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Fandom A Song of Ice and Fire RP (Game of Thrones)


Baelor Valaryon

The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands.​



Brow furrowed in irritation Baelor followed the young queen back towards the crimson monolith that was was the Red Keep, any previously held notions about gaining a nights rest quickly dispersing into the crisp garden air, the Lord of Tides gaining not a moments respite from his duties as a queen's councilmen, trailing behind his dark haired superior (a stark and noticeable contrast to his own traditionally Valyrian features) as she made her way towards the large banquet hall that was currently hosting the emissaries from the Isles of Ib.


"Your grace" Baelor attempted, his words cut short by the clatter of iron and oak as the pair reached their destination, the Lord of Tides soon forgotten as the queen attended to more pressing matters, anger flashing briefly over Baelor's violet eyes, he was not in the mood to put up with the queens eccentricities, and he found her slight to be in poor taste, if she did not have the common decency to hear his words then mayhaps they would find their way into more interested ears. The man sighed the queen was but a young girl, foolish, naive and new to her throne, though even so that did not excuse her behaviour, were she his own daughter such disrespect would not be tolerated.


'Oh my old friend' Baelor thought, as he looked upon the walls of the banquet hall, his eyes resting upon a portrait of the late King Mearyn, an old friend, and the man who had given him everything 'It seems as though you failed as a parent just as much as you failed as a ruler, though blame cannot be rested solely upon your shoulders, Vladan's always had his hand stuck firmly up her ass'


He stood by the door for a second, listening in as Kuvira dismissed her hand maidens, exchanging a few words with his daughter as she passed, updating himself upon not only the Ibbenese but also several other important people whom she had taken to bed 'a whore, like her mother' Baelor mused 'though at least she has her uses' he watched her leave with an aura of contempt, only turning away when the queen's tones told him that negotiation was to begin, though in the end he wished he left with the girl.


'It seems that I leave to take a stroll for five minutes and the realm has already found itself abed with the Ibbenese, if Kuvira is to use my daughter to run her errands then perhaps next time she should listen to the girl before she brazenly makes her demands, they were instructed to offer all that is at their disposal yet all she asks is for the head of a bastard, a foolish mistake' he approached the table with a slow confidence, lifting a glass of fine wine, it was from his own stores and he had it brought out when he had first heard news of foreign negotiations, wine never went amiss when it came to talks, especially when it was of such fine a vintage.


Baelor was pulled from his thoughts of wine when her grace spoke once more, questioning the absence of her guard. In truth it was something that worried him too though he waved off the queens infuriation (and her threat?) with a gesture of the hand, merely replying that they would be brought in for questioning upon the morrow. Gale Corbray was like to give a clogging to the man whose duty it was to watch the queen tonight, though the queensguard seemed to be getting scarce as of late, Whent had been missing for some time, Thorne like his namesake was dismissed, and Stark was sent to deal with the stag, though that still left several more, disobedience was never a good trait within a guardsman and it was best to pull out the weeds before they found themselves around your throat. There were many suitable replacements within the city, his own son amongst them, as was the Estranged Lion, Ser Albert Lannister, a possible hostage, though mayhaps not a useful one, Edwyn Lannister was not one to care about his third born son.


As discussion between the two parties continued, and the Ibbenese thought over the offer, Baelor found himself growing tired of their almost incomprehensible ramblings and turned his attention to more pressing matters "Boy" he grabbed a servant by the shoulder, pulling him over "Pass this letter along to the rookery, assure it remains unopened" he pulled from his sleeve a small rolled up bit of parchment, baring his seal, addressed in some foreign tongue which few in Westeros still spoke, "There shall be coin given upon completion" the boy hurried off, Baelor returning to the conversation just in time to hear it's end, following her grace out of the banquet hall.


"News of Aerea is few your grace, she only departed from the capital not a day ago and there is still a long way till she will arrive in the Reach" he frowned, personally he would not have sent the girl off at all, nor given her the ear of one of the most powerful men in Westeros, but it seemed Vladan thought he knew best "There is news from other parts however, it seems the trout and the stag have joined their forces and even now the Riverlands quietly raises its men, no doubt the wolf will follow soon after due to their close ties and it may be best to reinforce the northern border." He continued without a pause, wasting little time "Tiber Lannister is soon to wed to Lady Leanne Brax, a Bracken on her mothers side and Tully's niece, mayhaps it would be prudent to be in attendance, lest another kingdom raises the banner of the stag" he pulled from his sleeve a small note, looking at it briefly before putting it aside "Pirates have been raiding to the east and recently sacked Castle Rosby, killing Lord Arthur and kidnapping his two daughters, leaving his dim witted son to care for the Rosby lands, the Pirates are being dealt with as we speak, though I thought it best to consult yourself regarding Castle Rosby itself, the land garners many incomes and it would be a shame to let it go to waist, you know what is said, with tragedy oft comes opportunity"


Aemond Velaryon,


Brother, I am once again in need of your talents. Make haste and meet me upon Driftmark, I shall explain in more detail in person.


The Old, The True, The Brave.


Baelor Velaryon, Master of Dritmark and Lord of Tides.


@Robyn Banks @Lancelot
 
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Maester Jarvas

Highgarden

Those old, beady eyes looked faintly apprehensive. "As you say, Lord Arren." Traitor. His lordship sounded convinced. Indeed, no birds had arrived, and Helyon's failure to send word took as a slight. However, Tarly steel was tried and tested and proved stronger than most. If war loomed overhead, should they fasten the noose or the gorget?

"In regard to the Seneschal, he rides with Lady Ireyne from Old Oak. They were at table when the letter arrived," he reminded Arren, shaking that bald head of his. "Such timing. First the Shields and now..." No doubt news of Hollis' death would not be received well. He knew their bond was deep and had witnessed it in their adolescence.

"Ah, no matter. I shall issue the dispatches and inform your lordship upon his return," he finished. Giving a half bow, he began to take his leave, yet something stopped the old healer in his tracks. "Oh-" he started again. "There is the business of rebuilding. My birds tell us Lord Marshall Bonifer met fierce resistance at Greyshield: his levies depleted, his hamlets set ablaze. The castle still stands tall, although that too may require upkeep."

@Archon

@Hypnos

@WanderingJester

@Lancelot


Varn Tyrell

Highgarden

​



The day's travel taxed him greatly. He had ridden with such haste his thighs caught raw, and light rains smeared what mud the chestnut palfrey kicked upon his tunic. He ignored the pain, gripping the reigns ever so tightly. It was all he could do but reach Highgarden post haste.


The Ironborn never made it past the beaches, being driven away like the dogs they were. Varn and Ireyne had met with parties from House Oakheart and House Crane after the first day. They would rally to him before anyone else, he thought. Lady Ireyne's blood ran through this region. Their keeps were light on reserves, having diverted men toward the coast. Varn figured both castles required another two hundred archers and perhaps twice as many swords. With brother gone, the savages might land again.


Ireyne and twelve bannermen lagged half a mile back, hugging the Ocean Road. Their journey from Old Oak lasted three days and four nights. Greyshield's signal fires still burned from its holdfast, lighting the way until their party fast approached the fork. Varn did not so much as turn his head to check his wife's condition, not now nor before. She can handle a saddle as well as any man. That was true enough. Lady Tyrell might enter the tournament should she learn to joust.


And after thirty-five years of marriage, they came to a mutual understanding - that the realm came before all else. Or was it thirty-six, he heard himself think. It seemed like yesterday they were standing under a pergola draped in oak leaves, a river of red roses at their feet. Suddenly, a sour taste entered Varn's mouth. While he was to bury his brother, Casterly Rock would be celebrating yet another "promising" union. The Lannister wedding would no doubt be as lavish and seven times as smug.


Up ahead a great mural pulled into view. Varn gazed upon a sea of green centered by high stone walls, their round parapets glistening in the sun's afternoon splendor. Much like King's Landing, this was a city built for conquerors.


The gates groaned apart as he galloped toward Highgarden. It was as if the watchers knew he would appear, alone and disheveled by wind and earth. His legs buckled underneath as he slid off the saddle. A youthful fellow shouldered him steady, allowing Varn to regain himself with some dignity. He looked upon the watchman's face - Ser Russal Norridge, not yet twenty and a knight full. "Bring me to him," Varn blurted without greeting.


He would be escorted to Arren's study, possibly running into the Maester on his way out.
 
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Surprisingly she was disappointed to not hear any news from her, but maybe it was a good thing.if anything it meant she was persuading powerful men to revolt with her. She nodded slowly, stilling feeling regret for not taking care of it the first time. When they were right in her throne room. She promised herself that it would never happen again yet it didn't change anything. "Yes, that sounds doable and the wedding will most likely cause me problems. Thank you Baelor, I will get everything sorted out immediately." She started to walk away. She would probably have to do this alone. She called on the nearest servant. "I need on of my guards to accompany me. It's a shame how though I almost got assassinated that there giving people an opportunity to try I again."

When the man arrives not to long again she seemed content yet had a look of disdain at the same time. "Took long enough. I need company and protection. Why else would I call you for?" She looked at her almost empty goblet of wine. "Though wine would be all the more satifying."
​
 

Ser Albert Lannister


The Estranged Lion, Red Keep, King's Landing
​



Confusion immediately struck Ser Albert as he heard the Queen's words. What she was implying was lost with the Estranged Lion.


"B-But my Queen, isn't that a task for your esteemed Queensguard?" he respectfully asked.


Albert's head was still bowed down as he dared not look at Kuvira's regal visage. She was beautiful beyond words, but Albert would rather not disrespect her and earn her ire.


"I am just a humble knight, under the service of your House, your grace." he tried to reason out. "I am unsure if it is right that I be the one to accompany you." he added, trying to humble himself in front of his liege.


@Robyn Banks
 

Storm's End, The Stormlands


POV: Braedon Baratheon
​


He could feel the eyes on him, not that it made him any more uncomfortable. Instead, the only thing that bothered him was the hog in front of him. As the Stark feasted on his scraps, Braedon looked past the Queensguard, only returning to making eye contact once he had finished. "Do they not feed you at King's Landing?" Braedon teased, approaching ever so closer to Aiden. In theory, their two Houses were on good terms and the confrontation was nothing more than a friendly reunion. It was true that the eldest Stark had a falling out with his family, but it didn't mean it would sever all of his other relations either. Realistically however, the meeting held much more weight.


Braedon didn't take the trouble to address his troops, even when Stark had requested so. Though, he did give a look at Ser Orwen, who was fortunately keen enough to take a step back, even if it was only a single one. The nerve of the man to storm onto his own land, cause a ruckus, and now order for swords to be sheathed, it was all too much. But no. His men were watching, Walder was watching, even Rory was watching. But it wasn't any of them that he was afraid of disappointing. Even still, he found memories of Osmund circulating in his thoughts.


He wouldn't show hostility—his father taught him better than that. He was no Targaryen, unreasonable and irrational. He wouldn't let the thought of blood tempt him.


An extended blink gave Braedon all the time he needed to compose himself. He was merely a lord—no, he was a king welcoming the arrival of an old friend. That was all. It was a smile that appeared on his face rather than a scowl. "And for what reason am I graced by your presence?"


