Fantasy 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - 𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘢 | a game of thrones/asoiaf rp

[uwupolice]

❝ 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘈𝘙𝘌. 𝘛𝘏𝘌
𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘕𝘖𝘛. 𝘞𝘌𝘈𝘙 𝘐𝘛
𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘔𝘖𝘙. 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘉𝘌
𝘜𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘏𝘜𝘙𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜

[ please no ooc at all ] ​

 

[uwupolice]

* since this is a group rp that spans across Westeros, this rp doesn't have a strict date to follow. characters can jump between dates that make sense with traveling. (i.e. your previous post was two canon days ago. your next interaction is two days ahead in the rp and is now in a different [ but close ] location.) just don't do anything crazy like have someone from Sunspear travel all the way to Winterfell in three days. *

CURRENT SETTING: a whole week after the Mad Kings assassination. Year 281. The Fifth Moon (Spring)​

 

[eloise]

A week. A week was all it took for her entire life to be thrown into disarray. King Aerys, the popularly dubbed Mad King had been slain and the rest of the Targaryens were dead, kidnapped, or had completely disappeared. The atmosphere of Highgarden was uncertain. Much like the rest of Westeros at the current moment. Yet what was there to do now? Simply select the next king and keep everything moving per usual? No no no. You'd be a fool to think that it'd be so easy. When had the game of thrones ever been easy? With no clear heir to the Iron Throne, it was only a matter of time before Westeros became a battlefield once more. Such battles spared no one. It didn't matter if you were a highborn or lowborn, an adult or child, the slash of a steel blade wouldn't wait for anyone. So why were they headed to King's Landing during these turbulent times?

No clear answer was provided to her upon asking her parents. But she wasn't silly enough to not think of reasons of her own. Out of all the reasons that jumbled about in her mind one was the most terrifying. Could it be they wanted to claim the throne for the Tyrells.. ? Alerie knew the possibility of this was one out of a hundred, after all, House Tyrell was already in an advantageous position being the second wealthiest house in all of Westeros. Tyrell lands were extremely fertile and supplied the most provisions to the capital so what more could they ask for? Beating the Lannisters of course. Golden hair lions never got along well with golden roses. In her opinion, golden roses were much better to look at. Who would want to look at a frightening lion?

Still, she hoped her idea never bore fruit. Because if it did she'd chop that tree right to the ground. It almost felt like yesterday when her darling little sister Lyarra burst into her quarters to tell her the shocking news of the King's untimely demise. Alerie's eye turned towards the girl standing next to her. "Sister dearest, your head is not in the clouds is it?" She showed the other girl a smile. Lyarra Tyrell was a girl of simple mind yet that was something so beautiful about her. How many in Westeros could say their minds and hearts were devoid of cruel intentions? An existence like Lyarra had to be treasured and loved. She didn't want her to be caught up in the darkness soon to be sweeping the continents with its evil claws. Unfortunately, Alerie knew such a thing was essentially impossible. No matter how far you ran throughout this world wickedness would always be watching.

Sometimes it could be even closer than you think. By now most of the servants had finished prepping their carriages. It was almost time to leave Highgarden. "Ly your not missing anything important right? We probably won't be home for months so if there's anything you quickly want to take make haste and bring it." This time they weren't leaving on happy circumstances.

growing strong

alerie

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  Highgarden, Reach

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[tamarapasek]

MOOD: Hopeful/Nervous

LOCATION: Bedroom in Highgarden

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:
eloise

tags

TL;DR She ponders the situation

tl;dr

Lyarra Tyrell

Growing strong

Upon first news of travels to King's Landing, dear Lyarra was ecstatic. With most of her time spent cooped up in Highgarden, it was clear to all who knew her how dearly she longed for the company of other houses. The hustle and excitement of the capital sent both chills of terror and excitement down her spine. Silence, and indoor voices were the expectation in Highgarden, anything less was cause for concern in the girl's eyes. On the rare occasion King's Landing was visited, she found herself at a loss. Much like here, it felt as if everybody was so much more capable than her. That there was some sort of invisible chess game she knew next to nothing about, and all she could do was keep her mouth shut and play the quiet demure daughter. In front of the noble houses, she dared not open her mouth, lest she betray the secret of her ineptitude. Words mattered, her family told her that much. Unlike them, she'd not had the natural ability to play with them, use them to all their power to achieve their wishes. Instead she must stay quiet, and pray she herself did not fall into the political play of someone more skilled than she.

However she could have stood those downsides for the beauty of King's Landing. For the ability to roam around a place which was not Highgarden, a new place to indulge in her love of dresses and find company. For the people in King's Landing who were not lords and ladies felt much much more free than her. Not constrained by power players, courtly intrigue and other such things, it was a true comfort.

That was, until she'd realized the anarchy in which King's Landing most likely was in. How could the Tyrell's defend themselves if push came to shove? The women exceeded the men in the family, so the odds already were not in their favor. Whenever they visited King's Landing, she always pondered the risk of getting involved with the Arryn's, whether this would be the time something occurred for the worst behind the scenes. It was so easy for the mighty to fall, even a sheltered little tart like her was aware of this. But it was all risk of losing power and prestige, never their lives. So why on earth had they determined to go? She supposed it was to wish condolences, and sort things out. For the greater good and such. There was no way around it, though try as she may, her fantasies of roaming The King's Landing freely couldn't be removed from her head.

As usual, the only thing that could prevent her from getting trapped inside her own head was the gentle chastises of her elder sister. With a chuckle, she looked sat down on her bed, perfectly made. As usual, the servants worked quickly, and neatly. It seemed an awful waste of time and energy given they would not be returning for a very long time though. "Of course not!" She protested, though her face flushed and her eyes could never quite seem to meet Alerie's. She could never lie to her sister, even if she seriously wished to. It was one of her many many weak spots. Then again Alerie was also extraordinarily gifted with catching liars. Life must be much much simpler from her perspective. To be smart, beautiful, sharp, and charismatic was a winning hand, even if her health wasn't always as perfect as they both wished.

There was one thing she had somehow managed to conceal from Aleria over the years, much to her shock. The novels. She suspected Aleria would not approve of the pishposh she was putting in her head. Both girls knew that love was not something to look for, though she liked to believe it could happen later in a marriage. "I have checked twice dear sister there is nothing. In fact I'd wager I have brought more than the rest of the house combined!" She assured her with a hearty laugh, as a novel which had not been hidden in the luggage due to her forgetting, was subtly hidden behind her back

code by valen t.

 

[uwupolice]

mood

where am I..?

location

winterfell

outfit

not warm send help

mentions

the starks

tags

Rusty of Shackleford Virani Qwertycakes

"...Princess. My Princess. We have arrived."

The sleeping silverette's eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing pools of gentle periwinkle. Weariness still hung at her eyes, lifting a dainty hand as if to she could swipe away her sleepiness. "Arrived..?" She groggily managed out. "Arrived where..?" The tired princess queried. In response, the pallid haired man gestured to the windows of the carriage. "I've heard this is a place you've wanted to go for quite some time, Princess Elaera." Elaera's eyebrows twitched upwards in interest. "If only these were different circumstances.." He commented solemnly, unintentionally dampening the mood. He seemed to instantly regret that though, but it was too late to take it back. Elaera, acting as if she didn't hear his comment, lifted the curtains from the windows. His words would soon fade from her mind as she took in the scenery before her.

Snow.
Snow!
Snow everywhere! It clung to the branches of trees and peppered the softened, spring grounds. Despite beginning to melt away, it still looked absolutely enchanting to her. "So.. sparkly and bright.." Elaera murmured, her eyes wide with awe. That wouldn't be the end to her awe though, her gaze wandering ahead. "Oh my...!"
A stone castle, daresay larger than the Red Keep, came into view. It loomed over the carriage as if boasting of its visage and robustness. I can tell that there are years upon years of history embedded within the brick of these walls.. this structure is awfully reminiscent of.. Her eyes lit up. She turned back to her Velaryon companion. "Winterfell?!" The silverette exclaimed, a smile gracing her features. "But... why here? I never thought the North would be very accepting of Southerners - especially Targaryens.." Her smile began to dissipate.
"Well, things are changing, my Princess. It seems the North is wanting to give you a chance." He responded, offering a reassuring smile. Elaera nodded, though concern still tugged at her gut. He.. must be right. If not, we'd be dead already. I recognize that the Northerners aren't the fondest of strangers - especially strangers from the South.

The two continued to bump and roll along in silence, listening to the sound of horse hooves clopping and the squeak of the wooden wheels. Mother would've requested a new carriage if it squeaked this much.. She mused, though she didn't mind. After all, they were in no position to seek a royal-worthy carriage. If they did obtain one, would it be worth being found? Elaera chewed on her lip a bit.

"Halt!" A voice boomed. Elaera assumed it to be one of the gate guards.

