Fandom A Game Of Thrones : THE EXALTED COUNCIL - RP

[Little-Fox]

Anaya Uller
​

If Anaya noticed the Martell's wandering gaze she didn't show it, nor was she about to tell him that she'd been his sister's handmaiden for a few years almost. The faint whisperings of a smirk touched her lips however as she heard the mild shift in his tone. "I have a name, you know." She finally stated quietly, those sea-green hues flitting from one to the other after they seemed so damned content to talk about her as if she weren't standing right there. She nodded towards the mercenary lightly. "It seems that he's looking for work of some sort and I had no qualms about being a conversational partner for at least a few moments."

 

[Akio]

Ryden Martell
​

Still not fond of the way the sellsword was speaking however once he mentioned his desire to look for work he looked him up and down once more, taking his eyes off the girl to regard the sellsword. He's was as large as he was and heavily muscular. In addition, there was something about the confidence he carried himself that spoke of a fighter. When the girl spoke again he turned his gaze on her. "Indeed I apologize my lady." He said not wanting to offend a lords daughter needlessly. However, now he was curious about this grizzled sellsword and after a moment decided to make an offer. "I will not lie my father and I do some need for swords at the moment." He said somewhat cryptically but now he put his hand on his sword and this time drew it, the hiss of steel as it left the sheath as he drew his bastard sword and stuck the blade in the ground. "But I'm not gonna bother bringing you to my father if you're a waste of time. So ill test you, if you are really looking for a lord to hire you showing a bit of skill is the least you can do." He said as he took his sword and raised it up in one hand. "I trust that would be acceptable?" He asked as his eyes became as cool as the steel in his hand, as his entire manner changed with a sword his hand from seeming cocky and somewhat easily angered to this calm surface he now revealed, watching the swordsmen closely.

 

[Dread-neck]

Lucas the Ashen Blade​

Lucas looked to Anaya and dipped his head in a light bow of apology. "Sorry. You hadn't given it to our friend here so I only gave up the information you did. Mouthy mercenaries don't make good employees," he said cooly as his gaze drifted back to the lordling. The offer made him quirk a brow, and then he drew his blade. A bastard sword just like he used. And if he was one to bet, which Lucas was, likely good with it. He looked to Anaya and shrugged, walking a little ways from his horse and the lady. "A fair assessment, and offer...why not?" He said drawing his own blade. With his off hand, he reached into a pouch on his side and pulled out a small handful of what seemed to be ashes. He sprinkled them on the flat of the blade on both sides saying "From ashes we rise, and to ashes we shall return." He tightened the draw strings. He ran a hand over both sides, streaking the metal. Taking his stance, his grin had almost but faded. "By your leave, m'lord..."

 

[Little-Fox]

Anaya Uller
​

The woman shrugged at the mercenary when he apologized. The explanation made sense to her and she'd almost intentionally only given her first name rather than her full one. It didn't really surprise her that he was going to accept the 'offer,' she'd likely have done the same had she been in his place. His little ritual seemed a bit out of place, but what did she know of mercenaries and their ways? Her gaze flicked back to the Martell, taking note of the shift in his attitude as well. He seemed far more agreeable like this, she decided as she gave an almost obligatory half-bow and moved a little ways off to watch. "You are forgiven, Prince Martell. Though I wonder if you would receive a similar scolding should you ruin your current attire."

 

[Akio]

Ryden Martell
​

Ryden silently watched his ritual as he sprinkled ashes on the blade. He was curious as he had never heard of such a tradition, not even from his trainers from Essos so he wondered if it was something special to him or it was part of some greater group he was not likely aware of. He glanced at the girl and saw she had shifted a few steps away from them. While he didn't think either fighter was clumsy enough to swing and hit her he wanted enough room to fight so he was glad that had the sense of mind to move back some. He would have preferred if he had a shield but he certainly wasn't gonna go and get one. This man only had a single sword and he wouldn't fight him with anything more than that. Besides this was just what he said it was, a test. Perhaps it was better he took him on with some kind of handy cap. He was just about to call the duel to the ready when the girl spoke and mentioned his clothing which caused him to look down. This was indeed one of his favorite robes too but he certainly wasn't gonna fight in his small clothes so he just shrugged. "Not really a big concern my lady, if he's skilled enough to damage my clothes I think my father will forgive me." He would then turn his gaze back to the fight, zeroing on him not meaning to get distracted again. Still, there was one more courtesy he had to observe. "I never did catch your name stranger. We aren't dueling with tournament swords and while I won't aim for your life it's better I ask in case I never get to ask again." He said bantering as he, rather than just face him normally instead took a stance where he turned himself to one side so he was standing one foot stretched out in front of the other and standing sideways with his blade out in front of him in one hand, just watching him move as he awaited his answer.

 

[Dread-neck]

Lucas the Ashen Blade​

An explanation for the ritual would come in due time, but now was not it. The stance that Prince Martell tookwas odd to Lucas. Definitely something foreign though nothing he had gone up against frequently in his travels. If he thought he was going to have to be on his toes before, he definitely thought so now. He couldn't help but smirk at Anaya's remark. Someone her size taunting anyone would have been funny. And then came the Lord Martell's remark. He knew that he didn't mean in case Lucas got lucky enough to slay him. No, there was an arrogance to him. He thought Lucas was going to be a slouch. But he wasn't going to acknowledge that bit. And he surely wasn't going to give respect to someone who thought it was their birthright. No, Prince or not, the Martell was going to earn it. "I'll tell you what, if I impress, then I'll give you my name. If I don't and fall like you so suspect, then who will mourn the loss of a nameless sell sword?" His stance was steady, but loose, ready to move at a moment's notice. From here on, there would be no other words.

