Fandom A Game Of Thrones : THE EXALTED COUNCIL - RP

[Braddington]

King Daeron III Targaryen
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm​

As he looked into Visenya’s eyes once more he saw it again, the need to win and the need for action. Losing would not be an option, it would not just be him who was punished but Visenya and all of his current supporters. If he was going to lose he will not slink off to go die in Essos or freeze at the Wall, if he was going to lose it was going to be sword in hand wearing a crown that was rightfully his. Now was the time to act, for if he didn't they wouldn't last long. “We will Visenya, I promise you that we will.” Something in him felt rather at home in the assertiveness and confidence with which he rarely spoke, this meant more however, what he said he would uphold. An interruption came in the moment as Lord Grafton entered the room, Daeron and Visenya quickly sat down in their respective seats as Lord Grafton did the same. Daeron barely knew Lord Grafton, he was just as normal as the other Lords when they spoke, which was neither an explicitly good or bad thing. He didn't look down on him for it however, how could he? If he did that he would be cursing almost all of the Kingdom he now claimed to rule. More than that he needed Lord Grafton, his fleet would be a huge boon in the war to come as would his money, both of which he had plans for, plans that would soon be revealed when the others arrived. Plans he had spent hours looking over whilst locked in his room. Plans that came with great risk. “I am well, Lord Grafton, thank you for your concern. The journey and Harrenhal left it's mark on me to be sure but I feel better now.” A lie, he had not felt entirely well for weeks, not that he could openly say so to his vassals. They needed him strong so he had to act strong, no matter how much of it was a lie.

Next to enter the room was Lord Commander Royce who regarded the King with a bow before making his way to the seat next to him, Lady Arryn being rather sick. Royce looked up to Daeron with a concerned eye before hiding that concern “I am ready to serve, your Grace. I meant what I said at Harrenhal, you are my King and as Lord Commander of your fathers Kingsguard I will serve in whatever role you require of me. I pledge my life to yours, from this day until the end of my days.” Daeron grasped the mans shoulder, much as he did to Daeron on that faithful day “I thank you for it, Ser Royce. You honour me with your presence and support. You were always my favourite as a boy, father never made a better choice as King than naming you his Lord Commander. You are worthy of the cloak you now where, unlike that bastard Gawen Tyrell." Even the thought of Tyrell made his blood boil, no matter how this ended he would make sure Tyrell didn't make it to the other side. The man responsible for war would die in it, just as Ser Criston Cole had done before him. “But he doesn't even deserve to be named in the same sentence as you. His name blackens the White Book.” Royce simply nodded solemnly to Daeron, a hint of shame hitting his face as Gawen was mentioned, the man he once called brother.

Then came Lord Orson Redfort who took a seat opposite Lord Grafton. Orson was a peculiar figure for Daeron, certainly a rarity amongst the Lords. He only properly knew him by reputation but he seemed to be a good man, once mocked for that very thing which in Daeron’s eyes elevated him above the rest. Something told him that he should keep the Lord close, if for no other reason than he seemed like a man who could be trusted. Still, he would observe the Lord first before making any true judgement, after all reputations are not always true or reliable. Jocelyn Baratheon being a prime example of this. Daeron did not have time enough to exchange words however before the 5th, and for now final member of his small Council arrived with his brother in toe.

With a limp came Lord Robert Rosby, and behind him in an exhausted state was his brother Ser Steffon. As they came in Daeron could feel nothing but sadness for them, for him their father now laid dead and Lord Robert would never fight or even run like he once was able. They wouldn't be forgotten, Daeron could not forget them. Ser Steffon had rode hard with almost 1,500 loyalist men and Daeron had promised him a reward for his loyalty, a reward he would soon receive in full. Ser Steffon sat next to Lord Redfort and Lord Robert took a seat next to Lord Grafton. With that everyone had arrived and Daeron stood, ready to formally begin.As he looked over the war table in front of him he looked around at the assembled Council and imagined his father doing the same, how did he do it so easily? So happily? Even breathing seemed hard in this moment. He had to be calm, he had to lead them. And with that he began, taking a deep breathe he welcomed them all.

“Welcome my Lords. I thank you all for being here today at this time and I thank you for the confidence and trust you have placed in me as King. First I have two things that must be done. The announcing of the legitimisation of my sister as a full Targaryen will all attended rights of the same, including the title of Princess and the reward for Ser Steffon Rosby. Ser Steffon, please step forward.” Steffon Rosby stood and walked over to the King, unsure about what was going to occur. “I promised a reward and I wish to deliver, through his tenure your father spoke highly of your skills and your love for heroes of old. I now offer you the chance to be one of those heroes with a place on my Kingsguard. What say you, Ser?” Daeron pondered for a second, he was speaking like a King, a true King. It felt right in a weird way, for but a small time he could understand why men so desired the position but enjoy it as he might the doubt lingered, it always fucking lingered. Ser Steffon dropped to one knee averting his gaze. “Your Grace, you honour beyond imagining. As a boy I dreamed of those who wore the cloak, I wanted to be one of them. If you wish to honour me in this way I shan't refuse you, damn right I won't.” Daeron couldn't help but smile at his humble eagerness, everyone was so...enthusiastic in their convictions, Daeron wondered for a second if it was good or bad he was not like that. Daeron drew his sword and layed it on Ser Steffons shoulder before reciting what he remembered of the oath “Do you swear to protect the King and his family from all threats known or unknown?”, “I do", “Do you swear to follow the orders of the King with unwavering conviction?”, “I do", “Do you swear to keep the Kings secrets until the grave and protect the Kings honour against those who bring dishonour?”, “’I do!”, “Finally, do you swear to lay with no other, father no children and hold no land?” “Yes, your Grace, I swear it on the Seven.” Daeron lifted the knight from the floor and rapped a white cloak around his shoulder. Ser Steffon Rosby was now Ser Steffon of the Kingsguard. “Thank you for your loyalty Ser, Lord Commander Royce shall no doubt walk you through your new duties. For now however, please take your seat.”

Next came appointments and plans. First, the only title he would bestow today for Lord Grafton. “Lord Grafton, you and your fleet are integral to my plans in this coming war. You are to be named Master of Ships with control over the fleets of the Vale and the North. Lords Redfort and Rosby, you will be by my side during this war as my seconds. Ever close to advise on the battlefield. I want you close as well Visenya. For now I will hold off naming the Hand of the King as I wish too consult with the two candidates in my mind, Lady Arryn and Lord Stark.” With each word he grew more confident, eager even. It was a rather foreign feeling. “I also wish to inform you that I have written to the Golden Company seeking their aid. Them joining would be a great boon.”

Daeron stood and laid pieces on the table before him, 4 knight figures laid on the Eyrie representing 10,000 men each. A few ship figures also lay next to Gulltown. Daeron moved the knights through the Bloody Gates and to Darry. “First we leave as soon as we can with haste, 40,000 men will ride with us with 11,500 left for coastal defence. These 40,000 will be directly under mine and Lady Arryns command. We must rush the Green Fork and cross to Darry as soon as possible, we can't afford to wait.” Daeron then split one figure off from the rest “Once Darry has fallen, I and Lord Redfort will lead 30,000 men to take Harrenhal whilst Lady Arryn and Lord Rosby will take Maidenpool with 10,000. Where Lord Grafton will be ready" Daeron looked to the Lord and began moving the ships to block any escape from Maidenpool. “You will block them in, prevent their navy from fleeing and once Lady Arryn takes the city you will combine their fleet with yours. If it seems the Royal Fleet is near you may pull back.” Daeron then moved to the North. “Meanwhile Lord Bryce will lead 10,000 men through White Harbour and to the Vale, where they shall march to join us and thus secure our entrenched position. His other men will advance to the Twins. If the Golden Company joins us our numbers will be bolstered even more. We must also consider the possibility of the Ironborn joining or joining against us.” Daeron collapsed back down into his seat, the plan he had worked on for hours and hours was now laid bare before them. He hoped his hours of anti-social behaviour reading histories would pay off now. “What do you all think?”