After a bit of scuffling about on the driver's side, she could hear boots land against the snow with a 'bomf'. The driver scuttled forward, gloved hands reaching for his pocket to pull out a piece of parchment. It had the symbol of the three-headed dragon on it. The Targaryen sigil. He held it high up in the air, causing the guard to squint and lean forward a bit. The guard soon reeled back slowly, realization settling on his features. He quietly signaled them to come inside. "Expect a couple other men to be here before nightfall." The driver informed before clambering back onto the carriage. Since everyone believed the Targaryens to be extinct, their supporters had to be careful. To not put Elaera and themselves in danger, they decided to travel in smaller groups. The goal was to limit suspicion - especially for any spies that boldly lurk in the North.

The carriage lurched forward once more. Wonderment, and anxiety ached in the princesses' bones. She was itching to leave this carriage and explore Winterfell. First.. she may want to bury herself beneath thick furs and sleep in an actual bed for once.
As Elaera yearned for a warm bed and adventure, the carriage squeaked to a stop once more.

"Are you ready, princess?"
Elaera swallowed, nodding slowly. I have to be.

Her guard climbed out, then raised his hand to her. Elaera gratefully grabbed onto him, steadying herself as she exited.
She inhaled sharply. It was as if she got smacked by the cold. Her skin was already beginning to pimple and her cheeks to redden. Oh, wow this will take some adjustment. Elaera thought, doing her best to appear.. well.. not cold. Especially in front of the Starks that are standing directly in front of them.

Upon this realization, the Targaryen straightened up, her hands politely folded afront of her. "Lord Brandon Stark of Winterfell. I present Princess Elaera Targaryen, First of Her Name, The Last Dragon, and the True Heir to the Iron Throne." Elaera wanted to shrink out of embarrassment from his words. She doubted the Northerners gave a flying fuck about if she belonged on the throne or not. Despite her embarrassment, she humbly curtsied. "I thank you for your hospitality. It's a relief that I will be within warm walls - especially the walls of Winterfall." The princess offered a genuine smile. Regardless of what was thought about the Targaryen, she is a very beautiful woman. Not only that, but she has this warm, kind look in her eyes and a sweet, innocent smile. This woman is a damn flower. She can't do harm to anyone - even if she wanted.

But, will this Southern flower be accepted here?

elaera targaryen

code by low fidelity.

[[ sorry ! it got a bit sloppy at the end. im sleepyyy ] ​

 

[eloise]

A chuckle escaped her lips at her sister's reaction. Lyarra had never been particularly gifted in the art of deception, even more so in hiding it if she dared try. It didn't take a master manipulator to notice the obvious signs of a liar. "Alright, I believe you little rose." Accompanied with those words was an all too familiar smile. It was unlike the one shown earlier. That irritably sly smile played along her lips like drums. Though it held no malice, more of a teasing quirk to it. Alerie lifted from the bed sat upon by her sister and made a few quick movements towards the open window. From this vantage point, she could see almost all of her beloved Highgarden. From the white castle walls that stood proudly to the green lush fields that surrounded them. Saddened as she was to leave such beauty behind this place, this home, her home would always be something that remained in her heart.

A large gush of wind made itself apparent, suddenly coming like an unforeseen storm. Alerie looked up to the sky. The weather was dull and gray it couldn't be told what kind of weather was to be expected. Rain, sunshine, or perhaps bloodshed? There were equally large chances of all three happening. Yet the latter seemed to be the most viable. There were so many things she wanted to know. But what she wanted the most was to know the fate of someone dear to her. It wasn't Lyarra goodness no.. but of a Targaryen princess. Elaera Targaryen. The once tiny princess who chased after the fleeting images of the skirt of her dress in the Red Keep's gardens all those years ago. Alerie wondered, had her dear friend escaped the massacre of her family?

For she had not been there to see it herself she could not say what horrible event transpired which had taken so many Targaryen lives. But from the whispers she's heard it must have been impossible to survive what took place that day. So Alerie could only disillusion herself from these thoughts. Her idling hands paused as something abruptly dawned on her. Her having been so close to one of the Targaryen royals could potentially put her and her family in danger! However, she soon shook her head. That didn't make much sense at all, it's not like any of the Tyrells have a direct claim to the throne and her being friends with the supposedly dead Princess Elaera wouldn't suddenly make her a prime target for ill-natured attacks, right?

The sound of Lyarra speaking broke her out of her reverie. It was a welcome distraction but it seemed now that Alerie was a hypocrite. Quipping at her sister for drifting away yet doing the same just moments later. Tsk, how contemptible. "That's a delight to hear but I fear that all of Highgarden may not fit within our travel party!" She returned the hearty laugh with one of her own. It was such a shame the joyful air between the pair of sisters was broken by a regretful handmaid informing them that their carriages were ready to leave, slapping them both in the face with their current reality. After the handmaid had bowed and left Alerie sighed. "I presume it has come for the unfortunate time to depart from Highgarden. Follow now Lyarra. We wouldn't want to be late." The older Tyrell girl signaled for her sister to follow and left the bedroom.

Everything past descending the spiraling stone staircase and reaching the courtyard was a blur to her. Alerie didn't have the heart to be joyous. Not when King's Landing was her onset destination. The door to the carriage in front of her was opened by one of the many servants moving about the spacious courtyard. The carriage was normal, one she had seen thousand times over. Fit with the dark oak, the House Tyrell sigil, and all. She lifted her skirts as she entered the carriage. Once inside she made herself comfortable. "King's Landing will be a lot more different than you remember as the last time we went there. It'll be a lot more.. stuffy." Alerie spoke to Lyarra who had entered after her. Her words were true to a fault.

growing strong

alerie

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  INT ;
  MEN ;
  

  
  
  
  

  tamarapasek uwupolice

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  Location

  
  
  
  

  Highgarden, Reach
  Bedroom - Carriage
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[slim]

Elon Lannister

MOOD: Nervous, exhausted
LOCATION: The Red Keep
MENTIONS: open / everyone.

The warm rays of the spring sun beat down on the large group of men as they plodded towads the great spires of Kings Landing that loomed ahead in the distance. The jangle of armor and horses combined with the smell of sweaty bodies was now a very familiar sensation, one that the young man was getting rather tired of. He led the large group, his head held high despite his tiredness and his house’s ancestral sword, Brightroar, swinging on his hip and his horse rode on.
The Goldroad had made the journey quite easy, it’s soldiers well rested and provisioned, nearly bursting with nervous energy for what lay ahead. They reflected Elon’s fathers view on the tragic affair—that this unfortunate and horrific end to the Targaryen line was nothing more than an opportunity. As soon as his his father had received the news, the city went into full force as it prepared to send its warriors and heirs to Kings Landing. The clashing sounds of the armory and barracks could be heard from the man’s bedroom window, and it did little to alleviate his sadness. The news had made his heart drop, and he mourned behind closed doors lest be chastised by his father and fellow knights. The last time he had heard from his ex betrothed had been ages ago, but she had made a home for herself in his heart. His old boyish crushes had been promptly swept away after that second time they had met, his realization of the beautiful young woman in front of him blossoming. Their secret letters had been what got him through the first year of the loss of his brother. She had been his confidant and her his, but those messages too came to a crawl and then stopped altogether. Now this news has been the final nail in the coffin…and quite literally at that. He mourned, but it was no use holding on to the dead who had passed on beyond the trifles of this world. He was still alive and still burdened with duty, hence his heeding of his father’s orders. As the oldest living male heir, Elon was the future of his house and a solid contender for the Iron throne, and his father would do everything in his power to secure notoriety for his house. Elon accepted begrudgingly, but he would still try to do it his way.


Finally, Elon and his men arrived at the gate. His father had insisted he bring 500 men, a small force but one that still showed that the Lannister house was asserting its claim, and it they could easily send more down that Goaldroad if it was necessary. His father and sister would be coming in the second wave and in the meantime, Elon would be gathering intel on the state of the people, the city, and his contenders.

As his soldiers made camp on the outskirts of the city, Elon and ten of his best men rode inside. The black flags of mourning were still hung on the walls, and Elon and his men in their flashing gold armor and crimson red flags were already assimilating themselves which left a bad taste in the Lord’s mouth, but he held his head high as faces looked up at him with unreadable expressions. Surely he wasn’t as disliked as the mad king? He didn’t agree with the man’s untimely end but surely there could’ve been a less gruesome way to being about justice…one that didn’t involve his innocent family.
The familiar scent of shit and salt air from the coast hit his nose and Elon urged his horse faster until they broke out of the slum area and onto the inner circle of the city. At least as king he’d probably address the state of this city and the poor, something the late king had ignored in favor of hosting nightly bonfires.

His arrival had already been noticed and people were already awaiting him at the Red Keep. Their horses were taken to the stables and his men were led to their quarters while he was ushered into the more finer furnished rooms. Serving girls who has drawn his bath giggled as they ducked out of the room, and Elon made sure the door was properly locked before he let himself enjoy the removal of the journey’s grime in the scented hot water. He stayed until the pads of his fingers were wrinkled and his signature golden locks were renewed. After getting dressed in a simple white shirt and brown pants, he flung himself on the large canopy bed. A large plate of a various assortment of breads, cheeses, berries, and wine had been placed out for him but sleep was on the forefront of the man’s mind, and in a mere couple of seconds the man was out like a light. He would begin his duties after a good long rest.

code by low fidelity.