@Hypnos @Archon @TheAncientCenturion
 

The Post - Part 1


Part 2 coming soon




The Crownlands





Ser James Thorne
​




The former Kingsguard found it hard to breathe. They had done it. The first blow against the tyranny of the Targaryen's was dealt. Not by the equally ambitious Stormlords, but by the people. While the raid on Aerea's baggage train to Highgarden filled him with pride, the sight of the red headed woman only served to sicken him. She was face down in the dirt, beaten with the blunt end of an axe. Part of him hated seeing her in pain, hated hearing her frightened voice and blood shot eyes. Another part wished the axe was turned the other way, and her hair reddened further. The honor and dignity that was was associated with him seemed to fade quickly, the savagery of King's Landing changing the knight drastically.


"She's too dangerous to be left alive." The knight insisted.


A large man, he who swung the axe, shrugged. "Lord Whent said she wasn't to be killed. Royalty and all, who knows what ransom she could fetch us?"


"We are not bandits and pirates!" Ser James snapped. "We should kill her, hang her corpse in the Dragon pit. Let Kuvira and Corbis see what awaits them."


The man gave no reply, but another did, Ser Avek Connington wasted little courtesy on Ser James. "So eager to wipe your slate clean, brother James?" The man had a distasteful look as he spoke the former Kingsguards name. "We are to wage a war. Wars need gold, and this little one will give us enough gold to arm the people." The Connington knight was an older man, with grey hair mixing with dried ginger locks. His beard has long since turned, but a youthful nature played across his face. Avek pulled on a poor brown cloak, mud covered, a disguise of his and several other knights as they attacked the Goldcloaks.


Ser James joined Warren Whent when he was rescued, he couldn't say no, but the skeletal brother hardly described the plan to Ser James. 'He does not trust me.' It hurt him that the older knight would keep Ser James at an arms distance, even if he could understand the rational behind it. "What people are we arming? Those of flee bottom, for we need only poor farmers tools and they'll shred at the Red Keep and her occupants."


"Ha." It was another knight, one that hadn't introduced himself to Ser James yet. "Would we want a city, we could. We don't." Ser James scowled at the man, which made the knight's grin grow and a distinctive tooth of gold flash at him. "Sit tight, Ser Knight, brother Whent won't keep you in the cottage for long."


"Aye." Avek agreed. "You are new, and trust is earned, not given out like stale bread."


"I understand that. But I led this charge, I ordered her beating myself. If I were a spy for Kuvira or any dragon, why would I do such a thing?"


The mysterious knight spat, looking over the other knights in hiding that were sweeping over the battlefield. "Leave the bodies and the loot. It'll serve as some message." He shouted to one man who was digging through a chest of clothing, likely Aerea's. "You served Maeryn, a monster in the guise of a human. You bedded his daughter and declared your love for her not minutes ago, and you served Kuvira. Until she turned her fiery breath on you. Your mind is dedicated to our cause. Though is your heart?"


"Absolutely. The dragons must pay."


"Tsk." Avek started. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Our way isn't one of revenge. It's about an obligation, our duty to the realm. It's a sad occurance that we must take this road, but we must all do our duties. Remember that." Avek clasped the former Kingsguard on the shoulder, heading for a horse in the not far off distance. "Alright, we're moving quickly! I want us to be in the crofters village not a minute after Sundown!"




The Red Keep, King's Landing





Vladan
​




Early the next day Vladan woke, the stress still hanging heavy on his shoulders. But the Grand Maester couldn't rest for long. Before the Sun was high in the sky he took a tour of the walls, inspecting them for damage and observing the process of bricking up the Mud Gate. The Goldcloaks were working too slowly, and the poor peasants of King's Landing dissatisfied with the removal of the gate. In the course of a night they tore down the progress the Goldcloaks made. The Grand Maester was sure to demand more guards be posted around the gate.


The Grand Maester was currently looking over the lands south of the city, atop a tall tower. His eyes narrowed. There was no news yet from the south, but that was to be expected. He had only just sent The Stark lad to his untimely demise. 'It will give us weeks to prepare.' He reminded himself. Without Braedon, who would lead the Baratheon coalition against the rightful queen? A young lord like Wendel? "Doubtful."


"What was that, my lord Maester?" A young steward asked, standing guard with a dagger at his waist.


He was little use other than added eyes. Should Vladan die, they would not blame it on his body giving out on him, but an assassin. "I am playing chess, my boy."


The steward looked at the Grand Maester as if he were half mad. "I must of misheard you, my lord. Chess?"


"Yes." A crooked grin graced Vladan's old features. "Chess. I have long made my move, and Braedon is reacting. And as he focuses on my last move. . " He leaned over the open window, pointing out at an army of Goldcloaks sweeping the surrounding area, "He cannot interfere with my next plot." He finished as the steward gave an understanding nod. The Goldcloak's were recruiting men at a rapid pace, well below what an actual army would need if it intended to hold the city, but enough for his purposes. 'Come at me, Braedon. My walls are large and full of food now. Your armies will tire of marching, the Crownlands will be fresh as a spring daisy.' His cold icy stare lingered on the surrounding for several more minutes. It was a pair of heavy feet crashing on the wood below him that spurred him.


"Grand Maester Vladan?" A goldcloak asked.


"Yes, what is it soldier?" Soldier was too nice a term for these men, but flattery was important.


"News m'lawd. Other City Watchmen have. . Reports. Ser Whent is seeing to them himself, and he has requested your presence to. . Make sense of it all."


"Reports?" Vladan couldn't make sense of what they could have. It was likely bad news, but of what? Aerea was still too close to the city to even send news, good or bad. Braedon wasn't on them, the bells would've rung before the message got to the Grand Maester. Was it another house, had they been sighted marching on King's landing? "I'll be in the council chamber in the Red Keep shortly. Tell Ser Whent to see me there."




Atop The Wall, Castle Black





Tyrion Reynes
​




The Haunted Forest stretched on for miles beyond the view of man. Few rangers have ever learned its ways equal enough to the Wildlings, and even then the dark woods held secrets from them. A large man with dull blue eyes stared down at the silent woods from atop The Wall. From here, they looked to be no more than small trees, grass blades even. But the old man knew better, beneath those branches hid away savages who'd cut his throat and the throat of every respectable man South of the Wall if it meant some fresh steel.


The harsh winds blew at the Cowardly Lion, but the warm embrace of his dire wolf fur cloak kept the former lord immobile against them. The bitter breath of the Others were not even enough to cause the man to flinch. The sounds of the lift reaching the top, suddenly stopping and jolting forward drew Tyrion's attention from the forest below to the band of black brothers behind him. One of the rangers of Castle Black, Eddard Snow, led a party North and seemed to be returning to give the Red Lion news. The Lord Commander peered behind him, noticing a steward with him, Kay of Oldtown, a male prostitute of no respect in the world.


"My fearless brothers." A grim smile latched itself onto Tyrion's face. "What urgent news did you bring me?" They would only have joined him atop the Wall for that purpose. Supper wasn't far off, and they need only to knock on his door to gain entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrion looked back down at the forest, the swaying of the tree branches having grown louder.


"No news that's too good for us." Eddard Snow replied with a long expression and sour voice. "Tell him then boy, the letter from The Shadow Tower." The ranger pushed the prostitue forward, Kay looking fearful of the Wall and the icy breeze that went along with it.


"Lord Commander, ser, we've gained a leaa. A leeeett. . . " The Man shut his mouth and swallowed what spit he had. "A letter from the Shadow Tower. Mavus Letch and ten brothers died in a wildling raid across the bridge, in Westwatch. They had armor and tools, outnumbered Mavus Leee. Leetch." He managed to control his stutter, much to Tyrion's pleasure, and continue. "They are leaderless and send for help. They're fearful of more raids to come in the future."


"They were no Wildlings!" Eddard cut in before Tyrion could contemplate the news. "Thenns." He spat the name. As a seasoned ranger, Eddard had spent the early months of a Winter up in the far North. The only place safe for the rangers to hide was in the Vale of Thenn's, where the Winter's reach loosened. Tyrion heard that his black brothers were ambushed repeatedly by the bronze warriors, some captured alive and later found roasting over open flames. "They do not travel this far south, not in this number. Yet alone attack us so boldly."


"It's troubling." Tyrion agreed. The Thenn's were some of the worst Wildling tribes a man could hope to encounter. They were not only physically imposing, but they had a discipline to them. They had kings of their own, in some old language long forgotten. They bent and bowed, unlike the Wildlings. 'Savage, yet cohesive.' Tyrion shuddered. These were no men of the Vale Clans, or frost folk of the rivers, the Thenn's presented the largest danger to the Night's Watch outside of itself. "But we cannot rule this out as an independent venture. The Thenn's have little reason to fear us, unlike their neighbors. Now they do."


"We need to attack them. The Thenn's are plotting to cross the Wall and The Shadow Tower is too weak to hold them off alone." Eddard demanded.


"What news do you bring?" Tyrion asked sharply, voice raised and eyes hardened. He could not tolerate the easily tempered Eddard in the moment, nor in any moment. The brash and brazen never were long for the world, and Tyrion was already struggling to find new brothers to join their order. "I asked you to go North, investigate some possible allies amongst the Wildlings." He reminded the young ranger. Tyrion had found precious few tribes willing to tolerate a relationship with the Watch. Animosity remained, as sure as snow was cold, but it was mutually beneficial.


"I did as you commanded." There was fire on his tongue, the ranger took a step forward, separating him from his brothers. "They were dead."


"Dead? Who by?"


"Their own hands, it seemed. It was a sickness. We burned their bodies and took off our own cloaks once we were close enough to the Wall. Not even the animals were spared. Just like all the others."


"Just like all the others. . " As if he were a man of four hundred pounds, Tyrion struggled to move, crashing into the ice underneath him with heavy steps. "It seems to start with the animals. Then they eat the damnable things, and catch the sickness too." The Haunted Forest, even for experienced rangers, was running out of food. Large elk and even the game-y dire wolves and shadow cats couldn't be found in great number. "These Wildlings weren't far from us, either. Five days ride after Theran's square?" Theran's square was always a prideful point to the Lord Commander. In his early years he managed to convince several tribes to unite near the Wall, form a stable community that the black brothers would regularly trade food and timber with for a warm nights rest. It eventually featured walls and homes not far off from what a man might expect in Mole Town, minus the underground tunnels. Other tribes wouldn't have it, and eventually Theran's Square was razed, all but some walls and a hut or two. It now served as a tentative stopping point for Rangers coming to and fro the Wall.


"Six and a half, the milkwater flooded."


"And how many other Wildlings have you seen on your trips out there?"


"None, not that don't come screaming at us."


"Hrm. . " Tyrion turned his back to the men, once more looking at the Haunted Forest down below. "Rumors are that they are uniting. . There were how many would be King's Beyond the Wall since last April? Eight, but Camber Firecock was killed in combat by Jaerlson, his third time killing a king." The Reyne mused to himself. "Assemble what rangers and stewards you have in half an hour. I want us to investigate the situation."


"Stewards too, ser?" Eddard shifted nervously, the idea of sharing a campfire with the likes of Kay most troubling to him.


"They spend more time learning to read and of worldly manners than us. They will help identify this sickness. Maybe we can prevent it from spreading. . ."


"Aye aye, as you say m'lord." Eddard bowed respectfully, nudging his head to the lift behind, asking for permission to leave.


