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

[National]

Benjicott Tully

​

Benjicott tirelessly rode through the outskirts, searching for the party that contained his daughter. Out of the corner of his aged left eye, he spotted a shiny banner, a flag more likely. Benjicott could already tell by just the shine of the banner, that it was the Tarly convoy. Benjicott steadily leads his horse to the banner, picking up speed, until the horse was rushing den the trail towards the convoy. If the scouts of the party looked, they could see Benjicott Tully riding towards them. The middle aged man was wearing a travelers cloak, keeping his face hidden, his beard jutting out just a little. After a few minutes, he slows down his horse to a trot, waiting for someone to address him.


@WanderingJester

 

[Mion]

Driftmark, Westeros.


POV: Aemond Velaryon


As Aemond stared at the horizon, Driftmark steadily came into view, there was a strong sense of nostalgia within him... despite spending his more eventful years in the Stormlands and Essos his birthplace was more sentimental and meaningful to him. It had been a while since he had last seen his brother, he didn't care for much but family was one of those things he did care for.


As The Rogues Eye approached the dock a crowd of people came into view, they were mostly Driftmark men but one person stood out in particular, his niece Valaena Velaryon... it did strike him as odd that his brother did not come out to receive him himself but perhaps he had urgent matters, he didn't mind too much though as his niece wasn't exactly painful to look at, attractive even.


Aerys Waters and 2 of his finest men approached Aemond, they were his good friends and he liked to keep them close (mostly because he didn't have many friends.)


Aerys was also born on Driftmark and had been close to Aemond for most of his life.


"It's good to be home eh?" he said tilting his head forward to Aemond as a sort of greeting gesture, Aerys was not a man of many words but he got his point across at most times.


"I suppose it is... I wouldn't mind being in Lys right now though." Aemond said half-heartedly.


Aerys simply nodded his head.


Once the ship was docked Aemond and Aerys disembarked, Aerys seemed to be going everywhere with him now a days and he regarded him close enough for important matters, the two men slowly approached their welcoming party, the light seemed to gleam off of Aemonds fake eye as he sent a smile to his niece.


"I suppose you would be Valaena? Might I say you are looking beautiful today, a much better greeting than I would get from my brother." Aemond said in a light hearted manner.


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Agnes Tully

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

Helping the servant girl dress herself in one of the trout's own dresses, Agnes couldn't help but feel a tad nervous, she had spent the entire week readying for this day and when she had not been riding with the Maester and preforming her normal routine at Horn Hill, she had been sitting around fantasising about seeing her family once more. In truth it had not been all that long since she had left the castle Riverrun for the imposing military stronghold that was Horn Hill, but to the young Tully it felt like nigh a decade, and she could not wait to once again be in the company of her family and friends. As she finished straightening out the skirts of the girl's dress, Cryss now admiring the beautiful silver laced, red and blue fabrics (the dress likely costing more than she would make in her entire life) she was tapped upon the shoulder by old Maester Broin, his old and gnarled fingers pointing towards a banner upon the horizon, an argent trout, embowed upon a field of red and blue, the sigil of house Tully, the banner of her home.


Anticipation grew in her chest, as the banner drew ever closer, the man holding it before indistinguishable due to his large travelling cloak now identified as Agnes' father Ser Benjicot Tully of Riverrun, a smile creeping its way onto Agnes' lips as she looked upon his face, moving forward so as to greet him.


"Father!" She said at last, the man now but a few feet away from the Tarly party, his horse steadying to a halt "I have missed you"


@WanderingJester @National

Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.​

Valaena let out a silent sigh, a false smile adorning her face, her father had been right as he always was, and the odd way in which Aemond addressed her came as little surprise, her uncle had been at sea for a very long time and though he maintained the courtly mannerisms of a man of noble birth one could still tell that he was not as experienced at dealing with nobility as he once was, Westerosi nobility at least.


"My thank nuncle, Lord Baelor wished to meet with you himself, however with war on the horizon he is gravely needed in the capital, and was unable to gain leave even to meet with his family" she looked at her uncle with violet eyes, her silver blonde hair blowing against the crisp breeze of the Blackwater bay, Valaena pulling close the furs which she wore around her neck, shivering. The sea had never quite agreed with her, a funny thing considering not only her family history but also the men she married, she much preferred the stability of dry land to the harsh unpredictability of the waves.


"It is no matter, my father has instructed me carefully on the matters he wished discussed and I am more than able to speak in his aid, perhaps we should move to a more private setting?"


@Lancelot

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

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

Lord Tadhg Stark

​

The marching bannermen of House Stark was already on its way down south, ready to help their allies of House Baratheon. Tadhg was at the front of them all, soldiers carrying their house banner and others on horse back pulling catapults and such. All of them good men and honorable soldiers like all Starks, not backstabbing and deceitful but willing to fight for their home, families and alongside their lord, knowing it was a good cause they all believed in. He couldn't help but look to his left after hearing the sound of hooves hitting the ground at a rapid pace, only to see Dolar Umber of the Last Hearth making his way to the front of the march. Looks like he showed up after all. "What is it you want Umber?!" Called Tadhg from his steed, half grinning. The man had a good sense of humor in his opinion. "Sorry we left without you! It's good to see you caught up!" At this point he just waited to see what he had to say, surely it wouldn't be what he'd expect.


@Archon

 

[Mion]

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands


POV: Aemond Velaryon


"Things must be desperate there" Aemond thought to himself, he knew that if Baelor wished to meet him in person then it would be for something important. Aemond noticed that Valaena was shivering before she requested that they changed locations before continuing the dialogue.


Aemond nodded in response to her words. "Of course, I suspect your father has a great deal of trust in you..." Aemond briefly paused to think of his word choice, it had been a while and speaking to Nobles was a lot different then speaking to sellswords and smallfolk, "Yes I think a private setting would be more suitable." Once he finished his sentence he breifly turned his head to Aerys, he seemed to get the message well enough as he returned to the ship were he would likely keep the crew in order.


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.​

Nodding thankfully in agreement, Valaena turned to her own men, or rather her father's, instructing them to aid Aemond's men in whatever tasks they needed to complete and to supply them with fresh food and other provisions, along with the few other gifts that Lord Baelor saw fit to lend his brother. "Come this way nuncle, I am sure High Tide has changed much since your last visit" she led the man away from the harbour, taking his hand as they moved steadily up the staircase to the port gates, making slow progress as they entered the keep, stopping once in a while to admire the fineries of the castle.


High Tide may not have been as old as many of the other castles in the realm though judging from its interior that particular fact was almost impossible to tell. The halls were littered in portraits and tapestries, ancient swords hanging proudly upon their thick stone walls, their wielders now long lost to the trials of time and there were even a few artefacts that dated all the way back to the Valyrian freehold, though most were no more than oddities, their uses worn away with age. As Valaena led her uncle to the Velaryon's great hall, she couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, her father asked a great deal from his brother at the best of times and though Aemond had never yet disappointed him, what she was about to ask of him may be a bit much. He may have been a sellsword in the disputed lands but he still held close to his honour, and Lord Baelor's request was not noble in nature.