 

[uwupolice]

FLASHBACK | THE END OF THE TARGARYENS​

mood

complete and utter desperation, fear and confusion

location

the red keep

outfit

a nightgown

mentions

morrigan targaryen

tags

none

The Great Hall was empty, the ceiling crafted by Maegor the Cruel somehow torn off and revealing the inky, night sky. Elaera lifted her chin towards the opening, but saw no twinkle of a star nor a silhouette of a stray cloud. It was as if she was looking into nothingness. How curious-

A roar that could split her eardrums drew her attention back to the throne room. Twirling on her heel, she came face to face with an eye as big as her head. The eyes, like molten lava, were glazed over - as if it couldn't see her. Instinctively, she reached forward to touch the albino beast. Her dainty hands met stone-like scales, feeling like a fine leather between her fingertips. However, the beast retracted from her touch and opened its jaws, as if to release its fountain of fire upon her. Elaera stumbled back, eyes wide and bracing herself for the rows of teeth to take her whole, or to be burned to nothingness.

But no fire came out. It seemed as if the beast couldn't.

The shaken princess slowly backed away from the pale fire-breather, watching as its eyes darted around. Her back then pressed into something solid - the same texture as the previous beast. Elaera instantly whirled around, but felt no fear from the sight she beheld. In fact, she felt peace as she looked up at the dragon. This dragon was a bit smaller than the last, but still had this distinguishable regalness and power. However, when she peered into her eyes, she could see the pain in those ocherous pools. Upon taking a closer look, she had multiple bruises, cuts, bite marks.. Not only that, but the dragon, though powerful, seemed fearful of the other. A frown tugged at her lips, reaching up to touch her snout. The she-dragon lowered her head, eyes falling shut as Elaera pressed her forehead against hers.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

When her eyes opened, she was gone. Instead, two, mighty dragons stood before her with skin as black as the night. They were larger than the first two, but seemed younger. They paid no attention to her though, their eyes on the albino one and something past them. What they were looking at, she couldn't tell. When the princess reached forward to touch them, they disappeared, just like the last one.
Now, she was put in front of a smaller she-dragon. Her skin was the color of copper and her eyes filled with determination and youth. For some reason, a smile pulled at her lips. She.. was so familiar to her - just like all of the previous beasts. Elaera held up a hand to the dragon, the dragon instantly pressing her snout to her hand. A giggle fell from her lips and a playful light danced in the she-dragons eyes. However, a different look soon filled its eyes. "Whats wrong..?" She queried, her voice echoing. Without another word, the she-dragon flapped its magnificent wings and disappeared into the night. "Wait, come back!"

The room suddenly got colder, her skin pimpling. Elaera hugged herself, a foreboding feeling settling in her stomach. She'd turn to face this feeling, but would soon regret it. A scream racked her body, uncontrollable tears streaming down her cheeks and moistening her collar bones. She sunk down to her knees and wailed and sobbed and hollered.

In front of her were the dragon's bodies littering the ground. The albino, the regal she-dragon, the two black dragons.. and then.. a plethora of other dragons were strewn about the throne room ground - including baby dragons. There were so many corpses that they began to stack, forming cruel hills of scales and blood. Anguish and heartache clung to her bones, sobs continuing to rack her body. "How... How did this happen?! Th-they were fine just a moment ago.."

Then, she heard a roar. Not the roar of a dragon but a roar of a-

Elaera woke with a start, a gloved hand upon her shoulder. "My princess." Her guard murmured, his helmet off for once. "Ser Andrey..?" Tears still pricked at her eyes and that horrible feeling would not leave her gut. "We must go. At once. Please stay low and don't look anywhere, don't make a noise-"
"What's happening?" Panic crept into her voice.
"I'm sorry princess, no time for an explanation-"
"Ser Andrey, is my sister okay? My mother? My brothers?!"
The knight carefully grabbed her by her arm and began to pull her towards the door. "Ser Andrey!" Darkness filled his gaze and he would not speak to her. "Ser Andrey!" Elaera called out again, but he continued to ignore her as he dragged her out the room.

elaera targaryen

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Preparations were made, supplies packed and another 500 men of the House of Lannister set out with their lord at its head leading them in full regalia as they began to pass through the gate of Castley Rock. The feeling was almost festive, even the usually downcast weather that seemed to hang over Castley Rock seemed to have given way to some sun and blue sky. This had a feeling of a start of a grand campaign, like the legendary heroes of the stories going on the warpath. Yet the war was already done, the rebellion was over the Mad King Tagaryen was done with the rest of his kin dead or captured. This was an excessive show of force, especially when 500 men were already sent ahead of them to king's landing. Especially for a council of the surviving houses.

One would not take women to the fighting, either. Yet here was Bethany was in an ornate carriage with some of her cousins travelling in between the marching troops. Her cousins chatting and gossiping about where they were going to go in kings landings, who they were going to see and if the cute so and so of such and such house was going to be in the meeting. However, Bethany did not partake, she had no interest in the men of other family and in her mind such chatter was base and stupid. She just sat and sipped on a goblet of wine as she stared at the sea in deep thought.

This is because she knew, like her father knew, and doubtless any other half intelligent member worth their salt of other houses knew. The battles may have ended and the Targaryen were driven from power, but that was only half the war. The second part was only just beginning, and it could be bloodier than the battle before if not dealt with properly. There was a power vacuum now and the vultures were circling around the tagaryean corpse to get what they can get, even go for the prize of the Iron throne itself. Houses could rise and fall in the next few days and months, and it was the chance for the Lannister to truly gain true ascendency. That was why she was her, to make the plans, the army to have a show of force and her cousins to trade and gift as necessary. Let the base stupidity of the latter infect other families rather than take space in Casterly Rock.

She had a lot of work ahead of her, and part of her relished the challenge. To try to manage every interest of the families, watch out for any plots and make some of her own. However another part of her doubted her ability, could she really play spymaster? The whore and wench bastard of the house of Lannister. She could not help feel that, that was the intention. Her father putting her in the role to humiliate and finally prove to everyone she was not worthy of the House. She logically knew it was not the case as if she failed it likely meant the end of the family but.. She took a long intake of her wine almost drowning the entire goblet. She tried hard to remember what is true, what was logical. She was capable, she could do this and do it well. She well not lose another brother when she could help it.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

The Grey Wolf
Brandon Stark
Brandon took to the cold the same way a fish took to water. They were inseparable, one couldn't really be the same without the other. But this cold felt...different. Empty, unfamiliar. It brought a bad taste to the Grey Wolf's mouth as he sat alone in the Godswood, taking in the quiet serenity punctuated by the frigid cold. Even for him this felt cold. He let out a weary sigh, his breath freezing immediately and disappearing into the air. 'Hmmm...suppose winter is on the horizon. Even then..." He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on the frosted soil behind him. He turned to face the sound, only to see one of his House Guards. The lad looked winded, panting just a bit as he bowed and said, "Mi'lord, you uh...you have visitors." Brandon arched an eyebrow, standing up with a bit of an efforted grunt as he replied, "Visitors? What kind?" The kid looked a bit confused, shrugging as he simply replied with, "No idea, Lord Stark. The captain just told me to find you." The Grey Wolf let out a sigh. Uninvited guests were always bad. But he had his duties. "Alright...go find Ashlynn, Trystan, Rylen and Maerie and bring them to the Great Hall. And make sure the hall is ready for some sort of greeting." The kid nodded, running off with a bit of panic. Brandon looked to the sky, a bird circling him, bringing to mind the sigil of his late wife's House. "Something feels off," he thought. "Who would come to Winterfell uninvited...?"

He would soon get his answer. But first, he had to make sure his children and ward looked halfway decent. They were a lively bunch, so he wouldn't be surprised if they needed some...freshening up. He gathered them all in the Great Hall, making sure each and every one looked presentable. His words were firm but fair, more worried about them making fools of themselves than of House Stark. "I suppose this will do. You all know what to do. Ashlynn, at least pretend to be a good Lady. Trystan, act like you have a brain in that skull of yours, and don't even think about chasing any skirt. Maerie...you're fine. And Rylen, by the Old God's and the New PLEASE do not chase any animals. Are we all clear? Good." He beckoned the four to follow him, the House Guards pushing the door tot he Great Hall open for the family as Brandon once again found himself in the frigid Northern air.

The Grey Wolf got his answer soon enough. After his own long, boring introduction, his guest was introduced. Elaera...he knew who she was before the rest of her name came. She was a Targaryen, one of the few left alive after the Rebellion. He never knew her personally, seeing as Brandon tried to keep out of Southron politics as much as possible, but he'd heard she was a sweet girl, if a bit naïve. The latter probably explained why she was here. What was a Targeryen doing all the way up in Winterfell? The Stark's had opposed the royal family in the rebellion. Granted, it was no secret this decision was purely pragmatic, but...still. Seeing the girl brought back images of black and red. The sigh of smoke and blood, King's Landing burning. Screaming, wailing, crying. He had to shake himself back to the present. He couldn't be weak. Not here, not in front of those he cared for. No matter the circumstances or the sides they stood on, Elaera had come to him as a guest. He didn't know if the Southroners still held the protection of guests as sacred, but he did. She would be able to stay, but he could promise no more. The Grey Wolf bowed as much as he could in his advancing age, his head down as he said, "Welcome, Lady Elaera. It's...a pleasure to have you in Winterfell. I can't promise much, but I can at least have you as our guest. We'll have our introductions inside, before we all freeze to death." His brain was screaming that this was a bad idea. If the other House's knew he was harboring a Targaryen...no. She would stay for a while, and that was final. It was the least he could do.


