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


Barba Tully

The Great Hall, Casterly Rock, The Westerlands.​



Her interest peaking as Lord Tiber gave details upon his interaction with the dragon queen, however vague they might be, Barba could not help herself but chuckle, her lips curling into a smile. He certainly valued family very highly, or at least that was the image that he was trying to get across, and she considered it lucky that it had been Leanne to catch his eye instead of some other woman, else he may not be so sympathetic towards the Riverlands and her people. 'Walder would like him' she mused, thinking upon her far away husband. Tiber Lannister shared many similarities with a young Lord of Riverrun, and she couldn't help but recognise him in his face, though the thought quickly faded from her mind. Now was not the time to be dealing with the memory of her absent husband.


"I am just happy that you have managed to squeeze us into your busy schedule, family may be important but equally so are duty and honour, as my husband is known to say, and I would not have you neglect your duties on our account, there are many guests at this wedding and the trouts of the Riverlands are the least of your concern, especially when dealing with those as volatile as the dragon queen." His eyes once again met her own, and her face adopted an interested expression as he mentioned being at the disposal of house Tully. She had half a mind to test him and ask for something large, like gold or armies, though that was just a fanciful thought and she would not abuse his generosity.


Her face took on a look of amusement as Lord Tiber mentioned the bid Kuvira had made for the Westerlands and she was very interested to know exactly what words had been exchanged between the two, though neither were likely to divulge such information. "Mayhaps you should have taken her up on her offer, a single request is very broad, and there are a great many things that you could have asked of her. Without any restriction given you might have asked her for the kingdoms which she planned for you to win for her, or her own abdication, both things I'm sure she would greatly appreciate."


Barba smirked, appreciative of the apparent honesty of the Lord of Casterly Rock, she did not fully trust him, though the same could be said for everyone, but he seemed sincere enough. "And I am grateful for that your loyalty cannot be brought like that if a cam on sellsword. I would offer you the same guarantee, but the day it is up to the men and woman of the Riverlands to save their western cousins at Casterly Rock, is the day that the seven hells open up and unleash all of the evils back into the world. Though of course if you do ever need anything of the Riverlands I will pass along your request to my Lord husband."


She regarded the Greyjoy once more, giving Haelga a steely gaze. She had never been a fan of iron born and they had been terrorising the coasts of the the Riverlands since she was a little girl. Barba had no doubt that this girl was different in some way and not the same as her brother in yet she still found it queer that she found herself in the halls of her family's enemies, dinning upon their salt and bread. "I would be interested to hear why it was Lady Haelga came to you in her hour of need Lord Tiber, though I suppose that may be a tale for another day. As for my son, he will not be wanting anything, he has abused your hospitality enough, and mayhaps awakening without the normal luxuries would teach him a lesson about respect, I was not hear for whatever it was he may have done, though nevertheless I feel obligated to offer you my apologies." Benjicot Tully was a trouble that Barba could not continue to tolerate, even if he was her blood and were he to disgrace the family name in such a way agin he might find himself in a cloak of black instead of red.


@WanderingJester @SirDerpingtonIV
 
-


King's Landing


-


"What is going on here!?" Varic yelled. Cethann was fighting off a man. What is going on here? No one responded to Varic's retort. They just fought on. Varic got angry that no one gave him an actual answer. They just kept on fightin'. "In the name of her majesty, Queen Kuvira Targaryen- STOP!" Varic yelled, once more.


And, once more, nobody paid any attention to him. The five Gold Cloaks behind him charged at the thirty-something men. "Fuck sake!" Varic shouted as steel clashed with steel. He pulled his sword from its sheath and ran at the first man he had laid his eyes on. The soldier had a sword, and a shield to match.


He didn't see Varic run at him, so it was easy enough to put a blade through his back. Varic looked around at the crowd of enemies, as the boy he stabbed fell to the cobblestone ground. We're outnumbered. Varic thought. Heavily outnumbered. A man, taller than the one Varic just killed, charged at him.


"Balls." Varic cursed as he parried to the soldier's sword with his own. Gods damn me for being a decent brother. Varic tried to put his sword through the man, but he missed. A stupid move on my part. Varic quickly rotated and blocked the man's sword, once again with his own.


He used his upper body strength to shove the assailant away. It worked. The man fell into a piss puddle on the ground and his shield had sled across from him. Varic was about to put his sword through his heart, but another man came up from behind Varic and tried to slice at his leg. Varic back kicked him- which flung him against the wall of the ol' tavern.


Varic turned to the warrior who had fallen into the puddle, to see that he was up and angry. He charged at Varic. Varic tried to move, but the man's head collided with Varic's chest.


Thank the Gods for armour.


The man, covered in piss, stumbled to the floor- his head bleeding from bashing against Varic's armour. Varic saw in the corner of his eye, the second man recovering. So Varic quickly put his sword through the piss-covered man's neck. The one he had pushed against the tavern's wall was properly up. He swung his sword and Varic tried to block, but the man's blade sliced the tenner of Varic's hand.


Shit. Varic shoved himself against the man. He thinks that because he drew blood that he has won. He pinned the man against the wall and Varic put the sword through the bottom of his jaw. Blood spewed from the man's mouth, and it splashed in Varic's face. He shut his eyes and then removed his weapon from the man's jaw. Varic wiped his face of blood using the back of his hand.


The fight had escalated quickly. Varic could see one Gold Cloak already dead on the ground. Another was missing an arm. Seven hells.


Varic spotted his brother, having his own little sword fight. There is still so many of them. Suddenly, three of the shielded men cornered Varic against the entrance to a dark alleyway. The trio raised their shields and slowly marched towards Varic. "Stop." Varic said, sternly.


He stepped in the puddle of piss that he previously had thrown the man into. Also in the puddle was his shield. Varic ducked and grabbed it before hurrying back up and blocking the soldiers swords as they came crashing down upon him. He successfully blocked all three with the shield.


That was handy.


Varic pushed the shield up whilst their swords were still on it. This caused the three of them to stumble back. Two young women came out of a wooden door, laughing. They stopped laughing when they saw the sight. "Get back inside, now!" Varic shouted at them- and they did as such. The three men charged at Varic, all at once, with their three shields.


He crouched until his knees were on the ground, dipping in the bloody piss puddle. The one right in-front of him stumbled over Varic and his face smacked against the wooden door in which the women had come from.


The one on Varic's left charged too far and lost his footing.


The one on the right caught on to what Varic was doing and bashed the shield against Varic's face. Varic's helmet got most of the blow, but the shield hit the tip of his nose. And blood began to leak from his nostrils. A second after his shield hit, Varic stood up, wrapped his arm around the man's neck, and put the sword through the man's armour. It got close to his heart, but not exactly. He shoved Varic away with the shield.


The man that was on his left had recovered and lunged at Varic from his side. Varic moved out of the way and swung his sword at him. The blade went through the side of his face. The man on his right with the shield bashed his shield against Varic's torso and then took out a small dagger he had in his boot.


He lodged the dagger into Varic's leg armour. Impact. The dagger's tip was inside of Varic's leg. Varic used almost all his strength to push him to the other side of the alleyway and then Varic swiftly put his sword through the man's chest armour. Right where his heart should be. The man coughed up red, before he slid down to the ground.


The one who bashed into the door was just recovering and barely on his feet, so Varic pulled the dagger from his own leg and ran at him with it. He impaled the dagger into the man's throat. He took it out. He shoved it back in. He took it out. He shoved it back in. The man's throat was soon covered in blood and stab wounds.


Varic took the dagger out put it into his belt. He looked behind him to where the others were fighting. I have never fought so dirty in my life. Who are these people?


Varic looked at the side of his hand that had been sliced. Then he looked at his leg armour. It stung slightly. Another warrior advanced at him as Varic left the side alley. He swung his sword at Varic, and Varic parried it with his own. Varic and the man slashed at one another- each time having their swords meet.


Varic managed to get the upper hand and sliced off his opponent's sword hand. "AGHHH!" The man screamed as blood sprayed profusely from where his hand once was.


Varic gripped his sword with his two hands and shoved it through the side of the warrior's face, near his ear. The man's body fell to the to the ground like a ragged doll.


Varic exited the small alleyway he had been pushed into and found himself at the edge of the fight. Two more Gold Cloaks had died. Possibly more, but three is all I can see. He could also see his brother, Cethann. He managed to stay alive. Cethann killed a man and looked up.


Varic and Cethann's eyes met.


"What the fuck have you done now!?" Varic said, panting. He ran over to his blood-covered brother to see if he was alright, before the next wave of soldiers came at them.


@TheAncientCenturion


@Hypnos


-


The Kingsroad


-


"I promise you, William." Aerea said. She was a little taken aback by his sudden change in tone. "I am not lying about any of this. And I will see you are given anything you want when you and your men return me to The Red Keep."


He seemed to accept that she was who she truly said she was. I put my trust in him, hopefully he has done the same with me. "When will me pack up camp and move?" Aerea asked him. She was curious as to how soon they'd arrive in King's Landing.


@Ser Davos Seaworth





 

Casterly Rock


Egyll & Darwen Frey
​



"There it is, the home of the Lannisters!" Darwen exlaimed in excitement, his face bright with a smile that threatened to tear his face in two. "Do you think I can meet Martyn Lannister? Or Trevir Arryn? I hear they're legendary warriors, two of the best in the world. Mayhaps one day, I too, will be a legendary warrior." Darwel muttered to himself, but as soon as the words were uttered, he had regretted them. The Frey heir could only could hope, yet his father was of another mind.


"Best you pull your head out of your fairy-tale fantasies, boy. Brave warriors often get nowhere in the world, a single man can die half a hundred ways, no matter how well he can kill another. True power lies in politics." The older Frey advised with hostility in his voice, as he turned to his son, and audibly scoffed.


"But you won't listen to me, will you? No, you think you're a knight. Like in the stories, you're not a knight, and won't ever be a knight, stories will never be sung about you. They're stories for a reason, entertainment. Nothing more, the quicker you start taking your role as my heir more seriously, the better! You are a Frey, we cannot afford to live our lives dancing around with swords in the woods, like the Starks, or the Lannisters!" Egyll reprimanded, the carriage which carried them now slowing.


Darwel was deathly silent, his face cast down, as he tried to focus on only the sound of the sweet breeze whistling by, a futile attempt at tryig to find some solitude in nature.


" 'ere we are Mi'Lords, Castely Rock, enjoy yer Grand Feast, eh?" The Carriage Driver spoke, opening the door to allow both Lord Frey, and his son to exit the carriage. Casting his eyes back Darwen could only imagine how he'd rather be sitting atop a hose along with the Household Guard, rather than be couped in a carriage with his father. They were here for a tournament, why bring Darwen if to not let him take part?


"Come, we are already late, let us not waste more time." Egyll ordered, already setting off towards the Rock, the Household Guard close behind, yet Darwel couldn't hold his tongue.


"Surely you'll let me take part in the tournament, father... After all, is that not why we are here?" Darwel abruptly questioned, causing Egyll to stop in-his tracks and turn, now red-faced with anger and annoyance. "Do you not listen, ever, boy?! I will not have you shame our House by being humiliated by some lowly Hedge Knight who nobody has heard of!"


Darwel faltered slightly in the face of his father's verbal assault, before a meak tone took over his voice. "Then if we are not here for the Tournament..."


"We are here to strengthen our position in the realm through wits, and politics! You are here to learn, but I fear there isn't a sense of wit in that thick skull of yours, were you your brother Ryan, I would die a happy man. He should be heir, not you." Egyll hissed viciously, causing Darwel to merely start walking ahead, he fought the tears that wanted to form. His father would not have the satisfaction.


