TheFordee20
One Thousand Club
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Spring, 246 AC
The Crownlands & The Riverlands
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FULL MAP
CURRENT DATE :
Spring, 246 AC
TheFordee20
One Thousand Club
In The Crownlands,
King Aemond Blackfyre I currently reigns at The Red Keep.
His council consists of Daemon Bittersteel ( His Hand ), Ser Duncan Reyne ( Master Of Coin ), Kevon Butterwell ( Master Of Laws ), Daarys ( Master Of Ships ), Lady Miranda ( Mistress Of Whispers ), and Ser Adrian Redwyne ( Lord Commander ).
The current High Septon has just come out of praying for twenty days. Men in black robes are spotted around The Sept Of Baelor. Many speculate these men are apart of a ‘militia’ that The High Septon is secretly building.
The murder of Lyessa Stark is still in the memory of many. She was found dead in an alleyway about a mile from The Red Keep. King Aemond blames “the smallfolk”.
A letter has arrived from House Stark.
And dark wings, dark words.
In The Riverlands,
Tensions are typically high between House Bracken and House Butterwell.
An inn near Acorn Hall was set a flame. Soldiers of House Smallwood found a man known as Brynden Lothston, who was the last of House Lothston, hanging from a tree outside of the inn. His death along with the inn’s burning is a mystery.
This inn is not an isolated case, however. Many places around the western Riverlands have been burned down. House Butterwell and House Bracken are to work together if they are to discover who is behind such acts.
Seagard is calm. However, unbeknownst to House Mallister- Ironborn fleets may be sailing their way. For what reason? Who knows.
Yarrow
Senior Member
Erykk FlowersKing's Landing, The Red Keep
Erykk walked through his office, the morning had been busy but normal in the Red Keep. It was the usual stuff, ravens coming in with messages for people in the Keep, Soldiers complaining that they weren’t paid enough, which they actually were. Most of it were taken care of by the stewards, his job as Castellan was mostly to make sure everything went right, and so far, everything was going how they needed to go. He looked at his desk and saw there were some letters that needed to be read, but his mind wasn’t clear enough. He decided that he would take a break and visit the kitchen and the gardens.
There was nothing special in the kitchens, only that the unions were out of stock, so Erykk walked to the gardens and spoke with some of the gardeners. The sun shone brightly and the garden would have been nice if the smell of the city wasn’t so strong. Erykk had heard about the stories of the Castles in the Reach were the gardens were more beautiful and smelled less. Erykk always wanted to visit the Reach, it was the place where his father had come from. The only thing he knew was that his father was a man here at court with influence, maybe married to one of the blackfyres or to other noble families from the region and visited King’s Landing to go to the whores. But he could also be someone visiting the Capital. Erykk would probably never find out who his father was.
When he walked back from the gardens to his office he noticed Bowena Peake, lady in waiting of Princess Aerea, at least she knew what her family was, could they be related maybe?
Back in his office he began to read the letters, one was from Alex Peake, giving notice that he would come to the Red Keep in a few days. Erykk wrote down some things and gave it to a servant “This needs to be ready before the arrival of Lord Alex Peake, so make sure his rooms are ready” the servant was one of the few that could read and hurried away to make the preparations
Addam Flowers King's Landing, Flowers Brothel
Addam stood up from the bed, it was time for his customer to leave again. He put on his trousers and blouse and while he walked to the small room he called his office he laced his pants. He felt the soft rugs tickle his feet a little. In some rules his workers were busy with customers and it was difficult to do his work in the office. Addam kept a record of everyone who visited the brothel, who they visited and what they had paid. The brothel attracted wealthy men and sometimes women, and is very luxurious. Under his command the brothel flourished and was able to attract more customers with the serious money, sometimes being visited by noblemen which happened very discreetly since there was a secret entrance so people didn’t have to go through the main entrance. One of those nobles had been his father, a man from the Reach, a very rich and powerful man, his name started with an E, that was what his mother told him. That was everything he knew about him.
Someone knocked on the door “Sir, there is a client causing some trouble in the entrance room” Addam stood abruptly up and followed the servant downstairs. There was a man shouting and demanding a whore because ‘a friend said I would get one free here’ Addam grabbed the man “Outside with you” the man struggled, but Addam was used to these men. Addam took the knife from his own belt and pointed it in the back of the man “Outside, now” the man was more participating now and when he was nearly outside, Addam gave the man a kick in his butt and the guy fell forward, with his face at the dusty street and his hand in a piece of dog shit “and stay outside”
Back in his office Addam continued writing down how much they had made this morning and waited for his next customer
Erykk walked through his office, the morning had been busy but normal in the Red Keep. It was the usual stuff, ravens coming in with messages for people in the Keep, Soldiers complaining that they weren’t paid enough, which they actually were. Most of it were taken care of by the stewards, his job as Castellan was mostly to make sure everything went right, and so far, everything was going how they needed to go. He looked at his desk and saw there were some letters that needed to be read, but his mind wasn’t clear enough. He decided that he would take a break and visit the kitchen and the gardens.
There was nothing special in the kitchens, only that the unions were out of stock, so Erykk walked to the gardens and spoke with some of the gardeners. The sun shone brightly and the garden would have been nice if the smell of the city wasn’t so strong. Erykk had heard about the stories of the Castles in the Reach were the gardens were more beautiful and smelled less. Erykk always wanted to visit the Reach, it was the place where his father had come from. The only thing he knew was that his father was a man here at court with influence, maybe married to one of the blackfyres or to other noble families from the region and visited King’s Landing to go to the whores. But he could also be someone visiting the Capital. Erykk would probably never find out who his father was.
When he walked back from the gardens to his office he noticed Bowena Peake, lady in waiting of Princess Aerea, at least she knew what her family was, could they be related maybe?
Back in his office he began to read the letters, one was from Alex Peake, giving notice that he would come to the Red Keep in a few days. Erykk wrote down some things and gave it to a servant “This needs to be ready before the arrival of Lord Alex Peake, so make sure his rooms are ready” the servant was one of the few that could read and hurried away to make the preparations
Addam Flowers King's Landing, Flowers Brothel
Addam stood up from the bed, it was time for his customer to leave again. He put on his trousers and blouse and while he walked to the small room he called his office he laced his pants. He felt the soft rugs tickle his feet a little. In some rules his workers were busy with customers and it was difficult to do his work in the office. Addam kept a record of everyone who visited the brothel, who they visited and what they had paid. The brothel attracted wealthy men and sometimes women, and is very luxurious. Under his command the brothel flourished and was able to attract more customers with the serious money, sometimes being visited by noblemen which happened very discreetly since there was a secret entrance so people didn’t have to go through the main entrance. One of those nobles had been his father, a man from the Reach, a very rich and powerful man, his name started with an E, that was what his mother told him. That was everything he knew about him.
Someone knocked on the door “Sir, there is a client causing some trouble in the entrance room” Addam stood abruptly up and followed the servant downstairs. There was a man shouting and demanding a whore because ‘a friend said I would get one free here’ Addam grabbed the man “Outside with you” the man struggled, but Addam was used to these men. Addam took the knife from his own belt and pointed it in the back of the man “Outside, now” the man was more participating now and when he was nearly outside, Addam gave the man a kick in his butt and the guy fell forward, with his face at the dusty street and his hand in a piece of dog shit “and stay outside”
Back in his office Addam continued writing down how much they had made this morning and waited for his next customer
Blitzer
Elder Member
Prince Vaegon
Fields surrounding Dragonstone
The Watchman on one of the many towers of Dragonstone like the Sea Dragon tower if his was posted to watch the land approach could see two very similar armies engaging on the rough terrains. If one looked closer, he would see the wooden swords and and the joy upon the uncovered head of Vaegon Blackfyre as he fended off two men desperately holding his over stretched center. If one looked closely, he would see that the army of Vaegon was slowly encircling the enemy however the center was faltering. It was simply a race against time to see who would win, would the center break and the commander be victorious, or would Vaegon hold on and be victorious.
Vaegon had no inclination to be beaten and swiftly dispatched the men he was fighting. He laughed as he met the commander of Dragonstone and parried his strike. "You'll never take my center so long as I am here. Give up the battle."
Commander Forn laughed. "Never, you can't beat me every time with your tactics."
They collided again and despite Forn's superior experience, Vaegon disarmed him quickly. His forces had completed the flank anyway and the victory was his. His closer men and companions came storming around him congratulating him on a job well done while the regular soldiers also tried to get close to their prince. He smile easily and laughed with them reveling in another victory. It was good to be back at Dragonstone despite being away from the capital. As soon as he could he would have to dismiss himself to go read the reports he recieved but now victory.
Fields surrounding Dragonstone
The Watchman on one of the many towers of Dragonstone like the Sea Dragon tower if his was posted to watch the land approach could see two very similar armies engaging on the rough terrains. If one looked closer, he would see the wooden swords and and the joy upon the uncovered head of Vaegon Blackfyre as he fended off two men desperately holding his over stretched center. If one looked closely, he would see that the army of Vaegon was slowly encircling the enemy however the center was faltering. It was simply a race against time to see who would win, would the center break and the commander be victorious, or would Vaegon hold on and be victorious.
Vaegon had no inclination to be beaten and swiftly dispatched the men he was fighting. He laughed as he met the commander of Dragonstone and parried his strike. "You'll never take my center so long as I am here. Give up the battle."
Commander Forn laughed. "Never, you can't beat me every time with your tactics."
They collided again and despite Forn's superior experience, Vaegon disarmed him quickly. His forces had completed the flank anyway and the victory was his. His closer men and companions came storming around him congratulating him on a job well done while the regular soldiers also tried to get close to their prince. He smile easily and laughed with them reveling in another victory. It was good to be back at Dragonstone despite being away from the capital. As soon as he could he would have to dismiss himself to go read the reports he recieved but now victory.
Akio
Lord of Naptime
Illyana Pyke
Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Ilyana strode through the hallways of Kings Landing with purpose, striding down to the royal characters with a confident stride that belayed a mind teeming with thoughts. Her brother had left to the Dragonstone and it still felt odd in the way he went. He had tried to get her to come with him but without explaining why other than hinting at possible danger for them both. She had pointed out that had been living with a sword over their heads for 15 years so that was hardly anything new and said she didn't want to leave Vaella which caused them to quarrel, he usually mild mannered brother getting forceful but not able to convince her before departing. Then he had seemed more worried than angry and warned her to be careful before departing. Even then he had refused to tell her the danger that supposedly hanged over their heads and even after departing she was still trying to puzzle out the meaning. She didn't have time now though, she had a very lazy royal house cat to kick awake. She cleared her minds of her thought as she made it to the door, knocking twice hard with calloused hands and knuckles. She waited only a moment for an answer before striding into the room, throwing open to the door to the darkened room. "Rise and shine princess, you shouldn't still be sleeping at this hour." She said briskly, walking over to the curtains and throwing them open, shedding bright light into the room.
