Fandom Of Blood and Wine (a GoT AU RP).

[CAP Ireland]

Kross/Tyrells needs a new player.


Check overview if interested or feel free to message me for anything.


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Game of Thrones (both books and TV show) take place after the fall of Rhaegar Targaryen and the subsequent rise of Robert Baratheon as King of Westeros. Thats the cannon. This RP is not.


After Eddard Stark calmed Robert life went on in Westeros. Some moved on, others died, time moved forward without a care for those in its wake.


Since then, Aerys II, Rhaella and Daenerys Targaryen have died in ''odd'' circumstances and Rhaegar has been crowned King. Whilst many suspect that he orchestrated his families death, a growing poison trade and technological advances have lead people to wonder.


Viserys Targaryen, fearing for his life, ignited a rebellion inside the Red Keep (referred to as the Red Rebellion due to location and sheer number of deaths) that led to the murder of Lyanna Stark and Elia Martell by Viserys as they protected their children from him. Rhaegar fought his brother but was unprepared. Viserys killed Rhaegar and stuck his head onto the Iron Throne before claiming the throne and crown for himself.


This has not gone undisputed. There is chatter amongst the houses and people about how long this new king shall last.


Hearing of this chatter, Viserys has called for all those loyal to him to come to Kings Landing. His plan is to marry off Lyanna and Elia's children to strengthen his alliance with the two houses he chooses as these Targaryens will strengthen that families claim to the throne.





(To see the current characters click here).

 

[CAP Ireland]

Viserys paced the main hall, his eyes occasionally flickering toward the main entrance. These past few days of politics and organising had taken their toll on him and he now wanted things to go according to plan.


Aerion and Kalista entered one after the other before bowing to Viserys.


''Your grace.'' Aerion spoke whilst Kalista remained silent.


Viserys approached them and, placing a hand on both of their chins, raised their heads to look at him. He peered into their eyes and smiled.


''No need for formalities today.'' he let his hand drop from their faces before becoming them to accompany him towards the throne.


''Today, we are as one. The three heads of the dragon, united. There must be trust between us as well as love.'' Viseryses turned and glanced at Kalista as he mentioned love.


A pure breed...


As they arrived at the steps leading up to the throne and, as Viserys climbed them, Aerion and Kalista were hesitant. After arriving at the top, Viserys turned to see them still at the bottom of the steps.


''Come on.'' his voice became more commanding for a moment before he tilted his head and smiled to them.


They walked up the steps and arrived in front of the throne. Viserys circled the Iron Throne, watching them watching it.


''It's an odd thing this. So much history and death over...this.'' he walked behind them now, his voice a whisper in their minds. ''Either of you could sit in it if you simply got rid of me...a dagger...poison...there are many ways you could try and kill me, but then what would happen to you?'' he walked between them and onto sat on the throne before continuing. ''I will keep you safe and alive. I will care for you and will see you soar. Without me, you'll be dead before dusk.'' he watched them for a reaction but found none.


''Right, well. Go and prepare for our guests.'' he swept them away with a flick of his hand and they left the way they'd come. Visarys watched Kalista go. She was growing into a fine girl. Soon, he would be able to reforge the Targaryen bloodline in his image. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and dreamt of the songs they would song in his honour.


''He's not wrong...'' Aerion said as he escorted his sister back to her chambers.


''We could look after each other.'' Kalista responded.


''Even if that were enough, against those who would come for the throne we would be powerless. Let him have the damn thing. Let us live sister. Breath, be happy and survive.'' he squeezed her shoulder before turning and heading towards his own chamber. Kalista smiled and entered her room to prepare for their guests.

 

[Israfeli]

"I see no reason for us to be here." Elia loudly proclaimed.


Nymeria gave no response, except simply to urge her horse to go faster; they were already going to be late for their first meeting with the newest Targaryen lunatic, it made no sense to her to answer the same question for the hundredth time. Unfortunately for her growing headache, Daemon took another opportunity to do something for her.


"The reason, as Her Grace has repeated ad infinitum, is to swear fealty to this Second-Son King." Daemon pointed out.


"Swearing fealty when we should be preparing Dorne for war? Imagine the ease with which we can retrieve Lady Kalista while we are in the Red Keep as guests! For their murder of Elia Martell, it would be so easy to have all of the banner-men of Dorne against the Iron Throne. Perhaps we could even find an ally in another region that also seeks Independence, then our might would clash with that of the Iron Throne, a deadly struggle that would result in the deaths of countless people! They'd sing songs of the bloody war, maybe even one song about bloodied sand! IT WOULD BE EPIC!" the sand snake screamed the last part, carried away in the fantasy.