Tyrion nodded. "Go. I'll be joining you shortly." The black brothers entered the lift quickly, eager to be free of the penetrating winds. The Red Lion resumed his watch over the Lands Beyond the Wall, swearing to himself that movement was going on just beyond his vision. The Sun was setting, the weeping Wall thankful for that. 'Not that it was as sad as it should be.' The Cowardly Lion was no maester, but even he understood Winter was approaching. It always hit the Wall first, and the Sun seemed to have less of an impact on it than usual. Part of the man was thankful, keeping the Wall sustained during the grueling Summer years was difficult. The First Men had the benefits of giants and the genius of Bran the Builder. Tyrion was left with a thousand poor criminals.


His gazing brought back memories that the old man wished would stay dead. The green trees shifted, morphed from dozens of leaves together into large eyes, scrutinizing his very being. Tyrion met them, his dull blue eyes unwavering as a hand coiled around his blade's hilt. The Lord Commander was motionless for a long time, the Sun had set and only the orange horizon provided significant light. The Stars, as many of them as there were, hid behind clouds more often then not. Likewise the Moon was half full and a stranger to the earth. Tyrion groaned, the cold wind finally snapping him from his stupor. He turned, striding to the opposite edge of the Wall. He saw men lining up in the courtyard, close to fifty, he surmised.


"I shan't keep them waiting, then?" He spoke. There were other men constantly moving around him, but they hadn't bothered the Lord Commander's watch. Either from respect or reproach, it suited the man.


Red nosed with rosy cheeks, a brother all in black replied dully. "Aye." He stood guarding the lift, a warm fire to his right. "They be like to freeze their gibblits off." The humor was drained from his voice but the ghost of a smirk flashed on the man's face.


"Take me down, Ned." The brother nodded, pulling on a chain and calling the lift into the air. The two remained in near silence, with the howling wind, flickering fire, and raspy chains making conversation between themselves. By the time the lift arrived, the last light long faded, leaving the castle in a grim darkness 'Befitting a brotherhood such as ours.' They were men of the night, watchers on the wall. Their swords needed not the light of day to guide their aim, but the cloak of shadows to slip past the boundless enemies beyond the wall. "Atta boy now Ned, keep your fingers moving and we won't have to take another." Ned was a grown man, but he had the disposition of a child. Tyrion constantly scolded him, especially when on guard duty.


"Aye ser, fingers moving, may I have a lute then? I'll play thy a wonderful melody." The man let out a laugh, lifeless and devoid of all energy. Tyrion snickered and entered the lift. The black brother began to lower the lord commander, a process that took half the time for the lift to rise. 'It's always easier falling.' The Red Lion saw the fifty men earlier dwindle to possibly thirty. They hadn't wanted to wait for him, the Lord Commander could see why. The lower he got the colder it seemed to get as well, with a fierce wind rivaling that atop the wall pelting the man in the steel cage.


As Tyrion finally set foot outside the cage, onto the wooden deck North of the courtyard, he breathed out heavily. A thick smoke flowed freely from his nose, reminding him briefly of the childhood tales on dragons. The Lord Commander stood at the end of the deck, hands stretched out and grasping the hand rail as he scrutinized the black brothers that remained. Most were rangers, some were stewards. A few in the far back, hiding under stairs and looking out windows were curious builders.


"My brothers," He began, as most of his speeches typically would. "I would call upon the bravest of you to step forward, men of intelligence and the skilled rangers among you." A slow muttering began already. "The Wildlings have attacked men from the Shadow Tower, killing the brave and gallant Mavus Leech and many others. They are banding together under these kings of theirs," He stood now at his full height, close to half of six feet, and drew a blade half rusted in blood, shoving it at The Wall. "And want our lands, our women, shall we let them take it? Are we to be submissives to these savages?"


A resounding reply, that to a man who wasn't watching could be deceiving, "Nooo!" Roared the crowd, the curious watchers, even men in the common halls.


"I call for men of the Stewards and Rangers to step forward, the bravest and most daring, to take on a task that the Night's Watch hasn't seen in hundreds of years. We will be killing kings, my brothers in black, and leaving these mongrel hordes to the merciless winds of winter!" The Lord Commander raised his sword again, signalling for the men to be quiet. They rambled for a minute more, before the first men of the Watch stepped forward. Another followed, and more after him. Some came from outside the towers to volunteer. A warm feeling swelled inside him as his men, in some ways his children, took to him so openly.




Storm's End





Aiden Stark
​




Aiden grinned victoriously, thrilled with his childish antics, as he munched down on the bread. The moistness that came from the salty brine dribbled down the side of his face, rolling off his chin before he was done. Aiden laughed loudly, taking a step forward before the threatening swords around him reintroduced themselves. "They feed me well enough. Pie and cake whenever it pleases me, but your bread and salt sustains armies, or so I've heard." He breathed out heavily, partially thanks to his own excitement. The archer didn't seem to sense much tension between the two, or acknowledge any danger in his situation. But the Lone Wolf was always good at hiding his disdain or troubles behind a wide smile.


As moments went by and only one of the knights, the man Aiden thought he knew, withdrew his sword the Queensguard felt the urge to speak up, though fortunately for him it was Braedon who replied. A short chuckle escaped the man, "I wished to see his grace," The words were spoken in jest, but without much disdain, "and his royal army. We're hearing all sorts of things in the city. Fifty thousand, sixty thousand. Some say you've even made a deal with the Golden Company. May the Old Gods be my witness, tell me this is not true." The concern was as clear on his face as black was on his cloak.


"Her grace," He spoke with significantly more respect, "Has issued me to treat with you. Lord Gelgin and the Grand Maester have counciled her grace, proposing mercy in place for your. . claim on the iron throne." He looked around at the men with weapons in their hands. "Truly, you meet with an old friend and hold him at sword point?" The cheerful facade faded for a mere moment as animosity leaked into Aiden's voice. It was an insult to meet someone such as Aiden and presume to refuse him proper guest rights.


With a new volume to his voice, Aiden spoke. "The deal is simple; You renounce your claim to the throne and you, your lords, your family, they will all survive. Lady Astris is safe and sound and she will be returned once this action is done." He took a moment to read those around him, the Stark grimaced. Braedon wasn't going to like this, and Aiden wouldn't be honest with himself if he said he wasn't fearful for his own life. "The next in line for Storm's End," he wisely left out who that was, peering at who he believed was Rory in the back, "Will assume the seat of power. Lady Astris will be wed to the royal brother, prince Corbis Targaryen," He couldn't stop himself from wincing. Corbis had extreme privilege under Maeryn, and Kuvira's focus was on external threats. He was left alone, a monster in the city. At least under this arrangement he'd be in the Stormlands rather than King's Landing. "And you will be pardoned for attempted murder of princess Aerea Targaryen and her grace Kuvira Tagaryen. . You will be sent to the Wall, take the black, and live out the rest of your days with some dignity and honor."


As if he feared an outburst from any man around him, Stark quickly continued. "We wish for no bloodshed, we are all kin! This is a fair and just deal, I pray you take it."





@JustWhipIt
 
Randy Orton Martell

​



Some Street, the Shadow City, Dorne.

​


The Manwoody convoy headed through the city, towards the seat of House Martell at the Sunship. The sun had just began to reach the horizon to the west, and the air, while still dense and warm, wasn't as oppressive as during most of the day. Families had came out of the shade and began to shop for food, and vendors had set up their stands, selling everything from trinkets to spices from the Summer Islands. The streets became more crowded with people, and the general noise and atmosphere of the city alive and carefree.


Just the way Randy likes it.


The Viper had nested itself along with the Birthrights in the alleys on the corners of the street and along the low rooftops around the area. They had been waiting for some target to present themselves all day, whether it be the fishermen coming back from a day of work or some sailors eager to relieve themselves from their money to whores and drinks, it didn't matter. What did matter was that Randy had been itching to beat someone down, and to bed a woman after that with a good leg of lamp roasting in a near by fire and a barrel of mead with his name on it. So one thing at a time. He smiled wickedly when he saw the Manwoodys showed up on the street and signaled his men to get into position.


As the guards reached the center of the street, Randy gave a whistle and all hell broke loose. Several of the Birthrights leapt off of the rooftops, knocking over riders on their horses while the rest used stones to knock the rest off. Once on the ground the gang, along with the Viper, rushed in, plummeting those on foot with bludgeons and other blunt weapons before any of the convoy could draw their swords and other weapons. Kicking away the dropped arms on the ground, Randy approached the remaining men, which included a son of House Manwoody and his close guards, now with weapons out. The son looked incredulously at Randy. "Why are you doing this? We're heading up to renew our allegiances to House Martell and show our support! Can't you see we're loyal to you?"


Randy scoffed, before looking to his men, then turning back to the young man. "You think I give a shit?" Flicking two fingers at the group, the Birthrights members tossed bags full of sand at the faces of the remaining men, and rushed the enemy. In their blindness, they couldn't swing their sword accurately, and thus one by one fell to several attackers surrounding each guard. When only the son remained, barely conscious and had to be supported by two of Randy's men, Randy stepped forth. The two men pushed the Manwoody son at Randy, who turned around, wrapped his arm around the neck of the Manwoody, and leapt into the air. Extending his body horizontally, Randy's weight pulled the Manwoody's head down with him, slamming it against the ground and knocking the young man clean out.


Getting up again, Randy gave a few good kicks to the Manwoody scion as well as stomps before noticing one of the guards trying to get up. Pacing over to a nearby stand, he grabbed a wooden chair, and went back over to the struggling guard before smashing the chair into the guard's back, breaking it into several pieces and sending the guard back to the ground moaning in pain. Sighing in contentment, Randy turned just as one of his men spoke up. "The Manwoody have strong relations with the Daynes and the Yronwoods my lord." Randy turned and stared at the man, who backed off quickly, unsure if he was about to get socked in the jaw.


After a moment, the Martell just shrugged, "who gives a shit about them? I don't. What I do give a shit about is getting some wench on my spear." He looked around and saw a young woman cowering in the stand where he had gotten the chair from before. Moving quickly, Randy grabbed the squealing woman and lifted her onto his shoulder, despite her thrashing limbs. He turned back to his men and ordered, "Nearest tavern, now. Drinks and whores are on me boys!" A cheer went up around the gang, though they knew that just meant they do what they usually do: drink for free and take pleasures of the women as they pleased. As the woman began to scream, she felt a hard smack on her bottom, which surprised her enough to quiet her down. "You'll get a scream plenty in the bedsheets sweetheart, best save your breath then." Randy laughed as he and the Birthrights left, just as someone ran the other way down the street.


"The Viper strikes again! Run for it!"
 
WanderingJester said:

Tiber Lannister


A garden, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.



​



"One overgrown garden indeed. Perhaps it's about time someone tended to it properly."