"That will be the last I hear of it!" Egyll yelled, taking to walk himself. His destination was of course, wherever the Tullies were, but Darwel had other plans, his father be damned.
 
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Pyke


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


The journey to Pyke had been a quick and smooth one, on an average ship it would take little under a day to travel from the Ten Towers to Lordsport but on an Ironborn long-ships that was made for gliding along water it was even shorter. He was to meet with Vaughan Greyjoy and Lord Botley, mayhaps the bloody moons will be there too. Siegfried thought hopeful that he used this time of preparation for the Kingsmoot well, he could be reaving at the moment but he recognised if he was to be king he would have to take it seriously. Lordsport was as busy as it ever was, ships loaded with fish, vegetables and queer powders that had a strange smell to them likely from those powdered cities in the east, but even with the business of Lordsport Siegfrieds arrival seemed to bring attention of many. After all he had declared himself a candidate for the Kingsmoot, he was confident that his people would back him, not because the other candidates were weak but because he was strong, Conn started a war, we need someone that can finish what he started, they have to realise that. Siegfried and his men wasted no time, they had a quick stop at a tavern for some ale but other than that they head straight for Lord Botleys hall. When Siegfried stopped for ale he sent a few men ahead to alert Lord Botleys men, just to let them know he was coming and once he had finished his drink he made his way up with the rest of his party. "Hey... Siegfried Harlaw." He proclaimed pointing to himself as he approached the entrance.


@TheFordee14


--------------------------------------------------------------------------


Casterly Rock


POV: Daeron Nymeros Martell


Since Cayden left Daeron had thought of returning to the feast, but he eventually decided to remain in his brothers room. He lay on the bed looking up to the ceiling, the bed itself was comfy enough but it still wasn't what he was used to, the Water Gardens... That was all Daeron could think about, it was practically where he lived. It was where he read, where he ate, where he meditated, slept, played cyvasse, it was his heart and he felt lost away from it. Dorne is where I belong. As Daeron was deep in thought he found himself startled by the knock on the door, he rose from the bed lime he had just awoke and lazily shuffled towards the door lime a drunk yet he had never tasted wine in his life, he preferred oranges and lemons. Once he opened the door he saw another guard "Prince Cayden asked of me to request that you wait in your Lady sisters room, he wants a family reunion of sorts he said." Daeron smiled and with a nod he responded "Thank you." The guard then left with a wave of his hand.


Daeron stepped out of his brothers room and gracefully shut the door behind him before making his way towards Elias room, it was only a few steps away being the room next to Caydens. He then stood outside the door, Should I let myself in? Daeron shook his head to himself before knocking on the door, Elia would be angry if I went in her room without permission. Daeron waited for a response, if there is no one in I will have to wait outside for the others.


@Akio


@LittleWolfie


--------------------------------------------------------------------------


Harrenhal


POV: Kay Baelish


The road had been easy on him and his men, they had made their way to Harrenhal in good time, even with the hedgeknight Ser Tree he called himself being unable to ride a horse he managed to keep up, said something being on foot his whole life or something. The rest of his party consisted of 15 veteran or so they said sellswords, they were heavily armoured and with good equipment so he was inclined to trust them. There was also another hedgeknight, Ser Rufus A delight if I ever knew one He was nothing but, rude, disruptive and foul. He earned the reputation that he garnered. Kay and his men slowly and peacefully made their way up to Harrenhals entrance, making sure that they were freindly. "Its Lord Baelish... I request and audience with Lady Whent, I have valuable information concerning matters she most certainly will deem important."


@TheFordee14
 

Tiber Lannister


The Great Hall, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

​



Tiber Lannister gave a nod of his head to Lady Barba. The woman was strict, but not without a heart. The blunt woman even offered a joke or two, at the expense of Kuvira Targaryen and perhaps her own home. Still, Tiber kept things semi-formal, though friendly between them. Sipping the ale in his cup, the Lion of Lannister saw fit to return some of the humor, though he began with addressing some of the more serious points first. "Indeed I can see how much House Tully values its words. I shall do my duties first then, though I would hope that the Father would not find me lacking in completing my own responsibilities. Seven knows there's a pile of paper work waiting for me in my office the size of Golden Tooth." He chuckled, before continuing. "Perhaps, but the needs of the Westerlands are many, and I found it difficult to fulfill them all with a single, magical wish granted by her Grace. To be fair though, I did ask for a living, breathing dragon."


The Lord of Casterly Rock downed his drink, before turning back to the Trout Matriarch. "Well, often I walked down the Halls of Heroes here at the Rock whenever I require a break from something. By and by, you must tour it at least once before you leave Lady Barba, perhaps with myself and Leanne and some of House Tully as well? Anyways, I walk down the Hall, and I'm reminded of the great Kings of the Rock that came before me, as well as Great Lords. The Thunderbolt, Cerion, Tommen I, Lancel I, Gerold. All great men that brought glory and honor to Casterly Rock and House Lannister. Then I'm reminded of the man who supplied seed necessarily of my birth, and I find himself repulsed that such shared the same blood as the legends buried in very hall I current walk down." He turned and looked seriously at Lady Barba, "I am only Tiber Lannister. While I have done much in the past few years, more than my father had done his whole life, they pale in comparison to some of the greats that have held this position before me."


"While I do not wish for long lost glory, and attempt something foolish as to declare independence for the Westerlands and myself the new King of the Rock, I do wish to leave a legacy for my children much different than the one I received when I had to take my father's place. A legacy where the first act wasn't a fight for survival in a civil war. A legacy where my son may come into his own at a more appropriate pace. I'm sure you and Lord Walder share my sentiment in this as well." Then Tiber smiled and stretched his arms, looking at around the Great Hall. "Well, the hour is late. You are correct in that that may be a tale for another time Lady Barba. I understand about your son. Though I'm likely beating a dead horse at this point, if you change your mind, please don't hesitate to ask for something." The Warden of the West waved his hand dismissively. "Not a problem with Ser Benjicott. Family does not hold things to each other. I do hope he doesn't feel too bad in the morning though."


Tiber gave each woman a polite and well mannered bow. "I bid you ladies good night, and perhaps even good morrow, should either of you choose to break your fast in your quarters. I hope you will all enjoy the rest of the festivities here, and I hope to talk to both of you more in the coming days." With that the Merry Lion turned on his heels, and walked out of the Great Hall, followed by a pair of Lionguards back to his quarters.


@TheAncientCenturion


@SirDerpingtonIV


@Hypnos


@Leusis


@AnnoDomini


@Lancelot


@LittleWolfie


@Fezzes (For your reading pleasure)


@Robyn Banks (Same thing)


_________________________________________


Martyn Lannister


The Melee Pit, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​



Martyn Lannister kept watch from his post near the entrance of the highborn stands, just as he had done for the good part of the day.


The Mountain Lion didn't know whether the Warrior was taunting him when he found out that they needed extra security at the melee pit during the bracket fights, but he found himself in view of most of the fights that took place. Given the fact that most of the men participating just finished beating the Seven Hells out of each other the day before, he was fairly certain that most of the fights would be boring. He was correct of course, but that didn't mean he didn't get to observe and at least understand the general fighting styles and preferences of many fighters around Westeros. Some even fought valiantly, such as Kevan Brax; the poor boy never had a chance against the giant of a man he went up against the first round, though he did last longer than Martyn thought he would. The Mountain Lion was glad the boy had the sense in him to yield before he was mauled too badly.


Now came the final two fighters of the day. Many of the highborns were returning from wherever they went during the semi finals, when the fighter they backed didn't actually competed. The lowborn stands had been perpetually filled since the first fight in the morning, though it had been with different people throughout the day. Smallfolks must have traveled for days, even weeks, just to take part of this. Martyn stiffened slightly as footsteps approached and stopped next to him. One of the Lionguards offered the Mountain Lion's waterskin back to him. "Here you are Ser. Water, as you requested, with a cup of barrel beer mixed in." Martyn gave a nod to the man before taking it back and drinking a bit of the liquid. He would always remember the first few days of the War of the Lions, when he would be on the privy if he wasn't on the battlefield. One day some men refilled his waterskin with beer mixed into his bag, and the runs stopped. Since then, Martyn made sure every refilled of his water skin had a cup of mead in it, and suggests the same for any of his Lionguards. He was no maester, but he knew what stopped his early travel sickness when he saw it.


Looking back up at the highborn stands, the Mountain Lion could see his older brother and his fiancee. They had arrived sortly after lunch, as the second fight of the semi finals was well underway. All around them were the rest of the Lannister family. By the Seven Martyn had forgotten how large his family was, with all the Lannisters from the Rock, Lannisport, Castamere as well as distant branches of Lannett, Lanny and Lantell, not to mention the ones married into the family. It would only grew larger with this union. As several children gawked at him from a distance, Martyn half wondered where his sister was, and half knew what she was up to. The man tried not to worry for her, reasoning that she was a woman grown and could take care of herself. Yet Martyn still had his concerns. The battlefield and even tourneys were no place for ladies, outside of the stands. Still, the Mountain Lion turned back to the pitch, eager to see the next fight coming up to distract him from his concerns for his little sister.


@Akio


@TheAncientCenturion


@SirDerpingtonIV


@Hypnos


@Leusis


@AnnoDomini


@Lancelot


@LittleWolfie


@Fezzes (For your reading pleasure)


@Robyn Banks (Same thing)


__________________________


The Suntear Knight


A Tent, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​



The Suntear Knight cursed as she struggled with a piece of armor, along with Kylie on the side.


"Hold still my lady, if this falls off during an actual joust and a lance hits you, you can seriously get hurt." Celena scowled as she did her best with Kylie to put on the rest of her armor, though it's a pain every time with just two people, and one of them helping.


"Yeah, but it's just registration isn't it? There won't be a lance coming at me." Kylie finally got the strap correctly in the slot and tightened the thing, as Celena felt the extra weight on her body.


"Yes, but you'll also be exposed, and we wouldn't want people to question your breast size, now would we?" Kylie teased, and continued to work all around the armor, as she might a dress for Celena. The Lannister scowled before holding that part of her body still, and using the other arm to help put on the rest of the suit in other places. The armor was well made, in fact it was tailored to her, as much as she could without visiting the smithies themselves. It had a been an arduous process getting all the pieces without someone finding out, but with a bit of guile and a lot of patience, Celena got herself a full set of armor, along with the weapons to match. Officially, this would only fit on an adolescent, and she doubted that it would even covered everything on Martyn above the waist. Still the Suntear knight was happy with what she had, thankful that the day was cool enough that the armor wouldn't roast her alive, along with the others.


Finally with the last piece tied on securely, she tied her long hair up, and pull her helmet on. Turning to Kylie, Celena gave a clunky spin. "How do I look?"


Kylie gave her a thumbs up in return. "Like a true knight, ready to rescue his princess." She giggled, while Celena opened her visor and scowled.


"If only a few more of those would pursue my hand in marriage." Kylie gave her a knowing look.


"Give Trevir Arryn a few years. He'll come into his own I'm sure." Celena looked skeptically back at her.


"Sure, but why wait when there's men like Roland Wilds around?" Kylie instantly turned into a colorful flush of red, while Celena cracked a smile and went over to hug her. "It's okay if you like him, dear. You can do a lot worse than Lady Wilds."


"But what if he only wanted to get in my small cloth?" Celena barely heard Kylie as she mumbled. The Suntear Knight gave her a squeeze.


"Then I talk to Tiber and you won't have to ever talk to him again." Kylie pulled back quickly, looking frighten.


"Bu-but, tha-that's not-"


Celena laughed, "Relax Kylie. That was a jest." This time Kylie scowled, but Celena was already out the door with her visors down, shield on her back with lance and sword in hand. "Wish me luck!" She walked out of the tent, with Kylie quickly following with wide eyes.