"You have a busy day, your supposed to have breakfast with Lady Rosby and her daughters in an hour and you need to be awake." She said walking over to her closet and picked out a dress, a lovely green that she knew fit with the season but also picked out a vibrant red one and a blue just to be safe. She had been around Vaella for a long time and had come early knowing it would likely take forever to get her up. Looking over at the bed where the princess was still hiding she would go and close the door before walking over and pulling at the blanket hard, likely taking it half off and revealing the hiding princess. "How long are you planning to hide in there Vaella. You have to get up!" She would say with a scowl.
ailurophile
Dayron Pyke
The Dragonstone
The Dragonstone
The Dragonstone was a bleak place, much like the place he was born. From anywhere on the isle you could smell the sea and see the waves slamming against the rocks, which he was doing now, watching the waves batter against the rocks as turlement as the chaotic thoughts in his mind. It was early morning, the sun only starting to rise above the waves and bathe the narrow sea in a crimson red light. There was a crumpled letter in his hand, held lightly in one fist even as the other rested against the stone. He had read the letter a dozen times and yet he was still not sure if he had done the right thing in telling Vaegon to come here. His sister had been left in the Red Keep, refusing to leave Vaellas side and yet he was here, to far away to help her other then what he had already put in place. "She wouldn't leave, i've done all i can." He said to himself, hoping it would be enough but still being racked with guilt for leaving. He glanced at the letter in his hand before shaking his head, his father had told him years ago to protect his sister but there was only so much he could do when she didn't want to protect herself. Taking the crumpled letter he tossed it over the battlements, watching the sea swallow it as it floated off into the distance, carried by the wind into the abyss. His father believed the Drowned God rested beneath those waves, finding an endless battle with the Storm God and feasted Ironborn who died beneath his watery halls. He wondered when he died would he join them, or had so many years in Kingslanding would mean he was more Greenlander then Ironborn. Somewhere behind him he could hear the clashing of swords as Vaegon trained with his men, he had convinced him to come here to oversee the garrison, saying it was good for a commander to check on his men from time to time but in truth he needed to get away from the capital and had manipulated one of his oldest friend to do it, a thought that still tasted sour.
The battle was ending behind him so he took one last look out to sea, hoping he was doing the right thing as he turned away from the sea and started walking back into the castle. It had been awhile since he had last walked the halls of Dragonstone but he knew it well, being Vaegons seat he had been here many times and knew the faces well. There was commander Forn, leader of the garrison fresh off a duel with the prince. There was Caron, arguing with Baelor over wages bet on the outcome of the mock battle, and even the two maid Pyra and Meg, looking over the battlefield talking in whispers about the battle though they waved to him when they saw him. Dayron was well known, the Krakens bastard, thats what he was though he had formed more bonds of friendship here then the Red Keep. He walked further down the halls and soon spied Vaegon further down the hall and changed his path to go meet up with him.
"Another mock battle, your keeping the garrison busy Vaegon. Any injuries today?" He would say, making light small talk. Sometimes he would help with the wounded when there were many small wounds that a maester wasn't required to handle or even helping with the occasional larger injuries that would come out with day to day life in the castle or mock duels. He kept pace with the young prince, his long legs keeping up with him with relative ease.
Blitzer
ailurophile
hm
Vaella Blackfyre
King's Landing, The Red Keep
The sunlight suddenly streaming into the room woke Vaella from her sleep. She awoke to an empty bed, being curled up in a tight little ball rather than tangled up in the limbs of somebody else. Her husband must have slipped out earlier that morning, although that would have been no difficult feat; until the sun had rudely interrupted her, Vaella had been in a deep sleep. The only response Ilyana received for her troubles at first was a quiet moan, which was Vaella's way of protesting without actually using any real words. Too early for words. Well, not to the rest of the land, but to Vaella at least. King's Landing, The Red Keep
"An hour? Awake?" Vaella's echoed words were followed by another moan, a louder one this time. She pulled the covers up right over her head to block out the light and hopefully also block out her commitments for the day ahead. "Can't they come here, to me, to my bed? Or perhaps you could inform Lady Rosby that I'm terribly sorry, but I have come down with some dreadful illness and I will be fine, just not in time to leave my bed today." Beneath the blankets, Vaella smiled a mischievous smile. Of course she was joking, it was clear in her tone of voice, she was just stalling to delay the inevitable. It almost felt like it was working.
That is, until the covers were torn away and she was faced with the scowling face of Ilyana.
"Fine!" Vaella half snapped, half whined. She was fairly certain that the only day she'd ever left her bed without being coaxed had been her wedding day. Now beginning to wake up somewhat, she pushed a tangled curl of hair hair away from her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Cold. Well, not cold, but colder than she'd been beneath the blankets. Her full lips settled into a firm pout, but that pout subsided as she arched her back and stretched. All her stretches, her dainty way of moving, her love of sleep, her calculating ways, her unjustified contempt for some and undying affection for others, all of that made Vaella rather similar to a cat. With a sly smile she looked at her friend and flashed a pleading, but also joking, expression. "You know, Ilyana, we could both stay here and go back to sleep..." The offer was not a serious one, though, and Vaella pushed herself up off of the bed at last.
It took Vaella several silent minutes to hold each dress up to her body in turn, completing this cycle several times before she was satisfied. The red and the blue dresses ended up on the floor in undignified heaps, but then she bent to retrieve them and lay them gently over the back of a chair. She was not a child anymore.
"Will you brush my hair for me in a moment, please, Ilyana?" Vaella enquired, as she began to rid herself of her nightdress and begin the process of donning her small clothes and then finally the green dress. "You always somehow manage to do a much better job than me. I can't see the back."
She paused to look at the dress in the mirror. Pursed her lips. Turned to view it from the side. Frowned. Turned back. Turned to the side once again. It was a regular occurrence for Vaella to change her dress several times before being satisfied, often ending up back in the dress she started off in, but as she had slept in she decided not to allow herself to get caught up in that cycle.
"Do I look presentable yet?" Vaella asked her friend with an innocent smile, fully aware of the unkempt and wild state her hair was in.
Akio
Akio
Lord of Naptime
Vaellas moans and protests caused no wavering in her heart, already well used to her friends protests as for close to 15 years she had been following Vaella and her love of sleep meant that most day she was usually pulling her protesting from her covers, even as young as 6 years old. After Vaella finally gave in snapping Ilyana shook her head in exasperation, watching her self appointed charge. Even with her hair caught in shrivels and knots she could easily tell she was beautiful, with her perfect skin and full lips, as well as big innocent eyes framed her face while her dainty way of moving all made to make her seem feminine and harmless which of course she was despite her occasionally snapish nature, and with her full breasts and full hips she just seemed perfect. Ilyana always felt to rough and dirty compared to her even on her best days, her own form hard muscle and sinew, while her duties and training left callouses on her hands that made them feel rough like a carpenter compared to Vaellas soft skin. With the usual harsh set of her face she inherited from her father she couldn't consider herself truly beautiful and prefered mail to dresses. Only thing she was truly proud of was her hair, kissed by fire, her father said the wildlings described it and so it seemed, careening down her back in a vibrant orange and red color that seemed to fly behind her when she ran or fought. Moving onto more productive thoughts looked at her as she grinned at her teasing that they could go into bed together and stay there all day. she just shook her head, well used to her antics.Vaella BlackfyreThe sunlight suddenly streaming into the room woke Vaella from her sleep. She awoke to an empty bed, being curled up in a tight little ball rather than tangled up in the limbs of somebody else. Her husband must have slipped out earlier that morning, although that would have been no difficult feat; until the sun had rudely interrupted her, Vaella had been in a deep sleep. The only response Ilyana received for her troubles at first was a quiet moan, which was Vaella's way of protesting without actually using any real words. Too early for words. Well, not to the rest of the land, but to Vaella at least.
King's Landing, The Red Keep
"An hour? Awake?" Vaella's echoed words were followed by another moan, a louder one this time. She pulled the covers up right over her head to block out the light and hopefully also block out her commitments for the day ahead. "Can't they come here, to me, to my bed? Or perhaps you could inform Lady Rosby that I'm terribly sorry, but I have come down with some dreadful illness and I will be fine, just not in time to leave my bed today." Beneath the blankets, Vaella smiled a mischievous smile. Of course she was joking, it was clear in her tone of voice, she was just stalling to delay the inevitable. It almost felt like it was working.
That is, until the covers were torn away and she was faced with the scowling face of Ilyana.
"Fine!" Vaella half snapped, half whined. She was fairly certain that the only day she'd ever left her bed without being coaxed had been her wedding day. Now beginning to wake up somewhat, she pushed a tangled curl of hair hair away from her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Cold. Well, not cold, but colder than she'd been beneath the blankets. Her full lips settled into a firm pout, but that pout subsided as she arched her back and stretched. All her stretches, her dainty way of moving, her love of sleep, her calculating ways, her unjustified contempt for some and undying affection for others, all of that made Vaella rather similar to a cat. With a sly smile she looked at her friend and flashed a pleading, but also joking, expression. "You know, Ilyana, we could both stay here and go back to sleep..." The offer was not a serious one, though, and Vaella pushed herself up off of the bed at last.
It took Vaella several silent minutes to hold each dress up to her body in turn, completing this cycle several times before she was satisfied. The red and the blue dresses ended up on the floor in undignified heaps, but then she bent to retrieve them and lay them gently over the back of a chair. She was not a child anymore.
"Will you brush my hair for me in a moment, please, Ilyana?" Vaella enquired, as she began to rid herself of her nightdress and begin the process of donning her small clothes and then finally the green dress. "You always somehow manage to do a much better job than me. I can't see the back."
She paused to look at the dress in the mirror. Pursed her lips. Turned to view it from the side. Frowned. Turned back. Turned to the side once again. It was a regular occurrence for Vaella to change her dress several times before being satisfied, often ending up back in the dress she started off in, but as she had slept in she decided not to allow herself to get caught up in that cycle.
"Do I look presentable yet?" Vaella asked her friend with an innocent smile, fully aware of the unkempt and wild state her hair was in.
"You know we can't waste around all day, and what are you doing dressing already, you know you have to take a bath, im sure you like smelling Daeron on you but others would like to smell you clean." She said, her exasperated words matching her friend's innocence as she watched her with both playful exasperation and amusement. If it was anyone else perhaps she would be more annoyed but she could never stay truly mad at Vaella. She checked outside and saw the two servant lugging a bucket of water and opened the door for them. "Common, get ready for your bath, you're not getting away with it this time." She said shaking a finger at her before going to the dresser and grabbing a small cup and a brush as the water was left in the washing area before she let the other two servants go, returning to just the two of them so she could close the door. "Common, get in the bath, don't make me force you." She threatened, which Vaella knew she was perfectly capable of doing so.
ailurophile
Braddington
Based... based on what?
The High Septon
Outside the Great Sept of Baelor
In the crisp morning air the peasants line up row upon row of them in front of the Great Sept of Baelor to hear the words of the High Septon who now weekly provides news of his initiatives to the people of King's Landing and Westeros as a whole. The people dressed in everything from rags to riches press into each other tightly, surrounded on all sides by heavily armed fanatics dressed in black robes with swords and other weapons provided by the ever rich faith, there is not a single Gold Cloak in sight with most avoiding the area all together. People did not care about their presence however, just as long as they got a glimpse of the man who provides them with hope in a time of great stress and worry.Outside the Great Sept of Baelor
Around an hour later with the sun bearing down on the crowd he emerges with a rag tag group of knights surrounding him, the men having replaced their ornate sigils with depictions of the Seven Pointed Star. The High Septon in the middle looks like a poor peasant in comparison to his entourage having sold his crystal crown and wearing nothing more than what is necessary for the hot day. Approaching a platform raised for him two citizens from the crowd jump up eagerly and help him climb the steps before being thanked by a blessing. Once at the top the crowd goes silent with only the hustle and bustle of the city being heard in the distance, the High Septon proceeds with the monotonous blessings of the Seven in an almost hypnotic voice before getting into his edicts.
