike Cethann, Vladan was enraged. His icy fury was visible in the way he scrutinized every person and detail of the room. Even the guards escorting him had drifted far from his rear.


"Bugger me if I know." The commander of the city watch waved Vladan's concerns off. "Looks as if they were taken off guard. Maybe the girl seduced'em and she took a sword." His icy wroth focused on Cethann. The Gold Cloaks were never reliable, mostly poorly trained and prone to being bribed, they served as ineffective soldiers. But under Cethann, they went from that to outright useless. He chose men who had two core qualities. Stupidity and violent tendencies. Men who would take off hands, eyes, heads without questioning the order first.


"The trail of blood indicates they were attacked outside. I doubt they let her out." No he didn't. These men would remove their trousers if a highborn girl like Astris insinuated some skinsharing would occur. "When was the last time she was spotted?" Vladan worried deeply, whether or not Astris had allies in the capital or if one of the lords leaving helped her. 'Either case is dire.' A risk of another assassination was high with one. The risk of losing the war with another.


"This mornin', when servant girls fed her, most like." He sat on the bed, sliding his arse across the end of as he got comfortable. 'The bastard' Vladan thought with utmost contempt. "No one's seen the lady in the city, if that's what you're asking."


"Find her." Vladan shouted. He couldn't contain it any longer. "Send five hundred men and scower the city! I want twenty of your watchmen at each gate, inspecting each passanger thoroughly!" If she was still in the city Vladan would have her. She was his ticket to keeping Braedon at bay. "Tell no one of this. It must not get out, do you understand me?"


"Aye ser." Cethann still sat, uninterested as ever. "Anything else you need me fer?"


"Ration the grain, collect from the farmers outside King's Landing. . " He paused, wondering if he should share the plans for his attack on the Night's Watch. 'No. Not with this cretin.' Vladan shifted, turning towards the door, intending to leave. He had new letters to write. "Wall up the Mud Gate. I want more men in the watch, armed and securing Kuvira's city."


Cethann perked up at those commands, rubbing his gauntlet covered hands together in excitement. "You're askin' a lot of me. If it's more men needed, I can find us a couple hun'nnerd more."


"Thousands more. Borrow them from Claw Isle if you must. I want the Watch to grow. To double." They boasted six thousand men of questionable skills currently. They'd fall easily if the peasants rioted, yet alone if an army of twenty thousand marched outside their walls. Twelve thousand would be more formidable, if only to keep Braedon second guessing whether or not he should lay siege to the city. The only fear Vladan had was whether or not the Crown had the funds for that many men. He was not the master of coins nor did he have the most recent knowledge on their spendings. 'I'll ask Gelgin later on how we're doing.' The hand of the King might know. "Do you understand me Commander Cethann?"


A shit eating grin and a mock salute accompanied Cethann's words. "Find more food, ration more food. Find more men, wall up a doorway. Aye, the girl too. Rest easy my lord. The city is in fine hands."


Vladan doubted that sourly. "Immediately. I want all of this started in under the hour." He moved from the room quickly. His mind was racing with information. He still had to meet Kuvira before the night was through, but his legs took him elsewhere. 'Back to the rookery.' The need for the Tyrell's support was stronger than ever if they lost Astris. No army mustered from the Crownland's alone would repel the Stormlords, and the city watch would bend and break from a true battle. As he arrived in the dark tower, Vladan wasted no time. No light either. He had memorized the room in his thirteen years as Grand Maester. Nothing was out of place, for only his stewards and additional maesters frequented the tower. 'They know how I like my items organized.' He pulled out a pen and parchment, scribbling down a note furiously. The seal was stamped on, a three headed dragon. He grimly looked down on it before finding the appropriate raven. "Fly to Highgarden." The words were meaningless in the current age. They were not warged birds, like the old tales spoke of. He released the raven once the message was firmly tied to its leg. It went off, melding with the darkness of the night.

King's Landing

POV: Cethann Celtigar
​

Cethann was eager to leave the Red Keep. 'Full of buggers and arse lickers.' He was a chained dog there, but out in the city, he was free. The news of Astris' escape didn't worry him, no more then the talk of war did. Cethann was confident in his ability to survive. 'Should the Baratheon's show up, I'll open the gate for them. Bugger all, I'll make the bitch queen nice and wet for the stags if they want to take turns mounting her.' If Braedon had too small an army, then he'd outlast him. Safe and comfortable as the most powerful man in King's Landing. 'A slow siege would be nice.' He smirked, walking through Gin alley with a cohort of men at his side. 'I'd fuck all the high ladies, make their husbands watch as I plant my seeds in them. The strongest horses will be mine, with all the pearls and gold ringstoo.'


He stopped at one of the numerous guard stations in the city. The gold cloaks parted their spears, greeting Cethann. "Boys!" He shouted, smacking his breastplate. "Come on out ya' bunch of whoresons." Eight men, all wearing ebony breastplates drifted from an interior tavern.


"Aye ser, what word for us then?" An older man asked, scratching his stubbed nose.


"You lot have busy nights ahead of ya'. You four." He pointed his hand at the men to his left. "Rally some boys and search the city for a stag. Keep it to yerselves, and guard the gates. She ain't suppose to leave, if she's still here. You two'er going to knock on some doors too." A dark skinned man from Dorne and a native King's Landinger gave him their attention. "Out to the country for ya', find me some wheat and barley to eat. Take it all and take no lip. I'll give you fifty men a piece."


The last two looked on curiously. "What of us, ser?"


"Oh. We're goin' to Flea Bottom. The old blue I'm uncultured gave me detailed orders. He wants us to rally six thousand men and wall up the Mud Gate. We'll take care of the recruitin' first." Cethann had a dangerous smirk. "Better and new steel fer everyone too and plenty o'fuckers to test it on!"


Letter to Highgarden

Spoiler

To the Acting Lord of Highgarden,


It would bring me immense pleasure if you accepted Princess Aerea Targaryen into your castle home. The loss of her father and recent excitement in the air is proving too much for the young woman to handle. Highgarden is famed for its beauty, I hope Aerea finds solace in that. If the princess and young lord Arren Tyrell find each other to their fancy, it would make this old man overjoyed to arrange a coupling of the two. I will speak to Lord Hollis Tyrell on both matters shortly, though I am confident the wise Warden will accept.


Grand Maester Vladan

 

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Pyke, Iron Islands


Serog Pyke


Guardsman


THE ESCAPE, PART III



​

Serog stood at his post, leaning against the old, damp stones of the hallway currently being used as the "Prisoner's Wing". He let out a sigh, his grey eyes rolling in their sockets. He couldn't believe he was stuck here, guarding a bunch of dirty Essoi sellswords. They had gone meek and orderly, allowing themselves to be locked up, weapons removed, even the massive one with the face mask. He dwarved all of them, and even Serog, the self-proclaimed ballsiest guard in Pyke was reluctant to even look at him. It was almost as if the man had an aura of fear about him, his empty stare from behind those holes in his mask sending chills down all their spine sharper than the Shivering Sea. Just his luck too, to be placed right infront of the man's door. Still, Serog had been hoping that one of the sellswords would put up a fight, just so he could spill blood and make this whole task a bit less painfully boring. His commander didn't share the same view though, not wanting to take the Essoi's armor, for fear of a riot. "Oi Egad ye shite!" Serog called out, another of the guardsmen turning his head towards him, sending him a glare. Serog simply sighed at his friend's icey demeanor, moving back into attention as he heard the doors at the end of the hall open, letting in a familar face.