"No, wait my lad-Ser! You don't even know where registration is!"
 
-


Pyke, The Iron Islands


-


The doors opened. Both Vaughan and Lord Ellar Botley looked at 'em as they did. Siegfried Harlaw entered the hall, and with him he brought his kingly presence. He is so alike Conn. Siegfried waltzed in, a cup of ale in his hand. Although Conn was more proper in his ways.


Botley stood up and raised his empty cup. "Well if it isn't The King Of The Iron Islands!" He half-japed, with a bellowed laugh. Vaughan smiled a small smile.


"What is dead may never die." Botley said, making his free hand into a fist and putting it to his heart. Vaughan did the same, "What is dead may never die..." He chanted.


Lord Botley sat back down and the legs of his chair creaked, as if his seat were about to collapse. "Boy, get your king some fish." Botley yelled at the young serving boy. The boy scurried out of the room. "And ale! We can never have enough ale!" Ellar shouted after him.


"So what brings you to my home, Harlaw?" Botley asked as Siegfried came closer. Vaughan looked at his cup which was still full to its brim with ale.


@Lancelot


-


Highgarden, The Reach


-


Filicity awoke to the singing of baby birds. There had been a nest by her bedroom's balcony for quite some time. It was always so lovely to hear their lullabies, and their morning cheers. She was wrapped in her blanket that Eveleen and Hallie had made for her on her last birthday. It was cream, and green, and decorated with tiny yellow roses. She lay on her back and looked at the canopy above her for what seemed like forever, before her handmaidens came in.


"We've got a bath running for you, my lady." Shanna said, sweetly.


Just give me five more minutes of peace...


"I'll be up now." Filicity replied as she threw her knitted blanket from her body. "Yes, my lady." Shanna soon left the room- leaving Filicity in the company of the baby birds, once more.


Only this time, they had stopped singing. Their singing had slowly turned into a cry. They were longing for their parent. Father. Filicity thought it'd be best to not think of him.


So she sat up, and slowly got out of her bed. She grabbed a white robe and put it on, before she made her way towards the bath room where Shanna and her flock of other handmaidens would be waiting.


-


Eveleen sat at the table she had sat it the previous night, at her father's funeral. Only this time it wasn't wine and cheese being served, but breakfast. Pork sausages, and egg, and meat pudding, and toasted bread with butter. Hallie sat by Eveleen's left, and Katleen sat to Hallie's left.


"Anna, be a dear and butter Katleen's bread for her will you?" Eveleen asked, politely.


"Yes, ma'am."


The dining hall was half-full. The people who attended Hollis' funeral and stayed the night where all here. Most of them would return home later today. But others will ride north, to Goldengrove, and engage in war. Eveleen cut a sausage in two with her cutlery and sighed.


My sons will go with them, along with my idiot husband.


"There you go, my lil' lady." Anna said to Katleen as she finished spreading butter over the slice of toast. "Thank you!" Kat said, cheerfully.


"Do you think they'll be gone for long, mother?" Hallie asked.


"Hmm?" Eveleen mumbled as she popped the piece of pork sausage into her mouth.


"Do you think Erik, Luthor, and father will be long gone?" Hallie repeated.


Eveleen washed her food down her throat with some freshly squeezed orange juice. "No, my love. They'll be finished their mission in no time."


Hallie smiled at that.


I must say goodbye to them before they go. A mother's luck is all I can give them now. It's all a mother can do.


The hall's doors opened, and several people entered. Arren and Ireyne being two. "Anna, prepare the table for my aunt and brother." Eveleen ordered.


"Yes, m'lady."


@Jabroni


@Archon [ If you do wanna' post. ]


-


Harrenhal, The Riverlands


-


Ser Warren Whent entered his dining hall, dressed in black attire. The dining table was decked out with all kinds of food. Warren licked his lips as he spied the ham he and his men had roasted the previous night after arriving at Harrenhal.


At the table, excluding food, were his mother and...


"Kay Baelish?" Warren said, in shock. "By the seven, I haven't seen you in a while." Warren sat down at the head of the table, next to his mother. When Warren's smile faded, he looked into Kay's eyes.


"What exactly are you doing here though?" He asked as a serving girl filled his cup with white wine. Warren smelled the wine, before taking a short sip.


"He has something wonderful to share with you, my son." Lady Maeve said. She was dressed in a blood red gown that frilled at the shoulders.


Warren lay his cup of wine by his empty plate and clasped his bony hands together.


"Do share then." He said.


@Lancelot





 
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Casterly Rock


Viserys Blackfyre

​



The Captain-General smiled to himself as he approached the practice lanes, what he assumed would be the spot for the registrations before the tilt. He wore slick armor, one without the infamous grooves of Gothic armor. It was more famous for being used in certain Reach Houses and the Free Cities. While it arguably was inferior when it came to outright defense, it allowed for an increase in mobility, something that made up for the previous flaw. Given the choice Viserys might of chosen Gothic styles, but the armor was all he could find on his way from Highgarden. The armor was held together by a serious of tightly tied red leather strips, and was devoid of any house colors. He wore no tunic, just the armor and a skirt of mail underneath that. On his hip was the famously 'lost' sword, Blackfyre. He felt it was only right to take it out with him.


"Slow now." He said gently to the horse below his thighs. Wind Cutter wasn't the fastest animal Viserys ever mounted, contrary to what the last owner had implied. But like most Dornish breeds, it had stamina to make up for any other flaws. Wind Cutter even took Viserys from the Dornish Sea to Casterly Rock, and for that he couldn't complain about the animal. In fact he was growing fond of it. There was only another knight ahead of him, to his surprise. A lithe thing, likely with some Essosi or Dornish blood in him, Viserys smirked underneath the helm. 'Poor guy, he won't be able to stay on his steed once the lances meet.'


He stayed mounted on Wind Cutter as he came up beyond the other knight. "Hail." He greeted, slipping his visor up. "This is where we are to put our names down for the tilt, is it not?" Viserys asked, keeping his emotions hidden to the best of his abilities. But to once more ride in a tourney gave him a sense of unease, yet excitement. It brought him back to a simpler time, back when it was just Ser Rodrik and he, taking turns in the tilt, even crossing lances with one another on a few occasions. He'd admit he was never the best, but by the time he left Westeros he was a skilled horsemen, and his skill atop a horse only improved when he joined the Golden Company. 'Let's see if these Westerosi can keep up.' His violet eyes shook slightly, forcing himself to pay attention to the knight before him. "I'm Ser Morath, Son of Myraen of King's Landing. May the Seven Bless you." A smile graced his lips. He saw no need to antagonize this knight or any other knight, at least not at the moment. That could wait until he saw his competition in action.


@WanderingJester


Viserys' Armor
 
Harrenhal


POV: Kay Baelish


Kay held a cup of Honeyed wine and sipped at it modestly at the table of House Whent, he had thanked Lady Whent for her hospitality before Ser Warren made his appearance. Kay shot a friendly smile in Warrens direction as he entered the room, he appeared to be shocked to see him rightfully so, It is a wonder Lady Whent wasn't more cautious herself. As Warren began to speak Kays warm smile did not break, "Me neither, it is good to see you though Ser Warren." Kay paused before continuing "What am I doing here" he let out a slight chuckle "What? Is visiting an old friend not enough reason?" he jested. but he did not lend him the time to respond. "Do share then." An eager one isn't he, Ser Warren has always been a fool, thats why he let the rotten dragonspawn escape him. "I believe we have something in common me and you... closer to home than you may have thought?" Kays eyes glanced towards Lady Maeve and then back to Ser Warren, "I am here to propose a deal... an alliance of sorts... I think we can help eachother, House Baeish and House Whent." Kay purposefully stopped to let the Whents respond I can't just let it pour out all at once, it has to be a trickle.


@TheFordee14
 
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The Suntear Knight


The Jousting Field, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

​



The Suntear Knight swing her horse around, as she got back to the edge of the field after her last run.


The trials had been going well so far. For each would be contestants for the joust, they had three tries each to hit three of the targets. The first was a life size mannequin of a mounted knight. The knight would need to get at least two clean strike off the chest of the dummy knight in order to pass. The second was a quintain. This would be a bit more difficult, as the jouster needed to either hit the target marked on the quintain directly (judged by an official nearby) once or the quintain twice in order to proceed to the last jouster needed to stab through a moving ring suspended over the riding line by a rope that moved. The difficulty of a moving target made Celena nervous when she first saw it, but she showed no emotion outwardly that could be detected through her armor.


So far, things had been good. While the kind registration officials assured her that she may take an extra try if she needed for showing up so early, as most entree knights were no doubt still watching the melee finals, she hadn't needed them. Two clean strike off the chest of the first dummy knight were done as soon as she was done with the first and second run, and though she had missed the mark on the quintain, she managed to hit it the first time she rode through. Now as she waited for the officials to reset the thing, a voice startled her out of her concentration. Turning, she saw another knight rode up to next to her Rouncey. The light brown horse shook a bit, before moving slightly to the side to make room for his compatriot.


Looking at the other knight, he seemed average built for a warrior, then again the most experience Celena had around knights was being around her older brother, and Martyn's hardly the built of an average knight. Turning towards him, the Suntear Knight raised her right hand in a fist and greeted the other man. "Ha-" her voice cracked slightly, and Celena coughed, as if to clear her throat, before responding in a deeper, but slightly more artificial voice. "Hail, Ser Morath. They call me the Suntear Knight, as per the crying sun on my coat. I believe you would want to find one of the officials with the scrolls by the tent over there." She pointed to the tent next to the large jousting field, where a side was exposed, showing two men conversing at a table with many scrolls, quills and ink bottles on it. Celena noticed the purple eyes of the man and was about to comment when a voice called to them from down the lane.


"Suntear! Ready up!" The official was signaling for the next rider to come down the lane. The Suntear Knight gave Morath a nod, before starting a trot down. At Celena's urging, the horse moved faster, moving into steady gallop as the divider rose up next to her. Just as she came within twenty paces of the target, she whipped the reins again, signaling the horse to charge. The Rouncey moved into a full charge, and if a rider loses his heart now and pulls the rein, he would either get thrown over the steed and trampled or both horse and man would go down in a wreck. Celena looked only to the target though as she flew to it as though on the back of a dragon. Adrenaline pumping, she aimed the spear and thrust the weapon, stabbing the tip into the quintain and causing it to swing to the side. The horse began to slow at Celena's gentle instruction, and finally trotted to a stop at the end of the lane. Looking back, she sees the green flag go up, which meant that she had passed the stage, as opposed to the yellow continue test or red fail. Smiling in her helmet, she began to ride back to where she started, knowing she would have to go to the next lane, where the moving target was being set up already.


@TheAncientCenturion
 
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TheFordee14 said:
-
-The Kingsroad


-


"I promise you, William." Aerea said. She was a little taken aback by his sudden change in tone. "I am not lying about any of this. And I will see you are given anything you want when you and your men return me to The Red Keep."


He seemed to accept that she was who she truly said she was. I put my trust in him, hopefully he has done the same with me. "When will me pack up camp and move?" Aerea asked him. She was curious as to how soon they'd arrive in King's Landing.


@Ser Davos Seaworth





Click to expand...

William Thatcher


The Kingsroad



​



Maybe that was a bit harsh William thought as he was walking away from Aerea, if she was just some highborn from Kings Landing this would be an easy job, but a princess? He was putting the lives of every man in his company at risk. It was easy to see why she had lied at first but the fact that she was still hiding something bothered William.


He made his way to his tent and put on his armor, strapping his sword to his waist and putting his shield on his back before beginning to break down the small tent.


I don't doubt that she is who she says she is, but this is crazier than any job he'd ever done.