Tiber Lannister chuckled at Haelga's jest, before gazing out to the Sunset Sea, and listening to the woman talk. If what she said was true, this Kraken of the Lonely Light can change the dynamics of Westeros economic field almost overnight, with Casterly Rock at the forefront to reap the most out of that wave. He thought about what she had told him. "The sacking of the Shield Islands might not be as hopeless as you might think my lady. If the Iron Fleet strikes fast, hard and leaves before the Redwynes musters in their ships from the Arbor, they'll pull off an attack not seen in recent years. By the Seven and for the sake of the Reachmen I hope the same as you, but perhaps we should not anticipate that as near certainty." The Lord of Casterly Rock glanced back at Haelga with a studying gaze. "If what you say is true, then you already have a path to the future you wanted. Why come here and to me of all people? Surely there are other high lords you may entreat with as well, and minor lords a plenty. While I can only imagine the prosperity that this new trade route would bring to the Westerlands, I hope you'll forgive my skepticism. Again, I have little to go on other than your words at the moment." He stared at the Greyjoy, reading for any signs from her face and body language he might need to be aware of.


@SirDerpingtonIV
Click to expand...

Haelga Greyjoy


Casterly Rock, Westerlands



​



Haelga chuckled, wondering what exactly Lord Tiber's jest meant of his diplomatic relations with the Tyrells, although she did not comment on it. She simply shook her head about what Tiber said on the Iron Fleet's chances. "My brother is not a strategist. He is a fool. But, if the Iron Fleet does come out of this attack alive, then they shall be extremely weakened. Not as much of a threat, although I suppose there will be one." She admitted, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She turned her gaze to his, frowning lightly. "A path I cannot walk alone," she admitted. "Or else, it is pointless. I've come to you, Lord Tiber Lannister, because you have a reputation. A reputation as a man who can listen to reason. Many a lord in this realm would dismiss my claims as folly. But you, I can tell, are interested. A route across the Sunset Sea," she gestured with a hand toward it,"Would allow traders and merchants to cut down their sailing time by atleast a month to reach the farther-most locations on the continent of Essos. This new route would allow -everyone- involved to profit. Something I'd presume you would have an interest in." she explained. "Down at the docks, I have brought with me several Yi Tish Junks, trade goods from the exotic nations of Essos, and mercenaries too. They have all sailed with me across the Sunset Sea, and are a perfect example of what can be achieved if we walk together down this path." She offered him a smile, although small, as if the expression was an irregular occurrence for her.
 
Closing in on Highgarden, the Reach, Westeros


POV: Gawain Hightower


Lord Gawain's party had been riding for days at a relaxed pace as they had more than enough time to spare, they made more stops than they probably should have but they made decent ground.


Gawain had a lot of time to think on the journey, he thought about his wife, he thought about the late Lord Tyrells, he thought about the green fields and sunny skies of the Reach but most importantly he thought of the letter. To think that the Iron Throne was ruled by bastards?! He would have never believed it if it hadn't came from whom it did. The council at Old town upon his return should decide on where they stand concerning the Black Dragon, but he had faith that as they did before they would fight for the Black Dragon...
 

Tiber Lannister


A Garden, Casterly Rock, the Westerland.

​



As Haelga Greyjoy talked, two servants came out with one holding a tray of cups and a pitcher full of refreshing cider. The other silently poured a cup full and offered it to Tiber Lannister, who sipped on the cool drink as he listened to his guest. The servants then moved down the line, offering a cup of the cold drink to each of the men including Haelga. He saluted with his cup as the Kraken smiled at him, before taking another sip and leaning on one of the pillars which grape vines had grown on. The Lion twirled the cup in one hand while looking at the swishing liquid inside the container. Perhaps the woman in front of him was telling the truth, but how was he to be certain of that? The Lord of Casterly Rock gathered his thoughts before looking up to Haelga once more, tilting his head to the side as he observed her with almost a curious expression.


"I beg you to excuse me while I voice my thoughts out loud, as I'm sure you've already figured all of this out by now, but I have many things I have to address and I find this exercise some times to help me focus on what's at hand." Tiber stood up and paced around the area slowly, all the while speaking. "You have a massive task in front of you, but of course I could be mistaken since you still haven't asked me what you would like from House Lannister specifically outside of what I've already provided. It's actually kind of surprising really; you struck me as a woman who's direct in her speech as she is in her actions, but no matter. I'm sure you will get to that momentarily." He finishes his drink, walked to where the servants have stood statue-like, and refilled the cup.


"If what you said is true, and you have discovered a route across the Sunset Sea, then to seize the control of the Iron Islands and established the first trades using your new trade route should be of a lesser difficulty, even if still a formidable task. You would have to convince first me of what you say, which you are offering now Yi Tish goods and mercenaries as proof of your word. Then you'll have to, of course with House Lannister's help, convince others to believe the same, an even more difficult task. I have many bannermen that would be glad to kill any and all Ironborns on sight, given our kingdoms' turbulent history as well as recent events at Fair Isle. I may be reasonable, but I cannot speak for all who follows me what they might do should I publicly announce an alliance with a member of House Greyjoy, which is what you want from me from what I'm inferring from your speech. You must understand that when a raider rapes and kills your family in front of you, the lines between House Harlaw and House Greyjoy becomes somewhat... blurred."


Tiber strolled forward, and could see the guards around the Greyjoy tensing, which caused the Lionguards at the edge of the garden to do the same, only they were armored and armed. The Warden of the West ignores them, walking up to two paces in front of the Kraken of the Lonely Light, not in an intimating fashion, but rather to show the seriousness in his eyes with the regard he held the business at hand. "Without knowing exactly when you left on your voyage and when you returned, I can only lean upon your word that you found this so call 'trade route' across the Sunset Sea, rather than just brave the perilous voyage to Yi Ti and returned. Still an impressive feat, but not quite the same. Perhaps this would be a good time enlighten the present party of what exactly I may do for the Kraken of the Lonely Light. It would be a good start in your first of many difficult tasks: convincing me to grant you the support of House Lannister in the capacity you had in mind."


@SirDerpingtonIV


______________________


Rowan Tarly


The Courtyard, Horn Hill, the Reach.
​



Rowan Tarly moved from knight to knight, helping the men finish packing what was needed for the journey. The orders had came through early in the morning, with Rowan still stirring from the events with and the embrace of his lady wife. The host gathered were to march on Highgarden to answer Lord Tyrell's call to arms. Rushing out after given Agnes a quick kiss on the sleeping girl's head, he had met a grinning Oswen, who informed him after the messenger that their father had already received several letters, one of which was from Highgarden. No doubt someone in the Golden Rose family was upset at House Tarly; the Lord of Horn Hill could be seen tossing a piece of parchment into the lit fireplace. Rowan reflected on that. Sure it was a broach in conduct for Horn Hill to mustered men on their own, as well as suggesting others to do the same, but wasn't it also Highgarden's misconduct to not have done so sooner, especially with such an evident threat from the north? He shook his head as nodded to the knight he helped, confirming the packing's completion before moving to the next one. Rowan thought about his wife and raised a hand to his lips; he could still remember the feeling of her lips on his from possibly the first genuine kiss she gave him.


Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Maester Broin hurrying back to the keep. The Tarly heir composed himself before calling out to the older man, "Maester! A moment if you will." Rowan met the older man halfway from where they each were, and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Perhaps you would do me the favor of giving this to my lady wife? I had not the chance to speak with her and I fear I would not be able to before I depart for war." Without an envelop, the Maester gave the letter a quick look over while Rowan scratched his head, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "If you would, please keep this between us. Such private manners should be reserved for a man and his wife only."


The maester looked up from the contents of the letter, an eyebrow raised. After considering the young man for a moment, he spoke in an even tone. "Of course Rowan. You may trust this matter to me." Rowan bowed gratefully.


"Much thanks Maester Broin. I am indebted to you."


The older man waved his hand, "No matter. It is my duty to serve House Tarly; this falls within that category. I shall see it done. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to work with your father on some vital communications in regards to the coming conflict. Excuse me." The maester gave a nod of his head before heading back to the keep, while Rowan turns around and sees Oswen and his troops riding past. His younger brother called out to him.


"Hurry and ride Rowan. Else the war might be over before you leave the castle!" He rode away laughing with a few of his guards, and through the main gate out of the courtyard. Rowan shook his head, and saddled up on his own steed. Looking to his men around him, the young man raised a hand and waved forward.


"Move out!" Together the group rode out of the seat, and joined the 2000 strong Tarly force marching towards Highgarden.


@Archon


@Jabroni


______________


Maester Broin


Lord Rowan's Chambers, Horn Hill, the Reach.



​



Maester Broin made his way to Rowan Tarly's chambers. He had just finished sending a few more letters under the orders of his lord, and packed a good number of ravens for the troops leaving with his apprentice, Lonnel, to go with the army and assist Lord Helyon during his travels. The older man sighed, hoping that the young man, while still early in his years of studies, would do his duties well. He knocked on the door and waited for a reply, entering only after the lady inside gave him permission.


Inside, Agnes Tarly sat with a handmaiden while two servants stood by in case they needed anything. The older man walked up before bowing respectfully to the lady, and handing her the parchment given to him by Rowan.





To my dear lady wife,


I apologize in that I cannot send you off myself, as orders from Highgarden have just arrived demanding a call to arms from all the houses in the Reach. Therefore I must leave your side before being able to fulfill my promise. However, I have not forgotten you and I will see to it that you'll be able to attend the wedding at Casterly Rock. Unfortunately our most direct route to Highgarden aligns with your path to the Westerlands, and you may be able to understand why I might be concerned about the possibility of your departure reaching my father's ears. I suggest riding Northwest with either House Bracken or House Tully's convoy instead, and requesting a ride on one of the Redwyne ships north where they may land past the Mander and you may continue to the Westerlands without fear of detection by the Tarly Host. If you show them your Tarly crest, you should have little trouble in this matter; Uncle Luthor is a dear family friend. Maester Broin will arrange what's needed for your journey as soon as you let him know when you know the Bracken or Tully men arrived. He is a good and loyal man and worthy of our trust. Please enjoy yourself at the festivities. I know it may be more pleasant than I would take it, being somewhat uncomfortable in situations like that myself. At any rate I must go now, the troops are readying to move. Know that you're on my mind, even as you hold my heart.


All my love,


Rowan




Maester Broin watched the young lady read the message, before speaking, "My lady, I would offer any assistance I can in order to carry on Rowan's promise to you. Please let me know what Riverrun or Stone Hedge intends, and I shall do my part here at Horn Hill as well. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off to fulfill the rest of my duties for today." Bowing, the maester turned and left the chambers and Agnes Tarly to her thoughts.


​


@Hypnos
 
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Katsa Borrell


(White Harbor)
​




"And why haven't you the time?" She pryed trying to keep up a good conversation with the boy who's name she did not know. It would be easier to thank him later if she asked his name but it didn't occur to her until now and so she decided to wait for the right oppurtunity to ask. All she could think about at the moment was where to have a good night's rest. As they walked on she looked around to take in as much as she could, getting a good feel for the town so she would know for tomorrow where everything was since tomorrow she would set out for King's Landing first thing in the morning.





@Crimson smile
 
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Highgarden, The Reach.


POV: Gawain Hightower.


Lord Gawain dismounted his horse with a little struggle, despite being a Lord he was not very accustomed to riding... He did most of his work sitting down and indoors, his age didn't help either. The men in Gawain's part also dismounted including his son Bedivere.


Gawain turned to face them,


"I would be grateful if two of you take care of the horses, the rest will continue with me and Bedivere."


The two rightmost men of the party nodded their heads with an "Of course my lord" before they took hold of the reigns and began to lead the horses towards a stable. Gawain and Bedivere with 8 guards continued to travel towards Highgarden, once they entered the city he ordered one of his men to keep an eye out for any trinkets or interesting bits that might be worth a buy.