 

[Akio]

Ryden Martell
​

The prince of Dorne shrugged if he did not want to tell him his name then if it came down to it he could die without another word. "Very well, dance with me then." He said as he stood there and waited for him. For a moment they stared at each other. His stance was distinctly Westerosi in nature, he likely fought not much different then most knights did but that didn't mean he wouldn't watch him closely. Arrogant as he could be he wasn't someone to play around with his life and for the first near ten seconds he watched him, seeing if he would move first. But no, he was too cautious and Ryden wasn't gonna simply sit here and stare at him when it had been him to offer the challenge.

When he did move he moved quickly, closing the distance on him with one lunge off his forward foot as he closed the distance and swung with his left arm from the right as he took his first blow right at the sellswords face, hoping to force him into a block as he had moved quite quickly in both closing the distance and swinging the blow in a single instant, blitzing him with his speed. While he wore essentially no armor what so ever at the moment and the robe was loose enough to feel odd billowing around him it made him faster then he would be in full plate and his speed was quite quick as he used his long stride and agility to move quickly to move to the sellswords front right side giving him room to swing. In addition, knowing most swordsmen were right-handed unlike he who was left-handed he targetted his left side to make his block more awkward as he would have to pull his sword over his body and while he was doing the same he had inertia behind him. So his blade came in a deadly arc, the singing of steel trying to lay open the mercenaries jaw as this first testing blow came out, hoping to see what this sellsword could do.

 

[Dread-neck]

Lucas the Ashen Blade​

When Lucas had first gotten his hands on a blade, he'd always made it a point to train with both his left and his right. It was a mix of preparation and learning this practice. Should he be unfortunate to lose one, he always has the other to depend on. He made note of a few things as they had their stare down. First it was the way he held his blade. Single handed, his off hand to the side. He would likely be able to catch him if he tried anything below. Secondly, it was the words he'd used before he initiated. "Dance with me.". It could have been a clever quip, or it could have been a slip of how the style was meant to feel. Smooth, fluid; as if he were dancing. Well, Lucas was about to find out if he was right soon enough.

Coming from Lucas' right was a smart idea with the way it would have forced him to block had he been purely right handed. But given his ample amount of free time between jobs, practicing with his left had proven to be a good idea given circumstances. Swapping his grip on the ash covered blade he pressed forward to give himself a little strength behind it and did indeed block, though it was a much more comfortable stance given where the attack was coming from. He then sought to use the Prince's speed and commitment to the attack against him, pressing forward trying to get as close as he could to the prince and then attacking, not with a blade, but with a hook from his right hand, hoping to keep the prince's free hand busy. Should that be successful, Lucas would follow up by attempting to hammer away at the prince's groin with his left knee hoping to catch him off guard as both his blade arm and off hand were covered.

 

[Akio]

Ryden Martell
​

Ryden was hoping for him to block even still he hadn't expected the block to be so solid. Thier blades clashed with the solid ring of steel on steel as he felt the tremor of impact go up his arm. As expected this man was at least as strong as he was physically, maybe even slightly stronger but he felt he might have the slight edge in speed. Resolving to try and end this quickly, he moved as planned and his hand came to rest upon the blade of his sword. He used his leg and his opponent's blade as a pivot while his foot drug against the ground and tried to rotate his body to his right side around the nameless fighter's left side. As he shifted he could feel the merc's free fist scrape against his ribs, pain flaring up his side as the man's heavy blow grazed him, but the pain didn't stop his movement already in motion.

Pushing hard on the blade's upper portion it would wrap around his sword even as he attempted to step around to his opponent's backside. Suddenly the blade would snap around towards the man's face using his blade as a pivot for a brief moment so that the blade threatened to lay open part of his face. It was not likely a killing blow, as the blade was too short to cut very far into his skull, but it's purpose was to use the motion to cause him to flinch and give the Prince time to end up behind him. Pulling his blade back as the blade-lock was broken due to his rotation he would slide his hand down his blade almost to the hilt as he used it to aim his sword and bring the blade down to try and lay open the mans thigh. It was his goal to hamstring him but not to cut too deep so as to ruin his fighting career if he didn't move in time. If he tried to move away and managed to dodge he would follow him, not letting him gain much distance as he tried to prevent him from retreating unless he yielded.

 

[Braddington]

Daeron Targaryen
Claimant to the Iron Throne​

Daeron was taken aback by Lord Starks question, this was the first time someone had actually asked him this, not whether he was nervous about taking it but whether he wanted it in the first place. He thought on it for a second as he had done throughout the entire day, he finally had a coherent message on the subject however and if he could present that honesty to anyone it would almost certainly be a Stark.

“I have read the history of the Seven Kingdoms, my father’s reign was one of great luck, he had no wars to fight or kin to challenge his birthright like so many before him. He lived long and the Kingdom prospered but all good things come to an end, I will take the throne for mine and my sister’s sake as selfish as it may sound but I will not hover over it like an ambitious sellsword. If Elaena wins then Jocelyn will have us drowned in a river and if the Tyrells win then the best I could expect as a claimant is the Wall or Essos. I will not let such a thing occur. On the other side I will no longer be Daeron, I will be King Daeron III of House Targaryen with all my freedoms stripped and my every action affecting the lives of thousands. Not to mention the path to get there will be most likely be decided with blood, no one is backing down here and that is abundantly clear. I will end up fighting people who in other life times would be best friends, even lovers.” Daerons mind couldn’t help but wander back the Lannister he met not too long ago, if this Council went wrong it would be highly likely their families would be on different sides and for some reason that single thought polluted his mind with a grim tone more than other more immediate concerns. “So to answer your question Lord Stark, I want the throne and I will push for it but not because I want it for power or money.”