When he was finished with his tent William looked around the campsite, most of his men were ready to move out and the camp was now completely bare. He walked back to Aerea "We leave now, Kings Landing is less than a days ride from here, we should arrive by nightfall." William strapped his tent to his horses saddle and climb on top of it in one swift motion before extending his hand to Aerea "Shall we get moving?"


@TheFordee14
 

Alyn of Hull

Eel Alley, King's Landing, The Crownlands.​



Wincing as his blade drove deep into the goldcloak's flesh, Alyn had little time to savour his victory before the man pressed another assault, Cethann's large and powerful hand bypassing his steel fullhem and finding itself locked around the Hull boy's throat, tightly squeezing all of the colour out of his face. 'Fuck' Alyn thought, as it dawned upon him that his shield would be of no use to him now, not whilst it remained upon the back of his armour, collecting dust as its owner felt the life force drain out of him. Even his dagger remained useless in the man's shoulder, held down by the force his enemies hand upon his wrist, though regardless it seemed to be doing a good amount of damage to the commander and as he pushed it further into his body, hoping that the man would relent and allow him another breath, he could see a scarlet water gushing from the wound it had inflicted.


He could not see what it was his men were doing, and he feared that moving his head even an inch would serve only to increase his suffering, though he had confidence that they could deal with the common rabble of the city watch. They were men of Driftmark after all, old, true and brave and it would take more than a few street rats to fell them, especially when they held such a large advantage in terms of numbers. His eyes met with Celtigar's own, brown to green (A contrast to his traditional Valyrian pale blonde hair) and he could see the rage emitting from him, like a wild animal, even hearing a howl, though that may have just been the heat of the moment.


"I'm uncultured!" He spat, with his last breath, hoping that the the projectile fluid would distract the man enough to elevate his grip, though he had little time to see the result as his brain formulated a new plan of survival. He was a simple man from a small town, though tasks such as this were not unknown to him, Lord Baelor had a lot of enemies and they often found themselves having unfortunate accidents, so he knew his way around dark alleys and other less than legitimate locations. His eyes fell to Cathenn's hip a frown ever present upon his lips, his own blade was preoccupied with Cathenn's shoulder though the same could not be said for the commanders own and with the speed of a man who knew every movement could be his last, his shield arm gripped the handle of Celtigar's sword, pulling it from its sheath only to shove it back into the man's body, piercing the armour around his neck and hopefully what lay behind it.


Until then he had been oblivious to the fight around him, though as he felt the pressure around his neck lessen ever so slightly and he was able to catch his breath, suddenly growing aware of the bodies piling up behind him. Several goldcloaks were dead, including all those that Cathenn's had originally brought, though lying beside them were also many of his own men, friends whom he had fought beside for many years. Will and Watt, Janos and Jonothor all lay dead in their Stokeworth armour, almost indistinguishable from their fallen enemies, though Alyn knew, and he would remember them.


It took him a little while to register the slaughter continuing around him, though his own men seemed to be winning out, due to sheer numbers if nothing else. His eyes caught those of a man he recognised, Ser Varic of the Kingsguard and he felt suddenly a wave of emotion. Ser Varic was a warrior and a great sword, but even he couldn't take on this many enemies and once and Alyn did not particularly relish the though of his death. Celtigar as a knight was good and true and a far better man than Alyn ever was. He thought on it for a second, before deciding to spare him if he could, and hopefully save him from a gruesome and inglorious death, he did not want blood so pure upon his hands.


@TheFordee14 @TheAncientCenturion


Baelor Velaryon

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



"Walk with me, I grow tired of the city air" Baelor hardly even registered to whom it was he was speaking, instead walking briskly past the man and out of the hands tower, trying to ignore the last scathing remarks that Vladan threw at him. He had lived in this city for a long time and as such had developed thick skin for such insults and mockery, though it still pained him nevertheless. Vladan was an insolent fool, who thought too highly of himself for Baelor's liking and the Lord of Tides looked forward to the day he could knock him down a peg. The old man may think himself irreplaceable but that was far from the truth, there were plenty of old crones at the citadel and like as not there would be one with an attitude more to Baelor's liking, though he removed such thoughts from mind for the time being, Vladan had the queen's ear and Kuvira would grow suspicious of his disappearance, perhaps a venture for another time.


He continued moving throughout the keep, checking occasionally to see if the man was still following his charge, leading him past his own offices and out of the castle proper, stopping only when he reached the long steps that led down Aegon's high hill, the elderly Lord leaning against the railing, and breathing in the sea air emitted from the Blackwater Bay. He had served Maeryn and this retched city for almost half of his life, but Driftmark was still home, and he would often come here to gaze upon the calm waters of the bay, wishing he were back upon his island home. He remained silent for a time, basking in the sea before him, enjoying his brief respite from the horrid nature of the city. He cared not for keeping the man waiting for he had seen his like before, he was in charge of the city for now, and he was no stranger to lickspittles who thought they could worm their way into his good graces now that he held a shred of power, and he had no doubt that this man was much the same as the dozens before him.


"My apologise for keeping you waiting... Ser" He regarded the man coldly, his was unknown to him so he must not be someone of much importance as Baelor made an effort to acquaint himself with all the major lordlings in the city, though the fact that he was allowed admittance in to the halls of the Red Keep showed that he at least bore something of note. "There were important matters to discus with the small council" and was the council small, he made a note to hunt down Manderly's boy next time to avoid such hostilities again, though the real issue was the absence of the others, the master of laws turning his cloak was a notable thing as was the disappearance of the master of whispers. "I would ask why it is you sought me out today, especially when it became apparent that I was otherwise preoccupied. I am a busy man, you know and I do hope this is important." Baelor yawned, he hadn't managed to sleep all night and his drowsiness was catching up with him, he made a personal note to double the guards around his chamber for the day, lest Vladan tried something that he would come to regret.


@SleepyBuddha
 
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Adrian had silently followed Lord Baelor as they both left the city for a place that would make the Lord more comfortable, " You need not apologize my Lord as I am not worth such a kindness." Adrian said looking Lord Baelor over carefully. The man certainly had the strong military bearing of a soldier as well as the more reserved manner of a man used to the inner workings of the politics within the city. Adrian wasn't arrogant enough to think he could talk his way into the graces of the Lord. What he sought was a transaction of what would soon be a very rare commodity.


Even within the Alchemist's Guild there are only a handful of people that are capable of making The Substance, and pretty soon he would be the only one able to craft The Substance. Adrian had been plotting the death of his fellow senior alchemists for quite some time, but his morality had prevented him from doing so. Luckily for Adrian his associates were getting on in years and their minds were becoming addled.


Adrian put his hand against the railing and tugged on a necklace showing a small vial of The Substance, " I would like to bolster the crown by providing you with a steady supply of The Substance. I'm ashamed to admit that I I fear that our fair city may be over taken by war and I wish to do my part to aid in its defense. I may not be able to wield a blade but I can make something a little more powerful if I am not being presumptuous." Adrian said keeping his face devoid of emotion as he removed the necklace and held the vial in his hand.


@Hypnos
 
-


Harrenhal, The Riverlands


-


"An alliance, you say?" Warren scoffed. He himself thought it was a bit silly to call allying with such a minor house an 'alliance'. "I mean no offense, old friend- but what would House Whent achieve by allying you with House Baelish?" Warren asked. Lady Maeve gave her son a disapproving glare.


"What my son means to say, Lord Baelish, is that we would be gladdened by any help you give us." Lady Maeve said as she put a tall glass cup to her pale lips.


"Yes. That is what I meant to say." Warren bit his tongue.


If he spoke his mind, he'd be listening to his mother wail on for the entirety of the night.


@Lancelot


-


The Kingsroad


-


"Shall we get moving?"


William Thatcher asked as he extended his arm to her. Aerea looked at her one hand, and then placed it into his. "We shall." She said, smiling. With William's help, Aerea got atop the horse and its saddle. She looked up. The once orange sky was now almost completely blue. She held on to William as he and his men begun moving. Their horse began to trot.


Soon I will be home. Bugger my sister. It is my home, and I will be glad to see it again...





@Ser Davos Seaworth





 
Harrenhal


POV: Kay Baelish


Kay had predicted the scoff that escaped Ser Warren, it was the same scoff that he had heard his whole life, the noble houses of westeros for some peculiar reason felt that they were Above the Rest as House Mallister said. A mistake too many highlords have made in the past... they will learn soon enough, all of them and then they will never look down on lesser houses again." Kay spoke in a tender voice towards Lady Whent, "You honour me with your words Lady Whent but Ser Warren is wise to question me as so, a House as grand and prestigious as yours can't afford to make mistakes can they?" at the end of his sentence he slowly turned to Ser Warren with his voice unchanging.


"I suppose a few sellswords, hedgeknights and Midlor Point would not be enough eh? Although I guess House Whent wouldn't have much use of a few herds of sheep." Kay leaned forward onto the table, slightly lowering his voice so that they would be pulled into listening intently. "Inside Kings Landing and land around I have a certain level of influence... many lesser houses confide in me and lets just say I regard Lord Cethann of the Goldcloaks a close friend of mine." Upon finishing he leaned back in his chair a bit before taking a sip of the honeyed wine he had "Oh and quite a bit of money too."


@TheFordee14


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Lordsport


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


Siegfried has expected Lord Botley when he entered the hall, it was his hall of course but it was a pleasant surprise when he spotted Vaughan Greyjoy at the table too. "Well if it isn't the King of the Iron Islands!" Siegfried felt himself loosen up, he had expected a tense discussion of where loyalties lay but it appears he didn't have to say a word. Siegfried vigorously pounded his heart in response to the men "What is dead may never die!" he repeated the words that mean't so much to him and his people. As he drew closer to the table Lord Botley returned to his seat, the damned thing audibly creaked underneath the man, Will he be okay?


"What brings me to your home? Why the finest fish and ale in the Iron Isles... HAR!" Siegfried looked at the two men, almost for a reassurance of sorts, his nose twitched slightly before his voice returned to him, "The Kingsmoot draws near, I plan to do a bit of travelling before it... to see how the Lords of the Iron Isles are holding up."


@TheFordee14
 


Eel Alley, King's Landing

Cethann Celtigar
​


Cethann Celtigar grinned down at Alyn with malicious intent as his hand grasped at the man's throat harder. It was a rare moment where Cethann would dirty his own hands without the support of his Goldcloaks, and perhaps it was for that reason many people thought Cethann to be limp wristed in a fight. While he was never the prodigy that Varic was, Cethann had his own ways of ending fights. Typically with raw brutality and reckless violence. This would-be assassin would be the first of many to understand that Cethann was a lord to be feared. His grin deepened, showing the yellowing teeth of the man to his assailant, the Antler Fucker who thought killing a possible ally to the Baratheon's was a good thing. 'Fat chance of me opening the gates to that pompous lord now.' His thoughts were dripping with both hatred and confidence. He was Cethann Celtigar, scourge of King's Landing, who were these knights to oppose him? 'Moronic squires pressed far too early into actual service.'


As the assassin looked desperate, as far as Cethann could tell from the way his body reacted to the brute, Cethann pressed every advantage. He pulled Alyn's wrist back now, slowly taking the dagger out of his own shoulder. He still had the unsettling expression that promised pain towards his assassin, but there was a hiss as the blade slowly slid from his wound. Until then, adrenaline was doing its part in keeping the injury silent. But the sudden movement reawakened the pain in his shoulder. His blood slipped freely from the blade, a small pool of it collected on the dirty cobblestone ground between them. Cethann began to move the man's wrist and dagger now, slowly but surely, aiming it for the wielder himself. That would be a gruesome fate worthy of any thinking they could kill him.


"I'm uncultured."