"Here we are" she pressed open a large oaken door, light shining in to reveal the grand chamber of High Tide, a large and spacious room, headed by the high seat of House Velaryon, the Driftwood Throne. Valaena took a seat, refusing the ancient throne for a more comfortable chair, her father allowing none but himself to sit it. She turned her head, facing her uncle "My father has a task that he would like you to carry out, he would like me to assure you that you shall be well compensated"


@Lancelot

 

[Mion]

High Tide, Driftmark, Westeros


POV: Aemond Velaryon


Aemond gave his thanks and politely smiled before following his niece, he had a vague memory of the place but as his niece implied it had changed quite a bit although he was sure he could find his own way around if he had to, there was various parts of art and artefacts that caught his eye. He could easily identify them as Valyrian, no doubt from the ancient freehold itself, he had seen some like them in Old Volantis and Lys... of course there was some that he recognised from his youth as he did spend some time here except at that age he never really paid attention to them.


Once the two had entered the great hall Aemond waited patiently for his niece to take a seat, he then took a seat for himself beside the Driftwood throne, no doubt if he sat on the thing he wouldn't hear the end of it.


Aemond smiled once again as his niece turned her head to speak to him, "Yes, that much I am aware of..." Aemond replied, taking a brief pause to collect his thoughts, "I am grateful for my brother, he is a generous man and has always compensated well, you are lucky to have a father like him and he is very lucky to have a daughter like you . However I am more interested in knowing what the task he wants me to carry out is exactly." Aemond inquired somewhat mixing flattery with the abruptness of his words.


@Hypnos

 

[Akio]

Cayden Martell

Prince of Dorne



​

By the early morning hours as the sun started to rise and the boundless sea was finally broken by the sight of land on the horizon reveled by the golden rays of the sun Cayden Martell was awake already, leaning again a railing on the boy of the ship, looking out to the sea with a special wine skin of Dornish red wine from his personal stash. It was one of the few and carefully preserved and saved bottles he had taken from his home near 4 years ago. "Or was it 5?" He couldn't help but muse to himself as he looked outwards towards the approaching land. He had been in Essos for what felt like an eternity, and had seen and learned much in that time. He had sailed under the Titan of Bravos, spilled blood on the Disputed Lands, raced across the Dorthraki sea, seen the sea of Sighs dividing the ruin land of Valyria from the rest of the world. Never could he regret the journey that took him so far and showed him so much but how many times had he longed for Westeros. How many times had he longed for home?


He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the rising sun as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face while he breathed in the heavy yet rejuvenation scent of the air deeply through his nose before exhaling through his mouth tasting the salty tang of the sea with a slow breath, the feel of the gentle breeze dancing across his skin as he opened his eyes, the dazzling blue orbs dancing in the early morning light as he starred at the the sea and near the end of his journey. It was hard to describe the feelings and freedom of the sea and what it meant to him. Perhaps earlier if he could have read Vances musing thoughts about whether he really though the sea was alive or not he would have responded with a defiant affirmative that he thought the sea was a living thing but not in the way of other living things. The sea was love and hate, cold and warmth, sound and silence, and compassion and cruelty all at once. It had existed before the beginning of recorded history in constant motion and would forever after and never did he feel more at home then with the the smell of the sea in his lungs and the gentle rocking of the ship moving under him. For Cayden the sea was a living thing, and made him think of Sunspear warm in the sunlight with the sea at his back.


How he wished the shores of Dorne was in front of him now. It had been 5 years since he had seen his sisters. And in that time his parents died, Elia was now leader of Dorne, and war threatened to sweep across Westeros. How was Elia coping with command? Aria had always been extremely close to their father, how had she coped with his death while he was absent? Liana and Kota had been girls when he left, what were they like now? A large part of him wanted to turn this ship towards Dorne to reunite with his family but he had another obligation. He needed to learn the situation of Westeros and no where was closer to the center then the Crownlands in front of him and Kingslanding. He had sent a letter ahead of him on the fastest ship to meet him in Duskenvale to appraise him of the situation in Westeros so he could decide how to act. He could have met him directly in Kingslanding but with as little as he knew he decided it was better not to land in hostile territory. As such his ship did not fly the sun and spear of Dorne but instead did their utmost to appear as regular trading ships as possible. He had not been seen in Westeros for 5 years and would not be easy for any not familiar with him to recognize him on sight. If anyone were to recognize him it would be from the ship itself. The Rising Sun was a warship that with the help of several engineers he personally constructed and oversaw allowed as a gift from his father as a going away present before he left for Essos, built after he observed ship designs of the Iron Fleet and the war galleys of the royal fleet along with several other trading ships from Essos and the Summer Isles. Sleek and while he could not usually sail up rivers like the Iron Born nor was it as big as the largest war galleys it could still carry about 300 men and move faster then almost any similar sized ship and even some of those smaller while being tough enough to survive on the open sea as well.


They had made good time under his command and while the wind currently blew against them it was soft breeze and the sea was mostly calm letting the rowers make good progress. He took another small draft, he wasn't trying to get drunk but whenever he missed home he found the wine usually helped. Dorne would still be there after he finished his business, once he had written his sisters from Kingslanding he would be able to go back home to discuss a plan of action, till then he would need to be well informed on the developing situation.





After about an hour since the first sight of land the ship arrived in Duskenvale, sliding smoothly into the port as the oars slowed and stopped. The bustle of a port city, even one smaller like this, was incredibly familiar to Cayden and without much preamble he closed the wine skin, placing it on his belt, before leaping over the railing onto the dock to go look for his informant while he men finished docking the ship. He was in luck that he didn't have to search long because while it had been a long time since they met face to face he recognized the ship that saw him here and the man approached him as he left his ship. The man was Dornish, rare to see in these lands, and a member of his former guard in Kingslanding who happened to fall in love with a young lady in waiting for a minor lord and took her as his wife. After much personal debate he had resigned as a guard and decided to stay in the Crownlands which Cayden had agreed to accept his registration in turn for keeping his apprised on general news after he left for Essos. The older Dornish man, now entering his forties clasped Caydens arm.