Greygarden, Harlaw, The Iron Isles


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


The raven had arrived this morning, Siegfried could barley read but he managed to get the gist of things, whats done is done. Siegfried crumpled the letter up in his hands as he refilled his cup with ale, he took a long hard swallow. He never liked his father he is a cont he kept telling himself, but even so in an odd way he questioned what he had done, kinslaying was a taboo even in the Iron Isles but its not ike they ever saw each other as family. With a sigh he rose from his seat and threw the crumpled letter into the fire... Time to go seat my arse in my new home.
 
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Kuvira Targayen


Kingslanding


Kuvira sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. The multiple cups of red and a pile of problems didn't put her in the position to be as understanding and considerated than she would be without them. "Hand me you're sword."Commanded letting out her hand. When he handed it to her. She raised it up pointing it towards him.

"Ser Albert," she gently lowered the weapon on the knight's shoulder. "House of lannister. Knight of honour. I hereby name thee, my guardsmen. May you serve with honor and dignity." She handed back his swords following this and with a smirk on her face she asked. "Better?"


She didn't wait for him to reply to leave his presence, beckoning him to follow. "Come along ser Albert. I have much to plan with so little time. Like the upcoming wedding for example." She wasn't quite sure if she was attending nor if she wanted to. So many people with so many opinions that wouldn't amuse her in the slightest or maybe it will - she might never know.


"Baelor can you perhaps explain to me the situations inside Kingslanding? I am sure that the rumours and my rule is bringing an uproar." She said taking a quick glance out the window. She was restless even in the darkness of night. But all her mind came rolling back to was the white roses in the garden. She had to make them red - she must! The color did not suit the castle or anyone inside. Purity, innocence that will be stained by blood.
​
 
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Leusis said:
Roland Wilds - Outskirts of Casterly Rock

​



Looking around as his knights and levies pitched their tents Roland listened to Lawsen speak. Merely the mention of Ironborn caused the young man to sigh, his disliking of the men of the Iron Islands rather obvious due to the swift change in his mood. They were raiders and rapists and little else in his mind, men who claimed to be warriors but only fought old men and young boys who has never even held a blade. They fancied themselves the hardest men in Westeros but fell all to easily to Roland's blade as some of them were indeed tough, but undisciplined, not able to match Roland's footwork or the movement of his blade. Perhaps the greatest among them was a man by the name of Siegfried, but even he was likely to fall to Roland's blade if they met in combat. After all, Roland had been fighting veteran warriors since he was a boy and Siegfried hadn't crossed blades with a man of true skill in what was likely years.


"They catch my eye just as well as any other pretty lady I've met, though I do find your younger sisters interest in combat fascinating. Not many noble women are known to be skilled in combat and its interesting to say the least". His words were spoken as a simple man and not a suitor, but if this was conveyed to Lawsen was all up to how he took it. "The queen is a woman I know little about other than that I'd bed her if she ever gave me a chance" Roland spoke with a loud chuckle, obviously not taking Lawsen's question seriously due to the fact he knew almost nothing about Kuvira other than that she was said to be beautiful.


@AnnoDomini
Click to expand...
Lawsen smiled and patted him on the back. "Yeah, but at how she acts, she's still a little childish, and many suitors might be scared of a woman who could probably kill them in a duel. I joked about sending her to those people in the Iron Islands. I'll let her chose, at first at least." His mind was starting to think of possible suitors. He even considered Roland, but he dismissed the taught, as these types of ties might destroy a family or friendship.


Lawsen suddenly burst out laughing, hearing Roland's response. "Yeah. I'd do the same to be honest. She has a pretty face, but a gorgeous body. Crazy or not, if she asked me, I would." With a sigh, his smile went back to a normal expression. "How about the wedding? Planning on bedding girls there?" Lawsen expected nothing less than Roland.


@Leusis
 

Ser Albert Lannister


The Estranged Lion


Queensguard, King's Landing
​




And with a figurative snap of the Queen's fingers, Albert was named to her Queensguard. The Estranged Lion was in equal parts surprised and joyous of this event.


He had heard of the Queen's whimsical nature but this far surpassed Albert's expectations. Nonetheless, he was a Queensguard now. What better way to gain merit and recognition than to be the one responsible for the Queen's safety? It was now his duty to stand by her as her shield.


"Yes, your Grace." Albert replied to the Queen, immediately standing up to follow after her.


It only took a short moment for Albert's first trial to come. "A wedding?" he thought to himself while following after the Queen. Surely, there was no other wedding that the Queen herself would take note of but his wedding. Albert tried to conceal his disdain for his own cousin, but the furrowing of his brows would reveal him. Still, he tried to compose himself. If the Queen was going, then he would be forced to come along. It was his duty. It was ironic that it was his honor that made him leave, and it would also be because of his honor that he would have to go back. These thoughts were starting to trouble him, though he kept silent of the matter.


In the same room was also Lord Baelor Velaryon, Lord of Tides. He was also the Queen's very own uncle. It seemed that the Queen sought for him for counsel. Ser Albert greeted him with a quick bow to acknowledge his presence and returned to his silence, watching over the two discuss matters.


It was true that Albert knew little of the people and inner workings of King's Landing, except for those of great renown, due to his recent stay there. It was a good opportunity for him to learn and listen as he might be able to absorb some chance nugget of wisdom.





@Hypnos @Robyn Banks
 
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Kings Landing, The Crownlands.


POV: Kay Baelish


Kay waved his hand to quiet his small audience, there was multiple barrels of wine around the room and just as many whores, a few sat on men's laps while more lay in bed,


"I trust you have all been enjoying yourself tonight?" Kay inquired in a hopeful tone although he already knew the answer, this brothel had the finest furniture and the finest prostitutes, Kay had many brothels throughout the seven kingdoms but none of them was as large or as grand than this one, Kay had specifically designed this brothel to attract wealthy merchants and people of nobility.


"Yes I have been, I only hope she has been enjoying herself as much as I." Said a member of House Slynt through a drunken grin, the woman resting on him smiled along with his jest.


"Tonight has been one of the finer nights in my life my Lord, you have my thanks." Said the Blount, this caused Bywater to cheer a bit but his face soon turned red. Pyle and Pyne had there tongues tied with some of the lovely ladies, Kay didn't need their answers to understand how they felt.


"Thank you good men I am honored by your words, tonight is also an important night for me, this establishment marks a new beggining... All of you are welcome to return whenever you please, consider it a gift but please use it responsibly."


A loud clap was heared from Bywater, it would be a miracle if the man didn't have a heart attack at the rather he was going at, although it seemed the other men found humor in it.


Kay gracefully bowed to the men, "I apologise my good men but I have some matters to attend to, you are welcome to stay overnight if you wish and I trust you shall tell your friends of the service here."


A mixture of appreciative nods and thank yous came from the men before Kay turned and made his way towards his office.


(To be continued, sorry its abrupt but I am really tired.)
 
"We just arrived ourselves," Timos informed the girl hand falling down to lazily pat the wolf's head. He wasn't feeling overly cautious around the girl and so wasn't about to go refuse to answer or answer vaguely. "We have been traveling much of the day and required rest. So stopped here. "
 
Roland Wilds

​



Roland looked at Lawsen for a moment as if thinking on his words. "Any man who would be intimidated by your sister is not worthy of her, or a blood tie with you". Roland's words were rather serious as he never liked weak lords who could not hold their own in a fight. They were disappointing and boring men who would rather sit on their horse and watch their men die instead of picking up a sword themselves. Roland even held this opinion towards Tiber slightly, as he found his lack of skill with a blade to be unbecoming of a man of his status. However his brother Martyn more than made up for him, Tiber was only lucky enough to have a younger brother who was such a warrior.


"I'm not too sure Tiber would appreciate me bedding half of his staff, and the lords who will attend would probably not like me doing the same with their wives and daughters" he spoke with a chuckle. "However, I met a lovely young woman, a handmaiden of Tiber's sister who I wouldn't mind undressing if I got the chance. Once the war starts we might not get another chance so we might as well have our fun if we can tonight!". Yelling out to the men around him a few of them cheered as they set up their tents while a few others laughed.


@AnnoDomini


(Sorry for the short post, conversations are difficult for me to extend)
 
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Highgarden


Arren Tyrell
​




The new Lord Tyrell detected th doubt within the Maester's voice, and though he had no obligation too, he felt the issue warranted a clear explanation.


"Helyon's failure to send a single mesenger to notify me of the threat of invasion was far more than a mere slight. If I do not punish him, I will be seen as weak, spineless, and unfit to rule. I cannot afford to appear weak when so new to the position, and in the face of an attack from the damned Lannisters!" Arren breathed out, struggling to maintain composure; his stress levels already at an all-time high.


"Yet House Tarly is one of the Reach's strongest houses, and Helyon's tactical mind is invaluable in the face of this threat. He may have saved us by gathering an army; yet he may have doomed us by not notifying me..." The previous tone of anger was replaced by doubt, and uncertainty. Arren cast his eyes down at the study, surrendering for a brief moment; the new Lord's face dropped into the palms of his hands.


"What am I to do? I can't punish him as a traitor... Nor can his actions go unwarranted..." With a final sigh, Arren pushed the never ending debate of Helyon Tarly from his mind, and took to his feet in one fluid motion; despite the pain.


He couldn't afford to spend all his time wallowing on this subject, soon the armies of the Reach would arrive. By then, it may be too late. Truth be told they were relying on Helyon to succeed, and if he did; Arren would be convinced to forgive him. If he failed however, the opposite was true. After a moment, the Maester prepared to take his leave; before abruptly reminding Arren of the previous Ironborn raid on Greyshield...


"Will the other Isles not require aid similar to Greyshield? We need all the forces we can muster to combat the Westerlands, we can't afford to provide them manpower... Yet, we can grant them necessary supplies needed for rebuilding, food, stone... Make the arrangements, if you would?" Arren finished, not paying much mind to the subject. Greyshield was the last problem on his mind as of now, management was a stressful thing.


With his rant over, and a brief reminder of Greyshield and the Ironborn done; Arren made his own way out of the room alongside the Maester, whilst he would have liked to discuss war strategy with Seneschal Varn, it was fortunate he wasn't present - since Arren remembered he had a certain appointment to keep with the Blackfyre Dragon - a prospect which was sure to be interesting indeed.


Soon enough, the new Lord Tyrell found himself in the Meeting Room. Or rather, a blank empty space with a large table, an abundance of chairs, and an assortment of food and drink laid out in preparation. Whether this Blackfyre Pretender was legitimate or not, bothered Arren none, he had every intention of treating the supposed "One True King" as an honoured guest. It was doubtful Arren would be waiting much longer, he had already dispatched a guard to guide Viserys here. Whilst it was rude of Arren to cut their last conversation short; it was necessary. The Tyrell hoped it would not be held against him.


@Jabroni @TheAncientCenturion


Winterfell Outskirts


Dolar Umber
​




"That grey bastard, decided to start the march without us eh? Last Hearth isn't bloody close. Wonder how those bloody Kastark's got here so quick..." Dolar merely mumbled to the Martial beside him; who responded with a light chuckle.