"Hahaha." He laughed at the remark. He had to, his opponent must of been growing desperate. Cethann didn't know how well his comrades were doing but the Goldcloaks would be patrolling the streets regularly now. It wouldn't surprise him if more came upon them at any moment. Cethann just needed to tear his opponent limb from limb before his allies fell.


Another voice tore through the alley, among shouts and cries that were deaf to the Crabs ears.


"What the fuck have you done now!?"


Varic? What was his little brother doing here, down in the city? He finally took his eyes off of his target, noticing the Goldcloaks that came with him. Some were already dead, but he was happy to see his brother nonetheless. He'd never admit it to the Kingsguard himself, but Varic was the most capable sword he'd ever met. Cethann considered himself a talent behind any weapon, be it a blunt object or sharp blade, but Varic outshined him even more so. It was once a cause for contempt between them but all those notions were lost. Cethann was just happy to see a friendly face, it being his brother was an additional bonus.


He roared. "What the fuck are you doing here Varic?!" He pressed the dagger forward. The man might of been dead already, at least in Cethann's book. He took the liberty to continue the dialogue. "I am doing my job, Antler Scum seeped into the city! Find more guards, there's much more of th-AHHHHH!" The brute hadn't seen it coming, pain unknown flooded his body and near shut him down.


"M. .Mm. myyyy . . . .sw. . . .wwaarddd." He muttered with recognition. Strength was rapidly leaving his body, the fucking bastard had used Cethann's own weapon to deal a killing blow. 'A killing blow!' Cethann had never imagined his death would be like this, in an alley by an unknown assassin. A rebel, no less! Cethann sunk further onto the sword until it split his neck open, letting his head fall onto the shoulder of the assassin. He stared at Varic, eyes losing their light rapidly.


All of Cethann's personal gripes vanished when he saw his little brother again. Regret and misery flashed through him, and for the life of Cethann, he wasn't sure if it was genuine or only because this was the last man he was seeing. 'I'm sorry.' He wanted to scream. 'I lead you here. You should of been Lord of Claw Island.' He refused to shut his eyes, even as they grew heavy. Blood now leaked down his neck like a faucet, some collecting in his mouth. His body slumped now. His arms were now coiling around the assassin, pretending to have some strength length and 'keep him held down'. Cethann truly needed him to stand still. His feet felt like skins of wine.


He opened his mouth, he had to say something. He wished he were stronger. Strong enough with his death throes to kill this Antler fucker. To kill all of them, and let his name be cast down in legend alongside the Laughing Storm. He was weak. "Run." He croaked. It was a shout half filled with blood, much of which was draining down on the cobblestone ground behind the Antler Loyalist. In that moment Cethann wished he were a different man, one capable of leaving a meaningful impact on his brother with his last few words.


He couldn't. "Runnnn." He bellowed again, eyes refusing to budge. As the last word escaped him, his body slumped over a second time, head now relying totally on the Alyn's shoulder for support.


All his life Cethann had wished for real power, and once he was appointed to a position that gave the Lord of Claw Island a morsel of power, he held onto it with such pride that could humble a king.


And now he was dead in Eel Alley.


@TheFordee14


@Hypnos





Casterly Rock

Viserys Blackfyre
​


"An enemy of House Martell, eh Suntear?" He let out a courtesy laugh. "I shall let the ruling family of Dorne know, next time I am graced with their presence." The knight seemed like a nice lad, maybe a bit nervous, as the first sound that Suntear made was shrill. That and the reluctance to actual name himself gave Viserys the impression that Suntear was an antisocial knight. But at the same time, Viserys couldn't hound Suntear for that. He himself was in disguise. "Any road. . " Viserys was willing to make more small talk with the knight, but alas, an official called him away. Viserys huffed, pulling his visor down.


Morath road forward once Suntear was away, a man in richer clothing than what might be expected of an assistant looked at the hedge knight suspiciously. "And you are. . ?"


"Ser Morath, son of Myaern, of King's Landing." He replied, confidently.


"Hmph." He seemed skeptical of the claim, looking over Wind Cutter and the armor Viserys wore. "You wear fine enough, for a knight without a lord."


"I had one once, alas, we had to part ways." Viserys sunk his head, recalling false bitter memories.


"I shall take your word on it." The official said without a moments delay. "You seem well off if you can afford such fine materials and a horse such as this one. You'll be able to afford the bounty, or are you willing to sacrifice your horse and armor?" He asked with a raised brow.


Viserys smiled down, although the visor kept it most concealed. "It will be no trouble, milord."


"Very well. ." He still seemed against the idea, but urged Viserys onward regardless. The first test is simple, and you'll see numerous judges along the side to keep an eye on you."


With a gentle kick to Wind Cutter's sides, the horse began to speed forward. At the far end of the tiltyard stood a a dummy. Viserys was instructed to hit it twice and then he'd progress to the quintain, and finally there would be the challenge of piercing the center of several moving rings. Viserys felt the rush of nostalgia as he eyed the dummy at the far end of the tiltyard. Before he could acknowledge it, he was off, slamming the lance into the dummy for the first time. He turned Wind Cutter around as quickly as he could, making his way back towards the target, lancing it's chest again. There was a small murmur of approval from the knights and judges around him. Viserys devoured all their praise, moving onto the next test.


The quintain was no harder than the dummy. He was instructed to strike at a specific region, and the Captain-General wanted to laugh in the man's face. 'Is this what knights now find challenging? If I can't hit this, then I'm a poor soldier.' He readied Wind Cutter and the Dornish stallion was off again seconds later. He aimed the lance at what he thought to be the correct location, spinning the quintain around several times before it stopped. "Now onto the rings?"


"No." The nearest man shook his head. "Do it again. You missed by half a hair, but half a hair too many."


Viserys opened his visor, glaring at the man with confusion. "Half a hair? Who's hair? Not my hair!"


"Half a hair, Ser." He pointed back down the tiltyard. "Per Lord Lannister's rules."


Grumbling, Ser Morath galloped down the tiltyard, repeating the strike, this time hitting the desired mark. "Check your hair, to be certain." He said with animosity. He didn't wait to see what the judge said, he simply galloped to the next challenge. The fabled rings of fate. 'No more challenging than hitting a Dothraki screamer. And the one behind it, with the same lance. . ' He reassured himself. Viserys had never done that, but he'd seen people do that. People he deemed inferior to him. And if they could, why shouldn't the dragon be capable of replicating the feat?


"Send your lance through all of the rings, Ser." The final judge gestured to the assortment of rings, each with a peasant moving them erratically.


Viserys looked down to the judge, plucking his brown hair out, giving a single strand to the judge. "Be accurate." He kicked Wind Cutter and held the lance steady. The last challenge was intimidating only until you're flying down the tiltyard, Viserys found. It was nothing compared to what he'd gone through in the Disputed Lands. It was nothing compared to what he faced in tourneys when he was half his current age. Viserys grit his teeth, the visor displaying none of the pure concentration that was going on his face. The first and second rings were punctured, the third soon after. The fourth began to weave out of his path but the Dornish Stallion seemed to sense his urgency, and came faster towards it. He pierced the ring, the fat of the lance dragging the ring and the peasant halfway down the rest of the tiltyard before Viserys turned around, a confident grin underneath his visor.


"Does thou need my hair to see if I made it?" He let Wind Cutter trot down the rest of the tiltyard as he made his way off the arena, letting those who were arriving behind him to compete.


@WanderingJester
 
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The Suntear Knight


The Jousting Field, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​



The Suntear Knight raised her eyebrows at Ser Morath as he cut in front of her at the ring tilt, but said nothing. She knew that with the helmet covering her face, the gesture was meaningless. Still, Celena couldn't help but felt a tinge of satisfaction as the other officials looked upon the other knight in disapproval, going without their consent and arguing with the results. Still the officials begrudgingly waved him through, giving him the approval to participate in the joust. She moved her rouncey forward, intending to take her run before anyone else cut her. The Suntear Knight nodded at the official that called out to her, and began her first run at the moving targets. Her horse trotted down the tilt, before speeding up to a gallop. Soon she could see the rope that had swung up and down above the tilt, but not the ring that hung on it. Celena could sense animal beneath her eager to move faster, and against her better judgement, she allowed the gallop to turn into a charge. The Suntear Knight realized her mistake when, between the wind and the increase vertical movement from her horse, it actually became harder for her see the small target.


Suddenly, Celena saw it. There, no more than twenty paces away and hanging in the air on the rope, was a straw ring. Confidently, Celena leveled her lance at the target, and just as it came into range, she thrust. Nothing. The Suntear Knight blinked as she felt her lance connected with nothing, and before she knew it, she was at the end of the tilt. Turning around, Celena saw the red failure flag come up. "Shite," she cursed under her breath. The straw ring hung in the air, bouncing up and down as though taunting her. Pulling the reins around, the Suntear Knight led her horse back to the front of the field, where the official gave her a sympathetic look.


"No worries lad. You've still got two more tries. Just relax." Celena gave the man a smile, before remembering that her visor was closed.


Instead she nodded, and in her deeper voice, spoke. "My thanks, though I must admit I haven't trained with moving targets as much as the quintain as a moving target." The older man nodded sagely.


"Aye, I can see that. Listen, what you oughta do is this: Memorize the pattern it's moving in before you even start riding. Once you get that, time the charge and the thrust of the lance so that you're stabbing where it will be, not where it is at the moment. That's how you'll get the bugger." Celena looked at man, then the ring on the rope, then the man again, and her eyes widen. How didn't she think of that?


Giving the experienced rider another nod, the Suntear knight replied. "Many thanks ser." The man waved his hand dismissively.


"Nah, none of this damnable 'ser.' I'm just an old man who's been riding horses since he could walk. I leave all the 'ser-ing' young lads like you." He looked down the field where they had just cleared the tilt from the last rider, who also missed. "Alright, remember what I said now: find the ring before you ride, memorize the pattern, then stab where it's going. Go now!" He slapped the back of Celena's horse, causing it to begin to move forward. Startled slightly Celena turned back to where she's going. How am I suppose to find the thing if I'm already moving? A bit annoyed, the Suntear Knight stopped her horse just before the lane, and looked. After a few seconds, along with the official's increasingly annoyed call for her to go, she found the target. It was slightly left across in the oncoming lane on the other side of hers, bobbing in the air. She urged her horse forward, never once taking her eyes off of the thing. It moved in an almost oval pattern, diagonal due to the slight wind on the field. The rouncey moved into a gallop now, and finally Celena got it. Leveling her lance, she pushed the horse forward, moving into a full charge.


The Suntear Knight stabbed the weapon, and instantly she knew it struck true. The ring ripped right off of the rope, hanging on to her lance a bit as she finished her run at the end of her lane. Turning around, Celena could see the green pass flag being waved, and the older man at the beginning giving her a salute. She happily saluted back, before moving the horse off the field to where the servants would take them back to the stables. Dismounting, the Suntear Knight strolled the happy animal's mane, before handing the reins to a stable boy. "Take care of him okay? He did well today." The stable boy nodded nervously, before leading the horse away. Turning around now, she saw that there was a section marked off for competitors only to relax, eat and drink before and after the tryouts, with a good view of the field. Since Celena figured the melee was likely to be over by now, she want over and took a seat at one of the stands, watching some other knights now going down the lanes, trying out respectively for the joust on the morrow.


@TheAncientCenturion
 
-


Harrenhal, The Riverlands


-


Warren eyed Kay Baelish carefully as he spoke. "And why do you think my mother and I would need those, my lord?" Warren asked as he sipped another sip of his whitened wine.


Lady Maeve shot a look at him, once again. "We could definitely use them, Warren." She said, in a somewhat condescending tone. Warren huffed.


