Fandom Game of thrones

[Songbird500]

Current King, Maekar Targaryen the First of His Name who reigned from 221AC- 233AC.
As the fourth son of Daeron II Targaryen and Queen Myriah Martell he never expected to become king but served as a solder, making him harsh and quick to condemn.
Married to Lady Dyanna Dayne he has four sons and two daughters. Daeron, Aerion, Aemon, Daella, Aegon and Rhae.
221AC is when we begin our story, our King is 45 and trouble stirs with his children​

 

[Songbird500]

The day was hot, like many others in Kings Landing, not made any better by the crowds of people waiting to see their new king. There had been two days of celebration in preparation of the big day and there would be another two more after the crown was placed upon Maekars head. He had never expected the thrown to pass to him and rather considered It punishment for slaying his brother so long ago. While many might crumble at such a punishment, Maekar had been hardened and had already started his new reign by having a more warlike crown forged in honour of this. He was a soldier and wished to remedy some of the failings of his brother in the past and despite having nothing to prove, was ready to rule with an iron fist. All the great houses, and many smaller houses had been invited to the celebrations and now was a time of networking and diplomacy. Maekar was still deciding upon a small council and many lords were eager to impress the new king, with other nobles also looking to make advantageous marriages. While king Maekar stood with no queen consort, all his children were to be present and expected to act in accordance with the pride of Targaryen royalty. Maekar was ready to rule and expected everyone to follow suit. And as he readied in his rooms, others were finding their place within the great hall…​

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Bryant Tully
Lord of House Tully, The Tired Trout

This entire thing was a complete and utter mess. Saying that the Westerosi code of laws on inheritance were vague would be the understatement of the fucking century. Bryant had spent the last few weeks ensuring that Maekar, and Brynden quoted, "King by all the laws of God's and men." And Lord Tully took that to heart. He scoured every book of law, every record, and nearly every single religious text he could find to ensure that Maekar would be crowned King of the Andals and the First Men and the Rhoynar, and not just some white haired arsewhipe with a fancy hat. Turns out that the Seven were vague about inheritance as well besides vague nonsense, and they rarely kept important records. But hoo boy, if you want to know many times the High Septon took a shit on the first day of the third moon, they had it all meticulously documented.

Bryant sighed as he took one last look at the papers on his desk. It seemed that everything was in order. Maekar was be king. But his OCD compelled him to make sure everything was in order. The only problem was two ten year olds scrambling around his office throwing things. Just as Lyanna tossed a copy of some raunchy romance novel from the Vale, Bryant snatched the tome in thin air, saying in a stern, frustrated voice, "Ly, stop throwing things at your brother." The red haired girl stomped her feet at her father's words, winging, "But Father! He called me trout face!" Bryant sighed, turning away from his work as he turned to young Addam to say. "Addam, don't call your sister that." The boy crossed his armsmin defiance, saying, "But she has a trout face!" The Master of Laws shook his head, running his hands down his face as he said, "Well, she's your twin, so you also have a trout face." The boy's world was ripped away at this, Bryant smirked a bit as he said, "Say you're sorry, son." Addam reluctantly gave in, the twins hugging so that their father could go back to work. The only way this could get more annoying is if Andrey arrived...
Songbird500
MinTea
Vote Saxon
Whisker
sprouhtt​

 

[Vote Saxon]

Andrey Martell
Prince Andrey Martell of Dorne, Master of Ships​

Two days had passed since the announcement of the coronation, two days of drunken celebration and frantic organisation - Andrey was grateful most of his days had been spent doing the former over the latter. The Royal Navy wasn't necessary for a coronation, the ships were a nice set piece in the background to show off to the various lords and ladies in attendance but thankfully his duties had barely increased and he had been free to celebrate as much as he desired. Though it was no secret that had his duties increased he'd have likely still visited the silk streets and taverns anyways. Andrey was also grateful for the fact that he was not the Master of Laws, for it was no secret how dangerously close Bryant appeared to be to throwing himself out of a tower or stabbing whomever he could in the chest - he was being dramatic but it was common knowledge how much strain was being placed onto his friend as his duties bade him to go over every inch of the coronation and ensure no vows or laws stood between Maekar and the Iron Throne. It was what the previous Master of Law would have done and likely the dozens before him but Andrey was sure that did not make the process any less tedious. He'd sent some women, who were beautiful and radiant and definitely would have been worth what he had paid, to visit Bryant in the hopes of helping his friend relieve his stress but he'd been told they hadn't gotten past the wooden doors of the Chambers - much to his disappointment but not surprise. He often sent beautiful women in Bryant's direction and his friend simply looked the other way, sometimes Andrey sent them just to watch them get turned away - though he always compensated them for their troubles. He already had his eye on some ladies of the court to push in his friend's direction during the feast.