"We'd have been here sooner, if we weren't waiting on your giant ass all the damned time." Ser Grody replied, quickly and sharply, causing the Lord of Last hearth to let out a bellowing roar of laughter, before turning upon his mount. "Come, the Banners of the North fly not more than a few miles ahead. Have the men on double march, we'll join the rear - for now, o'course, Tadgh will have me lead the Van'."





After a short forced march, not more than two hours later, Dolar found himself joining the gathered Northern army from the rear, his own troops forming up in disciplined lines as if it was second nature - each one was a tried and tested soldier, House Umber always prided itself on military might, given their lack of wealth - that meant quality over quantity. Yet the Northern Giant had a more personal appointment to keep.





"Take over the lead march, will you? I'd quite like to see our Lord's hideous face in person, it could be hours until we make camp." Dolar noted, already peeling to the side; in order to ride past the army and meet with Tadgh - unwelcome or otherwise.


Ser Grody merely shook his head in mock disapproval, "It baffles me how you've kept your head for so long, I expect Lord Stark to remove it soon enough with this sort of attitude." Dolar merely gave a toothy grin in response, accustomed to such remarks, before setting off to the army head in gallop, where Tadgh would likely be.


@Veyd Sahvoz
 
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Benjicott Tuly




The splashing sounds of hooves colliding with the puddles from the late rain echoed faintly as Benji's horse raced across the landscape, the beautiful grey horse slicing through the wind at alarming speeds. While it was heavily argued against, Benji decided to come alone to collect his daughter. He felt horrible over the last few months, being away from making important trades with over kingdoms. He felt that he left his family behind, something that forced him awake for countless nights. After a few hours, he could see the meeting point to collect his daughter. His large greatsword gleamed on his back, his face tightening in anticipation.

@Hypnos
​
 
The Narrow Sea


POV: Aemond Velaryon


Aemond sat lounging in a chair in his Captains Quarters, they had made good time in their journey however Aemond was disappointed to find there was no one to warm his bed.


The rooms lighting was a single dim candle on his bedside stand, Aemond clutched his dagger, its point was purposefully stuck into the left arm of his chair, he twisted it making a sort of spiral pattern... It was not the most productive thing he could be doing but it was something to pass the time.


Aemond sighed as he leaned forward and retrieved the letter from his brother (it was laying on the bedside stand) he looked at it again, Aemond had always been proud of his family and name, most would probably think overwhise due to the time he spends away in Essos but even then he does what he can do to support his family. After placing the letter back where he got it from Aemond sluggishly rose from his chair, he made his way across lazily like it was a burden, however he opened the door with confidence before he looked out at his crew on deck.


Arys like always was keeling the men in line, he was the best Lieutenant, Aemond ever had, a good worker and a competent commander but he was also a freind.


He didn't need to say a word, he saw with his eye and smelled with his nose, hell he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. He was getting close to his birthplace, to his home of Driftmark. A childish smile spread across Aemond face as he recollected old memories, he walked over to the portside and looked on the horizon waiting for Driftmark to come into view.
 
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Agnes Tully

Rowan's Chambers, Horn Hill, The Reach.​



Her eyes still skimming over the letter long after the elderly Maester had departed, Agnes Tully tried to contain the grin that was growing on her face, her once glum features lit up by the news that soon she would soon be leaving this awful place. Horn Hill had not been kind to the Tully, or rather Tarly, and save her own husband and the occasional visit from Lady Tarly and her daughters, most of the people were distant and somewhat cold, not willing to give her the time of day, even her handmaiden seemed like a stranger to her, her touch foreign, needless to say she'd be glad to leave the castle even if it were just for a time.


She sat for a while upon Rowan's bed, contemplating what she had just read, her husband had been called to war, fighting an enemy who she knew nothing about, it could be Breaden, she thought with a slight frown, she knew that Breaden Baratheon had been causing a lot of trouble after uncle Osmund's death, and had been present at the queens coronation when he had fled from the assassin, she feared he was a doomed man, with the entire force of the Reach against him he could never achieve victory, even if her grandfather grew well enough to support him, and with grandmother at the helm of Riverrun, he may not get that support at all. She remembered the boy she used to play with as a child, it was strange to think that little child would grow up to do something like this.


She turned her mind to other matters, chastising herself for not worrying about the health of her own Lord husband, they may not be the most loving couple but they had grown closer after the previous night and she had come to see the kindness in him, kindness that had been there all along. She would pray for his safe return, and hope the warrior would guide his sword, it would devastate her if her husband were to fall in battle, especially since they'd never formally consummated their marriage, something she had felt guilty for since that night in her grand father's chambers.


Looking over the letter one last time before placing it upon her dresser, Agnes couldn't help but worry. What if she were caught? What if Lord Redwyne handed her straight back to Lord Helyon? What if the Maester told Lord Tarly of her planned departure, what about her hand maidens? She played with her hair for a second, anxiously, mayhaps her grandmother would come up with a better plan, mayhaps she could borrow some ships from her nuncle Edmyn at Seagard and sail down to the coast. But it was all for naught for at that moment the Maester returned, clutching a new letter in his gnarled fingers, it was from Riverrun.


Barba Tully

Lord's Office, Riverrun, The Riverlands.​



She had been sceptical at first when the letter had arrived, baring not the name of the Lord of Horn Hill but instead his son and heir Ser Rowan, her son by the laws of gods and men, but upon further inspection it seemed to be fairly genuine, though still a tad worrying. It seemed that Lord Tarly would not be allowing her granddaughter to attend the wedding of her cousin, Lady Leanne, and instead intended to keep her cooped up within the confines of Horn Hill, more a captive than a daughter-in-law, though his son seemed to be a tad more reasonable about the whole issue, asking that someone be sent to collect Lady Agnes within the moon and claiming that he would do everything in his power to let her see her family.


A good man, she thought, they are in short supply now a days, she dipped her quill into a large ink pot and began to scrawl a reply upon the crisp parchment laid out in front of her.


Agnes Tarly.


I hope you are well, Riverrun has been very quiet without you around and you are sorely missed. I have received word from your Lord-Husband that you are to be attending Leanne's wedding after all, and I have made all the appropriate preparations. Your father shall arrive within a week of writing this letter [Date] under the cover of darkness, and should be able to get out of the Reach and meet with the rest of our party as we travel to the Rock.


Wishing you all the best,


Barba Tully, Lady-Regent of Riverrun.


@WanderingJester


Baelor Velaryon

The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands.​



Baelor remained silent as Ser Albert was initiated into the Kingsguard, his eyes scanning over the ceremony with a hint of disgust. He remembered when this used to mean something, back in the days where Ser Gale Corbray was but a young knight, new to the sword, back when Ser Warren Whent was still considered a handsome face, and Ser Aiden Stark defied the wishes of his own family to don a white cloak, forever more giving up his claim to the largest kingdom in Westeros. Those were the days when knights were admitting for their own merit, not to fill a quota, and not just at the whims of a queen who would name the first knight she laid her eyes upon. It was disgusting, a stain on the ancient tradition, but most importantly it was done without the consent of the council, if his niece thought that she could continue going over the heads of those few that remained loyal to her in such a way she was sorely mistaken. Even if Ser Albert was a capable man, he was not trained, nor did he swear his oath, and whilst Baelor knew that there were few others in the capital that could fill such a vacancy the whole thing still left a sour taste in his mouth.


He watched for Albert's response, noting the furrowing of his brow upon the mention of Lord Tiber's wedding, it was no surprise, the estranged lion was not just a title and his fallout from the Lannister family was well documented. It is a shame, Baelor mused, Edwyn Lannister would have been a good ally, as would his nephew and with their support the Riverlands could easily be taken out of the equation.


"King's Landing your grace?" Baelor replied after a time, amused that Kuvira would rather ask his opinion on the matter than actually look out a window "The city is suffering and the war is already beginning to take its toll" he pulled from his sleeve a small scroll, unfurling it. "Vladan has ordered the closure of the River Gate, and his men work even now to brick it up, a futile attempt, the common folk will not stand for someone putting a barrier between them and their lively hood and I doubt the barricade will last a week, mayhaps it is for the best, without the River Gate the small folk have no access to the bay, drastically decreasing imports of fish and other such food, with a siege coming it may be wise to stock up on food whilst we have the chance. Besides, such action would block out any reinforcement from the Royal Fleet or that of Gulltown, and doing so would have much the same effect of burning the whole thing right away, we still have hope for reinforcements from the south, when Aerea arrives at Highgarden she may be able to garner the support of the Redwyne fleet" he smirked for a second "And whilst I would put little faith in Dorne, they still have a chance to come to your aid, mayhaps it would be prudent if you sent them word"


He frowned "The Royal coffers are running low, with the addition of almost double the previous number of gold cloaks on payroll, they have taken a hit and I would be surprised if they lasted until Breaden arrives, I would not normally advocate for such things but mayhaps it would be in our best interests to take out a loan" to emphasise his point he drew out a copy of the Royal expenditures from within the pocket of his doublet, certainly a sorry sight "I would not recommend however the Iron Bank of Braavos, despite being the largest of its kind it is also the most dangerous, and I do not think you wished to be tied into such a contract, no. I would instead push forward the bank of Rogare in Lys, it is smaller, aye, and not as notorious, but it has a history of aiding the House of Targaryen and you will never have to fear them sending an army to take your throne, just a thought"


He sighed "Finally one last issue with the city would be the city watch themselves, they are untrained and under supplied and their commander is probably the most abhorrent man I've ever seen" coming from him that meant a lot "Celtigar is a fool and a drunk and I would advise his immediate replacement, I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of men who would make suitable replacements" he handed her yet another piece of parchment "Chief among them Ser Corlys of the Dragon Gate, a man sure to inspire more loyalty than a man who would drink and whore away his funding, and I am sure under new leadership the city watch will be as great as it was in the days of Prince Daeron Targaryen"


"Other than that, there is little else, the flesh peddler Baelish has opened up a new brothel in the city, your rule has been met with mixed reception though I'd say the positive far outweigh the negative, you are not your father after all... Nor your brother" he'd rather not talk about Corbis.


@Robyn Banks @Red


Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.​



Valaena Velaryon scanned over the narrow sea with a look of apprehension, her violet eyes watching every ship that came to harbour searching for any sign of her uncle's presence. Her father had given her clear instruction on how to deal with her uncle Aemond, warning her of some of the more peculiar habits he had picked up from his time upon the sea.


Lord Baelor would have liked to be there himself of course, he never liked to divulge the details of his plans to anyone that didn't need to know them, not even his own flesh and blood, but he had found himself caught up in the politics of King's Landing and was unwilling to abandon the capital just yet. A blessing, Valaena thought, he father was a good man, and she loved him, but he was also abrupt in nature, rude and had a tendency to alienate family, not good qualities to have when dealing with the Rogue of the seas.


She smiled, trying to get into the habit of it before her uncle arrived, she hadn't smiled much since the death of her husband two years prior and it felt foreign upon her lips, though she knew better than to greet her uncle with a frown or glum face.


"Lady Saan!" A call came from one of the many servants that littered the great halls of High Tide, her title a relic left from her Lord Husband "The Rogue's Eye has been spotted approaching harbour, our scouts say that Ser Aemond will arrive within the hour"


Valaena sighed, beginning to stand, placing the two year old who had previously perched upon her lap, looking over the port of High Tide, gently upon the floor "Matarys" she said in a soft voice "Wait here for me please, I'm going to see your great uncle Aemond, if you're good maybe I'll let you meet him too" the child merely nodded hardly paying attention, instead still pointing at the colourful sails of the pretty ships below.