The Frogman of Greywater Watch
Rylen Reed

Rylen looked quite dirty when he got to the Great Hall. No wonder, he'd been spearfishing when the guard summoned him. He nodded at his Lord's request. He could do normal. For a while, at least. He didn't say a word, despite the fact he'd seen Trystan chasing skirt not too long ago. No need to rat out his friend. The Reed was dressed up in his "fancy clothes," aka what everyone else at Winterfell wore on a normal basis. He actually somewhat looked like a Stark...if only he wasn't several heads shorter than even Ashlynn. He stood beside the Stark children, doing his best to seem the dutiful squire, all the while taking in the guests. Carriage...rich, then. Even the Reed's, the wealthiest and most powerful family in the Neck didn't have carriages.

Nor did they have anyone with white hair. It took the boy a while before he realized who she was. A Targaryen. He'd neve seen one in person. She was...shorter than he expected. in fact she was shorter than him, somehow. Pretty too, but that was besides the point. He gave he a polite bow, not ally saying much as he looked at her with a bit of fascination. They really did have white hair, huh? He always thought that was just a myth. Anyways, He followed Brandon into the Great Hall, wondering why a Targaryen was all the way up North...

Mentions:
uwupolice
Virani
Qwertycakes​

 

[Virani]

Ashlyn Stark​

Ashlyn stood in her chambers watching as her maid Sarya moved around the room muttering to herself about creases in dresses and how much more there was to pack. In truth Ashlyn did not have much to pack, other than her wardrobe which consisted of a variety of gowns for a whole host of functions and the shirt and trousers that Ashlyn had insisted on packing. But other than that her only real possessions were mementoes and personal items that lay around the room. Sarya would leave those for her to decide what to take, for which she was grateful, but she hadn't yet decided what she would take and what she would leave. No that wasn't true, it wasn't the packing that had her hesitating. It was the journey itself or more accurately what waited at the end of the journey. Could she really do this? Leave Winterfell and her family to head into the extremely dangerous King's Landing and House Lannister? But all doubts aside she knew that she would do it. Her father may not like it, be adamantly against it in fact, yet he saw the wisdom in arranging an alliance especially now, they needed allies. Winterfell was strong what with the North behind it but that wasn't enough, not if they wanted to come out of this still strong. She knew her father wanted to cancel the plan and order her to remain here but as yet he hadn't allowed his emotion to interfere with what was best for the family and the House as a whole and Ashlyn would not allow him to stop her anyway. She had always been the big sister to her siblings, she took care of them, protected them and ensured they knew they were loved. They might not understand what she was doing but ultimately she was doing it for them.

Her father's voice shook her from her thoughts and she nodded to Sarya before heading after her father who had already strode past on his way to gather his other children. She gathered with the rest of them in the great hall. Before her father began speaking she had already run a practised eye over her siblings, straightening Trystan's coat with a frown and a tug, smoothing a stray curl of Maerie's hair and discreetly wiping some twigs off Rylen's back. She then turned that same discerning eye on her father and frowned again, he wasn't eating enough again and she made a mental note to speak to the cook and her father's manservant. She grinned at his words knowing that he knew she was more than capable of behaving appropriately no matter how she disliked it. She also knew that she looked perfectly presentable in her deep red woollen gown with a silver belt and silver embroidery and her hair loose but brushed and neat. She may not wear the latest fashion but she would do.

Her eyes widened slightly when they saw who had turned up at their doorstep Oh no, this is not going to end well. By the old gods, why is she here?
She allowed none of her misgivings to show on her face as she stepped forward to stand at her father's side, a polite smile on her face and her hands outstretched in a welcoming gesture.
"Welcome to Winterfell Lady Targaryan." Ashlyn caught the eye of their housekeeper and nodded to her. The housekeeper curtsied briefly and gestured to two maids who scurried away to ready a bedchamber for their guest. At the same time, a lad was already hurrying to the kitchen to inform the cook to have a meal prepared and hot water drawn for a bath. Ashlyn may not particularly like the idea of a Targaryan under their roof, especially now, but she would not shame her father.

She followed her father into the great hall which was thankfully already warmed by the fires roaring in the great hearths. She inclined her head to their guest. "Be at ease. Here in Winterfell we still hold the protection of our guests as sacred. I am Ashlyn Stark lady of Winterfell, for now at least, if you require anything during your stay please do not hesitate to ask."

Mentions
Rusty of Shackleford
uwupolice
Qwertycakes

 

[HumbugPie]

Lady Loralynne Tyrell​

Loralynne was in her quarters with her maid beside her, who was delicately curling and styling her hair ready for the day, when a servant burst through the doors, informing her frantically of the fall of the Mad King. From that day on, the air in Highgarden and the whole of Westeros shifted - it was thick, filled with a mixture of panic, immense fear and worry about what was to come. And no wonder, with the Mad King gone, chaos was sure to ensue. Though on the outside Loralynne seemed calm, on the inside her mind was filled with uncertainty and so many questions. Would the girls be safe? How would they prepare to defend themselves and Highgarden if a war over the throne were to break out? She knew her questions could not be answered, at least not right in this moment. Her maid had stopped styling her hair, noticing that Loralynne seemed distant. She rested her hand on Loralynne's shoulder as a gesture to see if she was okay. She didn't answer. The pit of her stomach swelled with dread, bubbling up her throat until her vocal cords felt strained and she was unable to speak.

A week later and it was time to set off on the journey to King's Landing. She made sure that both her and the childrens' bags were packed with everything they could possibly need during their stay, getting her maid to check and double-check again that there was nothing missing. Her many colourful dresses, petticoats, corsets, necklaces of all kinds of gems, earrings of different sizes, hairpieces and her personal items were all packed into her bags ready to be placed onto the carriage. Her nerves were high, the tension and uncertainty of the situation tormenting and instigating her worries. But she knew she had to keep her over-thinking in check and ready for the mind-games that were about to begin. She could not falter in front of the other Houses, especially the Lannisters, she had to show her emotional strength and wit. With that thought, a servant came to inform her that the families' carriage had arrived to take them to King's Landing. Loralynne looked across the room to a nearby window, taking in the sight of her beloved Highgarden in the distance. Walking to the doors of her quarters, she kept her eye on the window for a few seconds more and then looked around her room as if to say goodbye, "I will miss you," she whispered, before leaving through the doors, walking through the castle and out into the courtyard where the carriage was stood.

As Loralynne approached the carriage, she mentally prepared herself for the coming journey ahead. Just before she stepped up inside, she took one last look at the castle around her - at its stone walls, its courtyard that held onto so many memories, the turrets that first caught her eye upon arriving at her new home after being newlywed and the large front doors of home. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Loralynne turned to the carriage once more. A servant held out his hand to help her up and closed the door once she was inside. Her daughters were already sat down in the carriage seats across from her and Loralynne took one of each of their hands and asked, "are you ready to go, my dears?", before knocking gently with one of her gloved knuckles on the roof of the carriage to signal to the driver that it was time to leave. And with that, the dark oak carriage with the Tyrells inside took off for the journey to King's Landing.

 

[a z u l a]

Morrigan Targaryen

Princess of Ash

play with fire by sam tinnesz

they broke the wrong parts of me. they broke my wings and forgot i had claws.

mood rather pissed
location middle of the woods
tags open

It had been one full week since the slaughtering of her family, and it seemed that every day that passed Morrigan's rage began to grow. If it wasn't for those hunting trips her older brother had taken her on, she wouldn't have lasted a full week out in the woods. It was still lucky she'd made it this long, she had no supplies, only the dress she'd pulled on in a haste and the sword her brother had handed her before she fled.

She knew it wasn't safe to stay in the Crownlands unless she found an ally of her family. She'd seen the Tyrell soldiers fighting to protect her home, maybe she could get to them, but she was unfamiliar with the land and even more unfamiliar with the current alliances between houses. Maybe the Tyrell's had turned on them, or maybe they'd all been killed as well. There was no safety, no where she could run. Nobody was coming to save her.

The only people with any loyalty to her were dead, slaughtered in their home. The only person who could keep Morrigan alive now, was herself.

Twigs snapped beneath her feet as she trekked through the forest, her whole body ached from sleeping on the forest floor, but she had to keep moving. For now, it seemed that getting to the Tyrell's was her safest option, though it was still a risk. She'd been traveling for days now, she should be reaching their homestead soon.