Rusty of Shackleford

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Bryce Stark
Wolf of the North
The man nodded, listening intently to the prince. He could see a lot of himself in the prince. Well, a lot of his son in him, anyway. He respected his determination to protect his family. Any decent person would want what's best for their immediate family. "I see. I respect that, Your Grace. The most important thing in life is family. Not money. Not power. Not glory. But family. That's the one thing that's a constant. A real family never abandins you, no matter how far you've fallen." He sighed, saying, "I will support you, Your Grace. But at my own caution. I don't want to make any enemies and risk the Stark's becoming targets if Jocelyn sits on the Iron Throne. But you have my vote." He kneeled before him, saying, "I swore fealty to your father, and I swear fealty to you. I pray that you will live a long and prosperous life." He stood up, excusing himself as he went to his quarters to read the letters the raven had brought him.
Braddington​

 

[Hypnos]

Melessa Tyrell
Widow​

Visenya’s arrival was marked by the loud clashing of steel and iron, as half a dozen knights of the Reach simultaneously reached for their blades, placing their gauntleted hands upon the hilts of their swords and moving to block Melessa from the approaching bastard. It was almost comical, trained warriors and seasoned veterans trying so hard to stop a girl barely half their age from walking around in a flower garden. Visenya ignored them of course and they had little choice put to stand down as she drew nearer, intimidation clearly hadn’t been enough to drive her off and they weren’t willing to face the consequences of actually trying to use force to prevent the daughter of their former king from simply using the legs the gods had given her, and walking too close to their charge. That being said, tension was high in the air, and it was clear that all the guards were on edge, ready to act at a moments notice should Visenya even think about harming a hair on Melessa’s head.

Mel herself was a lot less serious about the situation. She barely noticed as Visenya approached, her eyes fixed instead upon a particularly interesting arrangement of roses which shone in the afternoon light. Even when Visenya began her greeting, Mel didn’t lift her gaze, though she did hesitate for a second, surprised that anyone would be brave enough to come and talk to her through the wall of guards. “I agree,” she replied, after a fashion, the hints of a smile forming upon her lips, “it’s nice to see that even in a castle as this one there’s still a glimmer of beauty to be found.”

She looked up for a moment, her eyes widening as she noticed who exactly she was not talking to. Mel was no stranger to the king’s bastards, after all, they were raised in the Red Keep as if they were royalty (real royalty), though she hadn’t often had the chance to speak to either of them. Her father had always disapproved of the King’s treatment of his two baseborn children, they were bastards and should be given no more respect than that which was deserved by people of their station, though Mel had never had any great quarrel with either of them. The two groups mostly kept to their own circles, and that was perfectly fine by her. It seemed however, that with the Grand Council looming upon the horizon, they were destined to be enemies, with Daeron attempting to take the throne that would rightfully belong to her son, ‘if I have a son.’

“Many apologies Prin… Lady… Visneya” Was she a Princess now? Was she even a lady? How did the address the bastard of a former king, one whose very existence threatened the life of your child. “I did not realise it was you.” Mel returned the basic courtesy, giving a nervous grin before offering a curtsy to the young lady, perhaps it wasn’t necessary to offer such formality to a bastard, however Mel didn’t want to risk the chance of offending the woman. “I am very sorry about your father’s death. I’m sure it is a very rough time for you right now.”

ailurophile

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Lord Ryman Tully
Harrenhal

"It's so big! Much bigger than Riverrun!" The chirping of Lady Tully resonated in the carriage. Dark, curly hair, thickly perfumed and covered in a red-blue dress, Pia Tully was the very image of the Maid. Her lips plump, cherry red and inviting. Her eyes a deep autumn brown. Her eyebrows flexed dramatically, in awe of Harrenhal as she spied it from the open porthole in the carriage. Mouth agape, teeth whiter than Summer Snow flashed in the dimly lit and humid carriage. The daughter of the previous Lord Piper leaned against the wall, her hands gripping the seat as her eyes danced across the keep of the once Overlords of the riverlands.

His wife's excitement was not a shock to Lord Ryman. She displayed this childlike giddiness every time they ventured to Harrenhal, still unable to wrap her head around the idea that men could build such a thing. Comparisons to Riverrun was par for the course, Ryman was bothered when they first married, feeling insecure against the Seven Kingdoms most dominating land feature, sans the icy wall to the far north. But, in time, he grew numb to the comment. It was just Pia's inability to comprehend the majesty of men. Ryman was used to castles, he'd been to most. Highgarden, the Red Keep, Casterly Rock. They were grand, truly, but the amazement died when you witnessed your third or fourth awe inspiring monument. Ryman smiled, nonetheless, finding his wife to be adorable when she acted in such a manner. He rarely saw this side of her unless they ventured South to Harrenhal. Riverrun, while fascinating at first, became just a home for Pia. A mundane one, he could believe. "Truly magnificent, my love." He purred, lips curling forward as he declared his passion for this woman.

A scowl was sent the way of the husband. "Stop that."

Blinking, Lord Tully cocked his head to the right. "My love?"

The beautiful visage of the Maid shifted, practically melting into that of the Stranger. Ryman recoiled, seeing that dangerous glint in her eyes. "That. We're to be dining next to the most noble of houses and you'll be playing king maker. Do not act like some green boy with his britches on too tightly."

"Is affection going to diminish my standing?" His brow furrowed.

"It very well might." Pia retaliated, shutting the blinds to the carriage so to give her husband her full attention. "What kind of king maker furls his face into such a ridiculous expression, dearest? Who respects a Lord more preoccupied with his wife than projecting his power?" She questioned, daggers flying from her eyes and impaling her unsuspecting husband, forcing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

'Another of these conversations.' He wanted to sigh, but he'd be chewed out for that as well. "A lord is a father to his people. I am showing the love that all lords should." Tully defended, albeit meekly, against his wife. It was futile, of course. She would win with her next series of insults, encouraging Ryman to grab a sword and execute someone personally, to show his masculinity. 'I'd much take a lovely stroll down the Red Fork.' Tully thought.

Audible frustration leaked from Pia's perfect lips. "No, my silly husband. You must be strong! Unmoving! Imposing!" Her hands flew to the blinders, flashing it open for but a second. Harrenhal loomed over them. "Be Harrenhal! All men who see this castle feel humbled. You should be the Harrenhal of Lords. Humble the others."