"We could, my dear mother. But I would like to know what Kay would have us do with such things?" Warren snapped. His mother glared at him, angrily. Warren was a grown man. He may not be lord of Harrenhal, but he was not going to let his bitch of a mother interfere with him during conversation.


Especially if the conversation involved Kay Baelish, of all people.


@Lancelot


-


Pyke, The Iron Islands


-


"You mean ye' plan to tally votes, hm?" Vaughan laughed. Botley laughed as well, as Siegfried took his own seat. Botley was laughing a bit too much. He's drunker than a Dornishman at a goat farm. The serving boy Ellar had sent away for fish an' ale returned with both. The boy laid them out upon the stone table that the three men sat at.


"Have your fish." Botley said, still laughing slightly.


Vaughan's stomach turned at the large, disgusting fish that was on the platter the boy had brought. It was riddled with small flies. And it smelled off shit.


What kind of shit? I do not know.


"So- how many do you already have with your cause?" Vaughan asked Siegfried, hoping that conversation would rid his mind of dead and awful sea life.


"Not counting us, of course." Botley chimed in as he dug in to his 'meal'.


@Lancelot


-


King's Landing


-


"There's much more of th-"


A sword got put through him before he could even finish speaking. His own sword. Varic felt like he was about to fall to the ground. His knees weakened. And his sword hand shook. Many an emotion came over him. It ranged from anger, to sadness, to regret, to helplessness.


"Cethann..." Varic whispered. His brother's body flopped around. "RUN!", was his final word. I won't run. I won't leave you. I will never leave you, brother.


"CETHANN!" Varic roared as he pushed through a soldier in his way. The soldier tried to grapple him, but, Varic swung his sword at the man and sliced his face, from ear to ear. Varic ran to his brother's corpse, and in a fit of rage- he swung his nameless sword at the man who had killed him.


Varic was paying no attention though, and the man easily moved out of his way. Leading Varic to fall beside his brother's corpse. It gushed blood. More blood than Varic had ever seen in one place.


The man who had killed his brother stood above him. The fucking bastard. Varic saw something in the man's eyes. Is it remorse, or pity?


"Go ahead. Do what you will." Varic spoke as he lay by his brother's side. He gripped his sword, tightly. Am I really giving my life to this man? I should fight. I should fight, and fight, and fight until I can do so no more.


But, Varic looked around. Every last Gold Cloak had been slain. The remaining foreign soldiers regrouped behind the one who had killed Cethann.


I'll never make it out alive if I did fight. I'm a good fighter, but all they have to do is go at me all at once. Then I am done. Finished.


Varic looked at his elder brother as he lay there, dead. Varic felt like crying- yet no tears came. He was filled with regret. Varic regretted how much of a little shit he was to Cethann.


What will mother do? Varic suddenly thought; a grim thought it was. Several years past, she lost father. Now she'll lose her oldest son. And I will be all that is left. A knight who will never hold lands. House Celtigar is dead. And I will be too, once this monster puts a blade through me as well...


@Hypnos





 
Last edited by a moderator:
TheFordee14 said:
-
The Kingsroad


-


"Shall we get moving?"


William Thatcher asked as he extended his arm to her. Aerea looked at her one hand, and then placed it into his. "We shall." She said, smiling. With William's help, Aerea got atop the horse and its saddle. She looked up. The once orange sky was now almost completely blue. She held on to William as he and his men begun moving. Their horse began to trot.


Soon I will be home. Bugger my sister. It is my home, and I will be glad to see it again...


@Ser Davos Seaworth





Click to expand...

William Thatcher


The Kingsroad



​



As the company of men began moving William found himself constantly watching his surroundings for any movement. He was confident that he and his men could handle whatever bandits may be prowling along the Kingsroad, but something about having the princess with him kept him more alert than usual. He needed to break the silence somehow or this ride was going to be much longer than usual.


"So what was it like? Growing up in a palace that is." William was careful not to talk to loud, which was easy when Aerea was so close, on top of that Williams men were making enough noise to distract from his conversation. Having grown up in Flea Bottom William often wondered what went on in the rich parts of Kings Landing, but he'd never had an opportunity to ask a princess "I mean it looked so nice on the outside I can't even imagine what it's like on the inside."


@TheFordee14
 

Storm's End, The Stormlands


POV: Braedon Baratheon
​


Braedon made no action but stare the Lone Wolf down. Who was he to accuse him of attempted murder? He knew that he had done no such thing, though he felt the blood boil in his veins nonetheless. He wished nothing more at the moment than to gore and slaughter the Wolf, but Braedon himself was no expert swordsman. Even with the years of experience he's had, he would last a few minutes against the man at the very best. Aiden, while far from being the strongest of the Queensguard, was a member of the Queensguard regardless. Braedon didn't doubt that the Wolf would put his life on the line either, making matters all the more severe. Before him stood a bloodthirsty brute—one he couldn't kill if he wanted to keep an ounce of respect from his allies. He was all but prepared to have the Lone Wolf detained, were it not for his brother's timely interruption.


"I would not see you harmed, dear brother. For 'Ours is the fury', you do the leading, and the ruling. I'll do the fighting."


Perhaps he should have been thankful for Rory's offer, yet all it did was leave a bitter taste in the Baratheon Lord's mouth. Was he supposed to be touched, in the slightest? Well yes, Rory did rest a hand on Braedon's shoulder, though it did nothing to reassure him of his brother's allegiance. If this man was content with leaving their father's death unresolved, he had no business declaring for Braedon. Especially not in a "trial" as implausible as this one. Clearing his throat, Braedon stepped forward fully intent on ending this madness. As he did so, however, an arm reached out from his side, blocking his path and stopping him from progressing. Ser Orwen?


Puzzled, Braedon looked at the knight, who remained as emotionless as ever. "Let them fight," he whispered, now retracting his arm.


"And why should I allow them to do that?" Braedon responded, who couldn't help but raise his voice only slightly.


"Rory Baratheon is a renowned fighter and Aiden Stark has aged rather poorly, if I do say so myself. I believe the odds are in your favor."


"And if they're not?"


"Then your brother is dead, Aiden Stark is injured, and you are alive," Ser Orwen answered in a confident and definitive manner.


"Very well," Braedon announced, not hiding the minimal amount of bitterness in his voice. He returned to his previous locations, giving the fighters sufficient room. With any luck, Aiden Stark would end up dead, and his brother unfortunately injured.




***

​



Braedon stood gazing at the unconscious Stark's body, practically begging for someone to drive a sword into it. Having savored every howl and groan of pain the two fighters produced during the fight, Braedon was incredibly disappointed when the sparring came to a close. Though, the disappointment would soon be coupled with the infamous Baratheon fury upon catching Rory's commands. Did he think that he had a shred of authority in the Stormalnds? The only land he owned was nothing more than a pile of rubble, given to him by a senile king. A dead, senile king no less.


No. Rory Baratheon would not be victorious in his presence—not now, and not ever. He needed to be reminded of who the Lord of Storm's End was. That smug smile on his face needed to be erased. His victories needed to be shattered. Putting on a half-assed smile himself, Braedon walked up to congratulate his brother. Rory could see through his guise all he wanted, it didn't concern Braedon in the slightest. "Well done—I expected nothing less from the Raging Stag himself. Although, I thought you could've done just a tad better. Just a tad," he whispered into Rory's ears before giving him a single pat on the back. He would have continued on, though an envoy came jogging towards the two, seemingly bearing urgent news.


"If you'll excuse me, it appears I've matters to attend to," he explained, striding away from Rory and in the direction of the man bearing the Baratheon colors. "What is it?" Braedon asked, his curiosity piqued.


"It's Lady Estermont, my lord. She's just arrived at Storm's End."


"Of course, we wouldn't want to leave her hanging, now would we?" Braedon answered, strolling away from the scene of the crime.


@Hypnos @Archon @TheAncientCenturion @TheFordee14
 

Carth Flowers


The Tarly Encampment, Just Outside of Highgarden, The Reach.



​



Carth Flowers sat by the campfire, close enough to share in the warmth but not too close for the embers to really bother him.


The knight had gotten off of his patrol shift merely half an hour ago, and what had originally supposed to have been a two hour patrol turned into a three hour one when they encountered a few drunken soldiers from their own forces. After taking the care to reprimand them, as well as getting them to their tents before Lord Helyon found out and start to hand out lashes, Carth and a few others had to cover for them as well as finish out the patrols. While men in most armies couldn't give two shites about one another, Helyon Tarly treated the Tarly force with some difference. When the punishments came, they came to the whole garrison, unit, or even the army, as did the rewards. The Lord of Horn Hill, while strict, also placed accountability on each man to look out for the other in their force, so that this sort of unity would translate over to the battlefield.


The disciplinary tactic did work, though with unforeseen side effects. More than once troublemakers, or just men who couldn't adjust to the army life, found themselves dead after "accidents" and "bandit attacks" on patrols and such, or beaten to the point where they're either sent home or left behind (the latter being more of the case on the field, at least when Ser Rowan wasn't leading the expedition). There came an almost intolerance for weakness or a lack of discipline from the rank and file, and even more so in regards to the commanders, some of whom took great lengths to ensure discipline within their units, to the point where even Carth thought they were excessive. For some strange reason, whether it be fear or respect, no one ever directed their anger at Lord Helyon himself. The Tarly knight suspected it was both.


Now, clad in only the leather clothing that he wore under his plate mail, Carth stretched out on the ground next to the crackling fire. The nights at the Reach weren't as extreme as Dorne, but a strong breeze could still send chills down even the most hardened veteran's back. The nights in the Red Mountains were worse than here. Still, the knight enjoyed the warmth of the fire, and it reminded him of happier times with his mother. Looking at the other souls around, Carth could see some of the others either going to sleep already in their tents, or breaking out their rations to dine on, or carrying buckets of water from the nearest source and using it. His stomach rumbling a bit, the bastard knight reached for his pack nearby and pulled out his portion of the field rations they were each assigned. Everyone from the levies to Lord Helyon himself ate the same thing. The only difference between the lower rank and file and the commanders and knights were the alcohols they were given. The soldiers got ale or beer, depending on their choice but usually more on availability, and the commanders and knights got mead or wine.


Pulling the content of the ration out, Carth grabbed the piece of bread that could likely double as a mace head and pulled out a knife. Using the campfire to heat up the utensil, he used the hot knife to slice quickly into the bread, before placing the pieces by the fire and taking a chunk of cheese from his pack. He placed the cheese on the pieces of bread by the fire, before moving to take a slice of salted pork and a tomato he and few of the lad picked the day before during a patrol. The bastard knight stuck the meat on to a stick and placed that by the fire, before biting into the tomato and tasted the sweetness of it. A few more bites and the tomato was gone, and so Carth moved on to the toast. The cheese had properly melted at that point, and the food more than edible in regards to its current softness. Granted, it would still never grazed the mouth of any highborns outside of Horn Hill, but it tasted better than before. Munching the piece down, he looked up to see a fellow approach.


Ser Rowan Tarly greeted some of the men at the neighboring fire, and after exchanging a few words and a laugh, came this way. That was the heir of Horn Hill. Unlike his father, the Fair Tarly motivated his men by being amongst them, instructing, encouraging and helping where needed. Everyone, despite what they may have to say behind his back, were familiared enough with him to welcome him into their midst. Coming by, Rowan hailed some of the men next to Carth, before sitting down next to them. "Alright there lads?" A few grunts and ayes returned, and Carth swallowed his bite of toast and melted cheese before responding.


"Aye commander. Just eating a bit after a long day." Ser Rowan nodded, understanding. It had indeed been a long day, from the morning large scale drills under the supervision of Lord Helyon himself to waiting in line at the mess tent for the rations dispensaries and weapons detail to the patrols in the afternoon into the evenings. Still Carth respected Ser Rowan. Between the command meetings to the drills he was in himself, and possibly meetings in Highgarden, he had had a long day himself. Still the man chose to purposely move through the entire encampment, checking on the troops, tending to their needs. Picking up the cooked meat, he offered it to his commander, who waved it off.