Daeron sat worried for a second, anticipating a bad reaction to his plan, maybe he shouldnt be leading? Perhaps it was best left to those with experience. Still he didn't speak, he waited for a reaction.

TheFool
clarinetti
ailurophile
Rusty of Shackleford (kinda)

 

[Nightblade]

Selene Mallister
The Watcher of the Sea
​

Selene walked on leaving the men behind her. The Castellan was about to speak when a boy ran to her.
Looking down at the lad, she accepted the letter before sending him on his way. Opening the letter she
took a read through the contents.

No movement from the Iron Islands or the Westerlands, they would be the ones tipping the balance here[/FONT]

Looking thoughtful, she drew up the alliances in her mind, dividing out the great houses and found them more
or less equally divided. This was going to be a disaster.

Turning and heading back to the wear, she called for the Maester while formulating plans in her mind.
She would protect her lands and her people if necessary. She thought of the numbers she could call. The immediate
threats were the Iron Born and the forces of Daeron Targaryen.

She wondered how Frey would handle that particular situation. Conscription was introduced and sent out by raven.
Any man willing to fight would be given arms training and paid along with their families given shelter from the war in Seagard.
With a sigh, she new she had not the strength alone to push any of the claimants.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jon Baratheon
The Silent Stag
​

Jon headed for the training grounds to get some practice in. He kept in mind that he would have to speak
with Jocelyn and Alexander later, regarding contingency plans. For now he just wanted to work up a sweat.
Feeling the summer sun on his face, he looked at various Dornish, Crownlander, Stormlander and some Westerlords
swinging swords in training.

Calling on a squire, he readied himself for a fight. Just before he began he decided to himself he would treat himself
to a whore and some wine that evening. With a un-nerving grin he began his bout, letting out his frustration in his swings
but remaining cool headed to know not to make a mistake. He eventually beat the squire, but took the time to help the lad
up and compliment him on what skill he did have.

Jon was leaving the sparring area when he sent one of his "people" to send a discreet message to Willam Lannister and offer
him an invite to Jon's chambers that night under the pretense of having a catch up from when they were lads together in the
capital

Mentions:
Yarrow - Willam
TheFool - Jocelyn
JPTheWarrior

 

[Little-Fox]

Anaya Uller
King's Landing - During the Council Meeting
​

As Elaena and her Council met, Anaya followed Lucas deeper into the city in an apparent search for whoever the hell 'Brune' was as Lucas had been tasked with helping him. Of course, she was just a tag-along, the flowing fabric of her dress marking her as a Dornish Lady with it's bright coloring and her own general appearance. "A war is coming, I think... with what happened at Harrenhal, I don't see any way of avoiding one and even if Queen Elaena didn't call for it I think Prince Qoren or at least Ryden would." Her tone was almost passive as she spoke, a sort of off-handedness one tended to have when speaking about something they didn't care too terribly much about because their mind was on something else entirely. She was looking around, but she didn't seem keen on focusing on anything or anyone in particular, perhaps she truly was lost in thought.

Dread-neck

 

[Little-Fox]

Willow Stark
Winter's Flower Waiting to Bloom​

"Uncle Brandon!" She nearly jumped out of her skin as he spoke, startling her out of her rather anxious reverie. "It's good to see you and Benjen. It's been a while." She offered a polite smile as she moved to file the parchment into the wooden case. "Can I get you anything? I know the... the Lords were...er... are supposed to be coming to... to visit... but they haven't come in yet... Maybe something to drink or eat?" She'd always been the quieter of her siblings and just like her father, she could at times border on being a shy thing or a nervous wreck. Here her anxiety was in full display despite her pleasantries, a desperate need to task herself with something to calm herself.

WaitingCynicism

​

 

[WaitingCynicism]

Willow Stark
Winter's Flower Waiting to Bloom​

"Uncle Brandon!" She nearly jumped out of her skin as he spoke, startling her out of her rather anxious reverie. "It's good to see you and Benjen. It's been a while." She offered a polite smile as she moved to file the parchment into the wooden case. "Can I get you anything? I know the... the Lords were...er... are supposed to be coming to... to visit... but they haven't come in yet... Maybe something to drink or eat?" She'd always been the quieter of her siblings and just like her father, she could at times border on being a shy thing or a nervous wreck. Here her anxiety was in full display despite her pleasantries, a desperate need to task herself with something to calm herself.

WaitingCynicism

​

Benjen smiled at his niece as Brandon squeezed his hand. "Aye, it has been a while. Guard duty has been busy with all the shite goin' on here. The lords and whatnot." Brandon smiled at Willow as well, glad to see his niece was doing well, even if she was as nervous as he was. "Some Mead and roast chicken with potatoes would be nice, if we have any in the kitchens."

Little-Fox

 

[Little-Fox]

Willow Stark
Winter's Flower Waiting to Bloom
​

She seemed to relax a little with the reply and nodded. "I'll see what I can find. If Aragelle didn't finish it off by now,there should be some left from a night or two ago that should still be good. I'll see if I can heat it up... are you both hungry?" She started to hope that they really did have enough, though she was certain if not she could get some chicken from the larder and give it a go. The mead would of course be a rather easy acquisition.

WaitingCynicism

 

[WaitingCynicism]

"I think we could both use some food. After that, there's something we'd like to talk to you about privately if that's alright, away from the other Lords." The two men quietly sat down, as Benjen smooched Brandon quickly on the cheek, making sure the coast was clear.

 

[Little-Fox]

Willow Stark
Winter's Flower Waiting to Bloom
​

Stormy blue eyes blinked in surprise as he said he wanted to speak with her privately, a faint sense of dread stirring deep as she nodded, her smile returning as they exchanged their brief kiss. "Alright. I think father is just outside with mother... I will try to be quick about the food, I just hope not to have to make it from scratch." I just hope it isn't something terrible... I have too much I don't understand right now that I'm trying to cope with. This courtship with Daeron... what it means if we do get married... The possibility of her becoming Queen worried her. She was nervous, shy... how could she fill that role without disgracing it? "I'll hopefully just be a moment or two..."

WaitingCynicism

 

[WaitingCynicism]

Brandon smiled at her as she suddenly seemed somewhat upset and confused. "Willow... it's nothing about you - it's about Benjen and I. And if there isn't any chicken, just get whatever you do have for both of us along with some bread." He hoped his niece would be alright.

She had been so far.