"Many of you have wondered where I have been the past 20 days not having performed my normal duties, well I will now tell you my children. When we last spoke I admitted I was confused as to what the Seven wished of me and of you their children, having spent the last 20 days in prayer I can now tell you that confusion is ended for the Father in his infinite wisdom has show me the path forward."
The crowd hanging on the High Septon's every word give out a cheer that probably could have been heard in all corners of the capital.
"The realm is infested with heathens such as the murderous Iron Born who show no regard for human life and virtue, let us not also forget the northmen who from my information wish to tear Westeros apart with their selfish aims. The Father has shown me that having these heathens in the most godly realm in the world has thrown the faith into chaos and for the realm to bind itself together and stop the never ending blood letting that nobles seem to delight in we must show Westeros that there is only on true faith in the world and that all whether noble or peasant, southron or northman must kneel before it."
A look of almost blood lust comes over the crowd who not a second ago was cheering happily in merriment, discussing average matters such as money and food.
"To that end I with the aid of the Seven have put forward a number of new edicts, chief amongst them are the following.
1) A new guard of 7 shall be put together from the most skilled and faithful knights who abandon their family name, claims and titles in devotion to the Seven. These men...and women of great skill shall have the task of guarding my person and other persons of importance to the faith from heathens who wish to drive a dagger of malice into our shared devotion
2) All unnecessary finery's in Septs all throughout the realm shall be sold off to bring Septons and Septa's closer to the people they serve. The money acquired from this shall be used for what is important, the people."
The people nod in silence at the first and are ecstatic with the second but the look in their faces show they were expecting more than just a guard and money. The High Septon raises his hand to speak one last time however.
"I will hopefully be able to speak with you again on one more issue soon, this will require time and the permission of the King however. For now my children I ask that you bide your time and take in what I have said to you today. Always remember that the faith may have need of you all soon."
With this the High Septon gives one more blessing before bowing to the people and leaving the podium with the aid of two more random citizens. The people with a mix of emotions from fanaticism to thoughtfulness shuffle out of the square which once more remains quiet.
TheAncientCelt
The Leech Lord
Viserys Bloodraven
Driftmark - Crownlands
Cloudless, the moon light illuminated the island and the sea for miles, giving the sentries of House Velaryon ample time to make note of the Braavosi ship that lingered just off the coast of their ancient island. Far away enough that any action from the Westerosi nobles would prove less than fatal, allowing them to slip off into the night. When no immediate action was taken, the Braavosi ship remained with at their safe distance, though a careful observer would spy an approaching landing vessel, large enough to house twenty goodmen, a laughable amount if the Braavosi were pirates aiming to plunder the island. The small boat continued to float through the sea, heavy oars near muffled by the crashing waves as they approached, no lantern or candle lit to provide artificial vision, the full moon ahead was revealing the darkest shadows on the island of the Sea Snakes. Gliding onto sandy shores, the small troupe of men disembarked, leaving a motely two men to guard their only means of escape should the voyage to Driftmark take unexpected and dire turns. These strangers to Western shores wore dark clothing, black as pitch and obscured by highwaymen's cloaks, only the faint shimmer of red around the neck's of certain members of the group broke the black brigade.
It was a silent trip, from Pentos to the middle of the Narrow Sea, as Viserys insisted it would be. The future Hand of the King could not think with so many men talking, every man of low cunning deciding to reiterate established flaws in his plan. Did they think that the Captain-Commander was ignorant of the dangers posed to both groups intending on infiltrating Westeros? 'We have no choice, the young king is restless and I cannot say that Essos has been kind to our people.' Living, raising children and then dying in Essos was a fate far too cruel for any of these soldiers, the ten thousand strong of the Golden Company who deserved the proper honor of their rightful lands and titles. They fought against a black bastard and betrayers, sacrificed everything for their true monarch only to be tossed into the sea or into Bittersteel's iron grasps. 'We will never forget what the Blackfyre's did to us nor to Westeros, but the march of time will not be so kind to the traitor lords of Westeros, making false homes ever more welcoming to their descendants. We can spend another fifty years in exile and produce no better plan, no greater advantage than the one we have.' Many criticized Viserys for going along with Daeron's suggestion, recruiting the lords of Westeros and planning a proper revolt, rather than sitting in the forgotten East and pray that some illness destroys the false dragons. Bloodraven, a man of pragmatism, had given way to the passionate cries from his young king. His mind was made up but his heart quivered with fear, the world so threatening to the secret king, though the actions of the last Targaryen would rattle their enemies and inspire fair weather friends. That, Bloodraven was positive of.
Through his musings, the child of Brynden Rivers had led the group if eighteen across the landscape of the isle, from a beach to the outer layers of a sizable village, where walls of stone were erected but the gate left open, giving free passage into the more economic streets of Driftmark. Passing from empty merchant stalls and a statue dedicated to a dead man, Bloodraven neared the first guard outpost on the journey to the proper keep. Expecting such challenges along the way, Viserys' purple eyes pierced the night sky as he twisted his head around, gazing at the group behind him. "Speak nothing and reveal your faces, any suspicious gestures will result in our lives being made forfeit. Addam, you may be exempt from silence, should this man disregard us." With his commands given, the Captain-General approached the stone outpost, where two guards stood across from one another, blocking the path to Driftmark proper.
"Seven Blessings," A voice tinted with Eastern influence rang out through the night. Viserys separated himself from the others, a single hand in the air informing his soldiers to remain still. "I have come to speak to Lord Velaryon at the commands of the Dragon King. Time is not in abundance, should you prove to get this message to the proper authorities quickly, I can promise a heavy coin purse in return. Or, something greater." With a hand tentatively reaching into the dark robes he wore, Bloodraven pulled out a collection of small red stones, shining magnificently in the moonlight.
Braddington
Ridend
Alor
Fessa's Village (On the River Road, South of the Red Fork) - The Riverlands
The wailing had practically called the attention of the small village, every man, woman and child staring openly, some with mouths wide as they gawked.
"You canna' go!" A young man, perhaps only twenty for a few weeks, spoke brashly, a very real expression of horror and pain crossing his face as he knelt in mud just below a horse drawn wagon. He had mopey brown hair, similar to a squirrel's coat in color with the appearance of moist small clothes. He had a nose too big, deep blue eyes and skin surprisingly pale for his life style. To any outsider merely passing into Fessa's Village, seeking refuge at the inn, he was a strange sight that only perpetuated the myth of outlandish village folk deep in the wilderness.
To those who called themselves natives? It was Geran Trout, the young man who was in charge of the local barge from one side of the Fork to the other.
"I an't stay here Gerry!" A woman matching his age but outclassing him in beauty spoke back from atop the wagon, her face contorted into a mask of dismay. "Peta' is waitin' and waitin', you've driven him half mad with your wailin'!" Another local, Bessie Underbush was the inn keepers niece, she cleaned up after the visitors every day and occasionally sang to them for extra coinage. Her voice was less pleasant than a screeching hawks, but the sight of the amply supplied woman twisting her face into an array of vivid expressions often loosened a few coin purses. Bessie Underbush and Geran Trout had been in love for as long as Alor and the villagers could recall, apart only when work demanded it of them. It was when "Peta" arrived and heard the woman's voice did a rift between the two begin. In only a month, this "Peta" had described himself as a great minstrel and bard, who played at courts in the far North where snow fell even in Summer, soothing wolves with the sound of his lyre. The hot sands of Dorne were also cooled by Peta's mastery of the stringed instrument, rendering many a foe unable to go on as he played them into submission. His boasts were welcomed as tall tales by most, but the amateur singer in Bessie clung to this hero and nary left his side, much to the jealous and chagrin of Geran.
And so began a series of events that eventually led the two into their current situation - where Peta promised Bessie fortune and fame in Kingslanding, his next destination as he deemed himself worthy of the King's court, offering Underbush a promising future as his partner. As far as Alor could tell, it was all bullshit from a man who wanted free cunny for a few more weeks. Geran, whether seeing the truth behind it or merely refusing to be left by the woman he loved, threw himself into the mud and began begging. . .
"He don' speak no truvs! Bessie he ain't been Norf' of the Neck, swears on me own life! I heard him say so the day 'efore the 'ast! No king or lord 'as appreciated his music!" Geran grew desperate, his breathing quickening as he tried to cling to the edge of the cart. A look of pity and guilty crossed Bessie's face when she took on his words.
The riverland peasant shook her head, feeling the cart under her hitch and begin to move on. Peta' no doubt tired of these games, "Truly, I am sorrah Gerry! I cannah' stay here forever. 'Ou've been good ta' me me 'ole life, and I've been good ta' 'ou. The ways I sees it, we owe nothin' to each other. Don' ask me to stay and clean tables when I can sing, Gerry." Horses neighed as a whip cracked the air. Nothing could be said to stall the woman any longer, upon seeing this Geran felt weak. His heart sped up and practically burst in his chest as fingers lost their grip on the wagon's end.
Falling into the mud, Geran couldn't pull himself up to watch as the love of his life was taken from him. By some liar and cheat. Someone who would hurt her and abandon her on his journey. . .
Of the villagers present, an older woman shook her head. "Alor, take the kid inside before he makes a bigger fool of himself." Upon her suggestion, the man in question gave a curt nod of his head.
Alor, a large man with a deceivingly weathered face stepped out from behind his modest home's window, gazing off at the escaping blonde and then at his savior, Geran. Alor wasn't a native to this region of the Riverlands, only washing up on the Red Fork's shores after being mauled by a bear, receiving scars he still wore just under his twisting beard. It was the barge's father who rescued Alor from drowning, dragging the weak and dying man out of the river banks and seeing that he was given proper treatment. The damnable fool went so far as to find a Septon to "heal" Alor with prayer, nearly costing the barge's life when highwaymen saw it fit to liberate the honest man of his hard earned stags. Alor had felt indebted to the family, Geran and his Pa' keeping Alor in their home for months until he could fully recover, then even offering him work so he could feed himself.
While the man didn't feel much in the way of Bessie or the fate that would befall her, his heart ached for Geran, a boy too green in the field of romance to understand what Bessie wanted in life. 'Should've turned hunter and brought her a big ass boar. Impress the girl with more than tales you've heard while on the river.' No doubt Bessie was tired of hearing Geran recount more interesting men's stories and wanted to experience such a tale for herself. Reaching Geran, Alor roughly pulled him to his knees again. "You're covered in shit." Alor said dimissively, spying the caked mud and horse shit that the boy fell into. "Come on now, bargmen, onto your feet." Alor dragged the silent Geran off, the villagers had enough of their show.
Silence existed between them for ages as Alor moved from the village's outskirts, Geran in toe with him before they arrived at Geran's home. "She's gone." Was the only thing he said, a sob escaping his throat. "He won't treat her right, Al. I can sees the way he looks at 'er! He'll hurt her!"