"'Epic', as you say, until we are murdered by this new king for plotting against him." Nymeria clarified. "And who would we seek to form an alliance with? The Reach is our truest enemy and they will not rest until our lands have fallen into ruin."


After considering that for a moment, Elia replied, "Well, that may be true, but would the Stormlands not be a much better ally? Think of it, cousin. The Stormlands are famed for their armies-"


Interrupting Elia, Daemon repaired her sentence, "The Stormlands are famed for their armies and their closeness to the Iron Throne; the Second-Son King would be a fool to not ensure an alliance with that region. Let us only hope that dear Kalista will not be his bargaining chip; although, Viserys is a snake more than a dragon. He is not to be trusted."


Facing another setback, though never one for giving up, Elia decided on another route. "The Iron Islands are connected to no one, and could be an ally for any-"


Shaking her head, Nymeria interrupted her cousin, "Until they tuck their tail between the legs and go attack weakened coastal villages; once the actual soldiers arrive, the Iron Islands will run back to their little islands a play pirate. As they have since Harren the Black was roasted alive by Aegon, as his kind deserve. If they are iron, it is a weak iron, brittle to the touch. The Iron Islands and the Reach should be far away from any concept of alliance with Dorne."


Rolling her eyes as if in another boring lecture, Elia quickly amended her idea. "The North has no historic hatred of Dorne. The North is strong and tends not to surrender. For the death of Lyanna Stark, they will want justice. If we were to rescue more than just Kalista...think on it, Nym."


"I have thought on it." Nymeria sighed. "You are not wrong; the North has been a possible ally that I've considered since Rhaegar death...."


Rhaegar's death... the thought echoed in Daemon's mind.


Without a pause, Nymeria continued. "And, especially with their own blood being in Aerion Targaryen, the Starks will aid him."


"Not to forget our own link to the Starks." Elia chimed in. "Had another parent claimed him, our Dayne would be a Stark."


"Or a Martell or Targaryen or some peasant." Daemon sharply added. "We must not speak of such things within King's Landing. There are spies and turncloaks around every corner." His two companions nodded. Upon reaching the city, Daemon said, "Let us hurry, the Dragon King may not be burned yet; I hope to see King Rhaegar once more."

 

[CAP Ireland]

Lord Ethaniel rode into Kings Landing and smiled. The journey had been long and arduous but well worth the effort. The cities guards began to escort him and his 20 men towards the Red Keep but Ethan's mind far away.


He'd discussed the situation with his father, Tywin, and they had agreed that the country needed some stability. Unfortunately, the disagreed on who should bring that stability about.


Tywin urged Ethan to consider fighting for the throne. He promised him all the support he could muster but Ethan refused. He didn't want power. Power corrupted, and complete power corrupted completely. He was a man with strong morals and he did not wish for them to be bent.


They arrived at the Red Keep and the Kingsguard urged him to follow them inside as the king was waiting for his guests.


''At least kill the Targaryen bastards off!'' Tywin had shouted down from his chamber as Ethan left. He'd laughed it off as an effect of the fever, but his words did hold some truth to them.


He reached the main hall and saw the 'king' sat on the iron throne as he played with a beam of light with his hands.


Ethan marched up to the stairs leading to the Iron throne and bowed.


''Your grace...'' there was no fault in his voice or in any aspect of his person in this moment. He'd rehearsed this many a time in his life, he wasn't going to fuck it up now.


''Lord Lannister I presume.'' Viserys said, his eyes still on his hand as it dashed in and out of the light.


''Lord Ethaniel Lannister your grace. A pleasure to meet you.'' Ethan rose and was surprised to see the king paying him little attention.


''...do you like riddles Ethaniel?'' Viserys asked, his hand now still in the midday light.


''Yes, I enjoy them immensely.'' Ethaniel responded. This was likely to be a test of his worth.


''Ahh good. Later, if we have a chance, shall we engage in a battle of riddles then?'' Viseryses eyes now fell of Ethan, waiting for his response.


''It would be an honour your grace.'' Ethan responded, bowing once more.


''I look forward to it.'' Viserys said, smiling briefly before leaming from the throne and jogging down the stairs to Ethans side.


''I think we might become good friends Ethan.'' he said, his smile but a few inches from Ethans brow as Viserys had remained a step above him.


''I'd like that your grace.'' Ethan said, stepping back to regain the personal space he'd lost.


''Well, go and freshen up.'' Viserys said, turning and bounding back up the stairs and onto the throne.


Ethan walked back the way he'd come and asked for a guard to take him to his chambers so that he might ''freshen up''.


He began thinking of his father's last words to him again now, contemplating if death was really the answer to the riddle that was the king.