"I. . . Yes. Perhaps. . You're right." While it was true a more stoic Lord, mayhaps like Lord Martell, garnered more respect (or fear, as he saw it) from others, Lord Ryman didn't believe that he wanted to be perceived like that. Still, he gave a kind smile, lips curling upwards with his eyes reflecting the happiness in him. Such talks were not strange between the two. They came out of no where, with his Lady Pia lecturing him on a fault she observed. He adored that quality in her, even if it made his innards feel like pig feed in the moment. She was trying to help him improve, even if they disagreed with how a Lord should be, Ryman respected his wife as an equal in their marriage. Her insight was invaluable.

Strands of hair fell to Pia's face, making her all the more enchanting looking. "What will be the status of our rooms, my Lord Husband?" Her voice denoted that she still felt some fury in her, but she seemed satisfied that Ryman accepted her proposition in the end, rather than continued to argue his point. Lord Ryman was genuinely happy, he hated it when she got herself flustered. Surely, a day would come when they could exchange ideas without his lady Wife being so bothered.

"I am certain that Lord Walder will set aside a room for our family. Mayhaps just us, with our host and knightly sons remaining in a pavilion. So much of the castle is to be filled, I expect not to see a variety of rooms available." It would work out for them, Lord Tully assumed. Young Meera would sleep with her parents as Edmure Tully and Ryman III spent their nights with the knights, no doubt that's where they wanted to be regardless. Among the people! 'My boys do so adore a little exposure to the smallfolk.' He'd have to remind them that they couldn't be drinking here like they would at Riverrun. Too many eyes were open, too many potential snakes in the grass lying to seduce his children and steal a coin purse from them. Whores, mostly, but they might find a false friend in the knights from other kingdoms.

"Just us? And what of Meera? That cannot do." Lady Tully shook her head, lips pursing tightly.

"Well. . . Mayhaps Meera shares the room with us?"

A bark escaped Pia. "Three? In a bed? She is not so small anymore. Nor are you, for that matter." Her eyes hit his stomach. Lord Tully was happy for his beard, as it his the flush on his cheeks. "No. Mayhaps you stay outside, in the pavilion with your boys."

"My lady? Would you not be lonely?" Would that even be proper?

Her eyes rolled. "I will have my baby daughter. Worry not for your wife."

"I see." Lord Tully did not. But, maybe some time with his boys in such a rowdy setting would be for the best. And, it would make Lord Tully appear more rustic, one with the people. A smile crept to his features. Almost instantly, Lady Pia frowned, but Ryman ignored that. "An excellent suggestion. I shall heed your words."

The frown persisted as silence flowed between the Lord and Lady. Minutes passed before Lord Ryman coughed into his palm, looking at his wife curiously.

"What is it, Lord Husband?" Her tone was not inviting.

"Are you troubled, my Lady wife?" He questioned, his smile faltering for a moment. He wouldn't let it die, however. Lord Tully needed to be a brilliant beacon of positivity for his wife, especially if she felt troubled by this council of nobles. And she most likely did.

"Mayhaps." She responded, shortly. Another minute of silence, like the Trident itself, seemed to separate them. Daring not to talk, Lord Ryman waited for his wife to continue. "Who shall you be casting the weight of the Riverlands behind?"

Blinking for a second, Lord Tully hadn't expected to be asked that. It wasn't truly a question he thought into, too much. He and his wife discussed it briefly, before he bid her farewell, needing to make preparations with his Steward for the journey to Harrenhal. "Why, I believe Princess Elaena is the proper choice. Daughter of Aegon, granddaughter of our king. She is the only child trueborn and of his blood yet living." He couldn't back a bastard. If King Jaehaerys intended for Daeron to succeed him, the bastard dragon would not still carry the name Waters. Equally unlikely was the odds of backing the Tyrell claim. A child not yet born promised too many mysteries for Lord Tully to feel comfortable with supporting.

His wife reacted as one might expect. Dismissive, disappointed, and disapproving. "A queen cannot rule the Seven Kingdoms."

"My lady. . I believe you could, if you had the blood of a dragon in you."

"Pah!" Pia waved off her husband's pleasantries. "Don't say that again. Not in private nor public, understand me, husband?" Her red-blue dress folded as the woman sat upwards in her seat. "A queen means that a new king must be found. A new king means the potential for a great family to be crowned king and acquire absolute power. I do not want that, my husband."

Head cocked, Lord Tully felt the question leave his lips before he even thought it over. "And why not? I think we have no shortage of capable lords. Maybe a Lannister or a Martell can uphold the mantle."

"Husband, my dear love." Pia commented with an exaggerated sigh. "I do not trust any House to take the kingship and not be opposed. Nor use that power to settle old scores. It's best if we not risk a Bracken finding himself in that seat of swords, yes?" Tully nodded, giving the former Piper all the incentive she needed to continue. "We cannot support a bastard. No, that will lead to a new family of Blackfyre's out in this world. Daeron and his sister should've been drowned the moment his grace passed, to prevent this very question from circulating. You shall support Lord Tyrell."

Now it was Ryman's turn disapprove of his wife's choice. "Tyrell? A babe? Nay, I cannot."

"Do tell." She said, her words inquiring why her husband questioned her, but her tone demanding he capitulate.

"A babe that may not survive? May not be a man? May grow up mad? Who should rule for the next ten and six years? Lord Tyrell?"

A thin smile on her face, Pia nodded. "Precisely. A babe that may die. . But, in Essos, I hear word that there is no shortage of white haired bastards. A babe can be replaced."

Ryman felt color drain from his features. "I do not support this discussion, my love."

"Consider it, Ryman dearest. The Tyrell's are not a house we have feuds with. They are not a house that wants in land or gold, but glory. We can account for their desires and work to benefit them and us. A bastard is treacherous by nature and a woman would invite the worst of the suitors. We may have a king from the North or from Dorne. I care for neither. We can make friends with those of Highgarden easily and not risk being discarded or lost in a sea of support."