Rusty of Shackleford Little-Fox

 

[ailurophile]

l y a n n a bb s t a r k

though lyanna still had her bow in her hand, she hadn't raised it to shoot since target practise the day before. there were more interesting things to occupy herself with, her companions for one-- her sister, aregelle, who of course she loved, and leona bolton, whom was slightly older than her and therefore was a focus of admiration for the stark girl at present. she'd found herself watching leona's graceful movements, noting her keen eye. intriguing.
they'd lost her temporarily, lyanna and aregelle. it hadn't been intentional, they'd wandered off while leona was still preoccupied with hunting, and hadn't realised she wasn't with them until they were out of sight. so they'd stopped, lyanna leaning against a tree to adjust her dress and fix her hair. fortunately, leona soon emerged from the foliage.
"a wolf? you needn't worry. i could beat any attacker with my bare hands." she boasted, tossing her head proudly, although the glint in her eyes and the curl of her lips betrayed the fact that she was joking. lyanna stark was small, dainty, and had the hands of somebody who only really used them for needlepoint. "apologies for losing you. i really did think you were right behind us."
as she spoke, lyanna moved away from the tree and instead moved over to smile and slip her arm through leona's.
"are we still following our own path? or have we been boring you terribly, and you'd rather rejoin the party?" with a laugh, she raised an eyebrow, followed by a mischievous wink, "remind me to have a little conversation with a few of them at some point. i'm growing awfully lonely."




Braddington @TheTraveller

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Lord Balthazar Darklyn
Hand of the Queen

The Red Keep - Council Chamber

With two final arrivals, one more familiar than the other, the duel Queens decided it was an appropriate time to start the council meeting. Lord Baratheon, brother to the queen, was not a complete stranger like Prince Martell. For that cause, Balthazar gave him a warmer greeting. Seeing young Lady Cyrenna, the Mistress of Whispers, stay loyal to their court and show her presence gave confidence to Balthazar. He gave Cyrenna a greater greeting than that of either Martell or Baratheon. The two were veterans of King Aegon's small council, he trusted her more than almost anyone else gathered here. It was particularly good to see Cyrenna align herself with Queen Elaena, she was an intelligent and resourceful woman. Either Baelor or Daeron would kill to have her in their service. 'All the better. The more allies we gain, the better the odds are that Baelor and Daeron will back down.' Unfortunately, Grand Maester Harren was no where to be seen, nor was the Master of Ships. This made matters difficult, the small council likely reflected the shattered realm. At the Queen's command, the meeting began. Letters were distributed, starting with the queen's brother, Alexander, as each noble read their contents before keeping the information flowing. By the time the first letter reached Balthazar, the stuttering lord already heard of their contents. Lord Vaemond was on a spree, attacking the Brunes in the name of Elaena. 'Our captain of the city watch is a Brune.' Balthazar remembered. The next was worse. 'Oh. You fool.' Darklyn thought remorsefully. Pia Piper and Ryman Tully declared for Baelor. This would only encourage the Paramount of the Reach, knowing another noble house backed them. 'At the very least, they informed us.' By the words of Queen Jocelyn, the letter somehow made it to King's Landing instead. If they only sent one, then by the Seven, Balthazar may be able to persuade House Tully to remain loyal.

A jarring pause in the action, Balthazar and the other lords and lady were torn from their thoughts by Queen Jocelyn. Each person in attendance would be getting a proper place on the Small Council. Darklyn's eyes shot to Gawen Tyrell. Son of a good friend, butcher of another. 'Jocelyn, please. Let my mind torment me on false fears, just this once.' The hammering of the Hand's pin quickly drew his attention.

Symond's pin.

It started with Lady Cyrenna, her position as Mistress of Whispers being reinstated. Predictably so, she was good at her position. Darklyn expected himself to be named next, with his position as Master of Coins held intact.

But it was Qoren Martell, Prince of Dorne, who was named to his old post.

Bewildered, Balthazar tried to remain composed. He snuck glances at Qoren from the corner of his eye, feeling a cold dread twist in his stomach.

Brother to Jocelyn, Great Uncle to Elaena, Alexander Baratheon became Master of Law. As eyes turned to the newly appointed Law Keeper, Balthazar's twisted in the opposite direction. They fell on a chair not yet occupied, forsaken in the meeting. Lord Rosby's rightful place, empty, and in need of filling.

Any anger Balthazar might've felt at Gawen's appointment melted at what was to come. Darklyn was no dull man, even if his expenses were greater than they should've been, he spread influence with each silver stag, he was not half the oaf people thought him to be. Only one spot was left now, only one man in the chamber room without appointment. Darklyn slowly turned to look at her grace.

"Lord Darklyn," Emotions cultivated in his chest. "You were a great friend to my grandfather. And a great friend to the previous hand. You are a wise lord whose counsel I will forever value." As the Queen spoke, Darklyn's eyes fell to the table. The golden pin lying on it, next the empty chair at the council meeting. A maelstrom rumbled inside him, anger, sadness, rage, and most of all, disbelief. Coming from a house no greater than at least fifty others, cursed with a tongue too large and a body too small, Balthazar struggled to believe what was happening. He, of all people, not the handsome Lord Lannister or the gallant Lord Stark, was being awarded this. . . This.

"I ask you to guide me throughout my reign by being my most trusted adviser. Thus, I name you The Hand Of The Queen." With her words, the badge was on his chest.

Elbow to the table, hand smothering the lower part of his face, Balthazar remained stunned for a moment. Were he on his own, Balthazar would be crying. Already, he felt tears sting his eyes. Throughout all of Balthazar's life, he never craved power or strength. Lord Darklyn was starved of one thing. Recognition. After six long decades, Darklyn felt a strong sense of pride, accomplishment even, flow through him. Attempting to pull himself together, Balthazar forced himself to look at Queen Elaena. "I-I. . .I-I'm overwhelmed, your grace. I. . I hope I can serve you to my fullest."
​

 

[diwa]

Aregelle Stark
"Winter is Coming" ​

Hunting. It was the most fun thing she did ever since Winterfell was filled with visitors. Their home was quiet most of the times, not that Aregelle minded but sometimes it can be tedious. And apart from playing tricks on her sisters, she has got nothing else to do. Reading is always fun and walking in the woods as well but sometimes she longed for some excitement in life. Aregelle remembered when she begged her mother and father to send her to the Capital. She read that King's Landing was a very magical place. Colorful even. Unlike Winterfell where everything is grey, black and white. The girl loves Winterfell but she just wanted a change of scenery. She remembered throwing an ungodly tantrum but her request was still turned down. And her parents just ended up giving her a doll. A thing Aregelle resented but she came to love it and forgotten the whole trip to the South.

As soon as they were ask, albeit in secret, by Lady Bolton, Aregelle didn't hesitated and just grab her horse, of course along with her sister, Lyanna then followed the crowd towards the forest but the girls went on a different way and their party is led by Leona Bolton herself. She’s never been on a hunt before. It's always Theon along with their father who accompanies their men to this sort of thing but Aregelle knew one must need stealth, speed and an agile mind to hit their targets. She figured Theon got two out of the three traits needed in hunting and yet he still can bag at least a deer or a buck that she thought everything will be easy. As it turns out it was harder than it looks.

Lyanna and Aregelle followed Leona but they lost her for a moment. Aregelle ended up adoring her surroundings instead, and occasionally trying to spot a bunny that they can track but everything is quiet though she still had her own bow ready. She had her back turned when suddenly she heard a rustling sound and was about to fire her arrow when she saw Lady Bolton emerging from the bushes. Sadly, empty handed. But despite their failure, Aregelle can't help but smile and so did Lyanna.

"A wolf? you needn't worry. i could beat any attacker with my bare hands." She heard Lyanna retorted at Leona and Aregelle just rolled her eyes before replying, "Yes, and Grumpkins and Snarks along with the White Walkers will dance at your victory, sister." Aregelle giggled softly but her voice is loud enough to echo in their quiet surroundings.