 

[Vengeance Spirit]

The large flags of the Baratheon house raised high in the sky, the crowned stag, swayed against the large wind currents. Mifel Baratheon was coming, it was clear now. The sounds of men talking as they marched, there were a good amount of them. They were at least 100 tall, Mifel took a good glimpse around. He saw the banners of the Dornish. He didn't want to make his interest clear, but he wanted them as allies for his secret plan. He thought to himself If I am to gain the throne, I must take it not only by blood, but also diplomacy. As his men reached the fork in the road, he raised his hand upward to try and stop the Dornish from going forward.


Mifel dismounted his horse and walked toward the group saying "Hello there, House Martell." Bowing before them as he continued by saying "May we speak in private before we reach the city." He thought to himself Yes...Maybe they have a vendetta towards the Targaryens. Maybe its one they've yet to proclaim. Maybe they know as I do, that no peace can be reached while the Targaryens are in power.

 

[Israfeli]

(The trio raised no banners on their trip, preferring to send a quieter and faster trio than a large army.)


Grinning at the concept of her idea coming to pass with the help of the Stormlands, Elia called back as she dismounted her horse, "It would be a pleasure, Lord Baratheon! Shall we speak in private, Dorne to Stormlands?"


Following Elia's lead, Daemon and Nymeria dismounted their steeds, but Daemon was unsure of the Storm bastard's intentions. He quickly stepped in front of Nymeria, flexing his fingers to prepare to draw Dawn.


Noticing her friend's behaviour, Nymeria put a hand on Daemon's right shoulder, hoping that he would get the hint and relax. Stepping around him, she gave a quick curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Storm King!" She also hoped that the Baratheon would notice her using the more royal title of his ancestors, as opposed to calling him Lord Baratheon.

 

[Vengeance Spirit]

He extended his hand to shake it with Elia's as he came close and whispered as he did so "A female leader is fine with me...I know the Dornes are quite fond of that." He then withdrew himself and walked towards his men who had made a makeshift tent as he said "Come...Let's discuss matters." He sat down and tried to study her, wanting to figure out her. He wanted to know everything, he thought to himself This will be hard...I don't want to offend her. He made sure to sit close to her, but not too close to where it was threatening. He placed his arms to his side and made sure to show the most respect possible by not slanting or leaning at all. He looked her in the eyes and said "The Targaryens in power...After the mad king. Quite interesting, isn't it?"

 

[Israfeli]

Elia could not help but giggle. This Stormlander assumed she was the Lady of Dorne. "Yes, and a male leader is fine with me." She answered, adopting a more authoritative tone in hopes of continuing the charade. "My guard and adviser will of course be joining us." She stood up straight and followed him into the tent, with Daemon and Nymeria on her left. Upon sitting, she noticed that the bastard Lord sat close to her. Daemon stood a meter away, near the entrance of the tent, silently watching the inside and outside of the meeting area.


Nymeria stood behind and to the left of Elia.


Elia responded to the Stormlander's query. "It is quite interesting, as I was discussing with my cousin and guard on the way here. It seems to be a dangerous time for Targaryens, would you not agree? Between the Mad King and the Red Rebellion, they are in a bit of a fix. But mostly, I would like your thoughts on that. Besides our dear bastard sword," Elia gestured to Daemon, "it seems that there is only one man with king's blood in Westeros; one without the taint of incest and dragons, of course."

 

[Gospeller]

Bloody hell ... Kross grimaces deeply underneath his plated helmet, the rest of his plate clanging together. Just him alone created the loudness and aura of an approaching army. A plated glove raised to rub his tired eyes; it had been long, too long, perhaps. This travel was far too tiring, but he had been hell-bent on arriving at King's Landing in time. Political events ...? If anything, that was more so his sister's forte', but Kross had insisted he come none the less.

With him were a handful of well trained and well equipped men, practical displays of the upcoming military strength of the House of Tyrell that had been pioneered by Kross himself. However, at this stage, these skilled soldiers existed only by the dozens. All of them were on horses, with a carriage dragged behind them. Typical formation - spread around the carriage to ensure that ambushes would be reported as quickly as possible. He could see it in the distance now. "King's Landing. Ya' used to be prettier. But maybe you've just always been a bit of'e dump." Some of the soldiers chuckled, and others, with their passion for King's Landing and what it had to offer, simply scowled. It wouldn't be long before the House of Tyrell would be upon the city.​

 

[Israfeli]

Seeing the Tyrell banner being flown by a group of soldiers on the road, Daemon called out to them. "Flower men!" He yelled, to get their attention. "I see the king invited you lot also." Daemon made a gesture for Elia to be ready with her spear.