Giaou Jiang'Ye



​

Giaou entered the room, giving a simple, gruff greeting to the other guards, noting around 30 of them present. They simply ignored him, seeming almost disappointed that he wasn't baring any particularly interesting news. However, one of the guards waved him over, giving him a pat on the shoulder when he settled in beside him, giving him a simple nod of his head. The man nodded back, "Ey Daegon," he greeted, beginning to idily pace back and forth, something which made Giaou smile. During one of the man's passes, Giaou's hand subtly shot forward, swiping the man's cell keys from his belt, hiding them inside his sleeve. The guard didn't notice, only continuing to pace, muttering curses and pleas that their job would only get a little more interesting.


He had encountered a decently sized group of around a dozen guards making their way towards the hall as he made his way there, and, surprisingly enough, Haelga was with them. She took a few moments to tell Giaou a skeleton of a plan, before ordering him to move along, a strange energy in her movements, her eyes seeming to burn like wildfire in the strange lighting of the dark, damp castle of Pyke. In a way, it had almost scared him, but of course he knew she was on his side.


He was torn from his thoughts by the hand of destiny, as the doors opened and the guards looked up once again. Twelve men and Haelga ran in, weapons drawn, charging wordlessly towards the surprised guards. The two guards nearest to the doors had no time to draw their axes and shields before they were cut down, unable to be saved by their companions whom were joining the clash, leaving the cell doors unguarded behind them. Giaou slipped the key into the door, letting it open. He jumped back as a dark shaped hurled itself out of the door before he had even finished opening it. Giaou didn't hesitate to identify the figure, instead moving on to the other doors, beginning to open them, one after the other.

Haelga Greyjoy



​

Haelga tore the axe free from the guard's skull, wiping the blood off on the dead man's leather armor. The fight had been short and violent, the guards being quickly overwhelmed by the torrent of prisoners and her traitor soldiers alike. Four of her new men had died, along with ten of her sellswords, numbers that she could call herself satisfied with. She looked around, to count through the remaining men and find her Captains and more useful soldiers. Her eyes found Bear first, grabbing hold of him as he snapped a dying loyalist guard's neck to put him out of his misery, ending his slow, one-legged shambling to escape. She simply nodded, approving of the way the skirmish had turned out. "Alright!" she barked, over four-hundred pairs of eyes moving to her. "Split between you the weapons these lot were carrying! Our new friends here," she gestured to the turncoat Ironborn, "Will lead us to the armory, where we can find our weapons and then force our way out of the castle," she explained. "Any questions?" she asked, blue-green eyes cutting through the crowd, seeing no one speak. She simply nodded, and began walking towards the door. "Let's go then!"

 

[Huor Spinks]

Arren Tyrell - Highgarden


As luck would have had it, as the acting Lord of Highgarden, it was Arren who received the letter from King's Landing. The moment the orders were dispatched, Arren had walked briskly (he knew better than to actually run) up to his office to begin writing to his father. Just as he had sat down, Peridian rushed into the room, bearing a letter addressed to the acting Lord of Highgarden, from King's Landing. Excitement rose in Arren, perhaps it was word from his father. That was, until he turned the letter over and saw the three headed dragon sealed onto the letter. He frowned, in confusion. Why would House Targayen see need to write to him, if his father was already in King's Landing? Unless, something happened to his father. His heart jumped into his mouth, and he eagerly tore open the letter.


Well, at least his father seemed to fine at any rate, though there was worse news. Were they truly intent on marrying him with Princess Aerea Targayen? A range of emotions flirted across his face, from anger, horror, annoyance, finally ending with a vague sense of disgust. He did not know the princess well enough to comment on her personality; it was the thought of being married to a woman that disgusted him so. For as long as he had been sick, or thought of as sickly, he had yet to receive any requests for betrothals, and that had suited him just fine. It left him free to concentrate on other matters, such as his studies and tutoring in regards to ensuring the safety and prosperity of the Reach. Yet, he should have expected this sooner or later. Among the Great Houses, marriage was a political tool in order to build alliances he would not be surprised if most of them had been loveless.


Already he was beginning to pity Princess Aerea. He would be a dutiful husband, he knew that. He would ensure that she was comfortable and happy within the castle of Highgarden. He would be sure to respect her and protect her. Yet... for the life of him he could not fake a love that was not there. And there was the matter of his... sexual performance. As long as Arren could remember, there was nobody, man or woman in the Highgarden and the Reach, that ever made his loins stir. If the Princess Aerea was hoping for sexual satisfaction in marriage he would be a great disappointment. In addition, Arren viewed the entire act of sexual intercourse with some repugnance and would rather not engage in it if he had the chance. If he had to marry, he would need to consummate the marriage, and produce an heir...


Of course, he would have to accept her into his home, as a guest at least. The Targaryens would certainly think something was amiss if he were to refuse. Yet the Reach was currently at war, against House Greyjoy. He was quite confident that Highgarden itself would not see fighting. All the same, it would be best to warn the Hand at least, of conditions within the Reach. And he also needed to address his father, also to update him of the situation at hand. But no doubt his father would hear of the proposed union of himself and Aerea Targaryen from the Hand himself.


And with that, he began to write. But one could not blame him if the writing imprints were deeper than usual...

 

[Hypnos]

Storm's End, Shipbreaker Bay, Westeros.


His ears piqued with interest at the ongoing conversation between the elder Baratheons, Walder attempted subdue his curiosity, instead lending his ear to the young Wendel, smiling kindly as they spoke, though in truth the old man had little to be happy about, recent events taking their toll on the already decrepit man. "I have been well" he lied, thankful for Wendel's attempt to steer the conversation clear from talk of war, there would be plenty of time for that when Rory and Breaden had decided whether they were to make up, or murder each other "and aye, you have been informed truthfully Lady Agnes is to wed a knight of Horn Hill, Ser Rowan Tarly, Son of Lord Helyon, it's rather numerous actually in a sad sort of way but as a girl she always had a thing, for you and your elder brother, even went so far as to ask me about it once, whether she could one day wed the stag of the people or even the stormbringer, but back then she was young and I naive, I told her to wait until she was older and ask me again, and she did just that the next day" He chuckled, his green eyes glistening with sadness, he would miss Agnes' wedding and the girl would likely be off in Horn Hill by the time he arrived back at Riverrun, sharing a bed with her new Lord husband, he just hoped that they would be happy together, he couldn't stand to think he had cursed his granddaughter into a loveless marriage, not like he'd done with his son.


"If you would all follow me to the map room" At last Breadon broke away from conversing with his brother, the Stag clearly conflicted about the appearance of Lord Rory, not knowing what to think about his brother, Walder could understand the feeling, though he did hope that it would soon pass, Rory was a good lad and loyal, he would serve Breadon well and hopefully be better off for it, Breadon would benefit from Rory's tactical mind as well as the ships that he provided and perhaps the boys would find companionship in one another, filling the gap that their father had created.