"Aye." Alor muttered, wiping the shit infested mud off his hand and onto the wall. "Rivers been dangerous too. I hear word that another Inn's been burned."
"Another?!" He croaked, finding a chair to drop into, uncarrying for the disgusting state he was in. "Why must the Gods punish me like this, Al? Peta' will lead Bes. . Her into the arms of the Stranger. She should've stayed. I should. . I should go after her, challenge Peta to a man's contest."
Before the old boy or young man - depending on how one viewed Geran, Alor certainly saw him as an older boy than a young man - could make anything of his idle words, Alor sent the flat of his hand across Geran's skull. A sharp yelp of pain escaped Geran's throat, tear stained eyes set on Alor as the man spoke. "Don't be getting yourself killed for Bessie. Aye, ya' loved her, she mighta' loved you too, once. But killin' Peta' will drive'er away from ya', even if she still lived a few doors away some. What woman would wanna be with the man who killed'er special friend?"
Once more, silence dominated the conversation. Alor stood, his hardened eyes betraying little as he gazed down at the shit covered youth. Alor pitied Geran most of all, the boy could've had Bessie nigh three times, had he simply pushed her. She was always flirting with him, looking for the proper attention any young woman craved. Geran always had to be the upstanding gentleman, a peasant's knight, living by codes of honor instead of taking what was his. 'And some smart cuunt got the better of him for it. Least now he may learn. Not make the same mistake twice.'
"I. . Thank you, Ser. I wish to be alone now."
Alor honored his request. Without another word, the knight moved for the door.
"Tomorrow. . Maybe, we don't go to the Red Fork. I. ." It was emotion talking, Alor could already feel that the next request would be a stupid one. A dumb idea the knight would nonetheless help Geran fullfill. ". . Forgive me, Ser. Good day."
"Aye, and a good nights rest for ya, Geran. We'll take in the morn."
Driftmark - Crownlands
Cloudless, the moon light illuminated the island and the sea for miles, giving the sentries of House Velaryon ample time to make note of the Braavosi ship that lingered just off the coast of their ancient island. Far away enough that any action from the Westerosi nobles would prove less than fatal, allowing them to slip off into the night. When no immediate action was taken, the Braavosi ship remained with at their safe distance, though a careful observer would spy an approaching landing vessel, large enough to house twenty goodmen, a laughable amount if the Braavosi were pirates aiming to plunder the island. The small boat continued to float through the sea, heavy oars near muffled by the crashing waves as they approached, no lantern or candle lit to provide artificial vision, the full moon ahead was revealing the darkest shadows on the island of the Sea Snakes. Gliding onto sandy shores, the small troupe of men disembarked, leaving a motely two men to guard their only means of escape should the voyage to Driftmark take unexpected and dire turns. These strangers to Western shores wore dark clothing, black as pitch and obscured by highwaymen's cloaks, only the faint shimmer of red around the neck's of certain members of the group broke the black brigade.
It was a silent trip, from Pentos to the middle of the Narrow Sea, as Viserys insisted it would be. The future Hand of the King could not think with so many men talking, every man of low cunning deciding to reiterate established flaws in his plan. Did they think that the Captain-Commander was ignorant of the dangers posed to both groups intending on infiltrating Westeros? 'We have no choice, the young king is restless and I cannot say that Essos has been kind to our people.' Living, raising children and then dying in Essos was a fate far too cruel for any of these soldiers, the ten thousand strong of the Golden Company who deserved the proper honor of their rightful lands and titles. They fought against a black bastard and betrayers, sacrificed everything for their true monarch only to be tossed into the sea or into Bittersteel's iron grasps. 'We will never forget what the Blackfyre's did to us nor to Westeros, but the march of time will not be so kind to the traitor lords of Westeros, making false homes ever more welcoming to their descendants. We can spend another fifty years in exile and produce no better plan, no greater advantage than the one we have.' Many criticized Viserys for going along with Daeron's suggestion, recruiting the lords of Westeros and planning a proper revolt, rather than sitting in the forgotten East and pray that some illness destroys the false dragons. Bloodraven, a man of pragmatism, had given way to the passionate cries from his young king. His mind was made up but his heart quivered with fear, the world so threatening to the secret king, though the actions of the last Targaryen would rattle their enemies and inspire fair weather friends. That, Bloodraven was positive of.
Through his musings, the child of Brynden Rivers had led the group if eighteen across the landscape of the isle, from a beach to the outer layers of a sizable village, where walls of stone were erected but the gate left open, giving free passage into the more economic streets of Driftmark. Passing from empty merchant stalls and a statue dedicated to a dead man, Bloodraven neared the first guard outpost on the journey to the proper keep. Expecting such challenges along the way, Viserys' purple eyes pierced the night sky as he twisted his head around, gazing at the group behind him. "Speak nothing and reveal your faces, any suspicious gestures will result in our lives being made forfeit. Addam, you may be exempt from silence, should this man disregard us." With his commands given, the Captain-General approached the stone outpost, where two guards stood across from one another, blocking the path to Driftmark proper.
"Seven Blessings," A voice tinted with Eastern influence rang out through the night. Viserys separated himself from the others, a single hand in the air informing his soldiers to remain still. "I have come to speak to Lord Velaryon at the commands of the Dragon King. Time is not in abundance, should you prove to get this message to the proper authorities quickly, I can promise a heavy coin purse in return. Or, something greater." With a hand tentatively reaching into the dark robes he wore, Bloodraven pulled out a collection of small red stones, shining magnificently in the moonlight.
Braddington
Ridend
Alor
Fessa's Village (On the River Road, South of the Red Fork) - The Riverlands
The wailing had practically called the attention of the small village, every man, woman and child staring openly, some with mouths wide as they gawked.
"You canna' go!" A young man, perhaps only twenty for a few weeks, spoke brashly, a very real expression of horror and pain crossing his face as he knelt in mud just below a horse drawn wagon. He had mopey brown hair, similar to a squirrel's coat in color with the appearance of moist small clothes. He had a nose too big, deep blue eyes and skin surprisingly pale for his life style. To any outsider merely passing into Fessa's Village, seeking refuge at the inn, he was a strange sight that only perpetuated the myth of outlandish village folk deep in the wilderness.
To those who called themselves natives? It was Geran Trout, the young man who was in charge of the local barge from one side of the Fork to the other.
"I an't stay here Gerry!" A woman matching his age but outclassing him in beauty spoke back from atop the wagon, her face contorted into a mask of dismay. "Peta' is waitin' and waitin', you've driven him half mad with your wailin'!" Another local, Bessie Underbush was the inn keepers niece, she cleaned up after the visitors every day and occasionally sang to them for extra coinage. Her voice was less pleasant than a screeching hawks, but the sight of the amply supplied woman twisting her face into an array of vivid expressions often loosened a few coin purses. Bessie Underbush and Geran Trout had been in love for as long as Alor and the villagers could recall, apart only when work demanded it of them. It was when "Peta" arrived and heard the woman's voice did a rift between the two begin. In only a month, this "Peta" had described himself as a great minstrel and bard, who played at courts in the far North where snow fell even in Summer, soothing wolves with the sound of his lyre. The hot sands of Dorne were also cooled by Peta's mastery of the stringed instrument, rendering many a foe unable to go on as he played them into submission. His boasts were welcomed as tall tales by most, but the amateur singer in Bessie clung to this hero and nary left his side, much to the jealous and chagrin of Geran.
And so began a series of events that eventually led the two into their current situation - where Peta promised Bessie fortune and fame in Kingslanding, his next destination as he deemed himself worthy of the King's court, offering Underbush a promising future as his partner. As far as Alor could tell, it was all bullshit from a man who wanted free cunny for a few more weeks. Geran, whether seeing the truth behind it or merely refusing to be left by the woman he loved, threw himself into the mud and began begging. . .
"He don' speak no truvs! Bessie he ain't been Norf' of the Neck, swears on me own life! I heard him say so the day 'efore the 'ast! No king or lord 'as appreciated his music!" Geran grew desperate, his breathing quickening as he tried to cling to the edge of the cart. A look of pity and guilty crossed Bessie's face when she took on his words.
The riverland peasant shook her head, feeling the cart under her hitch and begin to move on. Peta' no doubt tired of these games, "Truly, I am sorrah Gerry! I cannah' stay here forever. 'Ou've been good ta' me me 'ole life, and I've been good ta' 'ou. The ways I sees it, we owe nothin' to each other. Don' ask me to stay and clean tables when I can sing, Gerry." Horses neighed as a whip cracked the air. Nothing could be said to stall the woman any longer, upon seeing this Geran felt weak. His heart sped up and practically burst in his chest as fingers lost their grip on the wagon's end.
Falling into the mud, Geran couldn't pull himself up to watch as the love of his life was taken from him. By some liar and cheat. Someone who would hurt her and abandon her on his journey. . .
Of the villagers present, an older woman shook her head. "Alor, take the kid inside before he makes a bigger fool of himself." Upon her suggestion, the man in question gave a curt nod of his head.
Alor, a large man with a deceivingly weathered face stepped out from behind his modest home's window, gazing off at the escaping blonde and then at his savior, Geran. Alor wasn't a native to this region of the Riverlands, only washing up on the Red Fork's shores after being mauled by a bear, receiving scars he still wore just under his twisting beard. It was the barge's father who rescued Alor from drowning, dragging the weak and dying man out of the river banks and seeing that he was given proper treatment. The damnable fool went so far as to find a Septon to "heal" Alor with prayer, nearly costing the barge's life when highwaymen saw it fit to liberate the honest man of his hard earned stags. Alor had felt indebted to the family, Geran and his Pa' keeping Alor in their home for months until he could fully recover, then even offering him work so he could feed himself.
While the man didn't feel much in the way of Bessie or the fate that would befall her, his heart ached for Geran, a boy too green in the field of romance to understand what Bessie wanted in life. 'Should've turned hunter and brought her a big ass boar. Impress the girl with more than tales you've heard while on the river.' No doubt Bessie was tired of hearing Geran recount more interesting men's stories and wanted to experience such a tale for herself. Reaching Geran, Alor roughly pulled him to his knees again. "You're covered in shit." Alor said dimissively, spying the caked mud and horse shit that the boy fell into. "Come on now, bargmen, onto your feet." Alor dragged the silent Geran off, the villagers had enough of their show.
Silence existed between them for ages as Alor moved from the village's outskirts, Geran in toe with him before they arrived at Geran's home. "She's gone." Was the only thing he said, a sob escaping his throat. "He won't treat her right, Al. I can sees the way he looks at 'er! He'll hurt her!"
"Aye." Alor muttered, wiping the shit infested mud off his hand and onto the wall. "Rivers been dangerous too. I hear word that another Inn's been burned."
"Another?!" He croaked, finding a chair to drop into, uncarrying for the disgusting state he was in. "Why must the Gods punish me like this, Al? Peta' will lead Bes. . Her into the arms of the Stranger. She should've stayed. I should. . I should go after her, challenge Peta to a man's contest."