Elia's hand slipped to her spear. But, realizing what issue this may cause with Lord Baratheon, she quickly drew her hand away from it and assured him, "Storm King, I apologize if we Dornish seem quick to go for our weapons; I'm sure you know of our historical problems with the Reach and those Tyrell fools."


Nymeria quickly ran over to Daemon as he slowly began to draw his sword from its sheathe. "Now is not the time for vengeance." She whispered. "Should you kill Tyrell bannermen on this day, would the snake allow you to see your king's burning ceremony?"


Daemon slid his sword back into its sheathe and stood silent.

 

[Khryses]

The sun rose high above King's Landing, the third hour since dawn and though the great and the good were only now rising from their stately beds, the Red Keep had been alive since before light first touched its spires. Though one of the senior-most court officials, Ser Harys Buckwell was up with the larks and checking the royal guards stationed all around the citadel. Nearing his fourth decade the sandy-haired man still had the powerful build of a man who spent hours each day dedicated to swordplay. His manner was less lordly, but there were few who served in the Red Keep who would not quail and give way when fixed by his glacial blue eyes.


Today they were fixed on a Targaryen guard drowsing at his post, half-leaning on his spear at the end of the corridor leading to the guest quarters. Bulky in his scale armor, the Lord Commander had walked straight past him without so much as a glance - then looked back with a frown as he heard a gentle snore. Sure enough, the guardsman was neglecting his duties, lost in dreams of warm arms and cold ale - or he was until an armored gauntlet smashed across his jaw and laid him out on the stone floor. "You lazy sack of shit," he snarled, as the guard looked up in surprise. "Standing there like you've not a care in the world, while your King's honor depends on awareness so keen nowt can sneak by. By the time I'm done with you you'll wish your mother had never even laid eyes on your feckless father!"


The sound of the Kingsguard's roar echoed down the corridors to the royal family's quarters, where a russet-haired young lady paused outside a doorway with tray in hand.


She shook her head at the familiar voice and smiled wickedly up at the guardsman in black and red standing to one side of the door. "Sounds like Uncle is on the war path again, Andrew. Best look sharp!"


The guard returned her smile after a beat, "I always do, Jyana. And you're looking particularly sharp yourself today. Is that a new gown? Special occasion, my lady?"


Jyana looked down at her deep azure gown, close cut around the silver-trimmed bodice with flowing skirts meant for dancing. While it had a deep v-neck, it had an ivory fichu tucked inside as befitting a modest young maiden. "In a manner of speaking; His Grace has called his loyal Lords Paramount to send their representatives or come themselves to court. The first of them are due to arrive today, so..." She gestured to her new finery and dimpled at him. "As you see. Now if you'll excuse me, my Lady needs breakfast."


Andrew opened the door with a flourish befitting a lord, and she dipped into a deep curtsy, smiled appreciatively and swept through the door without spilling a drop. Walking into the room, she heard the door snick shut behind her and stepped briskly over to a small table by the window. "Good morning my lady, did you sleep well?"


Behind the velvet draped curtains there came a rustle of movement, a sigh and the sound of a body in motion. Jyana quickly transferred the plate of fruit to the table, the bread, the saucer of butter and a steaming cup of morning brew, then set the tray on its side and moved across and drew back the curtain, revealing the blonde visage of Princess Kalista. She raised a hand to shadow her eyes, squinting against the daylight. "Jyana? I had the dream again," she said dreamily, as though she wasn't quite awake yet.


"The dragon dream, the chain dream or the one with the big slavering wolf dancing in big boots?" Jyana asked teasingly, coaxing a rare smile from her mistress.


"I knew I should never have told you about that one. It was just the twice, and I'd been eating Dornish cheeses just before bed." Still smiling, she slipped out of bed and walked across to the table by the window, sat and sliced open the fruit in her floral white shift. Jyana put the bed in order, eyes resting on Kalista but giving her the freedom to answer in her own time. Today that meant seven minutes of comfortable silence while the fifteen year old began to brush and dress her lady's hair and finally Kalista began to speak.


"It was the chain dream again, Jya. A collar around my throat and dangerous beasts all around tugging on the links, snarling at me when I was pulled away." The youngest Targaryen had a bruised look around her eyes that betrayed a troubled night, but her handmaid set to smoothing it away with sympathy and the lightest touch of cosmetic paint. "It's just a dream my lady. Eat and breathe and let the sun chase away the darkness." It always took time after one of the dark nights, but Jyana would make sure she was ready before she had to be official and princess-y.