She had no idea on what to do next for she was an inexperienced tracker but the girl was quiet happy just to get out of the walls of Winterfell that she doesn't care where Leona will lead her. "I reckon your cousin would love to talk to my sister, Lady Bolton." Aregelle said with a sly smirk, completely understanding what her sister meant. "What was his name again? Rickon? Robert? Rycherd?" the girl tried to rack her brains but she really can't remember the name, dismissing it, she just added "Either way, you should introduce him to her. My sister can be very persuasive in these kinds of talks. But if he’s not interested, I saw some other fair faces, Lyanna. What about that Karstark? Or perhaps if we ever saw the Reeds you might give them the talk?" Aregelle teased. “Or maybe we should ride down South with them? And meet a Stag or a Lion perhaps?”

ailurophile TheFool

 

[TheFool]

Leona Bolton
Red Queen


​

Leona laughed. “As boring as you are, Lyanna, you need not worry. My brother and his men are more so.” She smiled at the girls. She was a few years their elder but, still, she enjoyed their companionship. Lyanna was a sweet reminder of what Leona herself was like at seventeen. The similarities are striking. She fixed the strap over her shoulder that held up her salmon coloured quiver. Hells, the only difference is that I’m not kissed by fire. Leona thought to herself as her eyes caught sight of Lyanna’s red hair.
“I reckon your cousin would love to talk to my sister, Lady Bolton.” Aregelle commented, her hair equally red. It took only one moment before Leona realised who she was talking of. Aregelle began listing off names. As if she has forgotten.
Leona grinned a devious grin. “You mean my dear cousin Rycherd Whitehill? A scar on his upper lip. His hair a beautiful blonde, like mine. That Rycherd?” She turned around to look at her brother’s hunting party who stood beyond a few clusters of forest. Leona’s eyes found Rycherd. She was four when he was born at Highpoint. But, she remembered it well.
My mother was ever elated. She stared at the hunters. I don’t think I have ever seen her happier. Leona turned back to the Stark girls.
Aregelle was talking about potential partners for her sister. The mention of Karstark led Leona to thinking of Calon. I miss him.

“And meet a stag or a lion perhaps?” Aregelle said. Leona giggled at the thought. “Yes please. I cannot stand these Northern brutes. Give me Gawen Tyrell or Jon Baratheon or Tyland Lannister and I will be delighted.” Leona said, her voice filled with a humorous tone.
“Maybe even Lucion Marbrand or… what was his name… Addam Osgrey? Even with their wives, I would take them in a heartbeat over the giants and hunchbacks we have here.” Leona jokingly placed the palm of her hand on her heart and swooned. “Perhaps we should add a dash of Dornish spice and go court Steffon Dayne. I hear that his Valyrian steel is not the only reason they call him The Sword Of The Morning.”
Leona laughed at her own words and then placed her hand to her head as if she was about to faint from the sheer perfection of the names she had mentioned.

Spoiler: MENTIONS

ailurophile
High Moon
Hypnos
Rusty of Shackleford
diwa
Whisker
Grammatic
@HunterHomies

 

[TheFool]

Tyland Lannister
Lion Of Lannister


​

Tyland Lannister and his group were led by The Stag through the streets of King’s Landing. When he first caught sight of the king’s castle, he grinned. The Red Keep. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Tyland shouted back to Roland, who rode behind him and Willam.
“I’ve seen prettier.” He responded. His horse neighed. Tyland shook his head before saying, “I don’t know, Roland. I’m sure many a man want to call this castle their home.”
“Including your fair arse ‘tseems.”
Tyland chuckled.
I can name two anyway. Baelor Tyrell and Daeron Waters. Or, should I say Daeron Targaryen now that he carries that name for himself. He thought of the time that they talked with one another outside of Harrenhal by The God’s Eye. It brought a sad smile to his lips. I wonder how he is? I wonder if I will ever see him again? They approached the gates to The Red Keep.
If I do… his head will probably be on a spike most like.

Jon Baratheon brought them into a courtyard and them bid them goodbye. Doesn’t talk much, does he? Tyland dismounted his horse and a palace servant appeared. Willam talked with him for a bit whilst Roland and Tyland helped a girl lead their horses to a large stable.
“How’ll we proceed?” Roland asked, in quiet.
Tyland looked at him as the girl took full hold of his horse’s reins. “With caution.”
“No shit.” Roland retorted.
They returned to Willam who had finished speaking with the servant. They then were brought to a room where they were to wait until they were seen to.
When they arrived at the room, it was small and scarce for decoration. Is this some sort of cell? Willam, soon enough, left. And Tyland had to follow him, lest Loren have his head. Before he did however, he turned to Roland.
“Please, try not to stir up too much trouble.”
Roland was shocked, “Me? Since when ‘ave I ever stirred up trouble, Ty?”
Tyland chuckled and placed his hand on Roland’s elbow, before disappearing behind the door.

Willam led him through the hallways of The Red Keep. What is he doing? Tyland smiled at several servants who washed the tiled floors.
What am I doing?
Tyland blinked.
I should be in Lannisport. With my friends. With… Sebaston. Yet here I am on some goose chase through The Crownlands so that Willam knows Elaena Targaryen is alright.
“Where are we going?” Tyland asked Willam. But the only response he got was that of a grunt. Gods. He thought more of home. He thought about laying in bed with Sebaston until the sun came through the curtains of their bed.
Before long, they had arrived at Willam’s old room. They walked through the doors and that was that. Tyland stood by the door, looking at Willam as he looked around. “Why are we here Willam?” Tyland asked, his voice filled with tiredness.
“We shouldn’t be here. We should be back in The Westerlands. Do you know that there is a war on the verge? The Red Keep, as magnificent as it is, is not a place we should be.
He lowered his voice a bit.
King’s Landing is filled with many sets of ears that I’d rather not know every word that leaves my lips.

Spoiler: MENTIONS

Yarrow

 

[ailurophile]

l y a n n a bb s t a r k

"aregelle!" lyanna gasped at her sister's blunt comment, giving her arm a light slap. she would almost seem genuinely annoyed, if not for the smile playing about her lips; she'd been planning to say something similar, albeit a little more... tactfully. "oh, a lion. now that, i would love. blonde hair is beautiful." she added, giving leona's own a little nod of acknowledgement.
joining in with leona's playful speech, lyanna giggled and laid her hand over her breast in the general area she expected her heart to be.
"oh, i would give up my title as lady to spend a single night with any of them." the girl declared, barely able to keep her face straight. that might be a little bit of an exaggeration, but she was keen to 'feel like a woman', so to speak. perhaps she was being impatient. "but in all seriousness, girl to girl," her voice became softer, as though she was about to share a secret, "do you think he'd be interested at all? you know me. i simply can't wait to meet somebody."
to take the serious edge she'd added to the conversation off, lyanna laughed again and placed one hand on her hip.
"leona, you've forgotten somebody. what about daeron? he did stay with us for a while, and he was lovely, wasn't he, aregelle? i think i'd like to wake the dragon, if you know what i mean." she winked.