Before the old boy or young man - depending on how one viewed Geran, Alor certainly saw him as an older boy than a young man - could make anything of his idle words, Alor sent the flat of his hand across Geran's skull. A sharp yelp of pain escaped Geran's throat, tear stained eyes set on Alor as the man spoke. "Don't be getting yourself killed for Bessie. Aye, ya' loved her, she mighta' loved you too, once. But killin' Peta' will drive'er away from ya', even if she still lived a few doors away some. What woman would wanna be with the man who killed'er special friend?"
Once more, silence dominated the conversation. Alor stood, his hardened eyes betraying little as he gazed down at the shit covered youth. Alor pitied Geran most of all, the boy could've had Bessie nigh three times, had he simply pushed her. She was always flirting with him, looking for the proper attention any young woman craved. Geran always had to be the upstanding gentleman, a peasant's knight, living by codes of honor instead of taking what was his. 'And some smart cuunt got the better of him for it. Least now he may learn. Not make the same mistake twice.'
"I. . Thank you, Ser. I wish to be alone now."
Alor honored his request. Without another word, the knight moved for the door.
"Tomorrow. . Maybe, we don't go to the Red Fork. I. ." It was emotion talking, Alor could already feel that the next request would be a stupid one. A dumb idea the knight would nonetheless help Geran fullfill. ". . Forgive me, Ser. Good day."
"Aye, and a good nights rest for ya, Geran. We'll take in the morn."
Last edited:
Braddington
Based... based on what?
Lord Commander Addam Velaryon
Driftmark - Crownlands
As soon as the ship touched Driftmark Addam felt a swell of emotions bubble inside of him, everything from joy to fear and even hope came forth in a brief few seconds. Here on this island was his ancestral home, the land, the guards and the towns all belonged to his family and were sworn to them...but something was wrong, he did not feel as if this was home and everything just felt foreign. 'I am a Velaryon of Driftmark and this will always be my true home' he stated to himself over and over again as everyone disembarked, although it did not seem right in his mind, how could this be home? he had never been here before and nothing seemed as it should...where was the Velaryon fleet? the wealth?....his father?. Still here he was and the reality of meeting his family was still very much real, for this at least he was happy and exited even though he was not sure of what their reaction would be to discovering another member and if not for the Kingsguard possible claimant of their house.Driftmark - Crownlands
As they trudged along up to a village with stone walls Addam's mind seemed to cast back to his younger years....when his father was still with him. "Now this island is Driftmark, it's where our family lives and where I lived before the Blackfyre's usurped the throne. It's a beauty to behold with the sea surrounding you on all sides and the waves crashing into the rocks with a soothing song. I promise you Addam that one day you will be go there, I know you will make it and set things right." He was too young at the time to understand why his father did not mention himself returning to Driftmark with him but now fully grown he was fulfilling what his father had proclaimed and if the Seven were truly just he would help set things right with the true King. He knew that being here was risky and that if his family decided to tell the illegitimate bastard now sitting on the Iron Throne of their presence in return for some favour then they could very well end up dead and Daeron's glorious reign could quite possibly be over before it began, but inside he felt something inside of him telling him that this would not be the case.
Once safely through the gates they passed what seemed to be a statue, Addam took a second to examine it before carrying on with the rest of the group being ushered onwards by Viserys. It seemed to have been erected recently within the last 10 years and depicted a man surrounded by a crumbling castle beating off invaders, the inscription beneath it read "Lord Corlys Velaryon during the Fall of Driftmark". 'This was my uncle, the one father and Viserys used to talk about. Maybe this means my family remained loyal to the Targaryens!' Addam thought to himself doubting every word of it, he knew nothing of these people and who knows where their allegiances now lie. Still maybe if things did go wrong he could plead for everyone here, they were connected by blood after all, if that failed well he might not enjoy killing but he would carve his way through the whole island to protect Viserys if needed and he was pretty damn sure he could do so if push came to shove.
He was snapped back to reality when Viserys spoke informing everyone to remain silent except Addam if needed. No matter the situation he trusted Viserys to guide everyone to a safe conclusion and would follow him into the depths of the Seven Hells if only to be able to witness how Viserys would get them out again. He was there for him when his father left and took up the responsibilities of raising Addam, for this he trusted him more than anyone else in the world and even when others doubted his plans Addam knew that if anyone could put the Targaryens back on the throne it was Viserys. Approaching a guard Viserys worked his magic and once more Addam knew inside that the Blackfyres days were numbered.
Ridend
JPTheWarrior
♥ Jack of Hearts ♥
Daarys
Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Daarys opened his eyes, finding himself in front of the wheel of his ship. Behind him, a golden fleet followed him. The Royal Fleet the man thought with a broad smile. Daarys felt the humid breeze hit his face and the smell of ocean hit him. His smile only grew even more. The White Shark was exactly where he wanted to be, the beautiful vast blue sea, controlling an enormous and powerful fleet. Daarys looked up, his eyebrows being brought together and his forehead wrinkling. The once clear and light blue sky became dark, with even more darker clouds forming. A storm was about to begin. The waves started getting stronger and bigger and Daarys needed to be careful or he would lose control of his ship. Suddently, the sounds of explosions were heard and flashes of orange and red light filled the skies. Daarys looked behind, only to see his entire fieet sinking, sailors and soldiers begging for the gods to have mercy on them. Daarys heard a scream in the deck of his own ship, making him look in its direction. A giant black ship was about to hit Daarys' boat. Daarys tried to see who controlled the ship, by looking at the flags, but they were just pure black. A whistle was heard and a rain of arrows hit the ship. His men fell dead on the wet wooden ground. Daarys only had time to close his eyes as an arrow flew right into his skull...Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Daarys sat up on his bed quickly, his body sweating, breathing heavily. He looked around and gave a sigh of relief, seeing he was in his old chamber in the Red Keep. He heard a yawn and he looked at his left, seeing a red haired woman without clothes, opening one of her eyes and staring at the Master of Ships. "M'lord? Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice raspy as always, her notable Riverlands accent giving hints of where she was born. Daarys blinked two or three times before giving her a gentle smile. "Yes my dear Rennifer, it was just a nightmare" he responded, his right hand laying on the woman's cheek, caressing it. Daarys' arms embraced her, his hands resting on her back and pulled her to him, his chest leaning against hers. He gave her a little peck on the lips and looked at her lime green eyes, through his own ocean blue eyes. He was about to kiss her, but they were interrupted with a knock on the door. Daarys sighed and pushed her gently away and asked out loud. "Who is it? It is still early so you better have a good reason to bother me at this time in the morning" his voice clarly showing his displeasure of the situation. A gravelly voice spoke and Daarys knew immediately who was behind the door. "My lord, a council meeting is about to begin. They didn't give me the details about it, but since it is early, I would bet it is something important" Lord Celtigar, the Black Crab was the one who spoke and walked away without saying anything else. Daarys knew that the old man would not wait for the Master of Ships to get ready, it just wasn't in his blood.
Daarys knew the man for quite a while now. Even if he had no sense of humor, the valyrian man was a skilled fighter and a good body guard. The man clearly showed his distaste in the beginning for having to guard someone who had piracy in his veins, but the two warmed up and they would now show respect for each other. Daarys sighed and smiled at Rennifer, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, work calls, love. It was nice while it lasted." he said and got up walking to his closet and putting some clothes on. While the idea of walking naked to the meeting would be an amusing one, he knew that couldn't happen, even if he would love to see Lady Myranda's reaction to it. He then moved to a table where his precious hook was resting. He put it on his left hand and waved it around "Perfect".
Daarys ate breakfast before checking the other bedroom on his chamber. His adopted son, who he named Horatio, was still sleeping. He walked back to the woman, showing two gold dragons on his right hand. "You are everything Lady J´tia promissed perhaps even more and so I give you one of this coins as a tip" he winked at her giving the two coins "And this other gold dragon is for Lady J'tia herself. When I went to the brothel and she showed you to me, she said some incredible things about you. If I may be honest, I didn't believe at first but I ate my own words. She was honest and modest, two rare traits you find nowadays." he said and walked towards the door which would lead to outside of his chamber. "You can lay there for a bit more if you would like. May our paths cross again, my dear. You will have to wait for my son to wake up first to leave the room since I am going to lock the door. Don't worry. He usually wakes up early." he said and opened the door, leaving the chamber, not before locking it, and walking towards the Iron Throne Hall.
The Great Hall was massive. Since it was early, it was mostly empty, a guard passing by from time to time. Daarys' steps would echo through the throne room. The council would take place in a chamber to the right, behind the Iron Throne, the most uncomfortable chair the world as ever seen. Made of one thousand swords that had been surrendered to Aegon in the War of Conquest by the lords who had offered their fealty, or so the legend says. Daarys walked up the stairs but didn't even glance twice at the throne, so people wouldn't have strange theories abotu Daarys and moved towards the chamber, which was empty.
"Of course I am the first one to come here..." the man sighed and sat on his seat. He didn't even bring a book to read while he would wait for the others. He simply started hitting with the point of his hook, creating a simple rhythm. He also started whistling a song his dad had taught him, many years ago.
Hypnos
L'Empereur
Harlan Bracken
Stone Hedge, The Riverlands
Stone Hedge, The Riverlands
Empty chairs at empty tables. After so many years of solitude one would be forgiven for thinking that isolation came naturally to the Lord of Stone Hedge; that the grating sound of silence, broken only by the occasional tip-tapping of leather upon hard granite, would be something that he was used to. This could not be further from the truth. Harlan Bracken had never quite adjusted to the withdrawn life that he had been forced to live, nor to the extreme inaction that came with it. In his youth he had always been a problem solver, whenever the king had demanded that action be taken, he had always been the quickest to reply and fastest to oblige. Even as he grew older and news from court became scarce he had always had his children to occupy his time, there were always things that needed to be done and distractions that needed to be taken care of. Those days were long behind him. It was rare now, that the former hand of the king would hear tales from King’s Landing, even his oldest and closest friends seemed to have cut ties and his children were a similar story. No longer were they young and foolish, in need of guidance and one by one they had all abandoned him, they had their own lives now, and perhaps soon they would have their own children and experience their own troubles, then maybe they’d return, if briefly.
Still deep in contemplation, Harlan poured himself another goblet of wine, his hand shaking in a manner that made it difficult to maneuver without spilling the the scarlet liquid onto the pristine oaken table. Was this his fourth goblet or his fifth? After so many similar evenings it was hard to keep track what had occurred today and what was simply a recollection from last week, or even last month. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a good night's sleep, or at least one not brought about by the the force of his drink. ‘Tonight was supposed to be different’ he thought with a frown, ‘tonight was supposed to herald change.’
He could vaguely remember making plans to sup with his son tonight, though of course those plans had fallen through, when it came to Hoster most plans tended to end in a similar fashion. Harlan loved his son as much as any father should: he was his oldest child and the only boy his wife had given him after 23 years of marriage, the boy was his legacy, the one who would pass on his name, his father’s name, to a future generation of Brackens. This feeling could not be said to be a mutual one. He was out hunting most like, or sailing, or fishing, or training, or whatever else boys of his age did, woefully unaware or perhaps purposely ignorant of the commitment he’d made. It didn’t matter. Lord Bracken was perfectly content to drink another night away.