 

[Gospeller]

The plated figure does not flinch at the comments shouted from the House of Dayne, but underneath the helm, his teeth grit like a sawmill. Damned them ... I never thought it true, but they certainly are stuck in the bloody past. A low sigh escaped him. It was never a welcome sight to be greeted with possible prejudice. "Fallen stars." He empathizes the word in retort to Daemon's. "I'm equally surprised to see you here." The men behind him seemed eager, but refused to do more than stand in silence. "Try to be bloody civilized." He'd call out, half-heartedly to his own men and Daemon himself. Kross Tyrell wasn't exactly known for his manners, but rather his stubbornness and reluctance of political involvement outside of military excursions.

The plated helm shook slightly, though in what gesture was impossible to tell. "Ye're -..." He clears his throat. "You're all on your way to King's Landing, I presume." There was a sense of spite in his voice, but he seemed to try his best to stay polite at this point - the effort was clear in his speech, as his slur decayed into practically nothing. He wanted to get on his way as quickly as possible.​

 

[Israfeli]

"Civilized? Bah. You Tyrells are a beggar house, always have been." Daemon spat on the ground in their direction. "Why should that snake of a king invite your kind? You flower-men will always be the slaves of the Iron Throne."


Stepping in front of Daemon, Nymeria gave a quick curtsy, then spoke, not letting him continue. "Ser Kross Tyrell, heir to the Reach and future Lord Paramount, I assume? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do hope that, despite the words of some..." Nymeria shot Daemon a quick look, "...that we can forge a lasting peace. After all, these are dangerous times, are they not? We are currently discussing the rise of King Viserys with Lord Paramount Baratheon; I do think that Lady Paramount Martell would love for a man such as yourself to be in the discussion."

 

[Gospeller]

By the time Daemon had ended his comment, Kross was already off his horse with rigid, vigorous movements, though he stopped half-way as Nymeria intervened. If anything, Kross was subconsciously thankful that she had done so, for he did not want to imagine the actions he was about to commit. Brushing it off, he lets out an echoing sigh, trying to play it off as if though he had intended to walk towards them if anything. The real reason behind why Daemon's comment bothered him was nothing that one would imagine.

"Please, whilst it is appreciated, I would prefer if you drop the exaggerated formalities." He eyes her up and down, his helmet shifting ever so slightly. "You must be the ruler of Dorne, I assume. I take great honors in seeing someone as yourself outside of the throne room." Kross bows his head in slight respect. "Pleasure to meet you ...-" The tall, plated man seemed to hesitate: formalities was, after all, not his forte', and apart from military titles, he was unsure how to address Nymeria. "Great Ruler Dorne Nymeria - ... would be the most appropriate, though perhaps not official." A slight smile spread underneath his helmet. "Whilst it is an honor to meet, my task it to make my way to King's Landing as quickly as possible." A short nod in agreement was given before he spun on his heel and turned towards his horse, mounting it. "And peace -... that is something that has always held my full support when it comes to most Houses, and I am glad that you agree. But most of my house is stubborn and set in their old ways. Hopefully you will forgive them - at times." Another nod was given off before he started to ride onwards with the rest of his 'caravan'. "I will be seeing you shortly, I hope."​

 

[Mousie]

Drevyn and his former mentor Theos Blacktyde both stood on a bobbing ship while balancing their weight as it continued to rock steadily. Theos was preparing Drevyn to cast off and set sail for Blackwater Bay on the ironborn ship, infamously dubbed "The Iron Death" after its captain. The ship had some of the best light fortifications available due the many raids it had successfully completed, and was one of the fastest of the fleet. "Why do you feel the need to go in your brothers place to the green lands? He's sending you to a snake pit with a serpent king." Theos explained, with a concerned look on his face.


"Because my brother will make us look weak in front of our enemies. We could never afford that luxury as these other houses do, for we are ironborn Theos. Besides, my brothers reign is at an end. The majority of his banner men already sees me as the King of the Iron Islands, for I am the Iron Death." Drevyn responded in a robust voice, as he motioned his hand gently against the smooth wood and iron of his ship. "It's true that many men think you'd better ruling Pyke than your brother. That's why I'm confused as to why you think it matters what the other houses think of us."


Drevyn's motioning hand was still in a calm rhythm while his cold sea-blue eyes edged towards Theos. "I need to demonstrate to these lesser houses that we ironborn are strong and fearless, and what better way than to impress a new king? Besides, you've already educated me on the importance of intrigue. I need to know the faces of my enemies, the motives of my enemies, and most importantly; The weakness of my enemies." Theos' arms folded, with a look on his face that showed remark for the man he once raised as a ward.