"I thought that was your ship." The man remarked, his accent all but gone from nearly a decade in the Crownlands. "You got here rather fast, lets go get a drink." The man suggested good naturally, they were on good terms and he had watched Cayden from when he was 12 years old in kingslanding till he was 15 and a warrior in his own right. Cayden had been sorry to see him go. Cayden however knew time was short and he needed to know what was going on and a crowded pup would not be the place. "I'd prefer something more quiet this time, times are advancing quick for me to have heard nothing and I may need this information sooner rather then later, though I can still promise a drink." He said holding up the wine skin with a slight smile. "Dornish Wine." The man nods his face growing serious but still with a faint smile. "Let us find a quiet place and give the gist then." He said and together the pair moved to a deserted corner of the port, allowing Cayden to keep an eye on his ship as his guard departs it as he pulls out cups. "I'm not sure how much the last couple years concern me but what I really need to know are the current events that led up to this war and who has taken what side." He said pouring a drink, the spiced win pouring into simple cups but the man drank deeply anyway. "Its a long story." He said gravely before starting to speak.


((not typing out a full retelling of events, this post is to long already))


Cayden sat there, processing what he heard as he drew mental battle lines in his head considering the situation. Brandon Bartheon had made a claim for the throne after possibly trying to kill the queen, it was well known he blamed the Targaryens for the death of his father. The Tullys, and the Starks declared for him. Only the Vale and the Crownlands remained loyal to Kuriva. The Reach and Westerlands were gathering swords around them, in fact the only ones not seeming to do anything was Dorne itself. That worried him more then anything else, Elia was clever and had been prepared to rule Dorne for many years, it didn't seem like her to do nothing, unless she was but not publicly. Meanwhile the man continued to speak. "In addition to gathering swords around them awhile ago the Lannisters declared a massive wedding was to be held at the rock, been the talk of the town for a couple months." He said as Cayden took a sip of his drink, pausing as he considered this latest news. "A wedding..." He mused to himself thinking.


The situation in Westeros was quick and ever changing, if Daenna wished to make a claim she would have to do so fast before Brandon won the war, else she would simply be a lord in exile. The best place to meet as many factions at once would probably be the wedding. It would start in two weeks so he was cutting travel time close. Doing mental calculations in his head he nodded quietly to himself, he could make it.... If he left now. He got up quickly causing the informant to look up at him slightly startled, he had stopped speaking a couple minutes ago but Cayden so deep in his musing hadn't noticed. "You've been a great help." He went into his purse tossing him a gold dragon. "Keep the wine." He offered, taking off back to his men at his ship who were unloading the horses, Shadowfire already out and seemed pleased to be back on solid ground. Cayden without a word started saddling Shadowfire in a haste causing some of his men to look at him in shock. "Welcome back Prince Cayden, what's the hurry?" One of them asked tactfully trying to discern the reason for the princes haste.


Cayden looked at the man, he knew most of his personal troop personally and many were some of the original guards set to follow him after he hitched a ride to Kingslanding. As such they knew the stubborn look in his eye as he saddled the horse, his movements fast and quick. "Their is a wedding at the Rock I want to catch and at this rate ill be barley on time already, I'm going ahead alone while you guys unpack the ship and send it on to Dorne before following me at your own pace." The men and woman of his troops seemed alarmed, they were not just his unit but his guard and many his friends and they didn't like the idea of him riding off by himself. "Prince, wait a few hours and we'll be ready to follow you. This is dangerous, what if you run into bandits, who will guard you when you sleep?" Cayden tightened the strap of the saddle before grabbing 3 water skins, some old loafs of bread and dried meat that were out to eat on the way to the next town, and his spear. "To arrive on time I'm gonna be counting down the minutes and none of you can keep up with me on Shadowfire. I sleep light so it won't be to easy for someone to sneak up with me, besides I'm taking more less traveled path most likely so I should be fine." Some of the guards were trying to saddle their horses while those in the ship watched wondering what was going on. "This is reckless, what is the need for risking your safety?" The captain of his guard proclaimed as Cayden jumped on Shadowfires back. He didn't try saddling his own horse because he was already far behind and he knew it was true none would be able to keep up with him if he really took off now. "The situation is ever changing, I'm not sure how much time I have." He said looking down at him from Shadowfire who seemed eager to run almost as if sensing his masters haste. "Follow me after sending the ship off, I have a feeling I may need all of you. Take the main roads if you can, a party of 200 riders isn't likely to get molested and I'd know where to find you." He noticed the mans exasperated, somewhat angry look and smiled disarmingly. "I'm not gonna take chances, but I need to get going. Just trust in me I know what I'm doing." The man hesitated before nodding conceding the point. "Yes prince Cayden, we will follow you as soon as we are able." With a satisfied nod Cayden set Shadowfire at a trot to leave the city while his men watched.


He could tell Shadowfire wanted to run and so did he, after all wasn't it he who said he lacked time? But he couldn't do that in the city and his rational mind told him going straight to a gallop without a warm up would be bad for his horse anyway and he would never willingly harm the animal and he needed him later. Never the less they were both wound up like tight ropes, they knew once they hit open ground they would run. Getting to the gates in what felt like far to much time navigating crowded street he let out a breath and starred at the road determinedly. He had two weeks to travel many leagues but he was a good horsemen, he had one of the best horses in all of Westeros, and he was determined. He might not have another chance to get allies for Daenna the same way. He hit the gates at a fast trot... He left them at a gallop at he shot forward like lightning, the guards giving not trouble to a man leaving the city but starring shocked as they watched the horse shoot off like lightning, a pace Cayden knew he could keep up for upwards till two days. His horse could run on the sands of Dorne at a easy gallop so this pace was comparatively easy for the horse for now. Preparing himself for a long ride he looked at the road, the wind whipping through his hair as he shot down the road and he would not slow down for many leagues yet unless disturbed.


@TheAncientCenturion

 

[Grammatic]

Artillus Reed





Looking out over the small hill, Artillus rested leaned against one of the many trees along the southern border of the Neck. Scattered around the hill, hundreds of tents lay scattered, with Reed soldiers moving about the daily life of a war camp. With the turmoil rising across Westeros, Artillus had called the vassal houses to House Reed, and raised his own forces. Numbering nearly 3000 men, the war camp had been growing for the past few days. Uncertain of what to do, Artillus had moved his forces in a defensive stance, and scouts and out riders were spread out for miles, gathering information and intelligence.


Turning his head to see Ser Tilas approaching, Artillus slowly pulled himself to his feet, dusting the gross and dirt from his pants. Nodding to Tilas as he bows, Artillus turns his head to look over the camp. "I assume we have received word, then?"


Standing up straight, Tilas nods his head quickly. "The scouts spotted the Stark forces moving South, my lord. The exact position is disputed, there appears to be several forces converging." Nodding, Artillus coughed as a puff of smoke from one of the camp fires below flew past his face. All things considered, it could have been worse. Despite all the confusion, his course was clear.


Turning to Tilas, Artillus straightens his jacket. "Order the camp to prepare to move out. We are a vassal house to the Starks, and if they march to war, we must aid them." Nodding his head, Tilas turns and jogs down the hill, shouting orders to the nearest captains. Turning to look back over the camp, Artillus drums his fingers along the hilt of his sword. Looking at all the men who had answered his call to arms, he wondered how many of them would see their homes again when this was over...