"I already had my share, but thank you Carth. Perhaps a bit of your wineskin?" He pointed at the wineskin next to the bastard knight, who smiled, before passing it over. The heir of Horn Hill thanked him with a nod before sipping out of it and passing it back.


Carth also took a sip of the stuff, before taking a large bite of the pork. Looking over, he swallowed before speaking up. "Any idea how long this one's going to be Ser?" Rowan, who had been staring at the fire, shrugged.


"Can't say. Depends on how the first battle goes I suppose. This ain't one of the patrols we run into the Red Mountains, hunting raiders and bandits this time. It'll be large scale war, and the first official engagement, if I can tell from our plans and the intelligence we got on the Lannisters, will set the tone of this war. Let's hope we can break them then and there and go home." Carth listened as he ate, his mind pensive.


"Aye commander, home sounds good right about now." Rowan looked over to Carth, considering the knight.


"It's been a while since you've seen your mother, huh Carth?"


Carth bit into the last of the pork, chewing the tough part. "Aye commander, not since before the last patrol." Inside, he had really missed her and the way she would always, somehow, get some mutton roast ready when she gets home, knowing that it was his favorite. Ser Rowan spoke again.


"I know how you're feeling Carth, I'm wondering if I'll see my wife and her beautiful face again." Ser Rowan leaned back and looked up at the stars, thinking. Carth looked over to him, feeling bad. The bastard knight wondered if the redhaired woman missed the commander as much, though given how boring for a lady Horn Hill is, she might; if she hadn't taken another man into her bed already. Still the bastard knight felt bad for the Fair Heir. He was a good man at heart, both to his family and his troops. He was even honorable to his enemies the few times Carth saw him cross swords with a foe, as well as deal with those that surrendered, though usually they were executed upon Lord Helyon's orders. Deep down Carth wondered just how a stern man like Helyon Tarly could father a son like Ser Rowan. The commander must take after his mother more, though his physical similarities with Lord Helyon didn't prompt Carth to question his parentage. After a while Ser Rowan sat up and stood up. Looking at the others around the campfire, at least those that were still awake, the Heir of Horn Hill spoke up. "Well lads, if you need anything, come and find me. Otherwise, I bid you all good night and much rest. Seven knows we'll need it." Looking back over to Carth, Ser Rowan gave him a nod. "Thanks for the drink Carth. Remind me of returning the favor later." He began to walk away as the bastard knight looked back over to him.


"Aye Commander."
 
Harrenhal


POV: Kay Baelish


Throughout the entire conversation Kays smile had remained constant, he was relaxed and peaceful towards the Whents, Ser Warren seems to be a bit too paranoid, but then again that can be a good thing. Makes him unlikely to pass on whispers of this meeting. "What would I have you do with them huh?" Kay paused, he said it with an amused tone, almost like Warren had repeated a quality jest. "Thats not for me decide, you see I do things differently than most... I may be a Lord but I am also a business man, I like to make 'investments' you could call them. I only provide the means to your ends Ser Warren, nothing more." Even after putting the goldcloaks on the table Ser Warren still seemed unconvinced was this really the man that maimed her? he continued to push his case "I also wouldn't completely overlook some of the minor lords that I have 'taken under my wing' they could be of great use to you in and outside the capitol."


@TheFordee14


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Lordsport


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


The cheeks on Siegfrieds face began to turn red was that a jest, or is he taking me for a fool? The fat Lord Botley seemed to enjoy it whatever it was, they both laughed together and in response Siegfried let out a somewhat awkward laugh of his own. Soon the servant boy that Lord Botley had sent to fetch him some fish had returned and placed the dishes out on the stone table where the three men had seated.


"Have your fish." Lord Botley said, as Siegfried looked at his plate he found himself in anger, what the fuck is this? Is this fat piece of dirt looking down on his king? But rather than voicing his concerns he simply cracked his knuckles "Aye I will, it smells like ocean it does."


Siegfried started his meal in caution, he was usually a big eater so he tried to take a considerable amount at a time so nothing seemed off, but it was at a much slower pace than usual. He could just play it off as being conversational but that would be quite an obvious lie.


"To tell you the truth... the two of you are the first I have seen, but I am sure I have cousins and friends back in Harlaw. A few may spite me in jealousy but they can go bugger themselves."


@TheFordee14
 

Alyn of Hull

Eel Alley, King's Landing, The Crownlands.​



And with that it was over as quickly as it had begun.


Alyn watched on with pity as the life drained from the eyes of the goldcloak commander, Celtigar's lips parting for a final time to deliver the words that would be his last 'run!' he said 'run!' His voice echoed through Alyn's mind as Cathenn's body fell limp as a rag doll, blood oozing from the large gash in his golden armour where the blade of Alyn's dagger had penetrated his shoulder. A similar stream also emitting from the puncture to the man's neck, Cethann's own sword still sticking from his armour like the tooth of some demonic creature, a reminder of the fate that befell all those that opposed the Lord of Driftmark and of the man that Alyn had become.


The Hull knight pushed himself upwards, allowing the useless body of his former foe to collapse to the hard stones of the streets below, so deep in thought that he hardly even registered the screams of Cethann's grieving brother to his left, finishing off Ser Lucas of Hull a man whom Alyn had known since he was a young man. Wiping his dagger upon the gold cloak of his felled adversary, Alyn shook somewhat as he noted the lifeless corpses of the goldcloaks that littered the street around him, by their side the bodies of many of his friends and comrades, just as dead as the others despite their apparent victory. His task was complete, even with the complication and Alyn knew that Lord Velaryon would be most pleased with the turn out here, though as he gasped for air he could not help but feel a twinge of remorse as he looked upon the face of Ser Varic of the Queensguard, running to the side of his brother like a man possessed. It pained Alyn to see a man he respected driven to this, but Lord Baelor had given him everything and he would not betray his trust even now that his victim lay face down upon the street.


"Cethann!" Ser Herbert tried to restrain the man but it was of little help, and the knight was rewarded with naught for his efforts but a bloody smile, stretching from ear to ear. Varic was a skilled man and Alyn would not make the same mistake as Herbert and underestimate him, moving ever so slightly out of the knight's reach when it came time for him to receive the wrath of the Celtigar's blade. His heart was not in it, Alyn realised as the attack missed him by an arms length and he watched as Varic, ignored the men around him pulling his brother close to his chest. He seemed unphased by the the blood flowing from his brothers open wounds, his once white cloak now a dark scarlet and Alyn could see the pain in his eyes. It was always the hardest part, dealing with the friends and family of the deceased, though Alyn would never spare himself from such a torture, he deserved every word thrown at him, every insult or attack and even though they often did not know that it was him that delivered the final blow he would always insure that offered condolences to every single one. Baelor's loyal foxhound, he though with a sad smile, it was not much, but it was his life. Alyn turned finally, his mission now at its conclusion, turning to the dim light at the end of the alley.


"Go ahead, do what you will." The man's words gave Alyn pause, his head rotating back to watch as the Queensguard knight slouched defeatedly over his brothers corpse, accepting his supposed fate as the next victim of Alyn's blade. A sad smile crossed his lips, this was what he was now, the boy from Hull, a cut throat and an assassin. Alyn caught Varic's eye, noting the rage as he was regarded with loathing. He had hardly known his own family, his father being absent for all of his life and his mother dying not long after his birth and as such Alyn had never truly understood what it felt like to love someone in such a way, pondering the thought of giving your life just to be with the corpse of the dearly deceased. Varic was a good man, an honourable man and they had no quarrel, Baelor may curse him for it but Alyn had no intention of killing the man tonight. Following his final command Alyn cast the dagger to the floor of the alley, still red from the blood of its last victim. The blade looked beautiful in the moonlight and the griffin pommel seemed to glare at Alyn accusingly, as it landed beside the brother of its victim, as if the dagger blamed him for the crimes.


Alyn wanted to speak to Ser Varic, to offer condolences and apologies, and to console the man for his lose, but he knew that nothing could change the fact that he had just murdered his brother in cold blood and speaking now would only serve towards giving away his identity. The men of Driftmark formed up behind him, their number fewer than before and their Stokeworth armour bloodied from the fight. It was not a long walk to the end of the alley, though it felt like an age and they could still here the curses of Varic over his fallen brother. They were bruised and they were battered and tired beyond belief, but that did not make them lax on security, men looked out wherever they went, ensuing that they were not being tailed and the large group split up into smaller subsections to remain inconspicuous. The finally gathered to the safe house that Lord Velaryon had acquired for them, removing their battered armour and crating it back up to be returned to whence it had come, the offices of Ser Daeron Stokeworth and his knights, though before then it would been effectively scrubbed and hammered so as to remove the blood that stained it.


Alyn sighed, as he lowered himself onto a goose feather pillow, his neck still sore from the attempted strangulation. He would sleep in the safe house for the night, with men posted as watchman to ensure that Ser Varic did not attempt to gain vengeance, he would have plenty of time to return to Lord Baelor upon the morrow and greet him with the good news though for now he needed rest. 'Run... Run...'


@TheFordee14 @TheAncientCenturion




Agnes Tully

Guest Chambers, Casterly Rock, The Westerlands.​



"Brother, if you spent as much time thinking about your actions as you did defending them after the fact perhaps you would not find yourself in such situations in future. We're not boys anymore, we're men grown and the future of the Tully family rests upon our shoulders, imagine if..." Agnes awoke groggily to the sound her family bickering, the condescending tones of her uncle Lothar telling her that her father had finally awoken from his drunken slumber, much to his brother's ire. She had returned to her allocated chambers late the previous night, after finding her sister flirting with a knight from the golden tooth, and despite a few hours rest she remained in a relatively tired state. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she pulled herself out of the fourposter bed that was hers during the stay at the rock, it was obviously not meant for a single occupant and the empty space where another should have slept sent a pang of guilt flowing through her body. Her mind turned for a while to her away husband, back in the reach and she pictured his face, cold and alone, he had always been kind to her, even though she offered nothing in return and Agnes knew she had not been a good wife, he deserved better.


Stripping out of her linen nightgown, Agnes chose from her chest a dress of Tully blue, embroiled with a dark red lace in honour of the house of her husband of Horn Hill, as well as their hosts, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. As she slipped into her clothes for the day she could hear the argument outside of the room grow more heated and the yelling persisted as she laced herself up. "Honestly I'm surprised Lord Tiber let you stay in the castle, you were being a bit of an ass Ben and I mean that in the nicest way possible" her aunt Roslin laughed sourly, loud enough to be heard from the city of Asshai. Hesitant, Agnes unlatched the door to her room, moving slowly down the short corridor to the common area that had been graciously laid out for the Tullys and their kin so that they may mingle away from the prying eyes of the other guests.


"My lady" She passed Ser Titus at the door and the Bracken gave her a nod and a smile, taking a bite from an apple in his hand before tossing it lazily into the air, no doubt he was avoiding the conversation inside, and his eye was narrowed. Despite how early it was Titus was clad in armour, that morning, of Bracken colours and Agnes wondered if he was planning to participate in the joust that had been arranged as one of the many events to celebrate the wedding. Her cousin had few rivals on horse back, and rarely missed his target, though she had not seen him ride since the mysterious accident had robbed him of half his vision. "You may want stay out of there for a while little trout, your uncle is in a foul mood and your father is still hungover"


Agnes smiled thankful but entered nonetheless, ignoring her cousin's warning gaze and moving to sit by her sisters, determined to disregard the civil war that seemed to have erupted between her family "And if you think, that mother won't get involved whether I tell her to or not then we have not been raised by the same woman." She reached for a piece of fruit from the centre of the table and began nibbling upon it slowly, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Her family didn't often fight, or at least those that weren't her grandmother, but when they did arguments could stretch on for weeks 'family, duty, honour' she muttered to herself inaudibly, listening to her uncle drone on about family values, his face almost as red as his beard.