"I set sail for the capital immediately. I need you to watch over my older brother and send me news through our ravens." Drevyn instructed, as bells began to signal his departure. "Additionally, I'll be taking our best fleet to demonstrate that the ironborn are to be feared on the sea. Don't worry though, the fleet will return when I arrive at King's Landing." Theos stood on the dock now, affirming in his head everything his high lord had instructed him. He knew that Drevyn could take care of himself, but still worried for his well being in the green lands. He would be far away from home.

 

[CAP Ireland]

Aerion let a bubble escape from his mouth and rise to the waters surface. As it lingered on the edge of the unknown his mortality urged him to rise himself. His head broke the surface and the bubble in one move and Aerion gasped, air filling him once more.


A servant rushed forward with a cloth and Aerion accepted it. The water fell from his body as he rose and, before he could show himself to his servant, he covered his bit with the cloth.


''That'll be all for now.'' he muttered, his body not ready to let it's precious air go again.


He dried and played with himself for a while before walking into his chambers to get dressed. A simple yet elegant variety of clothes were presented to him by an equally elegant yet varied assortment of maids. He let them dress him as he watched the girls scuttle about often reaching out to pull one closer for the sake of ''conversation''.


Once done he grabbed Howling and began towards the main hall but heard an uncommon march coming from a few halls away. He followed the sound and was soon met with a guard and a mildly armoured man. His blond hair and blue eyes were hardly menacing but it was his smile that disturbed Aerion. He was used to proper 'set' faces, not genuine happiness.


Ethaniel approached the boy and bowed, his rehearsed smile still in place.


''Aerion II I presume.'' Ethan stood back up to size the boy. He was a foot or so smaller than him but was still quite well built for a boy of his age. ''I am Lord Ethaniel Lannister. I am sorry to hear about your mother.''


Aerion didn't feel much at the thought of his mother. Her passing was just another tragedy in a world that refused to stop spinning. Life went on.


''Thank you Lord Lannister. Sorry, but I'll be on my way.'' Aerion walked backwards the way he had come and away from Ethan.''I look forward to seeing you later.'' he said before turning the corner and walking out of sight.


Ethaniel turned to the guard.


''You know I'm Ethaniel, not Lord Lannister, right?'' he asked the guard.


''Yes my lord.'' Ethaniel sighed and continued towards his chambers.


Aerion arrived at his sister's door and knocked on it before leaning against an adjacent wall to wait for it to open.


Viserys toyed with the pin. He pushed the pins swords blade into his palm a little to test it's edge before running his thumb over the golden hand and circle. He placed the pin on the table and turned to his kingsguard once more.


''What was that again?'' he hadn't been listening, kingly duties filled his head and this man's voice was just so very plain it pained him to listen.


''There have been sightings of houses joining outsides of Kings Landing your grace.'' the guard repeated for a fifth time.


''What are they doing?'' Viserys imagined them out there, conspiring to overthrow him and his legacy.


''The report said arguing with a little movement thrown in here and there.'' the guard gestured with his hands, attempting to show the groups movments and sieling as he did so.


''Send a few guards to go and see that they arrive safely. Tell them that I cannot wait to join the conversation...'' Viserys smirked as he lead the guard out of his room. Once alone he returned to the pin. It weighted almost nothing in his hand but heavily on his mind.


Every king needs his hand...





The guard soon found Ser Buckwell and relayed the kings orders to him.


''I've prepared your horse for you as well as two other kingsguards as company for you ser.'' the guard said between breaths as he tried to regain it.


@Khryses

 

[Vengeance Spirit]

Mifel smiled at Elia as she reached toward her weapon, he said nothing but thought Tensions...Tensions that people can play on. This isn't a good...Especially at this moment. He met her eyes and hesitantly said "N-No...It's fine." He said "I'm sorry if these accommodations aren't well enough. Do you want some wine or anything." A cup bearer stepped forward and poured Mifel from a vase of wine, he took a sip as the cup bearer ran beside Elia to see if she wanted any wine, if so he'd pour it. Mifel heard the ruckus outside, but getting involved would cause him to take sides...He decided not to, he said "The Targaryen rule should be questioned more than it is." taking a leap of faith. He looked for her response, listening on to what was going outside. He heard the words that Kross had spoken about Nymeria being a ruler. Although it seemed like he was in a bit of a bind, it would be rude to simply stop their conversation...Maybe winning over Elia could help him get the others. He thought to himself If I find her intentions, maybe she can convince the others...As long as the Targaryen are no longer in rule. I will be pleased. Mifel began to drink his wine at a faster pace, the stress of the situation had made his face become a bit pale. He didn't want to come off as rude or ignorant. He sat there and decided to play alongside the charade.