Reed/Neck Soldier Uniform

 

[Hypnos]

Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.​

Valaena almost laughed, sincerely this time, her violet eyes lighting up at the notion that her father would ever be generous. He was calculating that was for certain, and he always thought himself the cleverest man in any given room, even if factors beyond his control displayed that to be false: rich, old and bitter, those were the words that Valaena would use to describe Lord Baelor Velaryon, though not generous, never generous. Her father looked at Ser Aemond much like another man would an investment or business venture, offer a steady flow of income and in time it will flow back twofold, the man had talents there was no denying that and had a certain charm about him, never failing to get results. Aemond Velaryon was probably the only man other than mayhaps her only full brother Ser Aenys that Baelor did not despise, though that likely had something to do with the vast riches he brought their house. In short it would be a shame to lose such a valuable asset and Valaena was going to have to work her hardest to avoid her father's wrath.


"Lord Baelor wishes for you to head south, to the stepstones, he has a ship already packed and fully manned waiting for your arrival, something a tad less distinctive than your own personal ship, a ship that has won you quite a reputation nuncle" she smiled sweetly, trying to keep the conversation light "Whilst you are there you are to hunt down a man by the name of Ser Swain Thckeray, though the common folk may know him as 'Black Eyes' the pirate" she winced, she didn't exactly want to be hiring pirates, and especially not the ones who had caused the destruction at castle Rosby, and the death of the man whose son Valaena had once been close to.


"This pirate has displayed a certain skill set that my father has taken an interest in, he wants you to broker a deal with the man and bring him under Velaryon employ, he trusts that you are well versed enough in diplomacy to decide upon their payment yourself and the entire contents of Dritmark's coffers is at your disposal" a high price to pay for a man whose use was pillaging and murder "If this task is successful then he has but one request of these pirates, a first and possibly final job. They are to sail around Dorne to the Reach and" the words caught in her throat "I-Father wants them to use their skills to sneak into the Arbor and burn the Redwyne fleet at harbour, no survivors" she let the words sink in.


@Lancelot

 

[Mion]

High Tide, Driftmark, Westeros


POV: Aemond Velaryon


Aemond listened carefully to what his niece had to say and pondered them for a few moments, it didn't seem too difficult but he understood why his brother would have preferred to meet him in person, it may not have gone well if the wrong person had got wind of this... Aemond was unfamiliar with pirates to tell the truth but he had a history of successfully brokering deals and with a variety of people to boot, whether it was nobles, sellswords or common folk it made no difference and Aemond was fairly confident he could find a few things to persuade a band of pirates to fight, even without Driftmarks vast treasury. Gold, glory, women, action, it was not too different from any man.


Aemond nodded his head with a confident smile "I see why your father wanted me for this task, assure him that I will not fail, I am the perfect man for this job, the Redcunts won't know what-" Aemond quickly stopped before remembering who he was speaking to "Apologies you did not need to here that, to much time around the wrong people can do that... The Redwynes won't know what hit them... until it is too late of course."


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.​

Valaena merely nodded, not even pretending to be offended by her uncle's words, her first husband had been a banker and a diplomat with a tendency to drink only the strongest of ales and her second had been pirate Lord, not the type of man to hold his tongue, even in the presence of women, needless to say she was accustomed to vulgarity and Aemond's words did little to offend her.


"My father will be very pleased to hear it" she said at last, a tad surprised at how well the her uncle was taking the request "He merely asks that his name not be brought up in negotiation, he has a reputation to uphold and with the realm on the brink of war it is of vital importance that he remains in a strong position"


@Lancelot

 

[Mion]

Hightide, Driftmark, Westeros


POV: Aemond Velaryon


Aemond both respected and understood his brothers wishes, he had a reputation and image to keep up as the 'Master of Ships' after all.


"I understand that your father wishes to avoid situations that could tarnish our name but... That may prove be difficult in this case, however I can assure you I will try my best."


Aemond leaned back in his chair.


"I presume your father wishes me to make haste with this job?"


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Valaena Velaryon

High Tide, Driftmark, The Crownlands.

​

"Aye" she replied with the slight hints of a frown "I am sure he would not be apposed to you spending the night if you need to regather your strength though there is already a ship readied and manned for you to start your voyage whenever you need it, good luck nuncle" she gave him a sad look, drawing close for a hug, they were family after all even if she didn't see him often "I pray that you will return swiftly and safely"


@Lancelot

 

[Mion]

High Tide, Driftmark, Westeros


POV: Aemond Velaryon


As his neice drew in close he realized she was meaning to hug him, oddly it came to a surprise to him, the girl barely knew him no doubt the only information about him she had was rumors... Aemond embraced her briefly in his arms, family perhaps the only thing Aemond genuinely felt love for. Gold, Women, and Battle was good and all but he felt no love or passion for it.


If Aemond told this to someone they would undoubtedly find it strange, he was no more than a stranger to most in his family, something they heard about and yet he cared for them. He looked her in the eyes as he said "Thank you sweet niece, I shall return as soon as I can..." Aemond told her as he thought to himself Perhaps I should stay for a while and get to know them better, but he knew his brothers mission had to come first.


@Hypnos

 

[Leusis]

Roland Wilds - Casterly Rock Melee Field

​

Stepping forth from his tent Roland was fully clad in platemail, helmet and all. Taking care not to emerge while anybody was paying attention he intended to hide his identity from all. This was for the fact that he intended to enter the melee as a mystery knight as it was the best way not to scare off any competition with his mere presence. A lion painted on his oaken shield, similar to that of the Lannister sigil though painted black with red claws would be his disguise. The Lionheart Knight would be his identifier for the challenges to come and he would etch the name in all in the melee and stands memories before revealing himself as Roland Wilds, the new lord of Fair Isle. Making his way through the tents and pavilions of the army that surrounded Casterly Rock he made his way to the melee registration where a young man sat with a list of names he had written down. "You mean to join the melee ser?" he asked with no response from Roland. Simply reaching across the table to gently take the list from the mans hand he would use his quill and ink to mark himself down as a competitor for both melees but not the joust.


It was then that Roland simply stepped passed the desk and walked to the fenced in ring that had been constructed for the melee. Resting his arms on the hard wood of the fence Roland would let out a deep sigh as his head sunk down. Closing his eyes for a brief moment Roland would squat down, removing his gauntlets to grab a handful of dirt. Rubbing the muck on his hands as he did before every important battle as a force of habit he would slide his gauntlets back on. Noticing several knights entering the arena Roland would stand. Placing a hand on one of the fence posts he used all of his strength to leap, pulling himself over the fence with his hand to land in the ring, a difficult maneuver for most in full plate. Taking specific notice of each combatant that entered the ring he noticed one in particular. Kevan Brax, waving to the stands as he held his helmet in his left hand. He was a cocky young man and had most rights to be as his family was immensely wealthy and powerful within the Westerlands. However within the melee things were different, he was hardly better than an average knight and he would not be able to buy his way out of defeat.