The Lord Paramount of the Trident gave his wife a weak nod of acknowledgement. "I shall. . Take your words into consideration."

Sitting up from her seat, Pia leaned over the carriage interior and placed those delightful lips on Ryman's. "Thank you, my lord husband. You are an intelligent man and I now you will always arrive at the correct decision."

'Yes. . The correct decision.' He thought, now wishing he had joined his son, Ryman III, on a steed. Mayhaps even Edmure and Lysa Tully and their child, Walder, in the other carriage. ​

 

[Yarrow]

Loren Lannister

Walking away from his half brother, Loren thought about the little speech he gave the guy. Should I be this hard on the guy? It’s all fathers fault, why is he still haunting me? He should never had married that Raya women. Now I have to make sure both my half brothers are walking the right track.
Tywald Lannister, the father of both Tyland and Loren had remarried years after the mother of Loren had died. Loren had a hard time accepting this new ‘mother’ in his life and accepting the child they got together, Tyland. Loren had never been nice to his little brother, he had even never called Tyland is brother, it was always half brother.
The Lion noticed the green and gold banners from the Tyrells together with some smaller banners of their most prominent Lords. It would be a good idea to talk to Lord Tyrell.
Clad in his royal looking Lannister attire the guards let him pass without asking questions, the stern look Loren gave them was enough. Finding the right tent wasn’t hard, it was the biggest one and the one with the most servants running out of it. Loren stood in front of the opening of the tent and looked at the guards “I would like to speak to Lord Baelor Tyrell, tell him Loren Lannister is here”

Hypnos

Willam Lannister

The ride from King’s Landing to Harrenhal had been lonely. At King’s Landing Willam was surrounded by all the Lord and Ladies, but now they were travelling to Harrenhal and everyone travelled with their house, Eleana was in some carriage in the center of the caravan. Willam was the only Lannister riding from King’s Landing. Ofcourse he got his servants, staff and other people riding with him, but he still felt alone. It all started when his very good friend and mentor Jaehaerys died. Willam had been around him for nearly all of his life and now he was gone. Willam had never loved Jaehaerys romantically, but more as a father, that is why he also got so close to Eleana. Willam his relationship with his real father wasn’t that strong since he had been away most of the time but the stories brought towards him from the Rock were promising and nice.
Willam got of his horse and gave the leads to one of his servants “Thank you,” he had forgotten the name of the young lad. Willam needed to be here to support Eleana, but there was one person he was looking forward to see again, Tyland, his uncle. The red and gold banners were featured prominently at the grounds surrounding Harrenhal. He walked towards the camp, but noticed Tyland walking near the God’s eye, Willam changed direction and walked over to his uncle “Hello uncle! Pleasure to see you here”

TheFool

Richard Redwyne

Richard would have prefered to have sailed most of the journey towards Harrenhal. He knew it would take a lot of time, but he always prefered to sail instead of riding on his horse. Seeing Harrenhal gave him the first positive feeling after crossing the Redwyne Straits. The golden wine they had brought or the women on the road had also not given him a good feeling. He just didn’t like the mainland, especially it’s tasteless wines and soft women. Ryam Redwyne, the father of Richard wasn’t able to attend the Exalted Council due to health reasons, but Richard didn’t needed to worry his father wouldn’t get better, well, that was what he thought.
Because back on the Arbor, Lord Ryam Redwyne, the old man who had done it’s best to let the Redwynes regain political power, blew out his last breath as he died in his sleep. The news would take a few days to reach Harrenhal, but Richard would be devastated.
His servants set up their camp close to that of the Tyrells, Richard didn’t needed to do anything. Richard doesn’t really like the Tyrells, he just really doesn't like it. If Richard would ever become Lord, he would try to get the Arbor more independance.
The camp was nearly finished, so Richard decided he would go out for a walk and try to find some nice woman to sleep with

 

[TheFool]

Tyland Lannister
Lion Of Lannister


​

“I hope so too, Daeron. Good luck to you later.” Tyland said. The two shook hands. However, their hands lingered. They looked into one another's eyes. And then they both let go. Tyland put both of his hands in the pockets of his pants and stared on as Daeron left him.

“Oh. And try not to bump into anymore people, my lord.” He japed, smiling.

And with that. The Valyrian was gone. Leaving Tyland to his thoughts and his mud-stained trousers.

Elaena Targaryen
Claimant To The Iron Throne


​

She bathed herself in a tub, made of distressed metal. She scrubbed her skin, then dunked her head in so to wash her silver’d hair. She then touched her arm. A bruise had made itself at home. Afterwards- she got out. A handmaiden wrapped her in a towel. “Thank you.” Elaena started, “I can take it from here.”
The handmaiden nodded and left. It wasn’t Elaena’s personal handmaiden. The three of them were left at King’s Landing.
I miss them. She thought as she dried herself. Sansa Harte, and her kind nature. Brella Hogg, and her sense of humour. Meredyth Rosby, and her… well…
Elaena dropped the towel.
She got goosebumps as the air hit her nude body. A new dress had been laid out for her by the handmaiden. I should probably avoid sparring in this one.
It was a white dress with sea foam green frills, and a small black emblem on the breast. The head of the dragon. But where are the other two?
It was far from the prettiest thing she had ever worn, but, alas, she slipped it on anyway.

She sat by the fire. In silence. For how long? She did not know.