 

[Israfeli]

"The Dornish words are Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken." Elia hoped that Mifel would pick up the hint. "Unlike the rest of the kingdoms, Dorne has a heavy history of rebellion."


Nymeria returned and stood behind Elia. "Dorne is a desert covered in wildfire, if you've heard that saying. As my dear cousin said, there are few who legitimately hold claims to the Iron Throne."


Elia picked up where Nymeria left off. "King Viserys, our dear young Kalista, and yourself, of course. A worrisome line of succession for our great" Elia rolled her eyes as she said this word "king. Especially if the Stormlands had a few allies, such as the Lord Paramouncy of Dorne."


Nymeria gave a sly smile as she finished by adding, "So, Viserys should be glad that both my cousin and I have many reasons to support the Iron Throne."

 

[Vengeance Spirit]

Mifel knew exactly what she meant. He smiled and stood up, extending his hand to shake both of theirs saying "Well...Let's not keep our hosts waiting." As he shook Nymeria's hand he whispered in her ear "Yes...A lovely history of rebellion". He then walked outside of the tent to get back on his horse. He nodded at them as his small legion began to march towards king's landing. One of the men began playing a lute, letting go an interesting sound as they did. Mifel always had an ear for music, it calmed him. Especially the lute, it was by far his favorite instrument. As they rode he moved his head along to the soft melody. He was clearly enjoying himself, after the meeting with the Dornish had went well.

 

[Israfeli]

The Dornish trio remounted their horses. As their steeds galloped past the Stormlander legion, each person contemplated the possible alliance. Upon reaching the gates of King's Landing, they were welcomed by a group of Gold Cloaks. The guards let the Dornish trio into the Red Keep, where they hoped for a beneficial meeting with the king. Daemon dismounted his horse as quickly as he could, then immediately went to Nymeria's side as she dismounted, making sure to be between the Gold Cloaks and the Lady Paramount. His hand gripped tightly on the hilt of Dawn, ready to defend his liege. "I remember the Gold Cloaks from my time in King's Landing, Your Grace." He said to Nymeria, with the intention that the Gold Cloaks would hear. "A weak and foolish lot of guards; a thousand of them could never stand up to a man half as great Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Lewyn Martell, or Ser Arthur Dayne."

 

[Khryses]

"And yet Ser Dayne fell fighting a mere two dozen men at arms not so very far from here." A powerful man resplendent with white cloak and shield, the Lord Commander greeted the trio with a wintry smile, Ser Anders and Ser Selwyn of the Kingsguard at his back. "Ser Harys Buckwell," he introduced himself. "I honoured and respected your uncle, and was privileged to call him both friend and brother. A warrior and a philosopher; as I recall it was he himself who said, 'The measure of a man lies in how he behaves toward those he sees as beneath him.'" The gentle rebuke dealt, he inclined his head and bowed from the waist to the ladies.


"Your Highness, Lady Elia. Welcome to King's Landing on behalf of Viserys of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He straightens and goes on, his face deadpan. "His Grace was especially concerned at the length of your journey from the your homeland, given your party required a rest stop just outside of the city. He is of course eager to meet you both, but if you need some time to recover from your journey in a more... restful environment than the Kingsroad, then I am bid to guide your party to the chambers set aside for you where certain of the Lady Elia's effects have been preserved for you." Nothing in his words reflected his own experiences with the Red Rebellion; he fought as hard as he could for the old King, but now his oath is to the new - and, for now, his service was to the King's guests.


Elsewhere, in Kalista's chambers, a knock sounded from the door and both ladies looked up. They exchanged a glance, then the pale blonde returned to her fruit while Jyana went across to the door and opened it a crack to see who it- "Your Highness! Lady Kalista is up but not yet ready to receive. A moment I pray!"


The auburn-haired girl pushed the door firmly shut and hurried back across the room. "It is your brother, my lady. Let's get you into this," she lifts the white-gold gown from its rack and lowers it over Kalista's head, barely giving the Targaryen long enough to set down her knife and fork before her hands are being forced into sleeves.


"Then you can eat a little more whilst I do this," Jyana's fingertips fly down the back of the dress, tightening and closing it in a ripple of silken ribbons of red, black and yellow. Kalista smiled with tolerant amusement and turned her eyes towards the doorway, only absently returning to her fruit. Sure enough in scarce over a minute Kalista Targaryen was dressed to the satisfaction of her young handmaiden. Her feet were still bare, but when the Buckwell girl began to move towards her shoe chest the lady raised a hand and shook her head. "Enough, let him in. It's Aerion, not the assembled Small Council."