Unsheathing his longsword with a sweeping arc Roland stood with his blade at his side, as if unaware that he was likely about to be assaulted from all sides by the mass of knights in the arena. He was larger than an average man surely but he was not imposing in stature and Roland could see a great many lordlings nearby eyeing him, assuming he was a nobody that they could quickly defeat to excite the crowd. What they didn't know however was the fact that he was Roland Wilds, one of the greatest warriors within the seven kingdoms, and he had every intention of winning.

 

[Akio]

Cayden Martell

Prince of Dorne​

Cayden tightened his arm guard finishing the last of his preparations. His own tent was pitched far from the hustle and bustle of camp, not wanting to have himself revealed till he was fully recovered which he guessed was at some point yesterday when his legs stopped hurting. He was an experinced rider but he had been ahorse for the grand majority of two weeks driving both him and his horse to the end of their stamina. He had spent all of the last day or two recovering. He reached up and almost subconsciously patted Shadowfires flank who brushed his hand with his nose. "You did good boy." Cayden said standing. It had taken awhile to put on his armor without a squire but he had to do it once or twice before, at least he didn't wear full plate or it would have been impossible. He wore a simple leather armor, well made but unordemented and is what he wore in the disputed lands. The armor was unassuming and that's just what he wanted.


He got up, taking his spear that was leaning against the tree into his hands and standing quickly. There was still a slight soreness in his legs but it wouldn't inhibit him, he was good to go. Raising his hands to the sky to stretch he let out a muffled groan before going to pack up the medicine he bought a few towns back, the small meal he ate about an hour ago, and a bunch of odds and ends. Once everything was packed he placed his backs on Shadowfire. "Common boy, have to leave you with the stable master." He said leading him out of the small clearing he was resting in towards the tents. Usually he took care of the Sand Steed himself but he felt he was gonna have a busy few days, he had a lot of work ahead of him. After reaching the stables and paying a bit extra to make sure his horse would be well watched over, after days of hard riding he could agree Shadowfire deserved to get spoiled a bit. Whistling lightly to himself he walked through the camp of warriors and tents his eyes beneath his helmet looking around critically, this seemed a bit much for a tournament, given this was all the chivalry of the west. He was beginning to understand why many garrisons and towns seemed a bit weaker then usual and with more boys of fighting age gone. "Seems Lord Tiber Lannister is planning something indeed..." He thought to himself as he made it to the tent where the sign up for the melee was.


By now many heavily armored knights were already there to sign up to compete and it seemed like only the knights confident in their ability came, leading to a disparity of actual grizzled veterans and green fighters who were probably new knights and won their spurs in local tournaments. Etheir way there was plenty of people signing up and several people looked as his armor disdainfully. Cayden ignored them, let them underestimate him, he'd have an easier time with him if they did. He slid to the sign up paper, each step careful not to step on some knights toes, he didnt want to start a fight in this tent, when he was tall but lean. He signed his name on the paper, but now there was enough people signing, sometimes more then one at once that he didn't bother to try and talk to anyone as he signed his name. Walking out of the tent finding himself kind of glad to get out of that tent where he could smell the sweat of men sweating in their armor on this warm day. If they were in Dorne they would litterly be cooking in their armor. He walked up to the fence and seeing one man leap over in full armor, an impressive feat. He too decides to show off a little. Tossing his spear up into the air and over the post at a sharp angle he used the post as a boost to propel himself himself over the post in a tight flip landing steadily on his feet as he stood, catching his spear in his hand spinning it once around his body smirking. His entrance drew some attention as he held his spear scanning the competition. The man who jumped over earlier with the lion signel made him curious, he was on alert even before the battle started. "Seems he too has experience on the battlefield." He thought readying his own spear.

 

[Hypnos]

Agnes Tully

A Road Less Traveled, House Tarly Territoy, The Reach.​

"Father! I have missed you" no sooner had the words parted from the young trouts lips than she was pulled into a strong embrace, the imposing figure of Ser Benjicot Tully lowering himself from his perch atop his mighty destrier with a speed that would rival even the swiftest of warriors, his age and all the afflictions that came with it lost for but a moment as he held his daughter in his arms. In that moment all the worry and stress that had been building up within Agnes Tully dispersed into the wind, and the pair stood for a time in silence, neither wanting to say a word, not did they need to.


"I have missed you too little fish" Ben said at last Agnes looking upon his weather beaten face to see a growing smile, his beard, now free of the constraints of his travelling cloak, blowing leisurely in the wind, it's red colour somewhat reminiscent of the banners that flew back at Riverrun and the river on which the castle sat, reminding Agnes of her home. "I apologise for not visiting sooner, nor even sending a raven, I have been busy as of late, though I should always make time for my daughter. Tragedy is on the horizon and soon it will be up to your old man to keep the family together. Though I am sure you care little for such things, you have a new family now, in your husband, and from the look of the send off he's giving he must care deeply for you and rightly so. Woe be to he that harms even a single hair upon your head"


Despite herself Agnes laughed, she had missed her father maybe most out of her family and even though the two had not parted on the best of terms after her father had practically sold her off to an unknown stranger (though to hear him tell it, it was her grandfathers idea) that was now little more than water under the bridge, and now that she saw his face again she forgave him for everything. "I am fine father, Rowan would not hurt me, he has been very kind throughout my stay and were it not for important business elsewhere I am sure he would have loved to meet you" the sceptical look that adorned her father's fact told her that he doubted that very much "Horn Hill may be my new home, but Riverrun is still where my family resides and I would not forget it so easily" Ben offered her a concerned look but she shook it off with a smile "Though I have come to love the castles charm and the strength of its inhabitants, certainly a fine place to call home" the lie came easy to her tongue, she didn't want to worry her father, not anymore than she already had, and the journey to Casterly Rock would be long enough without discussing the details of Agnes' new life.


"Very well then" Ben said, clearly not convinced, though to Agnes' delight he did not again bring up the subject of Horn Hill, now releasing her from his embrace. "Now, it is a long way back to the convoy and I left you grandmother in charge, I fear we must make haste lest when we return she's already torn the whole thing apart" he smiled "I've brought your horse from Riverrun, and mayhaps we'll be there by nightfall, say your farewells and we shall be off" he offered her the reigns of a small, yet swift horse, beginning to remount his own "Onwards!" he said, turning away from where the Tarly party was located, kicking his horse into action.


"Maester Broin!" Agnes called, beginning to clamber upon her own steed "Thank you for everything you have done for me, I am truly in your debt" she paused for a second "If Rowan comes back before I return... Tell him I shall be thinking about him" she turned away, beginning to follow the trail that her father had left, her horse picking up pace as she rode, the wedding was in a few days and it would be good to see her family once more, she smiled. Life was looking up.