Walder followed Breadon towards the keep of Storm's End, remaining a comfortable distance behind him and the rest of the party, hobbling slowly in their wake, only ab,e to rest as they arrived in the map room, a remarkable room, covered in an assortment of different maps and book though one that had a certain dark aura about it, one that often fell preceding a war.


"Well, you to have obviously come for some reason. How may I help you?" Breadon's question was a bit of a surprise to Walder and he completely ignored his comment about bread and salt, a foolish slight and one that he hoped Breadon would not continue with, as if Rory wasn't antagonistic enough.


"Out arrival precedes the coming of war, a war which you have started and a war that you cannot win, not alone. I brought Lord Rory on my way here from King's Landing so that mayhaps he could aid you in your coming endeavours and offer his support in the coming conflict, he is your brother after all and family should stick together, especially when in the wake of a storm"


@Archon @JustWhipIt

---

​

Lord Walder's Chambers, Riverrun, Westeros.


It was morning when Agnes finally arose, the sunlight flickering through the silken curtains of Lord Walder's chamber, allowing Agnes a moment of serenity before she was quickly placed back into into the stark truth of reality, standing before her the half naked form of Ser Rowan Tarly her new Lord Husband, approaching her with a look that may have been pity, to her surprise grabbing her dress by the straps and quickly pulling it downwards, the poor girl doing everything she could to keep it from falling from her shoulders and revealing her chest a startled look on her face. She motioned to speak, stopped only by the arrival of Rowan's brother Orion, the boy clearly trying to get a look at her over the top of her husband, all she could do was stare back wearily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and wondering bewilderedly what was going on.


As the two men spoke at the door Agnes turned her thoughts to the previous night both embarrassed and slightly ashamed of her actions, she hadn't meant to break down like that, nor to spend her wedding night crying like a child who had wet the bed, though at the time it had seemed like all she could do, helpless and alone, expected to offer her maidenhead to a man whom she had not laid eyes upon until that very same night, her eyes began watering just thinking about it though she knew that she could not let something like that happen again she must be stronger, especially if she were to spend the rest of her life with this man, locked up in Horn Hill, bearing his children.


She awaited for him to return, Orion Tarly leaving the room with a massive grin of his face, glancing at Agnes one last time, the trout, offering her naught but a frown and a slight glare, Rowan returning to her side for but a brief second before following him out, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and a few words, which though they were likely meant in jest and to comfort her, instead just sent a twinge of regret deep inside her, the poor boy thinks I hate him, she thought to herself, once again hitting herself for the previous night, and I have done nothing to show him that I do not.


"Ser Rowan..." She said timidly as the man began to leave the room, not even turning back to look at her "I... I'm sorry... I... I. Thank you, for last night, I promise that it shall never happen again..." He gave no reaction, Agnes feeling even worse about herself, rising from Lord Walder's bed and pulling her dress back onto her shoulders, composing herself before exiting the room and heading towards the breakfast hall, and wiping the tears away from her eyes, she needed to say goodbye to her family, this may be the last time she saw them in a long time.


@WanderingJester @Crimson smile

---

​

Riverrun, The Red Fork, Westeros.


The morning after the wedding of Ser Rowan Tarly and Lady Agnes Tully, Barba Bracken sat alone in the Lord's study, surveying a map of the Riverlands, moving a few wooden ships away from the the Seagard port and off of the table, discarding them into a large draw, she was not very happy about the previous night, though not due to her conversation with the Tarlys. Rather, her ire was directed at another, Ser Benjicot Tully, her own son, had signed that damned contract, and could have jeopardised the Riverlands already failing defences, sending men that they did not even posses down into the shit hole that was the Reach, allowing anyone and their mother to make a bid for Riverrun.


"Maester!" She called out to the elderly man, Maester Arthur knowing exactly what his Lady wanted, moving to find Ser Benjicot, delivering him to Lady Barba.


@National

 

[Archon]

Storm's End


Rory Baratheon


Rory had no choice but to follow his brother the rest of the way in silence, his mind wrestling with what drove Braedon to such hostility. Did Wendel and Astris despise him so, too? The man had never been overly sensitive, but learning his whole family potentially hated him left a bitter pit of sadness, and anger in his stomach. Braedon was almost an exact copy of Osmund, that worthless shit stain. Had the Mad King not butchered the fool, Rory would have done the deed decades ago - even in death, the man abused his rightful heir, by turning the rest of his family against him.


His attitude didn't improve over the journey, he couldn't fathom how idiotic Braedon could be, Rory had arrived to help; and the incompetent "Stag of the People" had spat in his face. His comment swirling through the eldest's mind as they walked throughout the halls of Storm's End. Any memory of this fortress was hazy at best, but the interior was far more comfortable, and grand than the Island dungeon of Dragonstone. Not to mention one of - if not the strongest - fort in Westeros.


Soon enough, the group entered what appeared to be some sort of study, a vast room of literature; books lined across the walls; many Rory was familiar with, particularly the books on warfare, and strategy - an unmissable view was also positioned before them, a large window which captured Shipbreaker Bay in all it's fierce glory. But what really made this room magical, was the longtable positioned in the center - a map stretching over it's entire surface - Rory had a nearly identical set-up in his own war room - only considerably more miserable.


Rory took his seat directly across from Braedon, this false Lord had no power over him, and he would make it known. The duo locked eyes, and Rory studied the doe, Braedon had every opportunity to begin discussing plans - yet his bitterness was unbound, and he had the audacity to ask 'Why' the duo had come? Braedon would go down in the history books as an incompetent commander, and even more incompetent diplomat - who got his whole family slaughtered due to pride, arrogance, and idiocy. Without the Tully host; the chances of winning this war were slim, and Braedon had dismissed not only Rory, but Walder.


Yet apparently, Braedon had less intellect than a dog, less than twenty minutes together and he'd not only insulted Rory once, but twice.


The elder stag almost spoke up 'Are you fucking touched Braedon? We're here to win your fools war, and you speak to me like some villain? I promise, if I were to kill you, your eyes would be wide open, pray you continue, and that day may be soon.' - but Walder beat him to it - his words ringing true, and less... Volatile, than Rory's might have been. Rory was not envious of Walder's peacekeeping task. And Rory's anger must have been clear as day.


His eyes bore in on his younger brother filled with disgust and rage, he felt betrayed. Had the two been alone, and not in a war against the crown - he'd have more trouble resisting the urge to dangle the man out of the window whilst demanding answers. That simple question of 'Why?' was just hanging on the edge of his tongue; Rory's duty was to fight for his family, as he saw it right now, this was not his family, never would be his family, and never were his family. None of them even tried... Not one Baratheon had ever wrote to him, nor visited him. Nobody had.


At this point, Rory was beginning to see the similarities between Osmund and Braedon.


Both were more fit to be jesters, than rulers.
​

@Hypnos @JustWhipIt

 

[Spacing Out]

Ibbenese Emissaries - Red Keep - King's Landing

​

"My liege, The Shadow King, sends us offering assistance in the inevitable war to come between the Crownlands and the Golden Company. Forty thousand warriors of Ibben and five hundred specialized cavalry are his offer. In return, all my king asks is for a sizable holding in the North and a cementing of the alliance. Of course, this alliance would come with every perk one would expect, including a call to arms should the Crownlands be threatened by another faction of some sort." The leading emissary stated after standing tall as he could, his chin slightly elevated. "I'm afraid I must convey. The Shadow King was quite adamant that the means to cementing the alliance be a marriage with one of your family. He would not explain why, but his reasoning is most often sound." The emissary at this point was somewhat nervous. A holding in the North was a fair enough offer, but kings and queens didn't often marry their siblings away so easily. A wasted journey, or perhaps a dangerous one if the queen took any offense to the Shadow King's offer. He was sure that wouldn't occur, but the Targaryens were known for their unstable sanity.