He'd need a distraction from the tiny glimmer of anxiety building up in his chest, it was no secret that the members of the Small Council were at risk - some likely more than others and so Andrey had spent the past two days wondering if Maekar would allow him to continue as Master of Ships. He had no doubt Bryant would remain, his friend was remarkably dedicated to his job and his grace be suitably pressed to find someone better than him.

As the coronation drew nearer Andrey hurried to his friend's chambers, he'd wanted to speak to him before the ceremony - partly to check in on his friend and partly to witness his friends state of mind for himself. And visit his two favourite troublemakers whilst he did so.

He could hear the commotion before he had arrived to the door of his friends chambers, vague sounds of distress and the high pitched voice of a child shouting, he let out a soft chuckle and let a proud smirk flash across his face. Quickly smoothing over his robes he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, taking care not to spill the drink he had in his hand, a small face peered out at him before realisation flashed across their features and they hurried to let him in. He murmured his thanks to Lyanna and smiled brightly at her, leaning in conspiratorially and giving her a sweet biscuit. He saw Addam's expression and smirked before ruffling his hair - ignoring any protests about how he was too old for that now - and giving the boy the same, "Only the finest plundered treats for the pair of you, don't worry! Consider it a reward for being such a source of entertainment." He looked at them with a knowing expression, wondering if they were aware they could be heard from outside the chamber door before shooting his friend an unrepentant smile, "It's only a bit of sweet biscuit, I'm sure it won't spoil their appetites. Besides it's practically my job to spoil them."

It was then he really focused his attention on Bryant's form leaned over his desk. "You look like you need a drink," was the first thing he said. "Do you want mine?" Was the next.

He took in his friends haggard expression, moving closer to him and resting on the edge of his desk. "Thank the seven I didn't try to become Master of Laws. You should have become Master of Ships or Maester...far less work involved for these events." He did not envy his friend one bit. "At least there'll be plenty opportunity to loosen up during the feast, I'll have you know that I've heard several rumours of people who hope to ensnare you on this fine night." He snorted into his cup as he took another drink before his gaze slid over to where Lyanna and Addam were, "Will my favourite small fry be in attendance? I'm sure they could liven things up a bit." He was rather proud of that nickname and let himself puff up his chest momentarily, mildly concerned about how amusing he found himself - he eyed up the cup warily before deciding he wasn't that far gone. He wouldn't be around the children if he was. His tone took on a more serious and concerned edge as he continued, "Are you close to done? I fear there isn't much time left."

Rusty of Shackleford

Mara Alyssane Martell
Princess of Dorne, Member of Court​

Mara dismissed the maids that came to her room with a warm smile and an apologetic shrug, she'd never been a fan of having others dress and fuss around her even when she was a child. She'd wriggle and squirm whenever someone tried to braid or brush her hair for her and be picky about anything that was suggested to her - she could remember her Mother being wroth about it, her polite daughter usually so full of manners and grace becoming a sullen hellion whenever it came to dressing. And so she'd been dressed for some time now, preferring to be ready before anyone came knocking - it was easier that way and gave her more time to settle her nerves but truthfully she found herself missing her days in Dorne - especially today of all days. Her clothes were the highest fashion of the time, made by the best seamstresses she could find but she couldn't help but wish she was back home and free to wear what she'd like. Southron-style dresses varied greatly from the Dornish-style; In Dorne, the materials were more luxurious – silks, satin, Myrish lace – and designed to catch the eye with bright colours that had been painted on. As a child Mara had loved the dresses the seamstresses made her, the summer air moving freely through the blue silks she favoured, but, as her brother pointed out earlier in the week, she was not a child anymore and a Dornish dress would not be practical for a great feast - not from the courts standpoint.

And so she wore what would allow her to fit in best, rather than be the object of the whispers of the ladies of the court and the object of discussion at whatever sewing circle or meeting was held between the various ladies of the court. The dress was also suitably modest. She did not want all of court to see her as a woman-grown, she was and had been for several years but with that admission and recognition came the inevitable talk of marriage which was always suffocating around the time of any kind of feast or celebration and it seemed that this one was going to be no different. She could only hope it wouldn't end with her dragging a drunken Andrey away out of the court.

She swore if he caused a scene at the feast tonight she'd geld him herself.

Once the servants were dismissed Mara left her chambers and made her way to Daella's. The servants had been frantically rushing about for the past two days as they worked to ready the Great Hall for the coronation, the septon had been summoned and all of the pieces were about to be in place. She hoped Maekar would be a good King, a true King - the Kingdom deserved as such. His Father had been a good man and a wise ruler - even if he had had some minor failings. His reign had been troubled by war and sickness and Mara prayed to whichever gods were listening that Maekar's reign would not follow suit. It was certainly unusual for a fourth son to become King but the past few decades had been costly for the Kingdom.