@WanderingJester @National

Barba Tully

Just outside of Casterly Rock, The River Road, The Westerlands.​

Her horse moving at a steady gallop, Barba Tully looked upon the riders with apprehension, a hint of unease upon her usually calm face. She had been very worried at first when her son had requested no aid in his task of escorting Agnes away from Horn Hill and had even resolved to have him tailed, though in the end Lothar had dissuaded her from such an idea. Benjicot had never been the sharpest knife in the rack, nor the warrior that his father had been and though he cared deeply for his daughter it was unsettling that he would undertake such a task alone, too many variables, too many possibilities.


Barba squinted, her eyes watching for the tell tale red hair that marked every true born Tully, her face lifting somewhat when she saw that the pair were infact who she thought they were, it was about time too, they were almost at Casterly Rock and it would not have done them well to dawdle by the entrance of the great monolith, lest it be seen as a sign of disrespect.


"Mother dear" she heard his voice before she even had a chance to look upon his face, Benjicot Tully riding past the other members of the Tully party at speed, ignoring his brother Walder, who was regaling the younger members of the family with tales of his prowess in the lists, even if a few were exaggerated: Walder had always aspired to be like his namesake, though in truth his skills were no more than middling, not that that stopped him from claiming otherwise however and she suspected that he'd be drinking more than a few tankards of ale upon the morrow when he was inevitably knocked off his horse in Lord Tiber's tourney. "I have done as was my duty and collected my daughter, is there anything else that you wish me to attend to before the wedding or am I free to do as I please?"


She gave him a cool glaze, shaking her head, relation between the two had been strained ever since Agnes' wedding, and Barba blamed Ben somewhat for the girl being forced to marry the Tarly lad, and he in turn thought that her handling of the situation had been less that optimal "You may go" Benjicot grunted, clearly noticing the look in his mothers eye and deciding that now might not be the best time to test her.


"As you wish" he moved to the left, giving Agnes' horse a slight nudge in Barba's direction, turning to go and seek his cousin Titus in regards to certain matters in the upcoming wedding, something Barba didn't entirely approve of, it seemed she got no say in about the gift which would be presented to her niece and she was weary that the two had gone overboard with what they had planned.


"You've grown pale in your absence" Barba commented concernedly, noting how thin the girl had gotten along with the marks upon her face "It seems the Reach does not agree with you" she knew that Agnes would likely be less than pleased with her arranged marriage, though she had hoped that some time amongst the flowers and fresh air of the Reach would do well to lighten her spirits, evidently not the case.


Agnes merely looked at her toes, her face growing flush, Barba now realising her mistake in criticising the girl despite having not seen her for some time "Don't look so glum, it was only a jest girl, you are still as beautiful as you were last I saw you, you are still my child. It seems that talking is not much practiced in Horn Hill, mayhaps I should come for a visit, teach those fools how to properly treat a lady. I hope that husband of your isn't as much trouble as he looked, his father may claim that he is a man but I swear that is prettier than I ever was" she tired to lighten her granddaughter spirits, Agnes allowing a brief chuckle, though she quickly returned to solemnness.


"Grandmother! Rowan is a fine husband, and certainly a man, he is off fighting his father's wars and is the on,y reason I am here, he cares a lot for me, and I for him and assure you I have no qualms with neither the Reach nor Horn Hill" Barba was not convinced, though she allowed the subject to be dropped, it seemed not all was well with Horn Hill and she may have to pay a visit to Lord Helyon.


It was her own fault she supposed, she shouldn't have let her go like that, she had once had aspirations for the girl and her sisters to marry higher than their station, Ser Martyn Lannister, Trevir Arryn or even the Hightowers of Oldtown, though it seemed that her husband had different viewpoint, always too quick to concede she thought to herself, not like the old days.


The party rode for a time in relative quiet, only exchanging the occasional word, Agnes had fallen back to converse with her sisters and Ben had long since disappeared into the crowd, though hopefully he would avoid any trouble. Now alone with her thoughts Barba couldn't help but be a tad nervous about this wedding, this could very well be the last time that her entire family (Save her husband and brother who she had conveniently forgotten about) would be together in one place and with war drawing near many of them could be dead by the winter, her included. She looked upon the distance, Casterly Rock now drawing near, her eyes catching on the bright lights of Lannisports and the tents that had been set out for the purpose of the wedding, coving a vast area with all their colours and sigils.


"Stop here" she said at last, "The men can camp here for the knight, Ser Eustace" she turned her attention to Ser Eustace Darry, the gruff old knight in charge of the Tully guard and the brother of Ser Richard, castellan of Riverrun "Take this could and see that the men are not want for drink or entertainment, enjoy the tourney old friend and may your sword strike true" Darry smiled, taking the coin and beginning to shout orders to erect tents and collect food and drink for the now tired men at arms.


Barba herself turned her attention to the Rock, looking at it in all its majesty her family just behind her, it seemed this would be an interesting wedding.

 

[Mion]

Casterly Rock, The Westerlands, Westeros.


POV: Lyonel Hightower


When Lyonels father and brother left for Highgarden, to attend the funeral of the late lord Tyrell, Lyonel was appointed the acting lord of Oldtown and with Oldtown booming and in the capable hands of his mother and Lucas Beesbury he was confident in his decision to attend the Lannister wedding in his families name. His small party consisted of himself, his sister Morgan Hightower, Tom Costayne and a small group of guards. When they arrived at Casterly Rock Lyonel and Tom set up a large and lavish tent for their stay before relaxing for a while, that was until the announcement of the melee, Lyonel was planning on participating in all of the events, he also brought some trinkets in a golden lion box as a gift to the newly wed couple.


Lyonel brought out his armour, it was dark black with his houses sigil on the chest (a white tower with a red flame at the top) he also had a blunted longsword and a dark black shield also sporting the his houses sigil. Lyonel changed into his armour and donned his helm before leaving his tent and made his way over to the melee field where he signed his name for participation, once out on the field he focused on his breathing and spoke a prayer to the seven to himself as he awaited the start of the melee.

 

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


POV: (The Glorious Return of) Braedon Baratheon
​

"I wished to see his grace and his royal army."


The little respect he had for the Lone Wolf vanished into the air, just as how the Targaryen dynasty would sooner or later. Still, he was intent on listening to the remainder of the fool's message—he did make the perilous voyage all the way from King's Landing, after all.


"Her grace 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. Truly, you meet with an old friend and hold him at sword point?"