Queen Kuvira

Kuvira seemed quite interested at first.Forty thousand warriors of Ibben and five hundred specialized cavalry are his offer. Quite a large amount of men. Heavens knew how many of her plans she could subdue because of it. Sizeable holding in the north was understandable but what he considered was her question and a cement of alliance... hmm Interesting. When the dwarf clarified on what he truly met. She turned to him even more amused, she snickered before speaking, her tone both intimidating and intrigued. "Marriage huh? Quite a form of alliance don't you agree? And he wouldn't tell you specifically why? He does sound very interesting."

Her smile became more sinister as she continued to speak. " Sadly I don't have many sisters to offer so I have to make sure this alliance is do able. I will consult with my hands and get back to your 'king' on his offer. Thank you for attending, I know you must have had a long journey. eat, drink, indulge yourself until I have made my decision." She wasn't taking the offer as seriously as she should the shadow king didn't even care to present himself to her but she will get over it... hopefully. Hee younger sister Daenna was doing Heavens know what while she was sure Area was already planning Kuvira's downfall. If only she killed her, if only. But now Aera is casted away out of her grasp without her consent. She leaned towards the servant beside "I request that the grand maester be here immediately if you don't mind." The servant nodded before seeking him.​

@TheAncientCenturion

​

 

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


(Braedon Baratheon)


Braedon listened intently to Walder's words, which was more or less what he had expected. When he mentioned his brother though, his eyes found themselves wandering over to Rory. Family. As if. The man had done nothing but tarnish and bring shame to the Baratheon name. From what Braedon had gathered and the little that he was told in his earlier years, Rory had been the most blasphemous and destructive individual that Westeros had seen for years. Apparently, there were rumors of him planning to stage their father's death merely for the ownership of Storm's End. As such, it made perfect sense that Maeryn the Mad gave Rory the island of Dragonstone after he had been exiled by Osmund. Fortunately, Braedon was successfully sheltered from him, his older brother never having gotten to spread his influence. And he has returned, presumably wanting to "take back" Storm's End now that their father was dead. But Braedon wasn't about to let that happen - not over his dead body.


Nodding, the Stag looked backed at Walder. "I appreciate what you have done for me, Lord Walder. But I would feel guilty dragging you and your people into this conflict." Pausing for a second, Braedon took a brief glance at Rory before returning his attention to the Trout. "I would only ask of you to join me if you are willing to do so." His eyes were on Walder, but the message was aimed at Rory as well. Braedon wasn't sure why Walder was insisting on accepting his brother's help. He had no intentions of allowing Rory to get any closer to him, but still the lord stressed the suggestion that they should stick together.


Not long after his question, a faint knocking on the door could be heard. Opening the door halfway, Maester Barret took a step in the room, holding a letter up in the air. Not wanting to intrude, he waited by the door for somebody to come and receive the message. Braedon, neck angled so that he could look at the maester, was about to arise from his seat and take the letter from him. However, he had already been beat to it.


Storm's End, The Stormlands


(Wendel Baratheon)


"Allow me," Wendel spoke up, making his way out the door to greet the maester. Following him out the door, the two stood in the hallway out the room. Maester Barret handed him the letter, the seal still intact. The Lannisters. Initially, Wendel thought nothing much of the letter, believing it to be a reminder of what had occurred in King's Landing. "You still owe us, don't you remember?" It seemed like something Tiber Lannister would do, the sly dog that he was. Wendel admired the man's intelligence and cunning personality - it was a shame he hadn't gotten to talk to the lord at King's Landing.


Browsing through the contents, Wendel found himself bored by the details. It was an update of their upcoming wedding, a dull affair in his eyes. What did catch his eyes, though, was the postscript that supposedly Lord Tiber had added on to the end. He must have shown some sort of surprise, as the maester leaned in to peruse the letter himself, curious as to what had shocked the Baratheon. "What is it?" Maester Barret asked, having given up on trying to sneak a look at the parchment.


"Not much," Wendel responded. "The Lannister wedding has been moved up, it seems. Not the biggest of our worries at the moment, unfortunately." The maester only sighed in response, surely aware of what Wendel had been referencing. "And I do apologize for the other letters from before. You know how I am, Maester Barret."


"Yes, well I suppose you did save me from a trip to Lord Braedon's quarters," he joked. "Regardless, I must be off - I have other matters I must attend to." With that, the maester made his way to the other end of the hallway before descending down a flight of stairs. Alone in the hallway, Wendel's thoughts wandered back to the postscript of the letter.


"P.S. We've found a very beautiful lost young doe that had been separated from her family. We hope for every opportunity that her pack might return and we may reunite her with them. Until then, we intend to keep her safe within the hospitality of our home."


It could only have meant one thing - that Astris was in the hands of the Lannisters. She would be safe for the time being. He was relieved to discover that his sister was out of harm's way - but it was something he couldn't let his brothers know. Wendel shoved the letter into his pocket before opening the doors of the room, though not stepping inside. Instead, he poked his head in the room and put on a smile before looking to his brother. His eldest brother.


"Rory, a word in private - if you wouldn't mind?"


@Hypnos @Archon @WanderingJester


Relevant Letters

no slide​

To Lord Baratheon,​

We, the soon to be Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock, would like to first and foremost thank you for appearing for our day of union and celebration our new home. We would like to inform you of a change in the date of the wedding, and apologize for any inconvenience you might have due to it. The date of the our event have been moved up a month, due to the uncertainty of our current times and we trust that you may be informed so that you may arrange adequate transportation as well as RSVP to our updated invitation. We understand if the change in time prevents you from attending the ceremony and reception, to which we apologize again, but hope that the Seven will keep you well.


Our Regards,


Tiber Lannister and Leanne Brax.


P.S. We've found a very beautiful lost young doe that had been separated from her family. We hope for every opportunity that her pack might return and we may reunite her with them. Until then, we intend to keep her safe within the hospitality of our home.
​

​

 

[Huor Spinks]

To Grand Master Vladan,


It would be our utmost honour to welcome the Princess Aerea Targaryen as a guest to our castle home. We have no choice, however, but to admit that at this point in time, we are currently repelling attacks from the Ironborn on our coasts, though we are highly doubtful of the fighting reaching Highgarden. If, under these circumstances, Princess Aerea still wishes to reside in Highgarden, we promise to do all we can to ensure her safety and comfort. As for the marriage arrangements, we will consult with our Lord first, to determine his wishes regarding this matter.


Regards,


Arren Tyrell, Highgarden.