Braddington @TheTraveller

 

[TheFool]

Leona Bolton
Red Queen


​

“Lannisters are where it is at, ladies. I saw Willam Lannister at the tourney last year for Prince Jaehaerys and Melessa Tyrell’s wedding. He is such a dream.” Leona said before giggling. It was nice. To just talk like this with some other ladies. As much as I hold it in my heart, The Dreadfort is so dull sometimes.
The topic at hand turned to Rycherd Whitehill once more.
“Do you think he’d be interested at all?” Lyanna asked. Leona smiled at her, before answering, “Of course he’d be interested in you, my lady. He is quite shy, but I am sure you will able to get a good few words out of him.”
She heard some more laughter coming from where the rest of the hunting party were. I’ve never seen such loud hunting techniques. She glanced over at where her brother, Lord Greg, was. Before turning back to Aregelle and Lyanna.
The were talking about Daeron Waters. The bastard boy of King Aegon. “I don’t know. Silver hair has never really been a love of mine. Though Prince Jaehaerys had a charm to him, alright.” Leona added in to their conversation.
She thought of Lyanna and Aregelle’s father, Lord Bryce. He had declared for the bastard. A ballsy move. Leona threw her hair over her shoulder as the girls continued to chit chat. If I was in his position I wouldn’t be declaring for anyone until Melessa Tyrell squeezed that child out of her. Her mind brought back to her cousin. Maybe if he is married to a Stark girl he can say somethings to our dear Warden In The North.
“You know,” She started. “I could talk to my cousin for you, Lyanna. We aren’t the closest but I am sure my words will carry weight. If I come at him from one direction and you from the other, he is bound to fall head over heels for you.” Leona said, smiling still.

Veron Greyjoy
Lord Reaper


​

Pyke was a scab that festered on the cliffs of its island of the same name. But it’s my scab. Veron hated a lot of things on The Iron Islands, but his home was one exception. The castle was crumbling to pieces and in need of constant repair but he still loved it.
More than my wife and heir, at least.
Helya was behind him on her horse. She had gotten too fat to walk. Most likely because she had a babe leaching inside her. “So how was he?” She asked Veron, her voice frail. Veron looked back at her and then looked behind her to see his son. “A disappointment, as per usual.”
Veron focused back on Pyke.
“Oh, don’t say that. I am sure he tried his be-”
Veron interrupted Helya, “He did not try whatsoever. He sat on his arse drinking like a common speck of dirt.”
He had a lot on his mind. Where is Gwyn? Was the main one. She told me she would not see Urrigon again. She said… it would just be us. It didn’t seem like his sister had kept her promise. She was off doing God knows what with their brother.
My brother.
Veron’s fists clenched. The bane of me. He and Ron belong at the bottom of the blackest of oceans. Helya spoke,
“He will try harder next time, right Ron?”
“Right.” Ron said, unenthusiastically.
Like there will be a fucking next time. Veron took a breath. He was furious. He tried to calm himself down but being on his boat for a few days did not do him any use.

He was met with smoke from the lit hearths when he entered The Great Keep. His eyes watered for a moment before setting on The Seastone Chair. It sat empty. Longing for Veron to sit down and take his place as Lord Reaper Of Pyke. “Go get some rest, son.” Helya told Ron, who was already halfway up the stairwell. Veron walked over to the nearest hearth and hovered his hands over the crackling fire.
Hmmm.
“Veron,” Helya said shyly. “I think we need to talk.”
“Of what?”
“Well, I know it isn’t my place but… I think you are too harsh on Ron.”
“He is a man grown, wife. I should be harsher.” Veron spat into the fire. He could feel his aggressiveness rise within. She should know to be silent.
“I know but he is our son. He looks up to you. If you shout at him all day then he-”
Veron turned around to his wife and slapped his hand across her face. The sound of the slap echoed throughout the main hall. When he lowered his hand, he saw what he had done. A small raw slit had made itself at home above Helya’s cheekbone. Her touched it gently as her eyes watered.
“Get the fuck out of my sight before I bless you with another belt.”
I'm uncultured.
She nodded and left.
Leaving Veron alone in the company of his hearths and his chair.

An hour or so passed and he sat on his throne, reading through some letters he had received whilst away. His eyes leaped from word to word. Red Bess wants me to hang Lord Botley again. The Lord Botley and Veron’s bastard cousin had been feuding for almost a decade after he drunkenly sunk Bess’ ship.
“Rogin,” Veron called out to his steward who sat at the bottom of the steps leading to The Seastone Chair.
“Yes, Lord Veron?”
“Write a letter to my cousin, Bess Pyke. Tell her to come see me soon and then is when we will discuss her queries with Botley.”
Rogin nodded and made leave. “Oh, and another thing. Before you do write to her, bring me pen and parchment of mine own. I have something to send.”
“Of course, m’lord.” Rogin said with a short bow.
I have a letter to write. He thought as he looked at the other letters in his hands. None of them were of importance. Just trivial things. Veron had something on his mind that was far from trivial though. Since they had set sail a few days ago, he had been thinking of it.
Harrenhal.
Veron rubbed his beard. What to do about what happened at Harrenhal? He was aware that the war might have already begun by now. That the mainlanders had likely declared which fight they’d fight for. This is my chance.
He took a breath.
This is the time. If I pick a side, and that side wins- I will go down as the greatest Greyjoy there has ever been. I will go down as the man who brought his peoples out of their brutish ways and into the great game.
Rogin returned with what Veron asked for and then left once more. Veron put the paper on the armrest of his throne and put the ink in his lap. He dipped his pen in and began to write.

“To…”

To who? Who is it I will declare for? Who will take me? The Ironborn were seen as rats to most Westerosi. Veron had been desperately trying for years to change that perception. But it had been hard. Especially with his blasted brother.
The mainlanders see us as their bastard kin that they would wish to lock away in a small cell never to speak of again.
It clicked.
A smile formed on Veron’s face. He hardly ever smiled. When he ever did, it was with Gwyn. He put his pen back to the paper.

“To King Daeron Targaryen,”

Spoiler: MENTIONS

HUNTING FAM
ailurophile
Hypnos
diwa
Grammatic
@EVERYONELSE

PIRATES LIFE FOR ME
Akio
Braddington

 

[Dread-neck]

Lucas the Ashen Blade​

As they walked, while her eyes and thoughts were focused on nothing in particular, his were constantly on the move. Here he was out in the open streets of King's Landing with a noble woman. Perfect prize for any would be thief or assailant. His ears were open to any sounds that he may hear. The twang of a bowstring, the sound of a blade leaving a scabbard; of course with all the noise of the chatter and bustling city around him, that was hard to accomplish, so he settled on sights. Meanwhile, his mind was focused on his current task. He was having second thoughts about doing this job to meet this person not because he was unwilling to do work for the Prince....IT WAS BECAUSE IT WAS DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND SOMEONE IN A PLACE THIS BIG ON A NAME ALONE!! He had no description, no posting. Just a name. "Brune". Given that Ryden had sent him to find and help him, he figured it was a guard. But was he a Dornish guard, one of the King's Guard? Who knew?

At Anaya's question, he scoffed. "Good eye," he said sarcastically. "Yeah, I don't think people can get away with murder and then wholesale slaughter without sparking something. And low and behold. here I am stuck right in the middle of it, employed to the boy prince in a war that I could care very little about." Someone was having buyer's remorse with his current employer, but hey, he did ask for it. His eyes continued to wander, finally landing on a little crow. He grinned and took out a small pebble and juggled it around in his hand a bit. The bird saw this and flapped over to him, landing on his outstretched forearm. He noted the little capsule and unbound it. He gave the letter within a little read before looking to Anaya. "Do you mind if we make a little stop?"

Little-Fox

 

[Braddington]

Lady Lysara Manderly
Lady of White Harbour, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed​

“That fucking bastard!", Lysara cursed under her breath as an arrow she let loose just about missed its mark on a deer in the distance, the animal running in a panic to escape any more shards of metal coming it's way. For now the opportunity was lost. “Good shot my Lady! I don't doubt you would have made it if we were just a little closer!” came the obnoxiously loud screech from Ser Wyllis Manderly, one of her twin cousins, obviously vying yet again to be the biggest kiss ass in all the North. “Well when you shout that fucking loud we will never see it again, because now you've alerted the whole damn forest.” She said, softly, in an oddly calm manner considering what she was saying. Ser Wyllis simply nodded and bowed in apology. Thank the Seven she had 2 cousins each wanting to be the next Lord of White Harbour, made dismissing this one that much more easier. If he was lucky he could manage the Wolfs Den.