Suddenly, there was the sound of leaves rustling and branches snapping and the loud, booming voices of men headed her direction. Panic started to build in her chest as she tried to move behind a tree and hide, there was no way to run without alerting them to her presence. Hopefully they were Tyrell soliders and they could lead her to safety, but as they moved closer into view she could see the red and gold of the Lannister crest.

"Is that...a Targaryen?" One called to the others, spotting her crouched behind the tree. She cursed under her breath, it had ben a terrible hiding spot but the only one she was offered. Anger overrode her panic and she gripped the blade at her side, standing from her cowering position. She was tired of hiding, tired of being hunted like prey. The Targaryens had been a noble house, now they were being treated like animals.

If a beast was what they wanted, then a beast was what she would give them.

A scream ripped through Morrigan's teeth as one of them men ran towards her, but it wasn't the scream of a frightened girl. Morrigan was letting loose something buried within her, something that never would've gotten lose if not dragged out of her by bloody hands. The sword slashed across the man's chest before he could even comprehend what was happening. Ladies didn't carry swords or know how to use them, especially not noble ones. But Morrigan was no longer a lady, she was busy fighting for her freedom.

The other men rushed her and she started to run but knew she'd be caught soon enough. If the last Targaryen was going to die, then she was going to go out kicking and screaming the whole way. Her blade swung again, colliding with the nearest man's, she wasn't a master swordsman but she knew enough the keep herself alive for now. The feeling was much different than when Morrigan had fought against her brother for training, she felt the anger, suffering, and pain of the last week bubbling over as she swung furiously, unflinching as blood spattered across her face, a mix of hers and theres as she fought like a mad woman.

There was no way to hold them all off, and while she'd done more than her share of damage there was no way she could take them all alone. A Lannister blade sliced through her shoulder as she screamed, backing away as much as she could, but there was no escape. Maybe the Targaryen curse would end here.

coded by incandescent

 

[slim]

Elon Lannister

MOOD: Curious, impatient
LOCATION: The Red Keep
MENTIONS: open / everyone.

A week had passed, and still Elon was the only representation of a house to have made it to King's Landing. Thankfully his father had sent a raven, and they would arrive at King's Landing in a few days.
The way his father had described this whole affair, he had expected the Red Keep to be bursting with nobles and their servants and there to be bickering all hours of the day. Perhaps the others were simply being respectful about the tragic events and the Lannisters, like usual, were being massive dicks about the whole affair. Elon would simply blame his father in the matter, for the man was only following orders and soon father dearest would be here himself and could get to plotting his heart away. Elon lacked the Lannister cunning his father and sister possessed, but so had Tacticus and he was a successful and beloved man. Of course, that's what had cost him his life. Hm.

In the meantime, Elon had to find things to not only keep him busy but ensure his father's orders were carried out. He was often seen wandering around the Red Keep as he mentally took note of the guards and servants, who in turn were keeping Elon under tabs as well. He knew they had a duty to respect him, but he was still some stranger in the castle of their former king and his family, and he had to treat lightly. He still couldn't believe he was roaming the halls where the awful even had taken place, and he could've sworn he saw one servant cleaning dried blood off of one of the stone walls in the corridor. He remembered vividly the first time he had visited King's Landing with his father as a child, and he still remembered vividly the secret tunnels the mad king's daughter had shown him. He didn't feel the need to go hunting for them, but they could come in use. A spark of hope rose in his chest for a moment―perhaps Elaera had used them to escape the massacre? He wouldn't doubt her abilities, and no one exactly saw their bodies. He knew he was a fool for clinging onto hope, but perhaps there was a chance, right? Regardless, for now the Targaryen family was no more and the kingdom was in a disarray.

After some sneak peeks of the White Sword Tower, Elon soon turned to the city. Once more his 10 men joined him as they surveyed the streets, this time ditching the horses but keeping their armor and swords just in case. There wasn't much to report, just another bustling and dirty city with too many people struggling to get by. The Lannister kept digging into his gold purse until it was empty while his men tried not to not stare in annoyance every time he made a stop. The City Watch seemed to be quite active which was good to see, but that all depended if they were actually doing their jobs, and he was quite sure he saw some slinking down the Street of Silk.

With his boredom soon growing, however, the Lannister took a hunting party out for a few days. His men needed it more than him, who had been getting agitated in their camps but soon were enjoying all the woods had to offer, and they brought back meat that would last a few weeks. Hopefully the houses would appreciate his efforts. When he did return, he found a raven waiting on him. His father had some more information to share—Elon was to spend some...quality time with the daughter of Brandon Stark, Ashlyn. He had never traveled with his father to the North, nor had he ever seen Brandon or his children. His father liked calling them "stubborn, wolfish bastards" that was for certain. And now he wanted to wed him to one? Elon felt a mixture of feelings he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he took a deep breath and downed it as quickly as they began to form. He had duties, and marriage was one of them. He simply had to keep an open mind and follow the older Lannister's advice, and who knew what might happen.

code by low fidelity.

 

[uwupolice]

A man in rags peels himself off the wall, his eyes having spotted a new piece of parchment hastily plastered upon the wall of a building. Curious and outright bored, he lurched forward to get a better look at the poster. Extending a soot-covered hand, he snatched the parchment from the wall and brought it closer to his face.

His eyes widened.

"Th...three hundred gold dragons.." He murmured, using his free hand to push some strand locks out of his eyes. A tongue swiped across his heavily chapped lips, intrigue dancing in his eyes. This would save him. Hell, this would help him survive for years. 'Too bad they're all dead'. He thought scornfully, letting the paper slip from his hands. 'What do the Lannisters think me as? A peasant and an imbecile?' He spat at the poster and walked away, leaving it to be stepped on by another.

Instead, another picked it up.

​

 

[uwupolice]

[ click on her name to get a lil bit of xtra info ! ]​

Elaera's eyes swept across each member of the Stark family, intrigue dancing in her eyes. 'So these are the Starks of Winterfell - a humble and honorable house. The Direwolves of the Realm.' Her eyes continued to twinkle as she observed them, barely registering the words that were being said. She zoned out further when her eyes connected with pools of green. 'This man.. is not a Stark..? His eyes are quite gorgeo-'

"My apologies, but it is Princess Elaera not Lady-" Her steward butted in, as if waiting to correct them this entire time.
Eyes going wide, she waved her hands in dismissal. "No- No. It's entirely fine, Steward Addam." The silverette cut him off, a polite, yet sheepish, smile pulled at her lips. "I... am no longer a Princess. The title of 'Lady' is a very respectful title." Her voice faded a bit towards the end, but she still tried to appear content. Addam gave his princess a look but merely bowed his head in response. "Hopefully, we shall fix that soon." The fair-haired steward murmured before straightening back up.

The Head of House Stark, Lord Brandon, finished his welcoming and urged them all to come inside. Elaera lowered her head in thanks, unable to contain the eagerness that glimmered in her gaze. "I realize that our arrival was unforeseen, but I thank you nonetheless for your hospitality and warmth." Elaera responded, her eyes already wandering to the towering stone of the castle. "I've read in books that Winterfell is by far the largest castle, correct? Not only that, but it was built right over hot springs? Absolutely fascinating." She commented, not intentionally trying to come off as a sycophant; she's merely a bookworm with a love for history and exploration!

The dainty dragon continued to quietly awe over the foreboding castle, not even processing that they were inside until she felt heat hug her body. 'Wow! What a difference in temperatures!" Still wonderstruck, she looked back at her steward. Addam seemed preoccupied in his thoughts and the conversation to come. Boring. Elaera's gaze then shifted to her long-time companion, Lucaerys Velaryon. Her eyes immediately softened when looking upon him. He was the only thing reminiscent of her home. Of her childhood. Of better days..
She shook those melancholic thoughts and offered a gentle smile. If only she could telepathically say: 'Wow, look at this place! What do you think?!' She'll just have to verbally communicate that to him later.

As they entered the Great Hall, the eldest Stark, Ashlyn, approached her. Her eyes, the color of a fresh iron sword, met her own. She held herself with this calm authority but was still able to come off as amiable. Elaera looked up to the taller woman, a small smile gracing her features once more. "Thank you, Lady Stark. I am grateful for your and your family's reception." Nothing but genuine words fell from her lips. Elaera would be eternally appreciative for their willingness to let these strangers into their home - especially Southern strangers.

But.. why exactly did they bring her all the way to Winterfell? Even she, the princess, was lacking in the details. She was only told that she was going somewhere safe.

Safe.

That word flooded her with guilt. Horrible guilt that bore into her gut and spread across her limbs and climbed up her throat. That guilt would often transform into a ball in her throat, causing her eyes to prick with tears and her nose to redden. Her head would plague with thoughts of her family: her selfless mother, her brave brothers, her sweet, mischievous sister, her little nieces, and nephews... Were they safe like her? Were they warm like her?

Elaera swallowed. She couldn't think like this right now. She couldn't shed a tear right now. She would have to wait for the solace of darkness and a warm, straw bed.

the last dragon

elaera.