Her lip trembled. I don’t want to be here. She thought to herself. I want to be out there… seeing all there is to see. Not cooped up here in Harrenhal.
A soft knock came from the door to her left.
“...Come in.” She managed to mumble.
The door opened with a creek, and in came a shambling man. The Grandmaester. His chains hung down to his hips. Elaena immediately stood up and curtsied. “Grandmaester Harren.” She said. He smiled at her. His smile was always a welcoming one. “No need to curtsy, my girl. Sit. Sit.” He said as he walked over to her. She sat back down. The fire crackled. Grandmaester Harren plopped himself in the seat next to hers.
“How are you, Princess?”
Elaena smiled, “I am good. Just worried is all.”
“Do not fret, child.” He spoke, “Whatever the outcome of this council is- you will be treated respectfully and well.”
The old man stopped, “Look at me. Still calling you a child after all these years. When, matter of fact, you may be my next Queen.”
Elaena shook her head, “It is quite alright, Grandmaester.”
He smiled. “And how are you when it comes to… well… your father.”
Elaena stiffened up.
“I am getting better. I still… I still miss him. Dearly. But I, slowly, am moving passed his… his… death.”
“Well, I am glad to hear it. He would be proud.”
The Grandmaester stood up and walked back over to the door. He stood in the door’s archway and turned around. “No matter what happens, Princess. We are all proud. Of you.”

Elaena smiled at him.
“Anywho, I shall alert you when we begin. Goodbye, my girl.” He said as he left. She said her goodbye back and then took a breath.
I almost dread that alert.

Jocelyn Baratheon
Dowager Queen


​

What a fool. Jocelyn thought, remaining perfectly still. An absolute fool. “Well, what is it you want- Qoren?” She replied. A hint of snark in her voice. “Is it gold? Is it men? Is it marriage?” She turned her head to look at the servants still setting things up.
“Whatever it is you want. I have it. If you want gold- I have it. If you want men- I have it. If you want marriage- Elaena’s hand is without.”

A door behind them opened, and a servant came out carrying a casket of wine. “Apologies, m’lord and lady.” He stammered. Jocelyn smiled at him and told him that they would move elsewhere, so as to not disrupt his work ethic.

Jocelyn and Qoren began to walk, once more.

“What can the other claimants give to you?” She asked. “The Tyrells may offer coin and harvest- but who’s not to say that they shall keep to their offer. The rose does have its thorns, as you, a Dornish Prince, would know. Your lands and that of The Reach have never got on.”
She continued,
“And the bastard? All he has is his status of bastard. He has nothing more. Yes, The Arryns may back him but what will they give to you, hm? Birds? Stone? Sheer boredom?” She stopped and looked directly at The Prince.
He better be believing every word I tell him. If not, then he has little sense. And a man with little sense isn’t worth the time of a woman with twofold.
“Elaena is your blood. Blood is and always will be thicker than water. And Daeron? The Tyrells? They are water. Water with nothing to give you but more and more thirst.”

“Back Princess Elaena Targaryen. Back your blood. Because your blood will reward you wholesomely.”

Tyland Lannister
Lion Of Lannister


​

He walked alongside The God’s Eye for a few minutes, before a voice called out to him. It was his nephew, Willam. “Ah, Willam. It is good to see you as well. How have you been? I did not see you earlier on.” Tyland said, cheerfully.

Spoiler: MENTIONS

Akio
Braddington
Yarrow

 

[Braddington]

Daeron Targaryen
Claimant to the Iron Throne​

Daeron now only had one more thing to do in his mind and that was visit Elaena. The last time the two had talked was at Jaehaerys funeral but they didn’t interact much at the time as the Queen arranged the seating arrangements and Daeron was far to the back of the Sept. Afterwards he did not see her at all as he left for the Vale and no one told him of his father’s death before the funeral had already occurred. He was nervous to see her and was worried about her reaction, he felt no ill will towards her even if they were now on opposing sides, he still considered her his niece and thus family.

As he entered the area she was staying in his blue and white colours he was stopped by guard after guard questioning his identity and why he was here, eventually a smarter than average guard just decided to escort him to where she was. As he approached the room the jovial Grand Maester exited and looked him up and down before smiling and bowing “Your highness, it is fantastic to see you again, I was just about to come find you actually.” Daeron returned the bow, seeing the Grand Maester brought out his childlike side as it always did, he saw the Maester produce a book seemingly out of thin air “Here, I wanted to give you this.” Daeron looked at the tomb he had just been given, The History of the Reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name was adorned in its front with gold “I thought you would appreciate this, I wrote it myself. I have another at the Red Keep so don’t worry about damaging it" the Grand Maester stated before wandering off muttering to himself about something or other.
With book in arm Daeron looked at Elaena’s door and took a large breathe before knocking. He waited for the reply.

TheFool

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Theon and Lana Stark
The She-Wolf and the Little Wolf
It had been a long, treacherous journey to the Bloody Gate. The rugged terrain of the Vale meant that getting there took a lot of time. Theon was all but forced to take only a small retinue of soldiers for protection. He rode his horse, Osha. He had ridden this horse since he was a boy, and it was a good steed. It had been trained to respond to him mostly to Theon and Lana's voices and nod the reins. The woman was atop The horse too, her arms wrapped around her husband's chest as they rode. She vomited in the way here due to how bumpy it was, and because she was very pregnant. She kissed his shoulder, saying, "Are we there yet, love? I feel like I'm going to pass out. The baby's kicking like a fucking madman." The guards laughed, as did Theon. They knew that Lana wasn't very lady like, and cursed like a drunken sailor. Theon turned to her, saying, "We're almost there. And language. The people of the Vale are all about ettiquete, and that wasn't very lady like." She sighed, saying, "Oh God's. It's King's Landing all over again. The last thing I want is some pretentious prick telling me how to be a woman. When he gets pregnant and his stomach swells up like this he can tell me how to be a fucking lady." Theon laughed, saying, "Don't worry. They're not that bad. They just try to be like those knights in the stories. So yeah. Pricks." They came to the Bloody Gate, Theon saying, "I'm Lord Theon Stark. I've come here to visit the Lord's of the great Vale. May I enter." The guard nodded, letting them in as they rode on. Theon smiled, saying, "See? Just talk like you have a stick up your arse and they'll let you in." She smiled, saying, "Yeah. Can we go ahead and get to wherever we're going?" He nodded, saying, "Fine. We'll stop ahead."