Valaena began the short trek down to the port, flanked by twenty of Driftmark's finest, now ready to meet with her uncle, when he came ashore.


@Lancelot
 
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Highgarden


Viserys Blackfyre 1st of his name
​



The Blackfyre king begrudgingly allowed Arren Tyrell to go. To his astonishment, the previous Tyrell lord met a fatal end in King's Landing. 'Perhaps little sister was tired.' He had no inkling of what Kuvira was like, leaving when she was not even eight. But being raised by the mad man that was Maeryn did her little good. Especially if she was so brazen to attack potential allies. 'Then again, a young and new lord is more willing to bend then a proud and experienced man.' There was some sense in it, Viserys supposed. But the Captain-General would push this attack on one of the lowest levels of schemes he could consider. There was the off chance Hollis Tyrell died of natural causes, but 'Hedge Knight' was skeptical.


He found himself alone in a new room, replacing the courtyard for something far nicer. A pleasant study, an ideal room to hold debates and discussions between vassal and lord. 'Which is what will happen.' Part of the Golden King feared that young Arren was off conspiring against him. Why else would he so eagerly abandon the man? The only alternative was that Arren thought so little of the 'hedge knight' he opted to take care of menial matters first. Viserys didn't know which scenario bothered him more, imminent death or this lad rebuking him so. The King beyond the Sea stayed amiable, confidence exuding from his form as he stared at a few of the guards assigned to the room. Water was also brought to him, though no other kindnesses were. 'No guest right?' It puzzled him at first, but Viserys found himself silently approving this fresh lord and his tactics.


"How long have you been in the service of Lord Tyrell?" Viserys, or rather Morath, questioned a knight. He was broad chested and mean in the face, he had the decency to not point his sword at the king though, which Viserys was grateful for.


He eyed the Valyrian Spawn briefly before looking at the adjacent guard. "I have been in the service of House Tyrell since last Winter."


"Mhhm." He smiled brightly through his humming lips. "A loyal and strong knight to find yourself in Lord Tyrell's service for so long. What is your name, ser?" His violet eyes burrowed into the knight, and to this man's credit he didn't so much as flinch.


"Edric Beesbury. And yes, I am an accomplished knight, hedge knight." He spoke with poorly veiled animosity, bringing the King more amusement.


"Ser Morath, if you would." He dipped his head in a show of respect and his platinum hair near fell over his face. "How long do you suspect he'll be, Lord Tyrell that is? I am tired, hungry and thirty. Lady Filicity promised work, but I fear Lord Tyrell is too buried in his own to hire new hands."


"Keep your tongue still, ser." Edric exchanged a grimace with the other guard before continuing. "Lord Arren will finish with you in due time. He has more important tasks at hand than just handling a Hedge Knight. No matter what his sister said."


"Ah, yes. The Greyjoys." The Shield attacks caught him off guard. Lord Conn was quick to act, mayhaps he even planned it under Maeryn's rule. It distracted Westeros, even split them to an extent. But Viserys wouldn't be truthful if he said he hadn't wished Conn had waited till war broke out in earnest. "Great privateers of the open oceans. Does your lord plan to bring the fight to them?"


A grunt accompanied with the sound of shifting metal and then came Edric's reply. "None of your business, Ser Hedge."


Viserys felt his smile falter. The knight was hardly being friendly, not that it prevented the Blackfyre from enjoying himself. It was passable entertainment, but a restlessness prodded at the man. Ser Lucas Silverspear was a patient man, a gallant commander and worthy knight. But if he saw an opportunity, say Braedon marching off to battle, he'd take it. Viserys needed to secure solid alliances, and quickly. Part of the man hated the fact he declared himself publicly to the realm. He could of stayed in hiding, were that the case. 'No.' he reminded himself. 'To be abrupt and force my name upon their ears early is best. They will not fight for a stranger, they must be aware of who I am.' He could of sent emissaries before hand, but Viserys had a sinking feeling about the war. He needed to secure the throne quickly if he were to keep it.


The door opened and Lord Arren came in, silent at first. Viserys' smile grew. "Lord Tyrell, it is a pleasure to meet you. . Again. I pray that these circumstances that interrupted us earlier are well over with, resolved and shut firmly. Your beautiful sister told me of the opportunities Highgarden held for me, and I confess to say I believe I can improve upon your own prestige." He paused, still seated and looking up at Arren with vibrant purple orbs. "Provided you would take me into your House and treat me as any just and honorable man under your banners."




The Red Keep, King's Landing


Vladan
​



The Red Keep was roused with life and energy. Goldcloaks, fresh and old, sped past one another. Messeges being carried, errands needed to be done. He spotted a few former srvants now dressed in the gold scale armor and cloak of the city watch. The valiant defenders of the City, should Braedon attack before any of the Houses could answer his demand for arms. Vladan sneered at them. They were loud, sloppy, and got in his way as he tried finding Whent. The man went missing in the dead of the night only to reappear midday the day after. He was suspicious, that was for sure, but the Kingsguard weren't on his list for traitors. Well, Stark might of been, but he was likely to be headless very soon.


"Where is Ser Warren?" Vladan stopped a Watchmen, a double chinned man with no lack of filth on his face. 'Cethann really did drag these people out of the gutter.' Desperate times called for desperate measures, that much he was certain of.


"Tis in the Han's room, m'lord."


"Tower of the Hand." He corrected the man. His chilling gaze swept over the portly guard and several others near him as Vladan strode past them. The Tower wasn't far, and with Vladan in peak condition for his age, it took little more then ten minutes to get to. He hadn't bothered to knock, should Gelgin be inside he would be awaiting Vladan as well. As Vladan entered the room, he saw the man who requested his presence. There was Cethann too, sitting in his chair with a dagger in his left hand, digging into the rich wood of the table before him.


"What is the meaning of this, Ser Warren? I was busy preparing the defenses for a siege." Vladan wandered to a chair at the end of the table. Ser Whent wasn't more then two feet from him, the fearful visage of his peering down at the maester.


"News." He croaked out. "News of our princess."


"Go on." His pale face lost all of its blood. He kept himself composed. Was Daenna hurt in some way? Did Aerea find herself in trouble? The implication that either were harmed was strong enough to make his stomach churn. After Maeryn's unfortunate demise, he felt as if it were his responsability to look after them. What sort of man would he be if they got hurt? 'Daenna already fled the capital.' He reminded himself. He didn't get to weigh in on that decision. She was off in Essos, touring the Free Cities and enjoying herself. He would of given her a dozen castle guards and a Kingsguard.


'I chased Aerea out too.' She was far too distressed by the war to be able to stay in King's landing. That much was well known. She injured herself, or allowed a servant to injure her.


Cethann had a grim look as he addressed the maester. "We found Princess Aerea's carriage not far along the Rose road. Sacked. Bodies bloody everywhere."


Vladan was thankful to be sitting. He was certain his legs stopped working in that moment. His mouth parted, "What of Aerea?" He led the girl to her demise. His own selfless actions to keep her safe ultimately let the princess be killed. Regret boiled over quickly into rage, he gripped the table as if he were to be blown out of the room as he spoke the next words. "Who did it?" It was Braedon. The assassination attempt didn't work. Braedon saw his piece in play and decided to steal Vladan's bishop. The man wanted to scream. To throttle both of the knights before him. Should he have chosen a different life, he might of.


"We don't know." Cethann spoke in a different light, quieter and more mindful of his words. "No bodies were found, just my boys and the maidens with the princess." He looked up at the skeleton of a man, receiving a confirmation nod. "Aerea wasn't found. We found looters in a nearby village and hung'em. But they defended to the last child that no one was involved."


"She might be alive. . ." He muttered. Suddenly the war went to the back of his mind. The struggles of subduing these pesky lords for his queen, gone. It was Aerea who became his primary focus. "Did you tell the queen about this?"


"Not yet." Warren croaked in. "I searched for Lord Arryn, but to no avail. It came to my attention to tell better tempered men first." He rested a hand on his pommel in a lazy gesture. Vladan sighed in relief.


"I will. . Tell her myself. After I think over what might of happened."


A brief silence enveloped the room, it was Cethann who broke it. "What's to be done, Grand Maester?"


"Double the watch at night. Build the wall. I want a curfew. Any man who defies it will be imprisoned."


"Aye, but we don't have enough cells for all of the city."


"To the dragon pit then." He declared. "Lord Whent, ride out and find us our bannermen. We will not let Braedon get away with this without any consequence." Vladan would send ravens to the Houses farther out, and to some in neighboring kingdoms. But Vladan didn't need a full army just yet. A few hundred would suite his purposes.


If he was surprised, the skeleton didn't reveal it. "Already?"


"You have two days, then I will give the command to march south. Burn every field, rape every woman, slaughter every dog." He rose quickly and turned on his heel. 'If Braedon expects an exchange of prisoners he has reached a flawed conclusion.' He thought darkly as he descended the steps from the tower.






Braedon,


You have shown your true colors in this act, and if you live still by the time this letter arrives, let it be known that no peace can be had between us. Your actions against the innocence of the princess who you profane with the word of bastard on your lips, is a crime against the people of Westeros. Return Princess Aerea to her rightful keep and the survival of Lady Astris will be assured. Harm her and your sister will be flayed living and displayed over our gates.


We are coming, Oath Breaker, be ready for when we do. No walls, despite their thickness or height, will repel our wrath.


Grand Maester Vladan




@Archon


@JustWhipIt
 

Varn Tyrell

Highgarden

"He is indisposed?" he flared, the word reeking half of disdain and befuddlement. What could be more pressing than Highgarden's defense...or the death of his lord father for that matter?

"S'all I been privy to my lord," the guardsman replied. "If it please you I can see about-"

"That won't be necessary. However, you can tell him his uncle went to prepare our Lord Tyrell's funeral arrangements." The portly sentry gave a brisk nod and ventured off in search of their would-be leader.

Varn proceeded toward the great sept with a small escort, opting for a litter this time since he was quite sick of horseflesh. His legs thanked him greatly for the reprieve. Through thinly veiled curtains he could make out vendors' stalls packing the streets with all sorts of wares. Some offered filets of venison and wild boar; others boasted of fine fabrics straight from Essos, or so they claimed.

"Smooth silks from Lys! All manner of color - blues, reds, purples. Matters not but the price!" Varn's bannermen shouted the merchant and the gathering crowd down to make way in the name of Lord Tyrell...which one he could not be certain. It was difficult for him to stomach the fact Hollis had been dead for quite some time. Greater still, the Reach was now stuck with the possibility of his first nephew. If only dead men came back to life.

Highgarden Sept
A congregation of Silent Sisters filled the sept, shaping Hollis' body for internment. Varn looked on grimly as they removed his organs and drained what life's blood remained. The old warrior had a powerful stomach to be certain. He had seen his fair share of the grotesque like many men who lived by the sword.

Nor did he quiver in the company of death's handlers. Their service invoked the Stranger, one of the seven gods. My gods. Oh how cruel they had been. Varn gave his brother's face a studied glance, and suddenly vivid images stirred in his mind: chest-high fields of wheat, the laughter of boys and long-lost childhoods.