• aaaaaaaaa
• aaaaaaaaa

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  Rusty of Shackleford Virani VisiblyInvisible Qwertycakes

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

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  uwupolice Rusty of Shackleford
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Lucaerys

of House Velaryon

Lucaerys Velaryon, the Lord of Tides, was now a long way from any ocean. He was in the middle of the frigid North, riding on horseback with a small retinue of men, including the Master-At-Arms, Ser Adarien Loch. His Master-At-Arms, he supposed as he glanced at the sword on his hip. And the Princess in a carriage between them.

Ser Adarien was a tall man with a flat, square face and brown eyes so dark that they were nearly black. Lucy never liked him very much, even as a child. The old knight was always too serious and unsmiling. Of all the people on Driftmark, Ser Adarien was perhaps the only one that Lucy didn’t consider a friend. Still, he could see that the man was an asset, now more than ever.

During his journey across the North, Lucy’s advisors, trusted men that once advised his father as well, droned on and on about the importance of their mission and how Lord Lucaerys Velaryon must be on his best behavior.

He tried to pay attention, he honestly did, but everything they said to him seemed to go in one ear and straight out the other. He couldn’t help it. Besides, it’s not like they could realistically teach him how to be Lord in such a short amount of time. So, Lucy would watch the world pass by as they made their way.

Despite the bitter cold of the North, it was a beautiful place. Every surface seemed to shimmer and glisten in the sunlight as the ice and snow melted. Every town and inn they passed through was quaint and cozy. Lucy loved Driftmark, but he’d never describe it as cozy. Everything was just so different in the North.

Lucy would often dismount from his horse abruptly whenever he saw something that caught his eye. Most of the time, it was a flower of some kind. They were all an odd mix of foreign and familiar. His home had flowers, but not these flowers. Nothing like these flowers. Sometimes he would pick them, admire them for a moment, and gently place them in his pack. Sometimes he would show them to Elaera. He didn’t know why he kept them, really. Perhaps as a souvenir.

When Lucaerys finally made it to the gates of Winterfell, the driver of the carriage showed the guards the sigil and continued inside. Lucy strode through the gate on foot, his horse in the capable hands of Ser Adarien, and made his way to the center of the courtyard. Lucy took in a deep breath of the cold air that sent a burning sensation through his nose and scanned the courtyard with lilac eyes. Everyone was staring back at him, it seemed.

There was already a small congregation around the carriage and Lucy smiled as he heard Elaera’s escort list her many titles to the Starks. As they made their way to the Great Hall, Lucy made an effort to catch Elaera’s eye and sent her a wink and a reassuring smile to ease her nerves.

When he reached the heavy, wooden doors of the Hall, Lucy stepped through the threshold as if it were his own home. Immediately, the warmth radiating from the burning fires washed over Lucy, and his pace slowed to a stop as he admired the interior of the building. Even he could see the history in these stone walls.

Lucaerys ran a finger through his silvered hair. He swallowed hard as the realization began to set in. He would have to negotiate with the Starks, plead with them to help him and Princess Elaera. It would most certainly be a difficult task, he was sure of that.

He rested one hand on his hip before clearing his throat,

“Lucaerys Taelor Velaryon.”

He introduced himself.

“Lord Lucaerys Taelor Velaryon, First of His Name, the Lord of Driftmark and the Tides.”

Ser Adarien interjected with a low, gravelly voice that echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Lucaerys’ face flushed with embarrassment,

“Right, er, Lord Lucaerys Velaryon.”"

He bowed his head,

“Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, Lord Stark. If there’s anything we can do to repay you, please do not hesitate to ask. We are in your debt.”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Qwertycakes]

OUTFIT: Trystan
-
Maerie

LOCATION: Winterfell

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:
Brandon Stark Rusty of Shackleford

Ashlyn Stark Virani

Elaera Targaryen uwupolice

tags

TL;DR Visitors arrive at Winterfell

tl;dr

Trystan Stark
& Maerie Snow

"Intruders! Hold the gates!" Trystan joked as he jogged over to the small group that had already assembled to greet their unexpected guests, ferrying his little sister Maerie piggy-back style on his back. "Loose the arrows!" Maerie chirped, giggling from her vantage point clinging to Trystan. A mottled grey direwolf, along with a smaller, snow white one, trotting just behind them.

"What's this about then?" The Stark rolled his eyes, still annoyed that his day was disrupted to put 50 damn layers of fancy clothes on and greet some random, unknown visitor. He took his spot to await their guests, setting Maerie down so the small girl could be inspected and corralled into position as well. Soon it was his turn, and Trystan smirked at his elder sister as she fussed with his clothing. He made a move to ruffle up Ashlyn's neatly brushed hair, and snickered when the girl's quick hand shot up at lightning speed to slap his own away from her head.

"Yeah, yeah," Trystan nodded with a sheepish grin at Lord Stark's words about "chasing skirt", having just been interrupted mere moments ago from chatting up the kennelmaster's daughter. Maerie, in turn, smiled proudly to herself, elated to receive no complaints from her father.

Nothing could mask the astonished look on Maerie's face as their guest was revealed to be a Targaryen. A real, live princess, here at Winterfell? Maerie had read about the Targaryens, and it was always mentioned how gorgeous the people of the great house were, but it certainly didn't prepare her for a look upon such ethereal beauty in person. Maerie watched in awe as the petite woman emerged from the carriage, her silver hair glistening like Valyrian steel, trying in vain to deduce whether her eyes were an impossibly beautiful baby blue or in fact a true, delicate lavender. Trystan's jaw had also dropped to the ground at the stunning sight of their most comely visitor, but the raven-haired fellow composed himself quickly enough to stalk after her as the Targaryen was hustled inside by Ashlyn and Lord Stark.

Trystan hung about until just the right moment to pounce, striding up to Elaera during a brief moment when her attention wasn't occupied (and the attentions of her male companions were.) With a confident grin, he offered his hand to the silverette. "My lady." Taking her dainty digits in his, he bowed his head gently, just enough to press a soft kiss to the back her hand. "Or I'd be happy to call you my princess, if it please you," The Stark offered playfully, flashing his most charming smile as he glanced up from her hand.

The huge grey wolf had quietly settled by the princess's side, sniffing at her free hand. "Nothing to fear, that's just Rockley. He's a good boy...a bit daft," Trystan nodded towards to the direwolf, his hand still busy holding onto Elaera's. With his tongue lolling out, Rockley's yellow eyes stared up at her hopefully, as if waiting for a scratch on the head. "You must allow me to show you around Winterfell, my lady," Trystan continued, eager to capture her attention once more. "I don't know what you've heard about the North but it's actually quite beautiful--"

His pitch was interrupted by Maerie wedging herself between her brother and Elaera, the latter's hand finally falling free of Trystan's gentle grip. "PRINCESS! I mean, your grace!" Maerie squeaked, beaming with excitement. "I-I mean, my lady!" She stammered with a shy curtsy, just as she had when they were first introduced.

"You're a Targaryen??" The little brunette looked left and right before leaning in conspiratorially to ask her next question--the most logical question one would ask when faced with the opportunity to meet a Targaryen, at least in Maerie's estimation. "Do you have any dragons?" She asked in a hushed voice. She knew it was an incredibly long shot, that all the dragons were said to have died out years ago. But if Elaera were to pull a tiny, kitten-sized dragon out from under her elegant white cloak, Maerie would surely fall over dead right there in the Great Hall.

code by valen t.

 

[Virani]

Ashlyn Stark​

Ashlyn shook her head at her younger siblings antics, she shot her father a brief amused grin before her features settles back into what her family recognised as her 'Lady Face' as she wore a polite, welcoming smile.
"You must forgive them." She said to their guest. "We usually don't stand on ceremony here unless we have guests. Would you like to be shown to your rooms so you can refresh yourself before dinner? You have arrived in time to attend the feast this evening."

She looked at her father and although his expression did not change she knew that her mention of the feast this evening reminded him of her imminent departure. But there was no help for it. She didn't want to leave, she loved her family and home, but if they wanted to survive the chaos that had only just begun they needed allies. Since she was a woman and therefore could not be the heir, how she hated the restrictions of her gender, she was determined to be of use the only way a woman could. Marrying well.

Still, her heart hurt knowing this was the last evening she would spend in Winterfell with her family. As usual, she hid this from everyone including her family, maintaining the mask of composure she was an expert in. Pushing down her turbulent emotions Ashlyn turned to the task of organising the household, one which she had excelled at since being forced to take on responsibilities at a young age after their mother's death. She did not blame her father for this, he could not be expected to fulfil his duties as well as those commonly done by the Lady of the House. But there were times, usually after seeing her younger siblings in their innocent and carefree play, when she regretted having to grow up so fast.

Irritated at again falling into her emotions she turned to her father. "Would see our guest to her rooms? I must go and ensure everything is on schedule for the feast this evening. You know how cook gets if things aren't done exactly as she wants them done." This last was said with an exasperated fondness as she loved all the servants in the keep. As though on cue the keep's housekeeper indicated she needed her attention. "Excuse me. I must attend to the feast preparations."