“My Lord, your wife has returned from prayer, she requests an audience, should I let her in?” Harlan grunted in assent, using the hem of his sleeve to wipe the remnants of wine from his stained lips.
Minisa Piper had been a beautiful woman in her younger years, chased after by countless knights and suitors, though unfortunately, age hadn’t been kind to her. Her neck was too long and her waist too wide, her face, which had once been the epitome of beauty was now covered in blotches and imperfections and her once radiant smile had contorted into what seemed like an almost permanent frown. It was enough to make Harlan forget why he’d married her in the first place, though he supposed he’d never really been after her looks.
“Did you have a pleasant meal?” Minisa started, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
“Aye, you could say that.” Harlan’s voice was hoarse, the dry tones of someone who had almost forgotten how to speak entirely.
“I prayed for you.” She replied. “Since you never seem to grace the Septry with your presence anymore.”
Harlan just nodded, barely taking his eyes off of his goblet, reaching to take another sip of wine. “And what exactly did you pray about?”
Minisa moved closer, placing a hand upon Harlan’s shoulder, it was cold and the first time Harlan had been touched by another person in weeks. “I prayed that you’d get out more for one.” Her words weren’t judgemental, though Harlan had a hard time seeing them as anything more than a chance to attack him once more “and that you’d put down that godforsaken drink.”
“You needn’t have wasted your time then. I don’t need gods to tell me how to live my life.”
“Apparently not,” she motioned to the room around them, “because you’re obviously doing such a great job of directing your own life.”
“Watch your tongue woman.” His words were slow, yet dripping with contempt. “I will not be berated in my own home. I’m the Lord of this castle, and if you find issue with how I choose…”
“Yes of course my Lord, you’ve always been…” Her words were cut short by the loud clap of flesh against flesh, her hands darting up to meet a read mark upon her otherwise pale face.
“I will not sit here and be discredited by you. I was hand of the king!”
“And what have you done since?” She let the question hang in the air, moving away from her husband and out of the room, the tapping of footsteps slowly fading until once again Harlan Bracken was left in silence.
ailurophile
hm
Vaella Blackfyre
King's Landing, The Red Keep
The innocent smile gave way to another exasperated moan as Vaella was reminded she still needed to bathe before getting dressed. In her annoyance, she barely registered Ilyana's comment about who she could smell on her. That didn't mean there wasn't a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she reluctantly began to unfasten her dress and let the garment fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Vaella had no issues with being unclothed in front of her friend, they'd been doing it for years, it really was no big deal. King's Landing, The Red Keep
It wasn't that Vaella didn't enjoy baths, as cat-like as she was, she did like them. Just not when she was tired. Or in a hurry. Still, her protests were kept to a minimum as she stepped into the tub and sank down, letting the water engulf her body.
"I suppose you're right, as usual. In my haste I completely forgot a step of the routine." Her smile finally returned as she spoke, "Oh, Ilyana, what would I do without you, hm?" Vaella was intelligent, or at least she wasn't stupid, but when it came to everyday tasks she could be terribly forgetful. Without her friend to guide her she'd probably end up going to dinner without her proper clothes, or forgetting to comb her hair, or completely missing some important event. The possibilities were endless. As she leaned back a little to bring her head closer, she glanced back and added, "Try to be gentle with the knots in my hair, please."
--
Finally she was back in her dress. Take two, she had joked to Ilyana when when she had donned it. It turned out that she didn't end up in the green dress after all, but in the red. Something about the green just hadn't seemed right when she had tried it on yet again. The best thing to do was to turn and get away from the mirror and the three dresses, so as not to tempt herself to become caught up in the cycle of trying them on all over again.
"Come, Ilyana." Vaella's voice was fairly commanding, but soft and relaxed at the same time. It wasn't often that she gave Ilyana actual orders, at least not seriously-- they were friends, you didn't order your friends about, did you? Her lips formed a smile as she tucked a lock of fair hair behind her ear, now smooth and silky after a fe minutes of careful brushing, courtesy of the redhead who stood in front of her. "We'd best be heading out now. If I stay in here one more moment I'm afraid I'll want a new hairstyle and a new dress, and I don't want to put you through that." With a laugh, she headed for the door, trailing her fingertips along Ilyana's arm as she passed by. Once out of the room she paused to hold the door open and repeated, "Come!"
Akio
JPTheWarrior
JPTheWarrior
♥ Jack of Hearts ♥
Horatio
Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Kings Landing, The Red Keep
Horatio did not want to leave his bed. Being under all of those bedsheets was comfortable and Horatio loved to pretend he was a butterfly inside a cocoon. The only thing you could see of Horatio when he was sleeping was his dark brown hair. Everything else was hidden by those bedsheets. Horatio heard two people talking on the other bedroom, the one that belonged to his father. He guessed one of the voices was Daarys and the other one was the red haired woman that his father brought last night. After a bit, Horatio heard steps walking towards the door that lead to his room. Someone opened that same door for moments before closing it. Dad! It must be him. He always does that Horatio thought with a smile. His father was always worrying about him and was always checking to see if everything was alright.
The young boy stood there still for a couple of more minutes before realising he was not going to fall asleep again. He pushed the bedsheets away and sat up looking around. The window was closed and curtains were blocking it, making so only dim light could illuminate the room. He looked at the candle that was on a table right next to his bed. Every night Daarys would light it, since Horatio couldn't sleep without some light in his room. He was afraid of the darkness, of the shadows that would create shapes of monsters. He was afraid of the emptiness under the bed, where an assassin could be hiding, waiting for everyone to fall asleep. Even if the light couldn't do anything against those threats, it did make him feel safer.
Horatio got up of his bed and put some clothes on. Nothing too formal, just something he could wear for the day. There was no special event today, no boring dinner or tourney he had to attend and show to everyone a fake and insincere smile. Being the son of Master of Ships wasn't easy, for his father was an important figure and as his only family member, Horatio needed to sacrifice some of his time for Daarys. However, today there was none of that, he could go wherever he wanted, as long as it was inside the Red Keep. Horatio opened the door and left his room with the chamber's keys on his hand. The boy faced himself with that redhead, who was wearing no clothes and was standing next to the table where he and his father would eat breakfast everyday. He had seen her before, but only now did he notice how breathtaking the woman was. Horation's eyes evaluated her from from toe to head his eyes moving around. His father had thaught him how to judge a woman by her appearences and if she was worth renting or not. Seeing naked bodies was something that Horatio was used to, since his father was always bringing whores to spend the night with.
"Oh hello, boy" Rennifer with a sly smile as she started to move towards him, her walk elegant and graceful. "Would you like to eat breakfast with me, my young lord?" she asked. Her voice made Horatio's skin shiver and get goosebumps for it was a nice and captivating kind of raspy. She looked at him, their eyes locking into each other. Horatio stood there for a full second or two before answering "Hum... yes I would like that" he said with a little smile. The woman winked at him and walked towards the table and sat on one of the chairs. Daarys had prepared breakfast already for the two to eat. Horatio sat in front of Rennifer and both ate in silent. Horatio's eyes never left the whore, even while he was eating. Rennifer would glance at him from time to time, always smiling and never mentioning how he wouldn't just stop looking at her.
After they finished, Rennifer put some clothes on and left. Horatio went out of his chamber minutes after, locking the door. He wanted to visit his favourite garden and he since it was far he didn't waste time and started the walk with a fast rhythm.
One thing he disliked about Red Keep was how big it is. So many corridors and rooms. A wrong turn and you would found yourself in a completly different place of what you had in mind. It didn't took long before he had to start saying 'left' and 'right', to help remember the path to the garden.
"Left" Horatio said before turning the corner. He was looking at the ground while he walked and so he only noticed someone when he was in front of them and a sweet female voice was what made Horatio stop. "Come!" the woman said and Horatio looked up and his jaw dropped. A silver haired woman with beautiful purple eyes, pale skin and a dazzling smile that would melt a man's heart. Horatio stared at the woman for more than what he wished. Although he had a feeling that they had already met, he didn't recognize Vaella Blackfyre. "Are you a goddess?" Horatio said out loud. It was meant as just a thought but his lips moved on their own revealing what the young man was thinking.
ailurophile
Akio
Last edited:
Ridend
Magic Eight Ball
Driftmark, Crownlands
Valaena, Aenar and Jacaerys Velaryon
The loud clanks of a mallet hammer clashing with steel, against a iron anvil could be heard echoing from the forge. Lady Valaena Velaryon and Lord Aenar Velaryon took a moment to oversee the forging of new armor, defense, siege, infantry, cavalry and artillery weapons...before watching and assisting their eldest son The Silver Dragon Jacaerys Velaryon train their men. Orangish red ambers spark with every strike of hammer, as it shapes the steel. The blacksmith tirelessly works on the weapons.
A Driftmark guard runs up, gathering his composure and catching his breath before..."Excuse me Lady Velaryon and Lord Velaryon...the ship that anchored in our waters, I believe are Targaryen supporters, because one of them were flashing red coins. He was promising coin, for a quick audience with you Lady Velaryon and Lord Velaryon." The Velaryon guard explained with a sense of urgency and importance. Lady Velaryon couldn't disguise the pleasure this brought her, with her eyes widening and the slight grin that had a rather slight hint of mischievous and relief to it. Valaena been preparing for the resurgence of both The Targaryens & The Velaryons, since she was five years old, when The Blackfyre Rebellion took place and leaving in it's wake the death of her Father and many others. Was this the day she has been preparing her kids for, since they came out her womb? "What a nice surprise." Lord Aenar Velaryon stated. "Thank you. Will you please lead us to our guest?" The lady asked of the guard. "You're welcome Lady Velaryon. Right this way if you will, my Lady and my Lord. I'll take you right to the guest." The guard responded, before guiding them down a grassy stone path.
A fresh breeze of air at their backs, while the Sun shined down on the group faces, without a cloud horizon to block it's power rays. As they approach the visitors from about twenty yards out, the Velaryon's recognize one of the two men awaiting their arrival appeared to be their cousin Addam Velaryon, who they haven't seen since he was a little boy...now a young man, a very capable one from the stories they heard. The other gentleman hooded cloak, shielded his face from their view. Once within arm reach, Aenar goes to shake Addam's hand and Valaena leans in to hug him...
"It's been too long Addam..." Valaena expresses to her cousin. "Addddaaammm!!!" 'The Silver Dragon' Jacaerys Velaryon excitedly yells, running up from behind with the family valaryian sword Rogue Wave sheathed in his hand, coming from his training in the barracks. "You been missed cousin! How have you been!?" The Silver Shark said...
Braddington
TheAncientCelt
Last edited:
Braddington
Based... based on what?
Lord Commander Addam Velaryon
Driftmark - Crownlands
Addam jumps back slightly at all of the fuss being taken over him, when did he meet them all? he had never even seen his father talk about them. He knew his father used to write letters and take trips back to Westeros every now and then but he had no idea he had been here before "It's good to see you too my Lady, my Lord, I have too admit I am at a loss to ever having met you. I have been waiting for this day most of my life thinking you had no idea I existed and now I discover you knew about me all along" Addam says in his accent not at all Westerosi, a smile forms across his face, genuinely happy for the first time since...Braavos was it? he can scarcely remember. Looking at his family he had no doubt they were connected by blood with silver hair and purple eyes, remarkably handsome and all he had heard about the Valryians...himself being one of them.Driftmark - Crownlands
Snapping back to attention Addam realising the importance of the meeting asks one important question before handing over to Viserys "That sword is Valyrian steel right? I saw a Dothraki wield a Valryian Steel arakh once, he was quite hard to kill but I managed it. If I remember correctly it's named Rouge Wave, father talked about it and how it had been in the family since before the Doom took Valryia. That brings me to a question I have to ask.....have you heard anything from my father? anything at all? I know he would be an old man by now but maybe....just maybe there is a chance." While saying this the permanent sad look returns to his eyes.