@TheAncientCenturion

 

[Archon]

Storm's End


Rory Baratheon


Rory breathed deeply into is palms, the hands covering his face as he willed himself to calm down as best he could. At the very least, Braedon had the dignity to thank the Trout for the offer of help, and though his words were sincere - they felt like a request to Walder, and only Walder; the dismissive look Braedon appeared to give Rory reinforced that belief. Yet Rory felt himself silently scoff, nonetheless. Whilst Braedon tried to act the dignified noble, it was clear-as-day that he had no qualms with drugging his own people into this conflict; without proper planning, proper allies, or proper commanders. Even the most foolish rulers would have married for power before a rebellion, yet here Braedon was - single and at war - a sure way to end a line.


Rory now questioned the plausibility of this meeting, it was doomed to fail. Every second here was another second of misery, and he had all the reason to leave right away - mayhap he would have - had the Maester of Storm's End not interrupted the meeting with paltry news. Perhaps over a wedding? A dull event, no doubt. And in a perilous time, but if Rory survived the reign of the new Mad Queen or the war for that matter he wouldn't mind settling down, with marriage. He'd been isolated on Dragonstone for so long that he'd almost grown roots to the damn place. It was doubtfully about a tournament in a perilous time of war like this, and anything more important than a wedding or tournament was urgent news.


Not several moments after these thoughts was Rory's attention taken to the reopening of the door a second time - revealing Wendel once again - his words, however, caught Rory off guard; and the elder brother felt himself revealing a surprised look, yet he obliged nonetheless. Rory would have lied had he said he wasn't glad to be asked of by Wendel, whilst Braedon thoroughly hated him; he maintained hope that his other brother was not the same.


Without a word to neither Walder nor Braedon, Rory took rise to his feet before exiting the room with more haste than needed - only when in the corridor did he truly realize how suffocating the atmosphere was within. With the door now serving as a shield for Braedon - if anything, Rory faced Wendel and didn't even bother trying to maintain a stone-faced charade, but allowed himself to sigh in exasperation, before he faced Wendel with a curious look. "You wish to talk with me?" He asked in a simple manner, his voice more curious than anything.
​

@JustWhipIt @Hypnos

​

 

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


(Wendel Baratheon)


Studying the other Baratheon's face, Wendel stepped closer to his brother, taking note of the sigh that he released. He couldn't blame the man. He didn't know what words Rory had exchanged with Braedon earlier, but their consequences were as clear as day. He could feel the tension in the air when the two were near each other, and Wendel was surprised that they hadn't yet exchanged blows. Nonetheless, he was still going to do everything in his power to try to improve relations between the Stags. Rory was a strategic genius, and family. While Braedon was more than willing to dismiss his brother, Wendel realized the importance of having Rory on their side. It was obvious that the Lord of Storm's End would never willingly accept his assistance. Of course, it just meant that Wendel had to take matters into his own hands this time. Upon hearing Rory's question, Wendel nodded in confirmation.


"Yes, indeed. It's nice - being able to talk to each other after all these years. How have you been, brother?" Giving the chance for Rory to speak, Wendel smiled and silenced himself, observing his brother more. It had been years since he last saw him - almost forgetting what he looked like completely. Unlike Braedon, Wendel didn't have anything against Rory. In fact, he always had a soft spot in his heart for the Raging Stag, both of them being the despised children of Osmund Baratheon. Needless to say, Wendel still had it a lot better than Rory.


Afterwards, Wendel spoke up once again. "Unfortunately, these are not the circumstances I had hoped for during our reunion. I must apologize for Braedon's behavior. I don't know why he is acting this way, though I'm sure our father had some hand in it." His words were true - he didn't know the cause of Braedon's hatred towards their older brother, but there was no doubt in his mind that good ol' Osmund was involved in one way or another. The man had a great influence over his second son, essentially raising Braedon to be his perfect son.


"But he is our brother. He may be a fool at times, but he is still our brother." Wendel knew that his words would mean nothing to Rory - a man who spent most of his life without a family. "I know you don't love him the way Astris and I do. And I will not ask you to. But the real reason I asked to speak with you..." Wendel's voice trailed off as he looked into the eyes of Rory, attempting to read any emotion that he displayed. A moment or two later, he continued.


"I will not ask you to fight for Braedon so that he may sit on the Iron Throne." Sighing, Wendel looked to the ground, his voice now softer and more vulnerable than before. "But I do ask that you will fight for our sister's sake." Wendel's eyes made their way back to Rory's now, attempting to make eye contact with his brother. "As you may know, she is being held in King's Landing, and I'm afraid to think of what they intend on doing to her."


"Please. She's our sister - our family. She has never wronged you, and I am certain that you still have a place in her heart. Don't let her take the fall for Braedon's actions," he explained. By now, he was completely into his act. It was rather convincing, if he did say so himself. "After she is safe, you are free to do whatever you wish. If you no longer want to side with our brother, I will not stop you. But I beg of you, Rory - think of Astris."


Stopping, Wendel gave the chance for Rory to respond, his thoughts wandering back to Lord Tiber's letter in his pocket. It may have been cruel, but it was the only way he saw that Rory would fight alongside them.


And to keep their family intact.


@Archon

 

[Hypnos]

Storm's End, Shipbreaker Bay, Westeros.


"Breadon Baratheon!" Walder looked at the man sternly, his gaze shifting for a second to the large oaken door to the side of the room, ensuring that the figures or Rory and Wendel Baratheon were far enough away so they could not hear his words, the elderly Lord speaking in a hushed tone "Is this truly how you treat your guest? Your own brother? I am sure that Lord Osmund is turning in his grave, Rory came here, a guest in your halls, prepared to offer his sword in your service yet you slight him as if he were some foul odour, a thief intending to steal the crown right from your head" He offered Breaden a disapproving frown, attempting to convey not only his irritation, but his concern for the man, he was still young, or at least in Walder's eyes, and had a long road ahead of him if he were to try and claim the Iron Throne of Westeros, he was a good man and just, and so was Rory, Walder just wished that they'd see the similarities in each other and realise that they were not enemies.


"I came here in your aid, in the memory of the good Lord Osmund of Storm's End, your father, you have not dragged me into anything I am not already prepared to undertak., Riverlanders are strong and hardy men, and fear not the wrath of the Dragon, they remember the kindness Lord Osmund has shown, and they remember the fury of the mad King, I fear I'd have a harder time stopping them from joining you than I would from allowing it. The Riverlords are your friends and they stand by, be it through peaceful resolution or through war" Walder didn't want war, nor had he ever wanted it, yet even himself, an old man whose prime had ended long ago could see the strangers face when it stared back at him, willing him to conflict. He wouldn't let Breadon fight alone, nor would he let him die alone, the boy was almost family to him, and he wouldn't fail his family, not like he had failed Osmund.


@Archon @JustWhipIt

 

[TheFordee20]

The Red Keep, King's Landing


"I will." Aerea echoed. Soon; everyone, including Grandmaester Vladan, left her. She was all alone in her sleeping quarter. Her sheets had been freshly changed by Kora, as the previous set had been painted with Aerea's blood and tears. Aerea walked over to the bed spread- it was red and white, an' laced with small cream circular patterns.


She stripped down until she was fully bare. The only part of her body covered was her hand, which was plastered with pale bandage. It is so cold.


She crawled into the bed and wrapped her body in the fresh linen. A candlelight, hung upon a wall, flickered. But, besides the burning, the room was sinister and dark. She buried her head in a pillow and prayed that she would get a good nights' rest.