Ireyne Tyrell

Highgarden

The hem of her gown was still covered in dirt when she met the maester within the keep. "Maester Jarvas," Ireyne embraced him. She then pulled back to get a better look. The old man was sunburnt and splotchy but seemed to be in good spirits, and for that she was grateful. "You look well. The ravens must keep you youthful."

He gave a dry chuckle at that. "They're more a nuisance than anything my lady, but you are a sight for sore eyes. Roses come and go while the true flower blooms in this castle." He fancies me still. It was a sweet sentiment, although perhaps a bit inappropriate...if he were not such an influence on her early life.

"Oho, be still my beating heart! Pray stop before I faint from your infectious charms!" They laughed together and walked for a time, touring the parapets overlooking Highgarden below and much, much more. She could see for leagues beyond fertile farmland and chimneys' smokestacks. If the enemy were to ride upon them today, the element of surprise was no option. "Where is Lord Arren?"

"He would not say what business awaited, but he was well determined to leave his solar. He aimed to summon-" Jarvas cut himself off, realizing what he was saying. "I mean, to send word for the seneschal. Yet had he known you'd return so soon..." Now that was an odd way to greet an uncle. No doubt her husband would take offense, and with good reason.

Jarvas offered one of his sympathetic sighs. "The Reach is in grave shape as it stands, and I fear Arren is still young..." She knew he had more to say but decided not to pry. Her concerns were for the realm, the same as Jarvas. Whatever ills Lord Arren faced, they must be supportive in times like these. Especially times like these.

@Archon
​
 
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Rowan Tarly


A Road, On Approach to Highgarden, the Reach.



​



The large Tarly host had made good time on their march, as expected of them by Rowan's father. Regardless of birth, every man in House Tarly's service were required and expected to both keep military discipline and able to practice some basic form of martial skill. This of course involved keeping up the physical conditioning required for a steady military march for hours at a time with the appropriate gear on them, even with the supply train keeping up with the forces. A few hours of trotting by his horse, Rowan spotted the capital of the Reach lands in the distance. An neigh along with a grunt to his side indicated Oswen's arrival next to him. Together, the two brothers look up to the seat of House Tyrell, as well as the vanguard forces ahead of them, led by Lord Helyon Tarly. Oswen gave a whistle, "you think if the Tyrells practice fighting as much as their gardening they would be the best fighters in all of the realms."


Rowan shrugged, "I suppose there's no need to, provided that they have vassals like us and Uncle Erik." Oswen snorted.


"And what happens if we're indisposed? Suppose we're fighting off in another front while a second enemy attacks the Reach? We're good, but we can only be in one place at a time."


"Then they'll do what they always do: send their forces and drown the enemy in a sea of swords. We do have the most numerous men out of all the Seven Kingdoms." Oswen shook his head as they continued forward again.


"Numbers aren't everything. We must be wary in case an enemy strikes earlier than we can muster most of our forces. In a closer number in a large battle, a hundred men aren't going to make that much of a difference."


Rowan smirked, "A hundred might be all you need if you can put them to good use." He looked forward to their father riding along the columns to inspect the troops and gather reports. "Father can probably win that battle with half that number over the enemy." Oswen looked skeptical, but changed the subject.


"How many lions' heads do you think you'll take in the coming war? A dozen? Two?"


Rowan shrugged again. "Does it matter so long as we win? I'll be happy with that and four limbs to head back to Horn Hill with."


Oswen grinned. "Ah yes, to your lovely lady wife. Tell me brother: are the redheaded ones more fierce in bed?" Rowan gave a sideways look to his younger brother.


"I don't know Oswen, didn't you bed the red head stable girl from Goldengrove the year before? You tell me." Before his brother could respond though, Rowan rode forward, meeting up with one of his men who had been riding back. The Tarly Heir looked to his sergeant, "report."


The man gave a quick salute, "We'll be arriving at Highgarden within the hour. Lord Helyon wishes for your presence when he reports into the seat." Rowan nodded.


"Of course, let us go then." The two men rode forward to the front of the marching army, and towards perhaps their final destination before the war ahead.


@Archon


@Jabroni


@TheAncientCenturion


________________________________


Maester Broin


A Road Less Traveled, House Tarly Territory, the Reach.
​



Maester Broin let out a breath, not realizing that he had been holding his.


He had gotten word that the Tully delegation will arrive within the week from Lady Agnes and have made the necessary preparations to rendezvous with them. Since the news arrived, the older man had spread the news that the good lady wished to tour her new home as well as experience the land a bit more, and thus arranged rides with some simple guards and her servants as well as himself to provide commentary upon the various landmarks around Horn Hill. Every day they would leave and return at the same time, with the same people. The guards were of trusted individuals to the Maester and the servants knew little and understood even less.


When the day came, the party left the same way as they always did. However this time they took one of the more rigged dirt roads away from Horn Hill northeast. Through the various hills and cliffs, the horses when over and under. All the while the maester commented on the various characteristics of the land, occasionally giving names to certain landmarks while the horses and people rested and break for a quick snack. This gave him the time to keep a lookout for any of House Tarly's scouts that prowled the lands around and even beyond Horn Hill, especially in the Red Mountains. Fortunately, none had appeared, and they had reached where they needed to go.


The maester rode next to Agnes and said, "my lady. Please change Cryss, the redhead servant girl, into your attire. I've packed an extra dress from your wardrobe. I'll keep a lookout for House Tully's convoy in the meantime. We must hurry before we're missed back in Horn Hill." He turned away to give the girls some privacy, shooing the guards to look the other direction with a simple mention of a ripped dress by one of the servant girls. Keeping an eye out, he scanned the distance in order to get some form of indication of where the Tullys were.


After a while, a banner appeared in the horizon, riding towards them.


@Hypnos


@National


_____________________________________


Celena Lannister


The Gatehouse, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.

​



Celena Lannister fanned herself as she rode from her family's ancient seat of power, preparing mentally for a long day.


After more than a month of preparation and countless thousands of dragons poured in, the day of her brother and future sister-in-law's wedding had finally arrived. Needless to say, it looked as if all of the Westerlands had arrived for the celebration. Practically every lord and lady of the Westerlands, along with many of their children, had arrived for the past week or so, with more from beyond the kingdom arriving each day. Lowborns crowded the massive festival area outside of Casterly Rock, where jousting and other tourney field had been set up. Everyone from knights and men at arms to court handmaidens and servants moved in groups, either being merry or going about their tasks, with a few bold ones doing both. The only somber group consisted of the Lionguards, who patrolled the areas, keeping the peace.


The Lion Maid had woken up early in order to help her future sister-in-law, who looked happy but tired from all the work that came with organizing such an event. Even with the help of her fiancee and the various ladies of the court at the Rock, there was much to do and few hands capable of doing so, especially with the time allotted. Now the day had come, Celena did her best with Kylie and others to make sure Leanne enjoyed herself, rather than stress over the various facet of the day's events. Between breaking her fast and her first break, Celena had already double checked the seating for the wedding feast and the ceremony, checked on the various lords and ladies around the Rock, arranged roving security for all members of the wedding party (which included herself), the formation of the guards at all of the castle's private events, as well as checked in with both of her brothers on other aspects that must be addressed and be kept up to date.


Now Celena rode from the keep down to the common masses, along with Kylie, her other handmaidens, and six lionguards between the four girls. She could hear the giggling from the others as they gaze and batted their eyebrows at passing knights, who no doubt either ignored them or flirted back. The lady ignored the stares and vague comments directed in their attention, even if they might be crude. Celena herself was caught up in thought in regards to the various things she still had to attend to, as well as the possibility of joining the tourney herself, when she heard a commotion nearby. Turning, she saw two groups of men approaching each other, with weapons in hand and malice in their hearts. One of them yelled at the other.


"You Windblowns can go back to fucking cows and dogs, before I gut ya like we did back in the Disputed Lands!"


"Try it you overgrown cat turd. You won't make past three steps." The two sides began to close in, with more than a few swords, axes and spears in each side's hands. Without a thought, Celena rode forward in between them, while Kylie cried out from behind her.


"My lady! Wait!" Before the Lion Maid could intercede between the two sellsword companies though, her brother's massive frame appeared with his own contingent of Lionguards. Regardless of the animosity between men, seeing the Mountain Lion stand in front of them with a great sword in one hand would make near anyone rethink their actions. In an almost bored voice, Martyn Lannister looked to both those of the Company of the Cat and the Windblown and spoke.


"Leave the fighting on the field and against enemies we pay you to fight, or in the melee itself. Anyone wants to die outside of those two places, I'll be happy to introduce you to the Stranger." The angry men scowled at Martyn from two sides, but did little more than that. Many had seen the Mountain Lion fight, and along with the number of Lionguards next to him, would easily slaughter either of the groups. Even if they won, they would never survive the tens of thousands of Lannister men around the festival area, not to mention losing out on a very lucrative job for their leaders. Slowly, the weapons were sheathed and the two sides separated, retreating to their respective areas to drink and grumble. Turning to his sister, Martyn spoke. "Celena, while I'm sure Leanne and Tiber appreciates the peacekeeping, perhaps you might leave the job to those more..." he looked over the guards and handmaidens around her, "heavily armed."


Celena scowled down at her brother from her horse, "and I would thank you for treating me less of a helpless maiden and more of a woman grown, brother. I trust you and your 'heavily armed' forces are sufficient in peacekeeping? Aside from the bloodletting that almost happened I mean."


Martyn shrugged, "Nothing more than a few scuffles and a few loosed teeth. Drunken men usually go down from a punch in the face or a kick in the gut."


Celena kept her narrowed eyes on her brother, "from you perhaps. Can't say the same from 'normal' men." Before Martyn could respond, another voice greeted them.


"Martyn! Celena! Good to see the two of you on this merry day!" From the side came Antios Brax, along with his wife on their own steeds. The jolly man and his entourage, which consisted of House Brax's guards looking wary around them, came forward. The Lord of Hornvale clapped the arm of Martyn, who became stoic once more. "Damn shame you won't be participating in the tourney melee Martyn. My boy's been dying to test his steel against yours." Celena raise her eyebrows slightly. Kevan was a strong boy, but if he ever met Martyn in an actual fight, she doubt he would last more than a minute, if that.


"Perhaps next time, without a war looming on the horizon." Martyn addressed their future family member with an indifferent tone, before bowing slightly. "I apologize for my curtness, but I must see to the safety of our guests. Please excuse me." With that he and his guards left, and Antios bowed back, calling to Martyn's back.


"Of course my boy! I'll see you at the ceremony then!" He turned to Celena, who had fixed her face with her courtly smile. "Shall we to the seats then? A lady like you should not dally around armed men such as these." Lord Brax waved over to the large number of armed men around them, before offering his hand.


Celena took it graciously, more of a courtly gesture than anything, given the fact that they're all on their own horses. As they rode forward, Antio spoke, almost to no one in particular. "Many are abstaining from the melee itself with Martyn not participating. A shame, but I do hope that the jousts makes up for the lack of excitement in the melee. At the very least Kevan has a good chance to win some gold now." He laughed, while Celena just politely smiled while sharing a knowing look with Lady Brax next to her. Looking over to the jousting area as they finally made it to the stands, Celena made a decision after all, as well as a mental note to go change as the melee winds down.
 
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