Ridend
TheAncientCelt
Last edited:
Ridend
Magic Eight Ball
Driftmark, Crownlands
Lady, Lord and Jacaerys Velaryon
Valaena, Aenar and Jacaerys all look at each other, with a sad lost look...all at a lost for words. None of them sure how to respond to Addam's question, because truthfully they didn't know the answer... "Addam, we really don't know to be honest with you. We all had heard different stories, but most believe him to dead...which we refuse to believe. I'm sure he is out there somewhere Addam. No matter what though, we're here for you, if you ever need us. This is your home too after all. She explained to him, as Aenar place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jacaerys sighed, as he shook his head...feeling bad for his cousin. "We'll find him...it's bond to happen, no matter where he is." Jacaerys insured Addam, then nodded.
Lord Velaryon turned to the gentleman who had accompany Addam and then back to Addam..."Yes Addam, we'll find your Father...I promise you that. Question though, who's is this you brought with you under the hood? Are you some type of trouble??? Aenar asked his younger cousin. The Velaryons stood their all wondering the same thing. They all was hoping he had came with good news of their relatives The Targaryens surfacing again, to gain support to take what was rightfully theirs back...The Iron Throne. It's been too long, and The Velaryons had been making preparations for such a day for so long. Although their fleet or men wasn't what it once was in sheer numbers before the rebellions, they were a well skilled group of loyal soldiers. To boost their numbers though, they had been in contact with two different mercenary companies, in hopes to hire one or both companies...but at the current time they can't afford both, something they would worked out some way if they decided to hire both. The Company Of The Cat & Saan Pirate Family...were the two companies that they contacted, which they're actually planning to meet with today here at home in Driftmark...
Lady, Lord and Jacaerys Velaryon
Valaena, Aenar and Jacaerys all look at each other, with a sad lost look...all at a lost for words. None of them sure how to respond to Addam's question, because truthfully they didn't know the answer... "Addam, we really don't know to be honest with you. We all had heard different stories, but most believe him to dead...which we refuse to believe. I'm sure he is out there somewhere Addam. No matter what though, we're here for you, if you ever need us. This is your home too after all. She explained to him, as Aenar place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jacaerys sighed, as he shook his head...feeling bad for his cousin. "We'll find him...it's bond to happen, no matter where he is." Jacaerys insured Addam, then nodded.
Lord Velaryon turned to the gentleman who had accompany Addam and then back to Addam..."Yes Addam, we'll find your Father...I promise you that. Question though, who's is this you brought with you under the hood? Are you some type of trouble??? Aenar asked his younger cousin. The Velaryons stood their all wondering the same thing. They all was hoping he had came with good news of their relatives The Targaryens surfacing again, to gain support to take what was rightfully theirs back...The Iron Throne. It's been too long, and The Velaryons had been making preparations for such a day for so long. Although their fleet or men wasn't what it once was in sheer numbers before the rebellions, they were a well skilled group of loyal soldiers. To boost their numbers though, they had been in contact with two different mercenary companies, in hopes to hire one or both companies...but at the current time they can't afford both, something they would worked out some way if they decided to hire both. The Company Of The Cat & Saan Pirate Family...were the two companies that they contacted, which they're actually planning to meet with today here at home in Driftmark...
TheAncientCelt
Braddington
TheFordee20
Last edited:
ailurophile
hm
Vaella Blackfyre
King's Landing, The Red Keep
Another voice interrupted Vaella just as she was about to make a comment about how pretty Ilyana's hair looked-- she had always found the vibrant colour so beautiful, especially when she looked at their reflections together in the mirror. She often wondered how the two of them would look if they traded colours. Yes, despite her insisting that she was clever and mature now, a woman of eighteen, her mind was sometimes still clouded with fairly empty and unimportant thoughts. King's Landing, The Red Keep
A goddess? Was this young man for real? Vaella shot Ilyana a questioning look to convey her disbelief before turning to face the boy, softening her expression somewhat so as not to frighten him of. A flicker of recognition crossed her face as her gaze fell upon him; she was fairly sure they had met before, albeit only in passing. Was it worth mentioning? She supposed not, he didn't seem to recognise her and it'd be awkward if she had him confused with somebody else, and even more so if they had met and he'd simply forgotten her. She was over-complicating things in her mind and she knew it.
"Are you asking me, or my friend? I can speak for myself and assure you that I'm not a goddess, but I'm not so sure about Ilyana." Her tone was light, warm. Fortunately for him, Horatio had caught her in a good mood, whether he knew it or not. "Vaella. Vaella Blackfyre." She added as she took a few steps towards him, lazily swaying her hips. She had noticed that he had failed to properly introduce himself, and hoped that her own introduction would prompt his. With that she rested a hand on her hip and pursed her lips, watching him expectantly as she awaited his response.
Akio
JPTheWarrior
Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
Arthur Roxton
King's Landing, The White Sword Tower
"Up! Get up, brothers! Don't make me ask again, or you're all cleaning your own armour for the week! For the Seven's sake, GET UP!"
Ser Adrian Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, came tumbling down the stairs, waking everyone from their sleeps. First below the Lord Commander's quarters were the quarters of Ser Mace Greenfield, Ser Symon Bywater, and Ser Eden Butterwell, so they'd be the first to face Ser Adrian's rousing cries. Below them were Ser Steffon Rogers, Ser Lyle Hightower, and himself. For a moment there was a sudden silence, the only sound being the groaning of Ser Steffon as he awoke from a particularly deep sleep.
"Where the fuck are Mace and Symon!"
+++
Some minutes later, the sounds of swords clashing had revealed that Symon and Mace were, in fact, sparring. And by the sounds of Symon's calling to the Seven for all kinds of virtues, and his occasional praising of how endowed Mace was by the Smith and the Warrior, it sounded like Mace was getting the better of most of it.
"Smith, give me the strength of body, mind, and grip to overcome this foe!"
Symon's voice rang out from outside, as the other Kingsguard assembled for breakfast, which was currently being hurried in by a few serving boys. Ser Lyle Hightower laughed openly at Symon, only silenced when Ser Steffon Rogers caught his gaze with an oddly admonishing look for a man barely out of the youngest years of his manhood. Then it was Adrian who laughed, more quietly and in a deeper tone than Lyle just had. Arthur stood at a window, peering out into the small 'courtyard' in front of the White Sword Tower where Mace and Symon were fighting.
The two stood in cloths, clearly not having bothered to round up their squires to put their armour on yet. Ser Symon Bywater wielded a greatsword, one which Arthur hoped that the zealous man had actually blunted rather than trusting in the will of the Seven to prevent mishap, with frightening speed. The first time he had seen a greatsword, as a young boy of 9, it had seemed an impossible weapon. Surely nobody could swing that fast enough to be effective. Then he had watched the Master of the Guard, a wrinkled, hook-nosed knight named Merridon, all but beat his father into the ground with it, defying every expectation Arthur had held. It wasn't until he watched Ser Symon fight, however, that he realised the true folly of his young assumptions. Symon's use of its greater reach and weight was impeccable, and the massive sword moved from point to point with uncanny swiftness and precision. If he were against any other man Arthur knew, Arthur would back Ser Symon every time.
But Ser Symon was against Ser Mace Greenfield. The Living Sword lived up to his title. He wielded his sword and shield as though they were not weapons, but as if they were his own two arms. And despite his own size and strength, he moved swiftly enough that at times his footwork seemed almost imperceptible, and his sword at times moved quickly enough that Arthur lost track of it. Ser Mace consistently chewed down Ser Symon's reach advantage, an advantage already lessened by their comparative sizes, by simple footwork, outmaneuvering and outpacing Ser Symon, driving him back and forth across the yard on the defensive. Every so often, Ser Symon would reverse his fortunes, but then Ser Mace's sword would vanish again, reappearing hovering over Ser Symon's head. Ser Mace had once told Arthur that Arthur had the most potential of any youth his age that he'd ever seen, and continued that with the proper training, he may even rival Mace himself. Watching Ser Mace fight now, it was hard not to feel both incredibly honoured and terribly daunted by such praise. How was he to ever fight like that?
"Arthur."
Ser Adrian's baritone voice materialised from over Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Ser Adrian. What do you need?" Arthur said quickly.
Adrian smiled kindly. "You to stop jumping every time one of us talks to you." He laughed another deep laugh.
The two stood silently, watching Symon regain the offensive, only to lose the bout to a cunning step-in and riposte.
"What's on your mind, Arthur?" Adrian asked, after a moment.
"Nothing."
Ser Adrian snickered. "Be glad Lyle didn't hear you say that. He may not be the greatest fighter among us, but he could skewer anyone with his tongue."
"I'm sure he could," Arthur said, noncommittally.
"So what is it? Some girl got your mind?" Adrian asked bluntly.
Arthur shook his head.
"Mmm. Didn't think so," Adrian drawled.
There was another silent moment, and behind them Ser Steffon's uproarious laughter at one of Ser Lyle's jokes rolled through the tower.
"Aaah. You're thinking about what Mace told you," Adrian concluded.
Arthur nodded. "It just seems so silly. How am I meant to ever be like that? I couldn't be half the man he is." he said, motioning to Mace, who had just deflected a cut off his shield and simultaneously launched a thrust of his own, which Symon twisted to the side of.
"Time, my lad. Time does strange things. It makes monsters of heroes and heroes of those who never dreamed of importance. The Living Sword has been living for thirty-four years. You've been around for half that. Just keep at it, if that's what you want."
Adrian spat out the window and continued, "Whatever you do, don't let it echo and echo in your head. Tends to take most of it up. You're clever, Arthur. You've got a talent for fighting the size of the Rock. Doesn't mean that's gotta be all you're measured by."
Arthur stayed quiet, and the two watched Ser Symon win a bout with a clever feint that Arthur had never seen before. He mentally noted it down.
Adrian leaned around him. "Mace! Symon! Get up here and have breakfast! That's good ale that Eden's drinking!"
Adrian left, and the two sparring knights began to pace back inside. Arthur looked up from the fighters, taking a good, close look at the morning sky. Beautiful.
+++
After breakfast, they had all gone down to the undercroft to retrieve their arms, and with the help of a few squires, most notably Joswen, Ser Steffon's lowborn squire, began to fit their armour. Arthur, for his part, was being aided by a round-faced boy with dark eyes and even darker hair only four years his younger, Lucas Manning. It was still odd to Arthur, having a squire already, even after Ser Adrian had consoled him with words of how well he was growing up and how it was simply a sign of his maturity and his manhood.