Lysara was not in the best of moods that morning, unlike some of the Lords who were angry they were going to war she was more bothered by the fact they hadn't gotten around to moving yet. Instead of addressing the important issues right away they were out killing animals that were better kept alive for the Winter, tragic for the peasants really who would soon have no forest left at all with these hundreds of useless lackwits decimating it. They needed to move fast, they had 30,000 men at Winterfell just sitting on their arses whilst the Lords hunted. Still, it beat listening to the Steward go over the amount of coins minted that day, it had been a while since she had killed something and boy did she need it. Within the first 10 minutes of her arrival at Winterfell she had to reject at least 4 different marriage proposals from idiotic men from irrelevant families. You would think they would learn after she broke that Skagosi Lords arm, but no they evidently don't learn.

Ser Wyllis wondered off into the mass of other Lords a small distance away, laughing away during a fucking hunt. She didn't mind him leaving one bit, she preferred his brother just that little bit more anyway. As she advanced forward she spotted 3 women, 2 Stark girls from what she could tell and her sister-in-law Leona Bolton. Leona and her had a bit of a funny relationship, everyone around them probably thought they hated each other but it was all fun and games really, it had been a while since she had seen her “rival" and she wouldn't miss an opportunity like this when it was so open.

She got closer to the group keeping ever silent, when Leona grew closer and she could just about hear them talking she drew back her bow and then let loose an arrow and HIT! The arrow flew right past Leona’s face with about a foot of breathing room and struck the tree to the side of the group before she emerged on them with a hearty laugh. “God damn it! I missed! I will never be able to get such an opportune option of attack on the boar again. Careful now my Lady's, never get too close to the animals, they bite.” She looked over at Leona with a sly wink.

TheFool
ailurophile
diwa

 

[Little-Fox]

Anaya Uller
King's Landing : During the Small Council​

Of course he'd be thinking of her safety even if it wasn't her top priority at the moment. Her mind was on other things such as what the hell had happened in that hall and why she cared at all what the Prince thought or felt. She rolled her eyes with the sellsword's sarcasm and shrugged. "You're the one who accepted the contract. It isn't my fault Ser Gawen decided that a bloodbath was the answer." She kept her voice hushed as she spoke, suddenly extremely aware that she might sound like a rebel and that in the thick of things it could mean a rather bad end for her if she weren't careful. The crow was an odd thing for her to see, especially with how he 'greeted' it. "Uh... sure? I'm just sort of following you around for now, I don't care where we go." It was true. She was curious about what he'd received or possibly intercepted, but who was she to ask?

Dread-neck

 

[Akio]

Urrigon Greyjoy
​

Despite his sister's initial admonishments he had just watched her with a smirk. His sister was no less fierce then him, and he imagined no less bored. He couldn't imagine she would want to sit out of it and time proved him right. Her face soon broke into a smile and she accepted his challenge with a grin and in a move that would have lead to that person becoming a corpse if it was anyone else just stirred his loins as his sister spit on his boot and gave him a wink and a battle cry. His men answered her own cry with a gusto as while not a member of their crew they all knew and respected Gwyn well due to her reputation and the showings she had given them before. He turned away from her looking at the ship, now wasn't the time for anything else, he had a battle to win and he was not gonna lose his competition to his sister. Never the less he couldn't help but throw out an additional challenge. "If your so confident let's bet on it, if I win I'll see you tonight and if you win ill give my portion of the loot to you?" He offered with a grin and whatever her answer would turn to the ship.

"Bring us around to the side! Were boarding her good and proper! Row you bastards row!" He said as the enemy ship was trying to turn towards shore in a panic. It was a large merchant ship and compared to his longship was a slow and pondering thing and soon the ironborn were closing in. He was close enough he could watch the men on the ship scavaging for whatever weapons they could get their hands on. Then he saw one stringing a bow with a couple other fellows who were already knocking their bows and he looked at his men yelling out. "Archers! Look alive and watch for arrows!" Urrigon wasn't wearing a helm, he knew it was sitting on his desk but for a battle like this, he didn't believe he needed one. One of his men passed a shield, heavy wood with an iron ring and he raised it, feeling the weight with approval before raising it to block the first arrow which hit the shield with a heavy thud. Standing in the front of the ship and having shouted out orders, he was a target for more than half of the seeming half a dozen archers arrows. A second one hit his shield moments after the first and a third skipping lower, striking off his breastplates black steel and making him laugh as he weathered arrows and many of his crew laughed as well at the pitiful amount of arrows. His crew was battle-hardened and while this merchant ship likely didn't have many battle hardened warriors it would have to do.

The bow of the ship was drawing in at a slight angle as the merchants gathered on the side of their ship with swords, spears, and even oars to get ready to try and keep their men off. Brothers Bane was a big ship and the curve of the boy had him slightly over the main deck of the merchant ship. His ship lightly smacked into the side of the merchant ship, the ram screeching against the wood as it broke off oars and scrapped the wood with when he decided to strike. Having lowered himself to hold his center of gravity and holding onto the side of the ship his balance was still pretty good even after the light hit. Standing and backing up, he ran at the edge of his ship and lept over the side, his foot pushing off the side rail of his ship and allowing him to leap over the men on the side who looked up at him in shock as he came over their heads tucking his feets in before pushing them out to absorb the impact. He landed heavily behind them, feeling the impact as his legs bended travel up his body. He didn't let that stop him though and shot up even as the ones on the side of the ship were looking at him in surprise from both ships as he shouted a war cry that got his men to move and attacked the merchants as the ship pulled up the rest of the way, many merchants dying instantly as they were facing the wrong way. He didn't go to help, instead, he charged the archers and the oarsmen on the other side. The oarsmen were starting to stand in panic as escape was now impossible and reaching for weapons. 3 of the archers began running and the other three fired at him. At this range, it was hard to miss as he took two arrows against his shield while a third flew right over his shoulder as the man panicked. He reached the archers before any more arrows came and reached them as they were dropping their bows.

He swung his shield like a weapon sideways and slammed the side of his shield into the first man's throat, crushing it and sending him backwards with his neck snapped. He then turned on his heel shouting out with glee, "One!" He said before bringing his ax down on the man's skull, splitting it almost in two as he fumbled with his sword. "Two!" He said with a smile on his face, letting the weight of the man carry him off the axe blade as he charged the last archer who was backpeddling in fear despite now having his sword out. Chasing the coward he swung his at his neck and the man hurriedly blocked through the pure force and savagery behind the blow all but knocked it from his hand and pushed it into his chin as the ax buried deep into his neck. "Three!" He said as he wrenched out the blade and turned to the oarsmen, the bravest were starting to approach him. By now, however, battle was breaking over much of the deck as several other Ironborn had boarded the ship able to break the line on the side and were boarding in great numbers. "No mercy men! Kill everyone aboard!" He ordered and soon the screams of men were around him while blood made the deck slick. Most of the men were not wearing armor and were not fighters, this allowed Urrigon to tear through them like a wolf among sheep and even the few trained fighters on the ship were quickly overwhelmed by the tide of Ironborn. He threw himself into the fray as his ax sang death and destruction. Some tried to beg mercy but none was offered as dozens died. At the end at least a couple dozen merchants were dead as the last men were dying and he allowed another to slide off his ax, completely covered in blood that was not his own as he grinned with savage glee. "Eight." He declared as he turned to find his sister.