They camped on the nearest piece of flat land they could find, everyone's tent being set up. Theon sat in their tent, his wife in her night gown as she said, "Remember the last time we we camped like this, Theon? I believe I wasn't pregnant." He smiled, nodding as he said, "Yes. I do. But I'm quite sure you did become pregnant because of it." They kissed, the woman cradling her stomach as he baby kicked. She chuckled, saying, "You're an energetic one, huh? I love you, little one." Theon smiled, rubbing her stomach as he said, "And so do I. Now, let's go to bed." They crawled into their cot, kissing each other goodnight.​

 

[Akio]

Qoren Martell
​

Qoren walked alongside Jocelyn as she gave points, naturally, he had thought of them himself and he knew she wasn't wrong. Elaenas real weakness was a lack of support but if he joined forces with her they could likely sway a few outliers to their side. Supporting her for the council, especially considering to what was planned wouldn't be a bad decision. And as well... The offer of Elaenas hand was quite a rich one and if one of his sons took her to wife the Martell bloodline would be on both sides of the throne. If there was ever a way to increase Dornes influence essentially monopolizing the bloodline to the throne would be an easy way. He didn't speak for a bit as he walked with her, he was never one to speak without thinking but when he did he was musing to himself almost as much as speaking to her.

"I never planned to support the Tyrells from the start, risking it all on an unborn child who might have no claim at all is not a risk I would have been willing to take... And indeed my people have never been fond of the Tyrells. As for Daeron... Perhaps you are right. There is little he could give Dorne that my own blood could not and a union between our houses would be beneficial to us both." He said turning his gaze to look at her. "Still even with my support we likely still don't have enough people to claim it ourselves. Have you talked to any of the other factions? The Arryns and the Tyrells have their candidates but from last I heard the Lannisters, Starks, and Tully's are still undecided." He said, his mind turning to business and it seemed that he had agreed to support Elaena, though the actual terms were not yet set though he had expressed interest in the royal marriage.

 

[TheFool]

Elaena Targaryen
Claimant To The Iron Throne


​

Another knock came literally not long after Grandmaester Harren had left. This time she decided to go to the door and open it herself. She assumed maybe The Grandmaester had forgotten to say something to her. But when she opened the door- bewilderment hit her face.
Oh.
“Daeron?” She said. Her voice had a hint of shock. “I, um…” They looked at one another. Elaena didn’t know what to do, and it seemed as if Daeron didn’t either.
“What are you doing here?” She managed to ask. She backed away from the door and gestured for him to come in. Though she didn’t know what they would talk about. I haven’t seen him since my father’s funeral.
So many memories and thoughts came flooding back to her. And she could feel herself growing emotional.
I must stay strong.
And be brave.

Jocelyn Baratheon
Dowager Queen


​

Jocelyn smiled. Maybe he does, indeed, have sense still. “It is true. There are several lords and ladies I have yet to talk with. But I don’t believe I need to. There is still a whole council ahead of us- Prince Qoren.”
She looked past him and spotted Rosby, ordering servants around.
“Everything must be perfect.” He boistered.
Gods give me strength.
“So Elaena has your fealty? She asked, trying to confirm whether the conversation was a successful one. “We will discuss more once she sits on The Iron Throne.”

Spoiler: MENTIONS

Akio
Braddington

 

[Braddington]

Daeron Targaryen
Claimant to the Iron Throne​

Daeron walked into the room rather slowly and didn’t look at Elaena directly but looked more so into the distance at nothing in particular. Eventually he summoned the courage to look at her and address her forthrightly instead of skirting around the issue “I ermm, I just wanted to see how you were is all. It’s been months since I have seen you, at Jae's funeral was the last time. So much has happened since then and....I just wish I was there when my father died. I understand if you don’t want me here and I will leave if you want me gone, I just wanted to see whether you were alright, for Jae's sake.” He stepped back for a second and looked down at his feet. I shouldn’t be here, she won’t want me here now I have mentioned him.

Still he stayed in the room waiting for a response.

TheFool

 

[ReverseTex]

Gaheris Coran
Were all liars here... I’m just better.
JPTheWarrior - Alexander Baratheon​

The uneventful, yet bumpy journey from the Storms End has bored the man severely. The Baratheons were decent folk, yet their brains were quite a bore to pick at. Most of his time spent upon the trip had been spent reading, or giving thought to whatever it may be.... And by the end, Gaheris had felt just as productive as he would in Nightsong.

Harrenhal, a mighty mound of cobblestone and architecture, was the place of residency of this “council meeting” amongst the houses. For an heir...? Waste of time. However, as much as Gaheris hated the reasons of the call to order, he knew it could serve him well. Powerful men were here... And over the years, Lord Coran had became a person of conversational interest. A rising minority lord, with a trove of good stories to tell made well for entertaining even the mightiest of men.

Currently, Gaheris stood within a lost hall of Harrenhal, waiting for a bird. After this meeting, he knew he was to hurry to find Alexander for whatever he needed to help the stag wi- A pair of almost silent footsteps filled the shadowed hall, the outline of a cloaked man approaching with haste. “My Lord, I wish to make this quick and concise. I have taken diligence in writing the report out, in which you can find what you have requested... The guard is still working as you have asked, do you have any more requests Sir?” Gaheris’s steel-shaded eyes locked upon the ranger, their adapted coldness an infamous trait for the man, as he whispered. “Nothing at the moment, however, stay near Harrenhal. I may need a message dispersed at some point during the Council, so it would be best for you to stay close. Send a owl to Maven in Riverun I’ve requested this of you, then once this diplomatic event is over I wish for you to report to Kings Landing. I have plans to venture there before Nightsong...” The cloaked man nodded, as he slipped a sealed scroll from his cloak to Gaheris. Taking the parchment, he tucked it neatly within his boot, and when he stood upright the cloaked man was gone...

Outside of the musty castle, the northwestern breeze stroked him gently as he sauntered through the yard... Nature had always been a close companion to the man, but his years in court and in castle began to outnumber those in nature. Gaheris stopped at the agreed meeting spot of him and the stag besides the smithery. He knew whatever this Council would do, he had to profit some way or another....