Alas, she did not.


She awoke in the middle of the night. I am... so... cold. Aerea looked to see that she was no longer covered in patterned linens. Her bed cover had slid onto the floor. She wiggled across her bed until she was at its side, where'st she extended her arm and pulled the cover up off of the floor.


She covered herself with the blanket and closed her eyes, once more. She could not get back to sleep however. The deer...


She opened her eyes. Aerea didn't want to think about that. I didn't mean it.


The deer lost its head...





Aerea sat up. A dim ray of dawn peered through her windows. Her skin was wet with sweat, as was her sheets. She was breathing heavily, as well. It was a new day...


The River Gate, King's Landing


Dawn. Lord Hollis Tyrell sat on his horse, that was almost as heavy as he was. The horse was old an' grey. Hollis had a host of thirty or so men with him. They had stayed with him in King's Landing whilst his family headed for The Reach.


Ser Ferris Florent was beside him. His horse was a shade of brown and much younger than Hollis' elderly stead. They talked with, casually, one another as they waited for their host to all gather. As the sun rose into the sky- more and more men grouped up with Lord Hollis.


Finally, they had all arrived at The River Gate. "OPEN THE GATE!" A city watchman had called out. The River Gate opened with a long creak. Hollis hit his horse and it began a gallop.


"HOLD!"


The old stead slowed down. Hollis was panting, even though he hadn't moved an inch himself. How does my daughter manage to ride these things? Ser Ferris trotted up behind him. "Are you alright, my liege?"


Hollis nodded, somewhat frantically. As his host made their way down The Rose Road, Hollis found himself in deep thought about his daughter.


I shall find her a suitable husband when I arrive at Highgarden. Maybe Ser Martyn Lannister, or mayhaps she'd find happiness with one of Gelgin Arryn's boys. Hollis petted his horse as they passed a cluster of trees that looked as ancient as the old stead.


His thoughts turned to his eldest son, Arren. My other son is married happily. Whilst another serves happily in The Citadel. I must find wives for Arren, and young Darrin.


He loved his children.


They had made him all so proud. Eveleen, especially. She was married to a drunkard, but, you would never of known it with how she presented herself. Arren was a fine young man, as well. He will make a good lord when I am...


...


Lord Hollis' heart ached. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. "Lord Hollis, are you alright?" Ser Ferris asked.


Lord Hollis couldn't speak. He only groaned. "My lord?" Ser Ferris repeated. Hollis looked back at him, and then at the sky above him. It was a mixture of blue and orange.


He fell from the old stead and landed in the grass, with a thump.


"My lord!?" Ser Ferris' voice echoed.


Hollis' heart felt as if it would burst out of his armor. He grasped at the grass, pulling strands of it out. Men gathered around him and yelled out. He couldn't see any of their faces, only death...


The Black Cells, King's Landing


"LET ME OUT!"


Ser James Thorne yelled, his voice hoarse and rugged. He was sore all over. They cannot do this, I am a member of The Kingsguard. His armor was still on him, although it hadn't helped him much when his brothers beat him in-front of The Queen and...


That little red headed c*nt.


Ser James spat on the ground. He could barely see, so he was unsure if it was a spit filled with blood or saliva.


He screamed again. He felt so betrayed- by everyone. His commander and his brothers had bet him around like some little girl's doll. His Queen had ordered him to be beaten, in the first place. And the dragon he had fucked had lied and lied and lied and lied.


I will get out of here and I'll make sure Queen Kuvira puts her lying face on a spike. He collapsed to the hard ground, but he soon realized that the ground was covered in filth. Some of it his own. He had pissed himself after the first hour in his cell.


He perked himself up when he heard a rattle of keys. The door opened and several people stood around the doorway, each holding up a torch.


James' eyes stung as he laid them upon the flame. "Who..."


A frail man stepped forward. He was dressed in golden armor, like James was. Ser Warren Whent. "Brother." Ser Warren whispered. Warren Whent knelt beside James and held the torch close to his face. James shielded his eyes.


He is here to escort me to Baelor's Sept. Where I'll be beheaded. They both stared at one another for a long moment, before Warren pulled him up. James could barely stand. He had only spent a night in the cell, but it had already consumed him.


"I... I don't want to die." James choked as Warren pushed him out of the cell. "I'll do anything. I swear it."


James stumbled out of his cell and into a narrow corridor. The corridor was still dark, but, he could see Ser Warren's companions a lot clearer now. They all had blank, unrecognizable faces. However, James could tell by their clothing that they were commonfolk.


"Who are you?"


Ser Warren exited the cell, his torch still high. "You are free, brother."


James was in disbelief. Did Queen Kuvira grant me mercy, or ...?


"Who freed me, Ser Warren?" James asked, his voice broken. James had never once seen Ser Warren smile, but he did. He smiled a creepy smile. "We did, brother." Ser Warren lowered the torch and his face was engulfed in darkness.


"On one condition..." He added. James looked at Ser Warren, and then at the commonfolk who had joined Ser Warren. "You fight with us." Ser Warren Whent had begun, "When the people of King's Landing overthrow The Targaryen Dynasty."

 

[LittleWolfie]

Astris Baratheon


Casterly Rock
​

Everything since the coronation seemed like a blur for Astris. From the imprisonment to the rescue to her safe arrival at Casterly Rock. Somehow she didn't quite know what to think she really didn't. What was the Lannister's motive for rescuing her because it sure as hell wasn't for nothing, they had to want something right? The young doe was just wandering the foreign halls now,no clue what she should actually do with her time.


However as she walked, something was niggling at the back of her mind, a voice getting louder and louder each time she listened to it; why did her brothers never try to get her out? She had three older brothers and none of them had cared when she was imprisoned, hells two of them just straight up left her in King's Landing. Astris loved her brothers she really did, and it pained her to admit to herself the next part, but at this moment in time she wasn't completely sure she wanted to go back to them. How long was it going to be before she was left behind or forgotten again. Before she became just a casualty of the inevitable war that Braedon was going to start? Honestly, the lady Baratheon was starting to doubt whether her own family could protect her anymore and it killed her inside.

 

[Archon]

Storm's End


Rory Baratheon

Rory's eyes locked with Wendel's, the connection like a tidal wave crashing into a side-facing ship; he was suspicious of the immediate friendly attitude, figuring it was merely an act to secure his ships and soldiers. Had the older brother spoken to Wendel first, perhaps he would have thought differently, but Braedon had already twisted Rory's family view quite significantly, but even if the charade was just that; this was a welcome change of pace from the fool prizing himself King of the Iron Throne - this wasn't a damned fairy tale, as much as Braedon might believe, they could very well be marching to their death...


"I've been stuck on a worthless, shit-hole of an Island for years without word from a single soul in the Seven Kingdoms." Rory stated bluntly in response to Wendel's earnest, yet misplaced question. There was some hostility in his voice - Braedon had clearly hit a nerve earlier - and now Rory's own small anger against his family had protruded to the surface. Though Rory wasn't so quick to peg Wendel as being like Braedon, in fact he doubted anyone could be worse. Though that did not mean he would be receiving his other brother with open arms just yet; he made that fact known by staring at Wendel not unlike a patient statue - his face a mask hiding all emotion.