Hm? Just where was this "old friend"? Surely, it couldn't be the stooge that he was facing at the moment. As the Stark continued with his nonsense, Braedon tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in the meantime. He let the man finish his... proposal before opening his own mouth. Rather, instead of words, all that came out was a hearty chuckle. Ser Orwen, who was by now a few strides away from them, stiffened up greatly. His pupils grew only slightly in size, although considering the man's ordinary demeanor, it was all that was necessary to understand the magnitude of the current situation.


"We wish for no bloodshed, we are all kin! This is a fair and just deal, I pray you take it."


"You have a good sense of humor, Stark," the Baratheon commented, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. "Though I have to admit, it's not doing much to save your Queen." He took three steps forward, coming ever so closer to his guest. "Now that we've all had a good laugh," he said with a more serious, appropriate tone. "Why don't we get down to business now?" In truth, he wanted nothing more than to get down to business. If his friends at King's Landing had bothered to send such a thoughtful gift, it was only fitting that he needed to show his gratitude.


"Your real proposal now, if you'd please," Braedon started, a smirk manifesting on the corner of his mouth. "And don't disappoint me this time." His eyes darted past the Stark, who was no longer of much concern to him anymore. Instead, his gaze was affixed just over his shoulder, over Shipbreaker Bay.


@Hypnos @Archon @TheAncientCenturion

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

The Vale, The Eyrie


POV: Trevir Arryn

Trevir settled down comfortably into a chair. He'd already checked in on his brother after the ride, and he was looking forward to a little bit of sitting down and relaxing. But it was not to be. Maester Cale Woodgard, a man in his early forties from the Vale, approached him with a letter. "A raven from King's Landing. Your father, my lord." Trevir shot Ser Jares ( I can't remember his surname) a puzzled look, but received the letter nonetheless. "Thank you, Cale." He opened the letter and began to read.

My son, Trevir


Give my regards and wishes for best health to your brother, Jarvas. Now, I will waste little more time with pleasantries. You will not be able to rest on your haunches for long. As you know, the Tiber Lannister is having his wedding in three weeks, and there will be a tourney. Ride for Casterly Rock as soon as you are able. If Jarvas is well, bring him too and leave Maester Cale to manage the Eyrie in our absence. You will likely find me there, too, accompanying the Queen, Kuvira Targaryen. Stay in Casterly Rock, if I arrive first then you will find rooms already waiting. Fight and ride in this tourney, for the glory of House Arryn.


Gelgin Arryn, Hand of the Queen

Not exactly the news he had been hoping to hear. But if his father wished him to ride in the tourney, then so it would be. Being honest, he was not overly looking forward to being in front of the crowd again, but he could bear it. He was getting far better at handling things like that, which would no doubt make Gelgin... happy would be too strong a word. Pleased? Possibly. It was strange, he'd been through some seriously fucked up things as a child, courtesy of Gelgin, and yet he still felt an immense loyalty to him. He'd die for the man. Some people are just incredibly loyal to their blood, it seemed.


"Jares."


"Mmm... I mean, yes, my lord?"


"We'll only stay here a day, then we ride for Casterly Rock. Gelgin wants me at the tourney at Tiber's wedding."


Jares laughed heartily. "Time to put some more people into the dirt, eh?"


"Apparently so."


Some Time Later, The Westerlands, Casterly Rock


POV: Trevir Arryn

Behind him trailed roughly the same retinue as the one that had gone to King's Landing, where so much had happened. Including his father being made Hand, and an attempt on the collective lives of the Targaryens. It was strange, what had happened. He'd missed it, due to a moment of weakness, but the description of the event from Laura seemed rather confused. Assassinations probably had a tendency to be like that. Rare is the person who regularly expects an assassination attempt at all times.


Beside him rode Jares, once again. Behind those two were the most trusted and skilled of the knights in the convoy, then followed by the other knights and attendants and all. Still loyal in their own regard, but not nearly as close to Trevir. His brother had been too unwell to come, though Maester Cale was doing an admirable job of tending to him. It was a shame. Jarvas would have enjoyed this. The group rode closer and closer to the castle. As they passed the tourney grounds, Trevir leaned back to Ser Steffan. "Take our people and set up tents in the best spot you can find. You, me, Jares, Brock, Camren, Old Siward, and Desmund should have rooms in Casterly Rock, the rest will stay out in the camping area. When you're done, join me. I'll get one of them to wait out front for you, in case you need any confirmation or whatever. Never know, with other people's castles."


Steffan nodded and yelled for most of the group to follow him, leaving Trevir with just the small group he had mentioned. Trevir looked them over, then set off at a trot. "Let's go, then. Camren, once we've set up inside, you wait out at the gate and wait for Steffan." Camren's helmet shifted down then up in a nod. "Sure." Everyone else sped up to match his pace, and within minutes they had arrived at Casterly Rock's gates, the sun still hanging high, but ever-so-slightly in Trevir's eyes.


As they got close, Jares called out to the gate guards. "Trevir Arryn the White Falcon and his most trusted knights!" After a moment he added "Minus one! One of us is supervising the setup of the tents!"

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Aiden Stark


Storm's End
​

"You have a good sense of humor, Stark. Though I have to admit, it's not doing much to save your Queen."


The smile that followed the comment unnerved and angered Aiden. Braedon was acting far too easy going for the Kingsguard's liking, treating the Stark like he were a child. Worse off, the generous offer he gave on behalf of The Hand was waved off quickly. As if Braedon didn't realize the true weight behind his words, the treason that his very presence exuded.


Aiden's wolfish grin wavered when the Storm Lord wished to hear some real offer. He turned his head, looking back at the Goldcloaks on the ship along with Braedon. The city guards were pacing on the decks of the trading cogs, sweat dripping down their foreheads. Some still held swords in their hands, with another having both arms hidden under a rail. "You're making them nervous. Stop it." The amiable tone of his voice dropping off for a harsh and gruff order, a trait many Northerners might be familiar with.


"Call off your guard and let's talk. Inside or out, whichever suits you. But we'll discuss your. . .Ambitions." It was a better way of putting it, Stark had a suspicion that calling it treason outright would send Braedon into a fury. Something he was tempted to do, despite the inherent dangers around him. "We can negotiate the terms, but you won't get much better than this. It saves your life and allows House Baratheon to continue as Lord Paramounts."


The tension was growing between them, and Aiden's body was responding in the only way it knew how. Donning a stern look and slowly reaching for the handgrip of his two handed sword. He made the attempt slowly, stopping his hand at his hip in a natural pose. "You tried to kill her, for Gods sake, the mercy that is being shown to you won't be offered a second time."


@JustWhipIt

 

[WanderingJester]

Tidus Marbrand


The Gatehouse, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.



​

Ser Tidus Marbrand walked quickly with his retinue of Lionguards to the gatehouse, where they were summoned by the guards there to help with the influx of guests as well as verification. Moving past many busy figures, no doubt either moving down to the field to see the tourney's start or preparing for the numerous guests' stay, he reached the front where a group of knights seemed to be standing in relative good spirits. The knights had the blue falcon painted on them, and seemed eager to enter the seat. One of the guards walked up to him and said, "Trevir Arryn ser, along with his retinue." The commander of the Lionguard nodded before ordering back.