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Bryce Stark
Wolf of the North

Bryce sighed, sitting in his chair to check the letters. Most of them were business related. Grain shipments, taxes, that kind of stuff. Then he got to the personal ones. The first one was from his wife. She wished him the best of luck, saying that Theon had gone with Lana to the Vale to conduct business. He sighed, writing a letter back thanking her and saying that he missed her. The next one was the the Captain of the Stark Guard. He said thatnthe Bolton's were at it again. He didn't specify what it was, exactly, but Bryce knew it wasn't anything too bad. If it was, the Captain would have said what it was. Probably just making trouble like always. He sighed, finishing up his letters. He wrote one to Theon, telling him to be careful and wished him good luck being a parent in advance. There was no way Bryce could be there for his grandchild's birth, so he had to do the next best thing. He leaned back wishing that he at least had Amelia with him. It got pretty lonely without her stubbornness, and he just wanted this whole thing to be over with so he could go back home. He missed the cold, and his family, of course.
​

 

[Hypnos]

Ser Eustace Lyberr
Captain of the Tyrell Guard​

The Tyrell camp was certainly impressive, towering over all of its rivals likes a green and gold monolith, a physical representation of the power and influence wielded by the overlords of the Reach, or perhaps simply a display meant to stroke the ego of the Lord Tyrell. Whichever it was, it made no matter, cloths and poles were not going to be swaying the opinions of any man, no matter how impressively they were arranged, and despite the insistence of Lord Tyrell, attempting to draw attention to themselves and make an image may not set the right impression for the attending lords. Ser Eustace had attempted to explain this to his overlord when he had first started pitching the largest of the Tyrell tents: a gargantuan monstrosity of black and red, that was the serve as the temporary residence of Lady Melessa Tyrell and the whelp inside of her. It was quite clear to everyone the message that it was trying to get across, though Eustace couldn’t help but feel it was a bit hamfisted. Baelor Tyrell was already seen as a bit of arrogant figure amongst the lords of Westeros, and he was doing nothing to help this representation. ‘That man’ll make a hundred new enemies by tomorrow’s first light’ Eustace contemplated with a frown, ‘and he’ll drag the rest of us down with him, the fat prick.’

But Eustace didn’t have much time to wallow in his self pity, it seemed that soon he would have more pressing issues to deal with. ‘Fuck me, if it isn’t the Lord of Casterly Rock.’ Eustace gave the man a respectful bow of the head, not wasting a moment before he made his reply. “Lord Baelor is simply preparing for the council, I can take you to him now.” He led the man through towards the largest tent, the banners of both House Tyrell and House Targaryen flying from its roof, a red dragon and a golden rose, a stark juxtaposition. “Lord Baelor, Lord Loren Lannister is here to see you.”

“Loren Lannister, a pleasure.” Baelor Tyrell was not as especially handsome man, at least not any more, and Eustace might have even described him as portly, though certainly not to his face. Years had weathered the Lord of Highgarden like a strong tide against a cliff face: he was bald, rotund, and years of drinking only the finest wine from the Arbor had given his face a reddish hue. Somehow this did nothing to diminish his presence. Even Ser Eustace had to admit that there was a certain aura of strength given off by the Lord Tyrell, physically he was mediocre, and he was far from a genius, but there was something about the way the man carried himself that demanded respect. “I would ask if you came here just to see me, but I fear I already know the answer to that.”

Eustace narrowed his eyes as Lord Baelor let out a loud chuckle, the Lord of Highgarden resting a hand upon Loren Lannister’s shoulder, acting as if they were old friends rather than lords of the two most powerful regions in Westeros.

“So, Loren, what is it that I can do for you?”

Yarrow

 

[TheFool]

Elaena Targaryen
Claimant To The Iron Throne


​

Elaena listened to him. Uncle. Though he had the surname of a bastard, Daeron Waters was still her blood. Her family. When he finished his words, Elaena let out a long sigh. She could feel her eyes well up with tears. She jaunted towards Daeron. And wrapped her arms around him. She nestled her head on his chest and began to cry. “I have missed you so much. You… and Visenya. W-Where have you been?” She sobbed. When Jaehaerys passed, Elaena did not only lose her father but everyone else as well. Daeron left. As did Visenya. And then her grandfather followed Jaehaerys into death. For the last several months she suffered greatly with loneliness.
And she wanted it to stop.
“And now… now… this council.” She continued, through tears. “I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to fight Melessa.”
But I have to. She thought. ‘It is your duty’, grandmother would say.

She tightened her grip on Daeron. She didn’t want to fight anyone, but she may have to. Because she was to be the Queen and she had to be brave.
“Why did you leave?” She mumbled, her words barely audible.

Spoiler: MENTIONS

Braddington

 

[Braddington]

Daeron Targaryen
Claimant to the Iron Throne​

Daeron clung to her tightly, tears were welling up in his eyes as a flood of every emotion hit him in a single go. He felt for his niece, he loved his niece and now they were both on opposing sides, both not wanting to fight but he also suspected they were both not willing to back down now with so much at stake. He didn't know what to say to her, what would satisfy her because all the answers he could give did not even satisfy him.

Still holding on to her he began “I know, I don’t want to fight either. I don’t want to see you as an enemy and you never will be seen as that, you are my niece and I love you. You're family and that means everything. After Jae died....I just couldn’t handle it anymore, it broke me. All the Lords and their dirty looks at me as I walked by with my father’s obviousness to it all, the way they all talked behind my back as if I was the one who killed him simply because I am...I am a bastard. I thought I could leave for a few months and come back, I never once thought what would happen...would happen. I didn’t even get to attend his funeral, Elaena, no one told me until it was too late. I am SO sorry I wasn’t here for you like I should have been.” By this point he was crying, unable to hold it back as he had done for months, the council seemed more and more pointless by the second as he clutched his niece.

TheFool