The next words were very much pointless, Braedon was no brother of his, and he certainly bore no love for the man. Perhaps he could have, had he'd been received differently; but all chance of a gentle reconciliation, and brotherly love were all but extinct. Rory couldn't help but scoff, however, at the remark to fighting so that Braedon may sit on the Iron Throne. That boy would be a terrible King, if Rory was to fight - it certainly wasn't for him - Wendel however, chose the right words to follow through with; because if Rory was to fight, it would be for the Baratheon name as a whole, that included Astris - and whilst he was happy to let Braedon march into a row of spears - it included that brother too.


Rory had no overpowering feelings for neither Wendel nor Astris, yet the crack in Wendel's voice proved he loved his sister dearly; Rory's sister dearly. A love Rory wished he had, it was no lie, Wendel had cornered Rory into a very difficult position with this plead for help; should he turn his back now it would be betrayal, and Astris did not deserve to die over the actions of an arrogant boy-king playing at war. All the same Rory's mask remained stone, but his heart had been moved - even if but a little.


As a man of justice, and honour, even had he wanted to, Wendel's words chained Rory to the war. For better or for worse, for victory or defeat. Rory wasn't even convinced Wendel was being completely honest, he had his suspicions this was the charade. Yet even if Rory was aware of this, it had worked. The possibility of it being genuine outweighed his potential paranoia.


"You place me in a difficult position, brother." There was no hostility in the words, but simply ushering 'brother' felt strange; unnatural even, as much as Rory wanted to, he felt no connection to Wendel - they could thank father dearest and his crowned son for that.


Revealing only the slightest hint of emotion through a small twitch upon the man's face, Rory faced the door once more - his posture now consisting of more power. He was in this to the end now, and if he had to beat Braedon blue for him to see sense, then so be it. "Come, we have battle-plans to discuss, preparations to be made, and no time to waste."
​

@JustWhipIt @Hypnos

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Red Keep


POV: Vladan
​

Shortly after sending the lord of Highgarden his message, Vladan felt an enormous weight drop upon him. The urgent desire to rest filled the elderly man, imploring him to swiftly return to his chambers. 'There's still much that needs to be done. . .' He told himself, but his feet kept moving. He was in good shape for a man his age, but his body tired all the same. 'It must be well past ten. I hadn't intended to be kept up for so long.' Vladan would apologize to Kuvira later. He wasn't sure what help he could be if he struggled to keep his eyes open. She'd want to talk for hours too, he suspected.


Arriving in his room, the Grand Maester wasted no time in dropping onto his bed. There he sat, collecting his thoughts as he looked about his room with indifference. The guards and servant women didn't bother straightening up after grabbing what he told them to. His chest was left open, with half a vial of nightshade spilled out. 'I'll clean it up when I wake.' Vladan never planned for such events to unfold, yet alone how quickly they had. The day was ludicrous. Lord Walder spoke so boldly many less gracious rulers would have his tongue, and the Stag of the People tried to name himself king. 'His sister is gone. Our last defense against his armies. . ' He was a man of the mind, which had conveniently been tuned for warfare. He would never easily admit defeat, but Kuvira asked not for any allies. 'Lord Gelgin's Vale Knights won't reach us in time, even if they were already mobilized. Lord Walder would see they stop along every river between his lands and King's Landing.' The Crownlands would be torn in two if Rory Baratheon declared for his younger sibling. Vladan had no idea why he wouldn't, either. 'We're defended by the brutes that wear golden cloaks. No, we're defended by paper shields and pens.'


The week itself was far worse than the day. Two out of the three princesses were almost lost, in an open courtyard. The assassin was bold, that was certain. 'Mayhaps Maeryn's passing wasn't the will of the gods.' He tried to ignore that possibility earlier. The old king being killed in the night was grim and would only start witch hunts. 'It's far too late for that.' He groaned, his body creaked as if old wood under stress. 'Braedon's claim is all due to that bastard.' His mind drifted to Viserys Waters. Vladan had been in the same keep as the lad for less then a year, before convincing him to go. 'Bribing.' He corrected himself. He was a nuisance, a corruption on the true born children. He tried to save them from his bastardly taint. 'I almost succeeded. . Corbis though. . ' He wished to think the name no longer. Viserys worried Vladan little, but his existence was a slight to the Targaryens of all ages. He looked far too similarly to Maeryn in his youth and spoke with authority where he had none. 'And now Braedon is using the words of a bastard to justify his succession. I'll bury them both, under a mountain of corpses.' He might lose the city, but not before destroying what remained of the Stag line. 'Astris must be found.' He thought darkly.


"Lord Vladan. . " A voice crept up on him. A young man, a servant no less, had opened the door without Vladan hearing it. It worried him how absent minded he was.


"What is it, lad?" He said the words with venom, he wished to be left alone with his thoughts.


He didn't speak up at first, aggravating the maester. "Her highness wishes to see you. . Immediately."


Vladan direly wanted to be done with the day. A reluctant sigh, and he stood. "I'll do as her grace bids." He was in service to the crown, if she needed his guidance, he would give it to her. The servant stood at his door until Vladan growled, scaring him off. He'd prefer to walk alone, the sounds of another's footsteps beside him might awaken a headache. The maester began to walk, first out the door and down the hallway, then up the stairs. He purposefully took the long way to the queen's throne room. It was to collect his thoughts. By the time he entered he found it dark, almost empty. Vladan took to one knee. "Your Grace, you called for your humble servant?" He rose after speaking the words, clearing the distance between them. "I bring ill news. . Astris Baratheon escaped. We know not how, but two gold cloaks were slaughtered by Astris' benefactors. Commander Cethann is scouring the city searching for her, along with preparing for a siege. . I thought it prudent to begin such actions." His lips thinned. "Aerea is a subject I'd like to discuss as well, your grace." Better to handle that quickly. 'Mayhaps the Reach will provide us shelter if we need to flee King's Landing. I'd settle for an army under Aerea's banners to avenge us, though.'


@Robyn Banks

 

[Elendithas]

Black Eyes - Blackwater Bay - Coast near Rosby

​

The dark of night around these parts was about as oppressive as it got, but the eyes of a band of pirates were tuned to it well what with all the restless nights at sea, either waiting for someone to try and kill you or waiting for someone to kill. T'was a hard life, but one that people like ol' Black Eyes enjoyed more than any other, especially the murdering and pillaging portion. Black Eyes was just kind of sitting in a stolen throne he got from a transport a while back. It was nice, but not quite the type of chair he was used to. Maybe a couple skulls could spruce it up, but that was for another time. Now he was waiting for his crew to send word about the status of that fishing hovel. "Oi! How far off be t' lads?!" He yelled to whoever happened to be on watch for the moment. "On their way back Cap'n!" yelled back one of the older crew members.