 

[Dread-neck]

Lucas the Ashen Blade​

Lucas brought her and the bird to a little building and sat on the steps. He set the bird down and took the capsule taking out the note within. A grin crossed his face as he read. Balling up the note and sticking it in his pack, he took out another small piece of parchment and a quill. Having no ink, he took out a small knife and cut a gash across his palm. He dipped the quill into the blood that welled up out of the cut and scrawled a short message. He rolled it up stuck it back into the capsule. Tying the capsule to the bird's foot, he took it back on his forearm and said "Make sure this gets to where it needs to, huh?" With that, he sent the crow off. He stood up and took a little piece of cloth out from his pack and wrapped the cut. "Now, let's find this Brune fellow, huh?"

 

[Hypnos]

Melessa Tyrell
Widow​

A feast. The Seven Kingdoms had erupted into chaos and Lord Baelor Tyrell was hosting a feast. It was typical. Mel knew that it would take the seven hells freezing over before her father would make do without a meal, and today was no exception, though this time the Lord of Highgarden had truly outdone himself. The tables were barely visible through platters of roasted boar and simmered venison, and the scent of honey and wine filled the room like a sweet perfume. There were stacks and stacks of apples and other assorted fruits piled as high as the eye could see, surrounded by a plethora of different types of cakes and sweets. At the centre of it all was the pièce de résistance, a white hart caught from the woods surrounding Brightwater Keep, brought as a gift by Lord Florent to Mel herself, though she personally did not care much for hunting trophies. The beast had been skinned from the neck down and cooked upon an open flame so that Lord Tyrell’s guests could come and enjoy a cut of its loin or stomach, though its head remained untouched, allowing it be admired in all its glory. In the kitchen Mel had heard them refer to the animal as ‘Baelor’s vanity incarnate’ though Lord Tyrell himself had a different name for creature: ‘Jocelyn Baratheon.’

It was a nice change of pace. With war looming on the horizon and her father and brother occupied with making plans and strategies, Mel had felt sort of left out in recent days. Lords from the Reach would come to her and shower her in gifts and praise, but she knew that it was not her that they were interested in, but rather the little one inside her belly. Solitude had been a major theme in Mel’s life as of late, something that did not sit well with the girl so used to enjoying all of the luxuries of court life. Of course, she was never truly alone, for everywhere she went she was accompanied by more armed guards than a wagon from the royal mint. These guards would not talk to her, however. She suspected that her father had given them direct orders to keep their hands off of her, for they always seemed to look uneasy when she got too close, never able to maintain eye contact. Baelor Tyrell was too protective by far. Her nuncle Humfrey had even made a jape that it was harder to gain access to Melessa than the God Emperor of Yi-Ti. She had not seen nuncle Humfrey since.

Though one would think that Mel’s appetite would be subdued by the stress of recent events, that was far from the case. In fact, with the baby in her belly so close to ripening, she ate as much as any man twice her size, perhaps even more than her father, which said a lot considering the girth of Lord Baelor’s stomach. Her father shot her a hearty smile.

For a moment, Mel was able to forget the circumstances and enjoy the meal. It had not been uncommon in her youth for her father to invite his vassal to Highgarden to break bread with their liege, and she even recognised a few faces amongst those gathered. Lord Florent, who had always given her sweets as a girl, behind her Septa’s back, Lady Beesbury who had been so quick to compliment her on her singing and needlework, Lady Fossoway who was, well… Lady Fossoway, and of course there was her brother, who had taken to rulership like a fish to water. ‘He almost seems like a different person.’ It was easy to put aside the woes of the outside world and sit for a moment in contentment, but she must not forget why all these people were here. Some of these men would be dead by winter, fighting for… well, her. It was strange to think that she would be the catalyst behind so many deaths, her child would be born upon a bed soaked with the blood of those who would crown it king. How many would die for a fetus?

“Lords of the Reach!” Her thoughts were interrupted by the bellowing voice of her father, clearly a little drunk judging from the scarlet hue which adorned his face. “I propose a toast to the health of my daughter, her and her son.” A general chorus of ‘here, here’ could be heard throughout the hall as other lords repeated his sentiment, downing more goblets of wine than could be found anywhere outside the Arbor. Mel’s face went a pale shade of red at all of the extra attention, but she managed to retain her composure. “But you did not all come here today to feast with me, though I have greatly enjoyed hosting you here in my keep.” How is was possible for Baelor’s smile to grow any larger, Mel did not not, but it did not cease to amaze her. “We are at war. Stabbed in the back by traitors and cravens who would rather see their own interests furthered than follow the rule of law. I have called you here today to ask you to stand beside me as I ensure that we uphold the memory of good King Aegon and prevent the vultures from taking his crown.” He had not said anything that those gathered did not already know, but Mel knew her father had a taste for theatrics. “I ask only that you, the most noble lords of the Reach, aid me in ensuring that the rightful king, the boy inside my Melessa, sees himself upon the Iron Throne. As is his birthright.”

A general cheer was raised, though some were noticeably more excited than others. Later there would be time for the men to go off to a quiet room to be filled in upon the general strategy of the Reach going forward into the war, but for now they would simply eat and make merry. Mel was glad, war could wait for an evening.

TheFool Yarrow Braddington clarinetti WaitingCynicism ailurophile

 

[Yarrow]

Willam Lannister
Willam looked around. The room was just as he had left it. His journal was still laying on the desk with the quill next to it. It seemed like this place stood still in time. In the last two weeks his world had turned upside down. The events at Harrenhal and after that made everything so much more difficult then they already were. Willam tried to cope with it, but he was conflicted. His dad would probably side with his friend Baelor Tyrell and fight against Elaena, the daughter of what felt like his second father and his best friend.

Willam looked at Tyland
“If you don’t like it here you can go back to Roland”
Willam was getting a little irritated, he didn’t saw that he could be in danger here. A servant of Jon entered the room with the message that Jon wanted to see him. Jon and Willam shared a history together, just not romantic. Willam looked at his uncle “If you don’t like it you can leave, or stay, but I will go visit Jon”

The Little Lion left the room and walked to Jon’s chamber. Some servants looked at him with a confused expression, Willam just smiled at them. He arrived at Jon’s chamber and without knocking he entered the room
“So, what was that when Gawen attacked me?” He said, still irritated.

TheFool
Nightblade


Symon SelmySyla ran over to her father when he left the war room. She had been waiting there for some time for her father to come out. This meeting had taken some more time then the other meetings with his commanders.
“Daddy”
Symon looked at his little girl as he squatted down to pick her up and lift her in the air “My lovely little princess!” Symon smiled and held her on one arm when he said his last words to the commander
“Prepare the man, we need to be ready”
“Where will you be going to, Daddy” Syla asked,
“Nowhere yet my dear” He replied when he gave her a peck on her forehead
“Where is your brother?” Symon asked the little girl in his arms. Syla smiled and pointed towards the garden “Is he in the garden?” The girl smiled even wider and nodded yes. Symon placed the girl on the ground and she tried to take his hand, however her hand was still so small she only grabbed Symon’s index finger and clenched to it like her life was over when she let go.