She inclined her head and then quickly walked to the older woman. "My Lady There are a number of issues that require your attention."
Ashlyn sighed. "Of course there are. You can tell me on route to the kitchens."

The two women left the great hall and walked towards the kitchens. Perhaps recognising that Ashlyn was pensive the housekeeper kept the information short and to the point. After a moment of thought, Ashlyn said. "I will see the required funds are released for the kennel master to allow him to purchase materials to reinforce the kennels as we can't have the hounds running loose again. Send the two scullery boys to start training under the master at arms, they're old enough and it should curb some of their mischiefs. Hire another maid and inform Lia that she can return home to tend to her mother. I think that's everything for now. I assume everything is in order for our guest's rooms? "

The housekeeper nodded in assent and then looked sad. "However are we going to manage without you?"

Ashlyn smiled. "I have every confidence in you and the steward."

"And you have a future husband to meet and charm."

The older woman's words brought Elon Lannister to mind, she had never spent any time with the Lannisters but she had heard he was handsome, as they usually were. She hoped they would do well together, perhaps even one day learn to love each other. She knew that was unlikely and perhaps a foolish hope but Ashlyn longed for someone to share her life with, someone that she could lean on as much as they did on her. Shaking off the thoughts of her secret longing she entered the kitchen to soothe cook and prepare for the feast.

Rusty of Shackleford
uwupolice
Qwertycakes

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Bethany peeked out the window when she heard the news that they were nearing King's Landing. It was true what they said about the capital after all, she thought, you do smell the shit a mile away. If you ask two people about King's Landing is to hear a description of two cities: The glorious capital, one of great monuments like the Red Keep, The Great Sept. The centre of power, nobility and knowledge in the five kingdom. The other is a nest of rats and piles of shit. Too many people living in such a small place with rampant poverty and den of sin. There are aspects of both she liked and loathed, both of the former she intended to enjoy and to suffer through in her time here.

Though the smell of shit was something she loathed, understandably so, it was something that came with some relief. Her patience of her cousin's innate chatter reached its end, especially when they tried to involve her in it. Having to speak down to their level and pretend to like certain boys, it was enough to make her skin crawl. How many braincells had she lost in the process. She needed some stimulation, both physical and mental soon, or she would go crazy. She hoped she would not be hard to get an open-minded girl to play around with. However, first things came first, she required to see her brother and get an assessment of how thing were here. Business before pleasure. Not like seeing her brother wasnt going to be pleasure either.

A small guard force and the women were sent into the city first towards the Lannister estate while Bethany's father remained outside the gates to deal with the remainder of his troops. Inside the carriage, Bethany and her cousins peaked out to see the sites, as some it was the first time in the city. While most hid away when they saw the squalor, Bethany kept looking, taking in the state of the city. Though often ignored, one could never underestimate the peasantry. Though mostly fodder, a good manipulation of the people maybe an effective route to power. Having a good idea of what they want can help with that. Usually it was some bread and entertainment. She made a mental note to check on the food situation in the city.

She smiled when she reached the estate, not waiting for the carriage to stop before opening the door and hanging herself on the side of the carriage. "Little Cub!!! The Big Befani is here!!" She called out at the top of her voice. Letting everyone hear her nickname for Leon and his pronunciation of her name when he was a toddler.

slim

 

[slim]

Elon Lannister

MOOD: excited, elated
LOCATION: The Red Keep
MENTIONS: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

The raven from earlier had sent the man into a pensive mood, which he remedied with sword fighting and drinking—an easy cure. Thankfully some more people had began to trickle into the red keep, and Elon found himself finding new sparring partners from across Westeros. Elon was confident in his abilities, but you could never be too confident, especially if you only held on to the only ways you knew. The young Lannister especially loved fighting with those from Dorne, who knew how to keep him on his feet thanks to their usual lack of heavy armor that Elon and his men were accustomed to. The man who Elon had chosen to spar with was named Drakayl, and the two men were a flurry of steel for a solid ten minutes without so much as even a scrape on either of them. However, Drakayl used the last of his energy to speed up his lunges, and Elon finally failed to parry and soon the tip of the other man's spear was directly in front of him. Elon let out a laugh as Drakayl lowered his weapon and offered a hand to the man who was kneeling on the ground, and Elon heartily accepted it.

"Now that was fine fighting my friend! I cannot wait to do it again. Perhaps next time I'll ditch this confounded chainmail, no?" Elon said as he rose to his feet.

"I think I have room for one mor-" The other man was cut short as a servant approached the two men.

"Lord Lannister, your sister, Bethany Lannister, has been spotted entering the city." Immediately, Elon's spirits soared. Finally she had arrived! These past few dreadfully boring days would soon be no more if Bethany Lannister had anything to say about it. The man wasted no time darting back to the Red Keep, and waited with anticipation at the front until he saw those familiar red and gold banners approaching. The carriages soon came to a stop, and a woman with fiery hair wasted to time springing out and calling Elon by that dreadful nickname. As awful as it was, it was their signal that it was the two of them and their father wasn't near since he would never allow for such childish behavior from either of them. Perfect, the two siblings would have time to catch up. Elon laughed and ran up to the carriage, scooping his sister up in a bear hug before setting her on the ground.

"I've never been this happy to see you, this has been the most boring and isolating week I've ever had. We're the only house to have arrived, perhaps the throne will be more easy to acquire than we thought." As Elon spoke, servants had already began to grab the Lady's items from the carriage and show their cousins to their rooms. Elon watched with disinterest as his blonde family members chattered as they made their way inside. A sea of gold, and then there was Bethany.

"I don't really want to be in the Keep right now, especially if our dearest family will be in such close quarters. I have important matters to discuss as well. Let's take a walk to the Blackwater, I'm sure you're dying to smell seawater over the local scents of the city anyhow."

code by low fidelity.

 

[uwupolice]

[ click on her name to get a lil bit of xtra info ! ]​

When Elaera first laid eyes on the newly titled Lord Velaryon, tears spilled. It was as if he was the apotheosis of everything she yearned for: familiarity, safety, warmth, trust. The princess immediately threw her arms around him, sobbing as they embraced. With the shock of seeing her long-time friend and her loss of, well, everything, it just all erupted. Of course, Lucy was more than understanding. They mourned together in each other's arms while quietly celebrating their overdue reunion.

Now, here they were. Instead of the wooden floors of the ship, they were standing on the stone floors of a massive castle. Instead of the open-sea and their small group of supporters, they were faced with Northerners that have never seen a Targaryen or Velaryon (and vice versa). They were in uncharted waters, and all they could hope for is to not drown.

Those worries would soon fade when Elaera watched Lucy introduce himself. A smile tugged at her lips. She could sense his nerves, but all of her faith was poured into him. If these were different circumstances, she would be teasingly gushing over him and being his little hype woman. Alas, she had to put her "princess studies" to use.

While Lucaerys was introducing himself, Elaera was approached by a raven-haired lad who towered nearly a foot over her. Her periwinkle eyes met his own pale viridescent while his lips pressed against her hand. Color flooded her cheeks - perhaps it was just from the biting chill from earlier..? Elaera swallowed quietly, noticeably flustered. "You-you may call me either or, whichever you prefer." The silverette responded, doing her best to appear collected. Elaera refused to present herself as a bumbling fool to the hard-to-impress Northerners.

That thought would dissipate when she felt something wet poke at her hand. Her gaze glided down to the direwolf by her feet, her eyes going wide. "Oh my-!" Elaera exclaimed softly, awestruck by the fluffy beast before her. "Rockley, you said? What a beautiful creature." Elaera smiled, looking back up to Trystan before petting Rockley's head. If she weren't as nervous, she'd be on the floor with the beast, hugging him and giving him belly rubs. "You must allow me to show you around Winterfell, my lady,"
Her attention shifted back up to him, her eyes dancing with eagerness. "I would love that, actually! I've read plenty about Winterfell, but it's nothing compared to actually seeing it yourself! I think it'd be really unique to pay respects to the former St-"
"PRINCESS! I mean, your grace!"

Her eyes landed upon a brunette girl an inch shorter than her. Elaera was instantly charmed by the young woman, reminding her of her little sister... A genuine smile pulled at her lips, her eyes lighting up as she looked to the other Stark child. "Yes, my lady." She responded to her cute query. 'By the Gods she is precious! I hope I get to see more of this little lady!' "Ah, I'm afraid not, dear." Elaera bent down a bit to be even in height with her (which wasn't difficult). "But.." She leaned in, whispering a bit. "If you ever come to Kings Landing, I will show you the skulls of the mighty dragons that my ancestors once rode. They were soooo big that I was able to climb them in my youth." The Targaryen meant those words.. if she's ever able to return home. The thought of returning to King's Landing seemed near impossible, but she hoped it would just so she could live up to her promise to the Stark girl.