"Get some salt and bread, and tell the guards above to keep watch." It would be unlikely that the White Falcon would try anything, especially if the rumors of him being smitten by the Lion Maid was true. Still, Tidus have seen the boy's abilities. If a fight broke out, it was likely every Lionguards there, including him, would die. It would be up to the archers and crossbowmen up in the ramparts to stop them before they enter the Rock. Better safe than sorry.


Walking forward, Tidus looked to Trevir and his retinue before bowing slightly, "House Lannister welcomes House Arryn and theirs to Casterly Rock. Perhaps you would partake of some bread and salt?" He offered just as servants appeared with bowls of each. "We ask that you surrender your arms here at the gatehouse, as only House Lannister's own are permitted to retain them within the rock. You may keep your armor on however. We have stables for your horses and bed for your bodies, though I imagine you would like to head to the tourney as soon as possible, given that the melee should start soon. Now, if we can have your weapons, shall we to your quarters?" He looked at the knights, with one hand on his sword's sheath, but not the handle at the moment.


@Fezzes

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

The Westerlands, Casterly Rock, Gates


POV: Trevir Arryn

Immediately, Trevir's gaze alighted on the armoured figures walking through the gates towards them, their leader speaking up. "A pleasure, ser." He removed the sheathe and its contained blade from his belt and handed it over to one of the Lionguard. Behind him, his knights followed suit. He expected no trouble here, and could tell that those at his back were eager to get into the melee. So they quickly went through the ritual of partaking in bread and salt, and let themselves be shown their rooms.


Trevir had to admit, the discipline he was seeing in the Lionguard was definitely impressive, although he was more used to the casual, close friendships with his own knights. He kept his mouth a little more shut than usual when it came to the other knights, out of respect for them. Camren came back with Steffan in time to report to the group that the melee would soon be underway. Not one of the knights seemed upset about this.


"I'll see you on the field, Desmund." Camren challenged, waving a cocky arm in the air as they walked back towards the tourney grounds from the Rock. Desmund laughed in response. "Aye. But you won't get to much other than seeing me." Desmund clarified. The two had a history of this, getting into near-constant contests with each other. It was almost a tradition at this point. The two bantered back and forth for most of the trip The Arryn camp on the tourney ground approached, and the various attendants quickly took care of armouring the knights up and preparing them for the fast-approaching melee. Even as their armour was being fitted, the banter did not cease. This time, Brock was the one who started it. "Age gets to all men, Siward. And it gets to you, too." Siward grinned savagely as his retort, silently promising Brock that this was going to hurt.


For all their talking, the seven knights were close companions, who meant little of what they said. Verbal sparring was a group activity, which could be initiated at almost any moment by anyone with anyone, and any of them could join. "Brock, I'd watch my back if I were you. That wasn't a pretty smile." Jares advised. "Nothing about Siward is pretty, Jares." Trevir countered quickly. Laughter rippled around the group. Their attendants were now fitting the last pieces of the armour, and last would be the helmet. Steffan had his armour on first, and he leaned out of the tent to check on the melee field. "Looks like it's starting in a matter of minutes here, fellows." Trevir nodded carefully in response. "Wait for everyone else to get their gear on. We'll leave as one. Loose line. Let people fight their own battles for the most part, but let it be known we're a close-knit group. Brock, Siward, don't kick each other's heads in quite yet. That comes a little later."

 

[D3lmoniko]

Lawsen Clegane

​

The Westerlands, Casterly Rock





Lawsen was getting ready for the battle. When he was getting his chest guard on, in came someone. He heard the slight steps of someone entering the room. Turning around, he was rather surprised to see his sister standing in the door. "Liana." He spoke up, clearing his throat. "What brings you here?" While talking, someone else was helping him tight his armor.


"Well, Lawsen, I wanted to talk to you about this fight." Lawsen smiled. "Worried about your brother?" "No." Liana said swiftly. "Pissed is more the word. You promised me." The smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by a rather tired look. "Liana..." "No. You don't have the right to Liana me!" She looked at the boy who was finished with Lawsen's armor. "...Do you mind?"


The boy cowered and ran out of the room, as Liana closed the door. As she opened her mouth, Lawsen showed his fangs. "Listen here sister! You may be the youngest, and I hold you dear of my sisters, but I will be struck down by Baelor if I would be yelled out by a girl who hasn't learned how to behave!" Liana was surprised, but she felt something, something burning inside of her. Her brother yelling at her made her feel hate, but not intense. "You could never be a lord if Leasan didn't yell at the Lannisters! You are not the true lord!"


Lawsen's hand rose up and was ready to smack her, but there came a knocking on his door. Lawsen let his hand fall near him, then, with a yell, he spoke. "Enter!" It was his other sister, Fryda. She entered and was surprised to see Liana there, and both of them looked flustered, Lawsen red like a lobster, and so did Liana look. "Oh... Did I interrupt something?" "No." Came the unison voice of the two. Liana looked at Lawsen, then went to the exit. "Please excuse me. I wanted to visit the city." "Take Rupert with you." Came the advice from Lawsen, and Liana turned, still furious at him, sticking her tongue out.


Fryda saw that and smiled, going to close the door. "She may not be civilized, but she has a cute face and a lovely personality." After closing the door, Lawsen sighed audibly, grabbing a cup, filling it with wine. "What do you want Fryda?" Lawsen was familiar with her, but didn't really have any idea why she would come to him. Starting to drink from the cup, he rose an eyebrow towards her. "I... I think I fancy... Ser Roland." Lawsen gulped, slamming the cup on the table. "Absolutely not." "Why not? He's kind, caring." "And a friend. That relationship between us doesn't need to be broken. Roland... is a wild card." Fryda knew not to let her emotions show, and she hid them well. "...Was this the reason you came to see me?" Fryda wanted to say something else, but, smiling, she nodded "Yes brother, I wasn;t sure of my emotions. Good day, and fight well." Exiting the room, she slammed the door.


Lawsen let out a groan yet again. "I swear... They want me dead quicker than any other lord in Westeros. He was unhappy of the whole ordeal with Liana, and about Fryda, he didn't want to remember. Looking at the mace he'll wield, he took it one hand. Then, he looked at his shield, marked with his house's sigil, and his hand slowly brushed it. "... At least I can get all of my anger out."


Soon, Lawsen was where the tourney would be held, equipped and clad in his armor. In the crowd, stood Liana and Fryda, both in the Clegane booth. Fryda quickly scouted the crowd, looking for Roland, while Liana stood in her place, her hands crossed to her chest. To her right, Rupert stood at ready. Gendry stood at Fryda's left, looking at the arena with worry.