Only the gods knew if the next one would be the same.

Mara adjusted the necklace around her neck as she walked, a bronze sun - marking her as Dornish in a way her dress couldn't, allowing the movement to ease her anxiety and dissuade the uneasy thoughts. She didn't want to be so morbid but it appeared that was where her mind was going. It was to be a day of celebration, she should treat it as such.

It wasn't long before she found herself outside of Daella's chambers, a common enough place for her to be - she'd been a companion and confidant to the girl ever since her Mother had sent her to court. She fought the urge to wince as she finally came to a stop and tried to discretely adjust her dress so the corsets wouldn't choke her so.

Readying herself she took a deep breath, smoothed out her skirts and knocked on the door to Daella's chambers - aware she was likely being tended to by an array of handmaid's or even her sister Rhaenys , "It's Mara! May I come in?" They usually, when allowed and appropriate, met before feasts and celebrations and it was usually a source of relief and entertainment for Mara as she heard what her friend had planned.

MinTea
mentioned: sprouhtt​

 

[Nightblade]

Arron Dayne
Sword of the Morning
​

Arron rose with the dawn, which had done every day since becoming a squire. It was a habit his mother would fondly scold him for when he was a lad and was allowed days to enjoy to himself which he always followed the same routine. It was because of this that he found himself running a whetstone over dawn as he sat in his rooms. The rooms themselves were nice, looking over the bay catching the sun when it first rose in the morning. It seemed the rooms had been provided based on his time here in his younger years. enjoying a plate of food including fruits, cold meats and bread he gave a sigh as he reviewed the letter received from Starfall.

His reputation followed him, even here. The knights that had come to Kings Landing had either been ridiculously brave or cravens as they would not spar with him. Shaking his head he picked up his response to the letters that had arrived. As much as he loved his family both here and in Starfall, he would not bring Anna here just yet. He had a hope that she would find love in Dorne and never find cause to travel outside the kingdom. Shaking his head, he seals the letters and called on one of his men who he knew would be outside and sent him to see to the letters. Not for the first time he cursed his good sister for being so close to delivery that Arron was sent to represent their house. He suspected it was as much a tactical move that he be here, to show the tie between House Dayne and House Targaryen was as strong as ever.

Once he had finished, he looked at the clothes the maid had laid out for him, the material was fine as always. Since Dyanna's passing their brother had made an effort to show that House Dayne was prospering and Arron was shown off as a prospect for marriage. Shaking his head, his brother knew as Dyanna had known about Arrons inclinations and how the only woman he had loved had died birthing his daughter. It would seem his brother wanted further ties for House Dayne. Beginning to get himself dressed, he would go and check on his Nephews once he was ready.

 

[MinTea]

Daella Targaryen
Princess of The Iron Throne
​

The past two days had been full of celebration for most, but she had spent it making sure no plots were being formed. Hiding in dodgy alleyways and listening to the muttering maids gossip had become a regular thing at this time. Although Daella was not officially working for the court, as the Master of Whispers, she took it upon herself to know most of the happenings. Kingdoms can be dangerous places, with many different personnel ready to incite revolt. Knowing the plots and gossip allowed her to stay a step ahead, of all those surrounding her. In the end, it would always benefit her or the kingdom, meaning that rewards and recognition would come alongside it...

On the morning of the coronation, thoughts raced through her mind when she awoke. Her nerves had begun to spike. She would have to represent herself as perfection...Anything less would be embarrassing. The girl needed to start preparing herself for the day ahead.

Daella chose out an extravagant dress for herself. It was a nice silk one, which had subtle lavender tones to compliment her eyes. Although it could cause irritation to a very conservative Westerosi, due to it being suitably becoming to her figure, she enjoyed the feeling it gave her. It allowed her to feel powerful and strong; those below her could not tell her to remove it, as she was the princess. She did not worry anyway, as due to the recent trends of fashion, it had become more of the normal kind of dresses you would find in Kingslanding.

As she started on her hair, she heard a knock at the door with a voice followed behind it. "Oh my! Yes Mara, do come in." Although Daella has a mask on with most people, she has always been honest and loyal towards Mara. Daella likes how they both share some similar values, but deal with them in different ways. The girl hastened on her hair, knowing that this must mean she was behind schedule.


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Interacted: Vote Saxon

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I take critiques and criticism, so please give them!
I also struggle with the first post...Hopefully it wont be as tragic throughout!
Once I have some meat to react and rp with, I should start writing better...Praying...