"What am I to involve myself in now?" Barba Tully was not an intimidating woman, and age had stripped her of her impressive stature, though that is not to say that she did not still have a certain precinct about her and as she entered the room grew deathly quiet, her father and uncle ceasing their quarrelling for a moment to acknowledge her arrival. "Girls. Otho. Your cousin Titus has generously offered to allow you to watch his entrance to the joust this afternoon, you are to accompany him to the tourney grounds so that he may warm up before then" Agnes could see her cousin peering his head into the room, his single eyebrow raised in a questioning manner, though he did not challenge her statement. "Benjicot, Lothar, Walder. I think we have some things to discus between us before we make another public appearance, I will not let events last night go forgotten"


Titus beckoned the younger Tullys out of the room, muttering something about the excitement of jousts and tourneys as he hurried them away from his aunt, the raised voices behind them already noted. They all knew the nature of the discussion they had just left, but as an act of courtesy none of them felt the need to acknowledge it, leaving the shouting to speak for itself. As they walked through the halls of Casterly Rock and made a descent down to the tourney grounds and the lists, they could here cheering and screaming from the far off melee which was going on that very moment, though it seemed the Tullys would not be watching this particular event today, at least not while Lady Barba was preoccupied with her sons.


They stopped in an open area slightly to the west of the melee pit and Ser Titus gestured for them to make themselves comfortable as he arranged his own affairs "Ser Titus of Stone Hedge" he addressed the little man in the tent with a smile as the other Tullys found their way to the stands to watch him compete "Oh and for the hell of it, Ser Otho of Riverrun, might as well give the lad a chance of glory"


Agnes watched the other competitors cement their own entry to the lists as Ser Titus followed them to the stands, awaiting patiently for his own turn to show his worth. There were not many people here this early, not while the melee was in full swing, though there were still a few Knights who arrived early to test their metal, one such man was a knight of Lyseni descent with his silver hair and violet eyes, he seemed adamant on arguing with the official on every ruling he made, though he still made it through in the end, similarly was another knight of lithe build with a sun blazoned upon his armour, she wondered whether he had any connection to the Matell prince that had revealed himself in the melee, though since this sun was crying and not speared it was unlikely.


@TheGreyEminence
 
Last edited by a moderator:
-


Storm's End, The Stormlands


-


Keila had been brought to a small hall. Only Ser Ryon and a Baratheon guard accompanied her. Her host of men were made to stay with the horses. As much as they would've liken to, they shouldn't sit and watch their lords play at politics. In the hall, they found the boy that Keila had sent to inform Lord Braedon of their arrival at Storm's End.


"My lord shall be with you shortly, ma'am." The boy squeaked, before running off. Ser Ryon sat at the table that served as the room's centerpiece.


"Shortly." Ryon repeated the boy's words. He is an impatient man. Keila gave him a queer look. "Patience, ser." She said. He rolled his two eyes and laughed, haughtily.


Lady Keila looked around the room they were put in. Its walls were covered in murals and other fine artwork. For a small moment, she was somewhat jealous of her overlords.


I envy their paintings though. Not their position.


Since Ser Osmund had died things had been hectic in The Stormlands. War is coming. Keila could feel it. Queen Kuvira will try and have Braedon's head soon enough. He must strike first- and fast.


"What do I know of war though?" Keila whispered to herself. "What?" Ser Ryon asked as he heard her. "Nothing. I am just in deep thought." She replied.


Will I stand by my overlord's side when this war does come? Surely I will since I have answered his call. Keila was uneasy though. If she stuck by House Baratheon, she would be up against House Targaryen. And House Targaryen never lost.


The hall's door swung open, and in came Lord Braedon and several others.


She smiled at him. I still remember the occasions where we would all gather at Storm's End and feast. We were both so little and would always annoy each other. Braedon was two-or-so years older than her which caused him to pick on her as a child.


It was all in good fun though.


"My lord." Ser Ryon stood up from his seat and then knelt. Keila curtsied. "My lord Braedon." She said as he approached.


@JustWhipIt


-


Pyke, The Iron Islands


-


"Well said, Harlaw." Botley sang as he shoveled pink fish flesh into his mouth. Vaughan looked at his fingernails, and then up at Siegfried- who sat across from him. "You have my full support, Siegfried." Vaughan began, "I am sure I will be able to convince House Greyiron and House Myre on your side as well."


Vaughan stoked his beard as he spoke. Should I trim it soon? "I will also call upon House Wynch. The bloody moons were fiercely loyal to Conn, so they should see you fit to lead."


"My daughter is marrying a Stonetree. I will talk with her future father-in-law about backing you, Harlaw." Botley said, as he licked his fat fingers.


"I will, if I can, speak to my sister." Vaughan mumbled. He rarely discussed his sweet sister. "Her son- my nephew, Rordan Volmark, plans to run against you. But If I can, I will try and get him to stand down and side with you in The Kingsmoot."


Would it work? Vaughan wondered. Rordan Volmark hated his cousin, Conn. Would he side with someone who acts just like him? Vaughan didn't know.


"I will try." He said, before he looked at his still full cup of ale. He wrapped his hand around it gently, and took a sip.


@Lancelot


-


Harrenhal, The Riverlands


-


Ser Warren Whent didn't know what to do. On one hand, Kay Baelish was offering him quite a lot and on the other- Warren would be putting his trust in Kay Baelish. A known miscreant. He looked at his mother. She pressed out the frills of her dress with her skinny hands. She caught him looking at her, and she gave him 'the eyes'. Warren knew by that look that his mother wanted him to accept Kay's offer.


Warren knew such things would come in handy when they did indeed overthrow Kuvira Targaryen, and all her other dragonlings. Warren emptied his cup of wine down his throat, and then exhaled.


"I accept your offer. Lord Baelish." Warren said, with a sly smile. Lady Maeve got giddy and clapped her thin, bony hands together. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed.


"However..." Warren began, "I need to know what you would want in return. Why offer us such things? Why ally with us? These questions will plague my mind until they are answered, my lord."


@Lancelot


-


King's Landing


-


The man did not kill him. Instead, he fled. Along with his men. He showed me mercy. Varic sat in the street of Eel Alley. The moon high upon him, casting a white glimmer onto him and his brother's body. Varic was all alone now. He put down his sword and he grabbed his brother.


"I am sorry, Cethann." Varic said, as he held his brother in his arms. "I will avenge you, brother. I swear it by all the Gods. I will kill the man who killed you."


A door opened. The wooden door he had thrown one of the soldiers against. The two women? They came out and looked at Ser Varic Celtigar. "M'lord, whats happened?" One of them asked. There was sheer terror in her voice. "Go!" Varic shouted at them. They became even more terrified at that.


"Go, and find a Gold Cloak. Tell him his captain is dead. Tell him to bring men to this spot. Tell him to alert the city. And tell him to alert The Grandmaester."


One of the girls nodded, and ran. Whilst the other went back inside. Leaving Varic all alone again. He thought of happier times. The time I held a sword for the first time. I was only... 6? And you and father teased me about the way I held it.


"I got so angry at the both of you." Varic said, with a small laugh.


And the time mother was giving birth and we waited outside her room all night, betting if it will be a boy or a girl. You guessed boy, I guessed girl.


"And you were right, brother. You always were good at those sort of games." Varic leaned his head against a stone pillar. It was a boy, but, it died before it took its first breath.


"I hope you find happiness with father, and our little brother." Varic whispered to Cethann's corpse. "I hope you do."


The Gold Cloaks came, and they took Cethann away. "You did good, ser." One of them said to Varic. Did I? I slayed innocent men, and I failed to protect innocent men.


Sometimes Varic wasn't sure if he'd ever win as a knight. Every win can be seen as a loss. They told him to head back to White Sword Tower and to 'get some rest'.


He did as they said. He sauntered into the tower to find Ser Kristoph and Ser Rodrik still arguing. They didn't see him as he climbed the stairwell to his room. Varic opened the door and closed it. He put his nameless sword by the mirror and collapsed onto his bed- still wearing his bloodied armour.


Varic shut his eyes, tightly. But he could not find sleep. He kept thinking about Cethann. He sat up in his bed and just stared at the wall for, what seemed like, a long while. Then he thought of his sword. My sword. My nameless blade. His eyes gazed at it. It was bloody and had specks of flesh on it.


"What will I call you?" He said to himself. He had been thinking of a name ever since the sword was given to him, a day ago. I could call you something complicated, like; Hero's Edge or Knight's Justice.


Varic laughed. He knew he was terrible at coming up with any kind of name. Or I could call you something simple like... like... He stopped.


A sad smile formed on his lips.


Brother.


-


The Kingsroad


-


It was more-so a prison than a castle. Aerea thought to herself as she tried to respond to William Thatcher's question. Aerea didn't say what was on her brain, however. "It is a wonderful place. Especially to a young child. So many people- lordlings and servants alike." She smiled.


"It may look extravagant on the outside, but it is even more extravagant on its inside." Aerea said as she clung to the back of him. "Each room is so colourful, and well decorated."


But is all a facade. Once you look past its colours and rich furnishings- you see that it is a castle of horrors. Especially when such a horror rules from its throne room.


Aerea pushed Kuvira from her mind.


"When we arrive in King's Landing. I promise you that you'll see The Red Keep." Aerea said, sweetly. She looked around at William's men. They were a noisy bunch.


"What was it like growing up in Flea Bottom?" Aerea asked him. She already had an idea what his answer would be, but she wanted to make conversation.


@Ser Davos Seaworth





 
TheFordee14 said:
-
The Kingsroad


-It was more-so a prison than a castle. Aerea thought to herself as she tried to respond to William Thatcher's question. Aerea didn't say what was on her brain, however. "It is a wonderful place. Especially to a young child. So many people- lordlings and servants alike." She smiled.


"It may look extravagant on the outside, but it is even more extravagant on its inside." Aerea said as she clung to the back of him. "Each room is so colourful, and well decorated."


But is all a facade. Once you look past its colours and rich furnishings- you see that it is a castle of horrors. Especially when such a horror rules from its throne room.


Aerea pushed Kuvira from her mind.


"When we arrive in King's Landing. I promise you that you'll see The Red Keep." Aerea said, sweetly. She looked around at William's men. They were a noisy bunch.


"What was it like growing up in Flea Bottom?" Aerea asked him. She already had an idea what his answer would be, but she wanted to make conversation.


@Ser Davos Seaworth





Click to expand...

William Thatcher


The Kingsroad



​



William smiled a little when Aerea asked the question, a princess who lived in a palace all her life could care less about Flea Bottom but it seemed like she didn't want to ride in silence either.


"Well it was dirty, it smelled awful, and every person you passed on the street would rather put a knife in your back than talk to you, but it was my home." William sighed loudly as memories started coming back to him "My mother and father owned a shop in Flea Bottom, an armor and weapons shop. My father worked the forge while my mother haggled prices with whoever walked through the door. When I was old enough my father let me help him, mainly just doing useless tasks to make me feel important, but as I got older I started helping more and more until I was the one making most of the items in the shop." Williams smile faded as he talked about his parents "But that was a long time ago..."


William was willing to tell Aerea the truth about himself but she was still lying to him about so much. It wasn't clear what she was lying about but he knew that she wasn't genuine when she talked about home, but he decided to leave it alone to avoid bringing up any bad memories.


@TheFordee14


​
 
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