"You must forgive them."
Elaera straightened up, looking up to the eldest Stark. "I truly do not mind. I am quite charmed, actually." Elaera smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "I would appreciate that, though. An actual room with a bed and hearth sounds sublime." Her smile revealed how weary she actually was - the nonstop traveling and many, sleepless nights. Perhaps she'd be able to sleep peacefully tonight.. Before she could express her thanks, Ashlynn was summoned elsewhere.

the last dragon

elaera.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Bethany leapt into her brother's arm, intentionally putting enough weight that would have made him stumble in the past. He held on firmly, good his reaction time has quickened and/or he had got stronger. At least he used his time for something useful, though physicality is not the only thing one had to build, she hoped he did not neglect his brain power. Not to mention, if he had taken care of himself in other ways. She took a smell of him as they hugged and was a little disappointed.

"Clearly, you have been bored." She said when he let her go. She gave a mock look of disappointment and disgust."I smell the stink of male sweat but not the smell of sex or a girl. Whore capital of the five kingdoms, and you never partook? Are you sure you are related to me?" She chuckled, ruffling her little brothers' hair like he used to. "You are not married off yet you know? I see my little brother needs me more that I thought, I came here just in time."

She smirked at the mention of Blackwater. "Yes, seawater. You know me so well." She said sarcastically, but she did not really mind. Despite her want to play around, she needed to see what Elon's assessment of the situation is. Thought she, that did not mean that she wouldnt set something up for latter. She stopped a servant from running off. "Hi, can you go see if Madame Leza is still in business? Tell her Lady Hill is here, she will know what to do for me."

"But... My lady... That means going..." The servant stammered worriedly. Bethany just waived him before looking at her brother with a devious smile. "I am going to sort you, but first, show me this great seawater." She said, indicating for him to lead the way.

slim

 

[WorldWeaver]

Ser Broki Vinteroks
Current Mood: Content, but a tad tense
Location: Winterfell Castle, the North
​

Ser Broki strode across the courtyard, a bucket of water, brush, hoof-trimmer, and new horseshoes in tow as he entered the stables. "Good morning, everyone." He greeted, though he knew he'd get no reply from the beasts except maybe a snort or two, but a couple of stable hands waved. Around him, stable boys tended to the horses and cleaned the stalls. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of dung, but it didn't bother him too much. His home village kept livestock outside most of the time, so it was a scent he had grown relatively accustomed to. He then walked up to one horse in particular. "Hello, Argent. Let's get you ready for your trip." he said, entering the stall of Ashlyn Stark's steed.

Placing his supplies down, he began by taking the bucket and gently rinsing any dirt and grime from the steed's fur and mane, pouring water over the horse before brushing over him to remove any blemishes. He continued this until the fur shone like silk. Patting the horse, he smiled before carefully lifting his rear leg and taking up the trimmer. He carefully but firmly dragged it across the hoof, shaving away any excess keratin to give it an even, flat surface, making it easier for him to stand and walk on it. He repeated this process for each of the other hooves before shoeing them, and making sure the iron hooves fit comfortably.

This was simply another day to the Giant of Winterfell, Ser Broki Vinteroks. Whenever he wasn't on guard duty, he'd find other things around the castle to help with. He might not have been the smartest person, as he himself had admitted, but he took pride in his hard work and duty to House Stark. Once he had finished Argent's preparation, he hung the saddle, reins and birdle, already cleaned and polished, on a peg outside of Argent's stall before walking out of the stable. One thing he did like about being here, aside from being around animals, was that it was one of few places in the castle where he didn't have to stoop down to get through the doorway. Returning to the courtyard, he noticed a shipment of ingredients for the feast of the evening.

Okay, maybe this wasn't just another day. Something did trouble the giant. Ashlyn Stark's "trip" was to King's Landing. And only a week after the Mad King Aerys' death, with other noble houses circling the place of the Iron Throne like vultures. He knew she was strong of will and character; stronger than most men he had fought with or against. But he worried for her all the same. After all, she was a wolf walking into a den of lions. Quite literally, too, as the Lannisters already had troops in the city, and he didn't trust the Lannisters. Regardless, such was Brandon Stark's orders, as was the order he was given to keep her safe during her journey, which brought him some small comfort.

With these thoughts in mind, he headed over to the wagon carrying the supplies and, without a word, slung two large sacks over his shoulders, and carried four more in his massive hands. Walking across the Great Hall, he nodded a greeting to Trystan and Maerie with a smile, but paused as he noticed Elaera. A flicker of curiosity passed through the Snow Bear's eyes as he gazed at her. Then, smiling once more, gave her the same courteous nod and walked to the kitchen. There he found Ash speaking with the cook, and waited until she was done speaking before speaking himself. "Where should I put these?" he asked, gesturing with one full hand to indicate the sacks. After putting them wherever the cook instructed, he turned to Ash, gave her a smile and a greeting nod, then walked back to the Great Hall.

​

Mentions:
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[Rusty of Shackleford]

The Grey Wolf
Brandon Stark


The old Stark as in fact turning to enter the hall when the Princess asked her question about Winterfell. And dare I say, you could almost see him grin. He pivoted back to the white haired girl, smiling ever so slightly as he replied, "Yes, actually. If you wish I can tell you more about the castle once we're inside." Brandon was a grumpy old man. Grizzled, dejected, but he had a soft spot for people the same age as his children. He just...couldn't be grumpy to them, no matter how hard he tried. Finally, he took his leave into the Hall, just wanting to get out of the damned cold. But before he did, he turned to his eldest daughter, letting out a sigh as he whispered, "I suppose your goodbye feast will have to double as a welcome feast...I'm...I'm sorry about this." Brandon loved his children. He truly did. But he and Ashlynn knew the good of the House came before either of them. And if marrying into the Lannister's would keep the North safe, then it was a worthy sacrifice, even if he hated himself for it. But regardless, he nodded at Ashlynn's request to show Elaera to her room. "Yes, that would be best, thank you."

Brandon let out a frustrated groan when Trystan began to speak. Ashlynn had been so proper and Ladylike. And now his son was ALREADY flirting with their guest. He approached his son form behind, giving him a playful smack on the back of his head as he said, "Easy, son. The girl hasn't even stepped inside." But Maerie's enthusiasm over dragons did brighten his mood quite a bit. She was just like a daughter to him, just as cherished as his trueborn children. He was even considering requesting she be legitimized, before the entire rebellion. But that was for another time.

He was then greeted by another visitor. White hair...a brother? No, even someone as ambivalent to Southron politics like Brandon knew there were no Targaryen males left. The lad\s introduction cleared things up. A Velaryon. Sort of a cadet House to the Targeyen's, if Brandon remembered correctly. Hey, he was polite so the Grey Wolf didn't much care. "Easy, lad. No need to be so polite. No offense, but unlike you Soutrhoners, I don't ask anything in return for my hospitality." He spoke much more casually to Lucy, as if he was just another one of his children. It was a good sign, at least. As everyone was entering, he grabbed Rylen and Broki by their arm to get the two men's attention, leaning in to whisper, "I want you to stand guard with Lady Elaera. She might have been followed and I don't want any assassinations tonight." The Reed nodded, before Brandon approached the much shorter princess. "Lady Elaera, if it pleases you, I would like to have Lord Rylen and Ser Broki watch over you. Your safety as my guest is paramount, and I trust them as much with your life as I do with my own." He was truly sincere about his trust for the two lad's. For all their eccentricities, Brandon still thought Rylen and Broki were two fine young men. Most of the time.

The hours went by, and soon enough, the feast was on, after the guests had some time to rest up and get a bit more...clean after such a long journey. It was honestly just okay. They weren't expecting such an important guest, so it was the usual fair, no exotic food or drink. The salting of the bread went about without any hitches, and finally, Brandon was sitting across from his Targaryen guest, looking quite imposing in the large central seat at the head of the Great Hall, flanked on both sides by his children, trueborn or no. He leaned onto the table, balancing his arms on his elbows as he clasped his hands together. "So...if I may be direct with you...why are you here? It's no secret who I threw my lot in with during the Rebellion. I can assure you that you're safe within these walls, but it was quite bold approaching me." If he spoke like this to her father, Brandon might have been burned at the stake for insolence. But Elaera seemed more reasonable, able to be talked to directly, without much need for niceties. Brandon liked it this way, like a true Northerner.


The Frogman of Greywater Watch
Rylen Reed


Elaera seemed nice. Not like the other Southroners. Especially the Frey's. He was actually surprised, however, that Brandon wanted him and Broki to protect her. Did he really trust them that much? But the Reed boy nodded politely. "Yes, My Lord. Right away." He turned to his much taller comrade, gesturing with his head to the princess. Rylen awkwardly followed his Lord, bowing politely as Brandon asked if the two could have the privilege of guarding her. He gave a slight smile, trying his best to be proper as he said, "It would be an honor, Lady Elaera. I could give you a tour of the grounds later...if you haven't had enough tours, that is." He had suddenly remembered nearly every Stark child had offered her some sort of tour and he wasn't sure if she'd be tired of tours by the end of the night. Honestly, she fascinated the Reed. He'd only heard stories about the Targaryen's, and she didn't fit any of them. Rylen had heard they were massive, larger than life, as viscous and mad as the dragon emblazoned on their banner. Yet she was...small, polite. She didn't even seem disgusted to be in his presence. That was the real surprise for him.

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