When they arrived in the garden Symon noticed his wife Lysa sitting on a bench under a tree looking at their son Stefron who was playing around with a wooden stick, acting like it was a sword.
Together the two walked to Lysa and Symon sat down next to her “Go play with your brother Lysa” and gave her another peck on her forehead before turning to his wife to give her also a kiss on the cheek.
Lysa smiled and looked at her husband “How bad is it?”
“It’s not that bad, Alexander hasn’t called his banners yet” Symon replied,
“Should I move to Felwood? It might be saver there, since the Tyrells are just a few days marching away” she said concerned,
“I don’t think that is necessary my dear, we are save here and we got the Martells on our side, so the Reach Marcher Lords will have a hard time” Symon said to assure his wife “We just wait on our orders now..” He stared at his twins while they were happily playing, maybe for the last time in a while.


JPTheWarrior

 

[WaitingCynicism]

Melessa Tyrell
Widow​

A feast. The Seven Kingdoms had erupted into chaos and Lord Baelor Tyrell was hosting a feast. It was typical. Mel knew that it would take the seven hells freezing over before her father would make do without a meal, and today was no exception, though this time the Lord of Highgarden had truly outdone himself. The tables were barely visible through platters of roasted boar and simmered venison, and the scent of honey and wine filled the room like a sweet perfume. There were stacks and stacks of apples and other assorted fruits piled as high as the eye could see, surrounded by a plethora of different types of cakes and sweets. At the centre of it all was the pièce de résistance, a white hart caught from the woods surrounding Brightwater Keep, brought as a gift by Lord Florent to Mel herself, though she personally did not care much for hunting trophies. The beast had been skinned from the neck down and cooked upon an open flame so that Lord Tyrell’s guests could come and enjoy a cut of its loin or stomach, though its head remained untouched, allowing it be admired in all its glory. In the kitchen Mel had heard them refer to animal as ‘Baelor’s vanity incarnate’ though Lord Tyrell himself had a different name for creature: ‘Jocelyn Baratheon.’

It was a nice change of pace. With war looming on the horizon and her father and brother occupied with making plans and strategies, Mel had felt sort of left out in recent days. Lords from the Reach would come to her and shower her in gifts and praise, but she knew that it was not her that they were interested in, but rather the little one inside her belly. Solitude had been a major theme in Mel’s life as of late, something that did not sit well with the girl so used to enjoying all of the luxuries of court life. Of course, she was never truly alone, for everywhere she went she was accompanied by more armed guards than a wagon from the royal mint. These guards would not talk to her, however. She suspected that her father had given them direct orders to keep their hands off of her, for they always seemed to look uneasy when she got too close, never able to maintain eye contact. Baelor Tyrell was too protective by far. Her nuncle Humfrey had even made a jape that Melessa it was harder to gain access to Melessa than the God Emperor of Yi-Ti. She had not seen nuncle Humfrey since.

Though one would think that Mel’s appetite would be subdued by the stress of recent events, that was far from the case. In fact, with the baby in her belly so close to ripening, she ate as much as any man twice her size, perhaps even more than her father, which said a lot considering the girth of Lord Baelor’s stomach. Her father shot her a hearty smile.

For a moment, Mel was able to forget the circumstances and enjoy the meal. It had not been uncommon in her youth for her father to invite his vassal to Highgarden to break bread with their liege, and she even recognised a few faces amongst those gathered. Lord Florent, who had always given her sweets as a girl, behind her Septa’s back, Lady Beesbury who had been so quick to compliment her on her singing and needlework, Lady Fossoway who was, well… Lady Fossoway, and of course there was her brother, who had taken to rulership like a fish to water. ‘He almost seems like a different person.’ It was easy to put aside the woes of the outside world and sit for a moment in contentment, but she must not forget why all these people were here. Some of these men would be dead by winter, fighting for… well, her. It was strange to think that she would be the catalyst behind so many deaths, her child would be born upon a bed soaked with the blood of those who would crown it king. How many would die for a fetus?

“Lords of the Reach!” Her thoughts were interrupted by the bellowing voice of her father, clearly a little drunk judging from the scarlet hue which adorned his face. “I propose a toast to the health of my daughter, her and her son.” A general chorus of ‘here, here’ could be heard throughout the hall as other lords repeated his sentiment, downing more goblets of wine than could be found anywhere outside the Arbor. Mel’s face went a pale shade of red at all of the extra attention, but she managed to retain her composure. “But you did not all come here today to feast with me, though I have greatly enjoyed hosting you here in my keep.” How is was possible for Baelor’s smile to grow any larger, Mel did not not, but it did not cease to amaze her. “We are at war. Stabbed in the back by traitors and cravens who would rather see their own interests furthered than follow the rule of law. I have called you here today to ask you to stand beside me as I ensure that we uphold the memory of good King Aegon and prevent the vultures from taking his crown.” He had not said anything that those gathered did not already know, but Mel knew her father had a taste for theatrics. “I ask only that you, the most noble lords of the Reach, aid me in ensuring that the rightful king, the boy inside my Melessa, sees himself upon the Iron Throne. As is his birthright.”

A general cheer was raised, though some were noticeably more excited than others. Later there would be time for the men to go off to a quiet room to be filled in upon the general strategy of the Reach going forward into the war, but for now they would simply eat and make merry. Mel was glad, war could wait for an evening.

TheFool Yarrow Braddington clarinetti WaitingCynicism ailurophile

Eddard and Brynden let out a quiet cheer as the tankards were raised. Supposedly a traitor had stabbed the true king in the back. Who it was, neither of the two could say for certain. But they knew exactly why it was done - a shite attempt at trying to usurp. Who the hells would lead? They didn't know. They didn't want to.

 

[diwa]

Aregelle Stark
"Winter is Coming" ​

Unlike her older sister Lyanna, Aregelle was not interested in boys, or at least she haven't met the man that can make her interested yet but still, she appreciates beauty and even though she haven't seen half of the people Leona mentioned in person, just based on their description, she could understand why Bolton was swooning.

The girl was already giggling nonstop; there they were in the middle of the forest. They were supposed to be hunting bunny rabbits yet they end up talking about man like they were some kind of sustenance they wanted to eat for supper.
"Daeron?" Aregelle asked, slightly confused. "You mean the bas— King Daeron Targaryen?" The Stark girl retracted the words in an instant, she almost forgotten that their father already sworn his allegiance to him. If he were there, Aregelle will definitely spend her days praying with the Septa as punishment. "He is good looking I admit, but I am not certain you're the type of person who can 'wake the dragon', sister." Aregelle would be lying if she said that she didn't find his silver hair intriguing. During the time where they met the bastard King, she took the time to observe him, and she noticed one thing. His eyes. His eyes were always watching men. And that's where her infatuation went into flames. "Let's just stick with Rycherd for now." Aregelle giggled again, "And you make it sound like we're hunting your cousin, Lady Bolton."

They were laughing for a moment when suddenly Aregelle heard or more like felt something whiz past them. She looked over her side and saw an arrow buried in the tree not too far from them. Her face was somehow blank as Aregelle looked to the other direction where the arrow was fired and she spotted a woman emerge from the greeneries. A Manderly if she was not mistaken. That or a Karstark. Aregelle chided herself but then she figured that it was hard to pay attention to others if she doesn't truly care about them. She even thought about asking the lady whether the boar she was talking about was Leona Bolton for she knew that the animals they hunt are rabbits and stags but the girl just kept her mouth shut about the matter. "That is not actually the problem, My Lady." Aregelle flashed the new arrival with a smile instead. "True enough, animals will bite but unfortunately there are no animals around. Though, rest assured that we're protected. Lady Bolton's aim is well and true, while my sister can kill wolves with her bare hands." the girl added, incorporating their earlier jest. "Oh. What did the men managed to chase?"

ailurophile
Braddington
TheFool