Standing from the modest throne which honestly was probably either going to be trashed or sold, Black Eyes walked with a heavy gait, the sound of wood on wood at every other step sending shivers down the spines of the newest crew. Leaning over the railing, he saw the rowboats coming back and latching on best they could to the side of the ship as the crew, some fifty men strong, lugged up recently filled boxes. "Awright lads! Crack 'em open and get t' dressin!" Black Eyes yelled out as he kicked one of the boxes over, the top breaking off to reveal it were full of peasant's clothing, enough for just over a hundred men, some having a few splotches of blood here and there. At Black Eyes' command, the men begun to strip and then dress again in the peasants' clothing, many looking physically disgusted at wearing such simple garments. "Back on the water wit' ye, ye've got a village t' help about wit'!" As far as Black Eyes was concerned, this was about as masterful as a plan could get, so failure wasn't even an option. He himself would be a part of the follow up raid after the decoy raid, getting to actually take what he wanted without much resistance and plenty of time to do it. "You!" Black eyes grabbed the nearest long-time crew member and brought him close. "Round up all th' newest crew 'n send 'em North o' Rosby. And be quick about it. Th' longer they're out there th' better they'll find out what they're up there fer." After a devious smile, the pirate went around the ship rounding up the newest members of the crew to send out as decoys. Given the life expectancy wasn't exactly high for the newbies, that number added up aboard all three ships was 80 give or take some.


It wasn't too long before the whole crew was ready and on their way to shore, the disguised members grabbing up the carts of salted and smoked fish from the hovel they had just emptied and heading to Rosby to act like they were selling to the locals. The decoy party was already on their way North without any idea as to why everyone in the group was new, and the other 160 of the remaining crew, bar a dozen to watch the ships, made for the outskirts of town to lie low. Black eyes had some trouble keeping up with the rest of the crew given his wooden leg, but his stamina despite his age made up for the speed detriment. Now all they had to do was wait for the decoys to draw some of the garrison away and have everything else fall into place.


@Leusis

 

[Leusis]

Tai Fang - Crownlands - Rosby

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The Young Phoenix boarded one of the small row boats alongside his captains, dressed in peasants garments just as about a hundred others were. His particular outfit was one that disguised him rather well, a large hood keeping his face hidden as his Yi Tish looks might make him suspicious and plenty of furs wrapped around him and his bow and quiver slung across his back to assure he looked his part, tthat being a hunter. He also carried with him a large sack of furs, all of which were taken from where Captain Swain kept all of his loot, each piece of fur easily being worthy of a lord.


Leaping from the front of the boat Tai was the first man on the beach "Follow me boys!" he yelled in a heavy accent as he began jogging towards Rosby, the hundred men dressed as peasants following behind him. It was only a quick jog up a gently sloping hill and then the sight of Rosby Castle was upon them, small in comparison to most of the stronger houses but still fairly formitable, just as all Westerosi castles were, but easily infiltrated. Taking his men they slowly walked their way into the village surrounding the castle in an extremely loose formation, resembling a random rabble of peasants more than anything, which was the point. It was from then on that they all began spreading out through the village, slowly trying to weasle their way into the castle in various ways.


Tai specifically simply walked through the gates, being searched by the guards for any weapons. Unable to find the dagger he had hidden away in his pants they attempted to take his bow. But at this he simply gave a single fur to each guard, both of them seeing its quality and knowing they were worth a dragon a piece. Taking a few laps around the entirety of the castle Tai was able to spot nearly fifty of his men within the castle already even though it had only been about three hours since they arrived. It was also around that time that nearly half the damned garrison was gathered by the northern gate and marched out in the defense of a larger village some ten miles north. Whoever the lord of this place was, he was smart in assuming such a large force could destroy a pirate band nearly half its size. But at the same time he was a fool, sending what was likely half of his protection off to kill some pirates that would likely only require two thirds of what was sent.


It was from then on that Tai simply began selling his furs to the rich courtiers of the castle and surrounding lands, making quite the killing if he said so himself. It was after waiting an hour and a half when Tai noticed a group of about ten of the pirates pass by, the leader of the small pack nodding to Tai, essentially telling him it was time to begin the slaughter. Smiling and throwing one of his furs to the man he would shout "And the last of my furs goes to the beggar son of a whore!" his accent now hidden behind his best Crownlands impression. The courtiers finding much amusement in his words laughed loudly before leaving the area.


It was at this time that Tai slowly made his way to the door of one of the walls towers, leaning against it he slid a small piece of metal in its lock. Jiggling his hand around violently for a few moments there was a quiet crack as the lock fell from the door. Catching it in his free hand Tai would look around for a moment before entering the tower. Pulling his bow from his back and his dagger from his pants and placing it in his belt he would nock an arrow before proceeding up the stairs slowly. Only when he reached the final flight of stairs did he notice two men standing in the tower talking to each other. Drawing his bowstring back he let the arrow fly through the air with a slight whistle before it penetrated the man on the lefts neck, sending blood spraying on the mans fce in front of him. Sprinting up the stairs Tai would pull the dagger from his belt, tossing it to the second man before he even had a chance to make a sound. Sliding between his ribs the man fell to his knees trying to take a breath to scream with no luck as his lung had been punctured and was currently filling with blood. The only sound he could make was a quiet gurgle as Tai pulled the blade from his chest and began thrusting it into his neck several times. Sending blood sparying onto his peasants clothes Tai would speak softly to the man as he layed him down on his back. "You have very pretty eyes" he said with a wicked smile, as if he didn't even realize he had just looked directly into a mans eyes as life faded from them.


"Son of a bitch" he said quietly to himself as he looked down to see his chest and stomach splattered with blood "These were my finest silks" he spoke with a snicker before nocking another arrow. "Quick hands" he said as he shook his shoulders lightly, drawing his arrow back and firing at a man standing in the tower on the other side of the south gate of the castle. Having nocked his second arrow by the time his first has pierced the skull of the first guard he would draw his bowstring back once more, loosing and arrow into the second guards throat before he could let out a single shout.


Chuckling for a moment Tai would speak "The way these Westerosi bastards fall lacks so much flare. At least twirl before you die!" he shouted. The pirates near the southern gates looking up in confusion as pirate walked up behind them, pulling daggers from their belts and cutting the mens throats before they even knew what was happening. It was only seconds later that nearby screams began to make their way to Tai's ears as a smile spread across his face. "They go to meet the Lion of the Night" he spoke softly to himself before he looked over the edge of the tower, spotting several guards being stabbed to death as they passed peasants only to find out they were just more pirates, like wolves dressed as sheep. Killing the garrison was incredibly easy from the looks of it, as they were all scattered and weak because of it. Each of them only serving as mobile armories for Tai's men, as each one that fell simply granted a sword or spear to the pirate that slayed them.


Taking the spear from one of the dead men in the tower Tai would quickly make his way down the stairs, bursting out of the door at the bottom. With a quick thrust he planted the spearhead in a young mans chest that ran by. Placing his boot on the mans face he shoved him onto the flat of his back to dislodge the spear, leaving him gasping for breath as tears streamed down his face. To Tai the man was a cowards if he was anything, unable to face his death with honor and thus not deserving the mercy of a quick thrust to the skull. Running deeper into the castle Tai could see pirates storming the tops of the towers on the walls only to throw them men on guard to the ground some thrity feet below with loud crunches. From what it seemed deeper in some twenty guards had hid away in the Great Hall of their lord, barricading the entrance as pirate hacked away at what guards remained outside and the peasants as well, each of them clawing at the doors as they screamed for help. Infact some of the pirates decided instead to drag off a few ladies into a nearby building to do gods knew what to them. But this did not bother Tai even though he did not take part in it, as this was the pirates way, and trying to explain why he didn't like it was likely to only get a dagger planted in his guts.


@Elendithas