"Yes, my Lady," Jyana nodded, turned gracefully away from the shoe chest and returned to the door and drew it wide. "Prince Aerion? Your pardon for the delay, but your sister is ready to see you now." She stepped to one side and dipped into a curtsy as Kalista smiled her greeting and gestured to the seat opposite hers.


"Good morning, brother! I trust you slept well. Are you hungry?"

 

[Israfeli]

Daemon shut his eyes tightly for a moment, then blinked rapidly. Grinding his teeth, he stared straight at the Soiled Knight. "I do so apologize, but your cloak is a bit soiled. I can even see so many stains. But none of them on the front? All on the back, to suit a craven. The splatter of my dear uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, near the middle, from when he was slain. A splotch of blood near the top, from the great White Bull, Ser Gerold Hightower. My liege's own grand-uncle, Ser Lewyn Martell...his blood the edge of your cape, I can easily see it. Ah, but I see no dragon blood-"


"DAEMON!" Nymeria screamed, only recovering from utter shock now.


"Of course, the blood of the DRAGON is on your shoes, is it not?!" Daemon shouted, utterly enraged at this point. "From when your KING-"


Nymeria grabbed Elia's spear.


"-RHAEGAR TARGARYEN, the man you SWORE to protect, was cut down!"


Nymeria jammed the butt of the spear into the side of Daemon's head, hoping to render her friend unconscious.


"ALL OF THE WATERS OF RIVERRUN WILL NOT CLEAN THAT STAIN, KINGSLAYER!" Daemon shouted at Buckwell. "I SAW YOU BOW TO RHAEGAR WHILE I WAS A WARD OF THE RED KEEP! I WAS THERE WHEN YOU JOINED THE KINGSGUARD!"

 

[Gospeller]

The Tyrell party arrived shortly after that of Dorne, slowly having made their way towards the gates. With a slight sigh, Kross would simply await outside, hearing the outraged shouts of Daemon ahead, he asked his party to wait until he stopped his raving. "I assure'ye, dis'ain't somethin' we wanna' get involved wit'." He remarked to his group, stepping off of his horse and waiting outside of the gates that lead to King's Landing.


There was nothing that Tyrell did not despise about King's Landing. They had some respectable warriors, but apart from that, it felt as if though most of the population were slack and criminal - always looking for shortcuts to wealth and glory rather than following an honorable path.


"Ensure the flags are displayed properly." Kross told one of his handful of well-trained, plated men.

 

[CAP Ireland]

Aerion entered the room and walked to wards his sister. She looked quite nice in her colourful dress,but she was hardly as well endowed as some of the maids Aerion had just had just seen. Comparably, her handmaiden, the Buckwell girl, was much more too his liking.


Still, he was most likely bias as he wasn't exactly looking at his sister in that manner. He knew others had told him she was quite the beauty and that wars would be fought over her hand, but Aerion just didn't see it. To him she just seemed too weak willed. He thought of her as a flower like creature: soft and sweet but hardly deadly.


As for himself, Aerion was a little peckish.


''A little but I was going to eat properly with Viserys.'' Aerion grinned at the thought. He was growing fonder of their uncle by the day and, although he knew that Kalista did not share in his love for their remaining family, he hardly cared. Viserys was strong and would likely not thin the Targaryen bloodline any more so Aerion would probably get to live (as long as he didn't look at the Iron Throne too often).


''Care to join me?'' Aerion offered his arm to his sister and bowed his head a little, like a suitor would. His eyes landed on her bare feet and he smiled again. She was a strange one.


Enthaniel removed his armour and his tunic before washing himself with a wet cloth. As he washed he walked over to his balcony that overlooked Kings Landing. It was a rather beautiful city, life filing every inch of it's walls and even a little past it. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sun dry and warm him. Unfortunately, his ears picked up on shouting coming from somewhere inside the Red Keep. He turned and walked into his room and, after throwing on an unflattering white tunic, followed the sound to an open passageway that looked down onto the courtyard. He surveyed the scene and decided that he'd better get dressed before properly introducing himself. After returning to his chambers and clothing himself in a mix of light Lannister armour he headed towards the main hall to await the trouble that came his way.

 

[Vengeance Spirit]

The Baratheon group had finally arrived at King's Landing, long after everyone else. Mifel had a stern face on. He was usually kind and rather playful, it was strange for him to be this rigorous. He looked back at the man in his group playing the lute and pushed his hand downward to signal him to stop. He did as Mifel commanded. The band of men marched onward, once arriving in he dismounted his horse and watched the Dornish trio argue with one another. He didn't quite understand how they did things, all he knew was that they were surely powerful. Dornish fighters were legend to be able to take on a large amount of the seven kingdoms all on their own. Mifel wasn't quite used to their ways, but he knew he wanted their help more than anything.