Ser Adrian, as always, was armoured up first. "Assemble in the courtyard outside. A bit of free-for-all sparring, then we'll swing into the assignments," he told them, before moving to trot up the stairs and out of sight. The rest followed, and started to stand in a circle. Arthur looked around the circle. To his left was Ser Symon, and to his right was Ser Eden, who was currently getting fixed in what Arthur sensed was an intense glare from under a helmet from Ser Lyle on the other side of the circle. Arthur questioned whether or not it was another one of Ser Lyle's japes. He hoped so.
"Begin!" Adrian called, and the melee was on. Ser Lyle, as expected, went hurtling right across the circle for Ser Eden. Ser Symon turned to Ser Steffon and went on the attack, a melee which Ser Mace quickly involved himself in. Ser Adrian and Arthur both stayed back cautiously, then locked eyes, mutually shrugged, and charged each other. Arthur blocked Ser Adrian's first blow, only to be shaken by the power of it. He often forgot that despite the Lord Commander's advancing age, he was still a very powerfully built man with a lot of muscle in that breadth of shoulder. Ser Adrian capitalised, sending another swing from the other side. Arthur angled his shield to skitter it away and countered with a swift, simultaneous thrust from under the shield. Ser Adrian caught it on his own shield, but not easily. Right. He couldn't beat Ser Adrian in a straight brawl. He had to fight quickly and fight cleverly.
Arthur, pressing his attack for all it was worth, feinted an overhead cut, but instead brought it down into a thrust up into Ser Adrian's side. Ser Adrian, once again, was a little bit slow, but still managed to interpose his shield. Then his sword came whistling in from the side, and Arthur mistimed knocking it away, taking the full impact right on the shield. His shield arm jarred, but Arthur gritted his teeth and flashed a quick stroke down onto the top of Ser Adrian's distinctive red helm, which hit with a loud 'clang'. Ser Adrian, undeterred, swung again, but Arthur had already skittered back out of reach. Damn it, he let himself get drawn into a straight fight. Ser Adrian came at him, but Arthur warded him off with a surprise lunge forward which almost slid right past his shield. Adrian tried to bat his sword out of the way to open Arthur's defence, but he was too slow.
Arthur and Ser Adrian circled each other for a moment, then Arthur stepped forward, feinting an attack. Ser Adrian didn't fall for it, and instead pushed right through to try and slam into him with his shield. Arthur stepped aside, desperate to get out of Ser Adrian's path, and instead slid his sword low at Ser Adrian's legs, which were currently mid-stride. The hit threw Ser Adrian off balance and nearly stumbling into the dirt. Nearly was enough for Arthur to connect another solid hit onto the back of Ser Adrian's helm, sending him down onto a knee.
"Yield!" Ser Adrian called. Arthur felt a rush of giddy exhilaration flow through him at the prospect of defeating the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, before feeling a little silly about it.
It was in this state that Arthur, still caught up in a rush, was surprised by Ser Lyle, fresh off the defeat of Ser Eden. The fight was quick, and Arthur recovered well. Not well enough, however, as Lyle beat him quickly, before Arthur could refocus.
Arthur removed himself to the side of the fight, alongside Ser Adrian and Ser Eden. Ser Adrian quickly gave him a pat on the shoulder, then turned his attention back to the fight. Ser Symon had just been taken out by Ser Mace. As Ser Lyle made his way into the melee, it quickly became clear that he had overstepped. Ser Steffon turned and rained down blows on Ser Lyle's defence, beating through with raw speed and power, before turning back to Ser Mace, whom he mounted a surprisingly stiff defence against, but was eventually defeated.
Ser Adrian stepped forward again, as the squires came and took their blunt practice blades out of their hands, replaced them with sharp ones, and then ran off to store the practice swords away.
"Alright, that's enough of that. Well done, all of you, that was some good fighting. Now, the assignments. Ser Eden Butterwell! Guard the King, as usual. Ser Mace Greenfield! Guard the Queen. Ser Symon Bywater! You're guarding... you're guarding... oh you know the one, the Queen's fucking baby. Err, where was I? Ah. Ser Arthur Roxton! You're posted to Maegor's Holdfast! Ser Lyle Hightower! You are guarding Lady Vaella. Ser Steffon Rogers! You've got a free day, go pester someone who isn't me. King Aemond, for all I care. And I have a Small Council meeting to attend. Eden, when the King arrives at the meeting, stand at the doors of the Council Chambers. We need someone there, and I'm inside if anyone tries anything in there, so you'll at least hear the struggle."
Ser Adrian sauntered off, apparently confident in a perfect morning routine. The rest scattered like ants, and it occurred to Arthur that perhaps he should follow suit. So he did, taking the same route to Maegor's Holdfast, that big, square, ugly fortress in the heart of the Red Keep that he'd gotten so used to seeing. Only this time, Ser Steffon intercepted him with a smile, his helm under his arm for now. "I'll come keep you company. I know from experience how boring Maegor's Holdfast can get."
King's Landing, The White Sword Tower
"Up! Get up, brothers! Don't make me ask again, or you're all cleaning your own armour for the week! For the Seven's sake, GET UP!"
Ser Adrian Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, came tumbling down the stairs, waking everyone from their sleeps. First below the Lord Commander's quarters were the quarters of Ser Mace Greenfield, Ser Symon Bywater, and Ser Eden Butterwell, so they'd be the first to face Ser Adrian's rousing cries. Below them were Ser Steffon Rogers, Ser Lyle Hightower, and himself. For a moment there was a sudden silence, the only sound being the groaning of Ser Steffon as he awoke from a particularly deep sleep.
"Where the fuck are Mace and Symon!"
+++
Some minutes later, the sounds of swords clashing had revealed that Symon and Mace were, in fact, sparring. And by the sounds of Symon's calling to the Seven for all kinds of virtues, and his occasional praising of how endowed Mace was by the Smith and the Warrior, it sounded like Mace was getting the better of most of it.
"Smith, give me the strength of body, mind, and grip to overcome this foe!"
Symon's voice rang out from outside, as the other Kingsguard assembled for breakfast, which was currently being hurried in by a few serving boys. Ser Lyle Hightower laughed openly at Symon, only silenced when Ser Steffon Rogers caught his gaze with an oddly admonishing look for a man barely out of the youngest years of his manhood. Then it was Adrian who laughed, more quietly and in a deeper tone than Lyle just had. Arthur stood at a window, peering out into the small 'courtyard' in front of the White Sword Tower where Mace and Symon were fighting.
The two stood in cloths, clearly not having bothered to round up their squires to put their armour on yet. Ser Symon Bywater wielded a greatsword, one which Arthur hoped that the zealous man had actually blunted rather than trusting in the will of the Seven to prevent mishap, with frightening speed. The first time he had seen a greatsword, as a young boy of 9, it had seemed an impossible weapon. Surely nobody could swing that fast enough to be effective. Then he had watched the Master of the Guard, a wrinkled, hook-nosed knight named Merridon, all but beat his father into the ground with it, defying every expectation Arthur had held. It wasn't until he watched Ser Symon fight, however, that he realised the true folly of his young assumptions. Symon's use of its greater reach and weight was impeccable, and the massive sword moved from point to point with uncanny swiftness and precision. If he were against any other man Arthur knew, Arthur would back Ser Symon every time.
But Ser Symon was against Ser Mace Greenfield. The Living Sword lived up to his title. He wielded his sword and shield as though they were not weapons, but as if they were his own two arms. And despite his own size and strength, he moved swiftly enough that at times his footwork seemed almost imperceptible, and his sword at times moved quickly enough that Arthur lost track of it. Ser Mace consistently chewed down Ser Symon's reach advantage, an advantage already lessened by their comparative sizes, by simple footwork, outmaneuvering and outpacing Ser Symon, driving him back and forth across the yard on the defensive. Every so often, Ser Symon would reverse his fortunes, but then Ser Mace's sword would vanish again, reappearing hovering over Ser Symon's head. Ser Mace had once told Arthur that Arthur had the most potential of any youth his age that he'd ever seen, and continued that with the proper training, he may even rival Mace himself. Watching Ser Mace fight now, it was hard not to feel both incredibly honoured and terribly daunted by such praise. How was he to ever fight like that?
"Arthur."
Ser Adrian's baritone voice materialised from over Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Ser Adrian. What do you need?" Arthur said quickly.
Adrian smiled kindly. "You to stop jumping every time one of us talks to you." He laughed another deep laugh.
The two stood silently, watching Symon regain the offensive, only to lose the bout to a cunning step-in and riposte.
"What's on your mind, Arthur?" Adrian asked, after a moment.
"Nothing."
Ser Adrian snickered. "Be glad Lyle didn't hear you say that. He may not be the greatest fighter among us, but he could skewer anyone with his tongue."
"I'm sure he could," Arthur said, noncommittally.
"So what is it? Some girl got your mind?" Adrian asked bluntly.
Arthur shook his head.
"Mmm. Didn't think so," Adrian drawled.
There was another silent moment, and behind them Ser Steffon's uproarious laughter at one of Ser Lyle's jokes rolled through the tower.
"Aaah. You're thinking about what Mace told you," Adrian concluded.
Arthur nodded. "It just seems so silly. How am I meant to ever be like that? I couldn't be half the man he is." he said, motioning to Mace, who had just deflected a cut off his shield and simultaneously launched a thrust of his own, which Symon twisted to the side of.
"Time, my lad. Time does strange things. It makes monsters of heroes and heroes of those who never dreamed of importance. The Living Sword has been living for thirty-four years. You've been around for half that. Just keep at it, if that's what you want."
Adrian spat out the window and continued, "Whatever you do, don't let it echo and echo in your head. Tends to take most of it up. You're clever, Arthur. You've got a talent for fighting the size of the Rock. Doesn't mean that's gotta be all you're measured by."
Arthur stayed quiet, and the two watched Ser Symon win a bout with a clever feint that Arthur had never seen before. He mentally noted it down.
Adrian leaned around him. "Mace! Symon! Get up here and have breakfast! That's good ale that Eden's drinking!"
Adrian left, and the two sparring knights began to pace back inside. Arthur looked up from the fighters, taking a good, close look at the morning sky. Beautiful.
+++
After breakfast, they had all gone down to the undercroft to retrieve their arms, and with the help of a few squires, most notably Joswen, Ser Steffon's lowborn squire, began to fit their armour. Arthur, for his part, was being aided by a round-faced boy with dark eyes and even darker hair only four years his younger, Lucas Manning. It was still odd to Arthur, having a squire already, even after Ser Adrian had consoled him with words of how well he was growing up and how it was simply a sign of his maturity and his manhood.
Ser Adrian, as always, was armoured up first. "Assemble in the courtyard outside. A bit of free-for-all sparring, then we'll swing into the assignments," he told them, before moving to trot up the stairs and out of sight. The rest followed, and started to stand in a circle. Arthur looked around the circle. To his left was Ser Symon, and to his right was Ser Eden, who was currently getting fixed in what Arthur sensed was an intense glare from under a helmet from Ser Lyle on the other side of the circle. Arthur questioned whether or not it was another one of Ser Lyle's japes. He hoped so.
"Begin!" Adrian called, and the melee was on. Ser Lyle, as expected, went hurtling right across the circle for Ser Eden. Ser Symon turned to Ser Steffon and went on the attack, a melee which Ser Mace quickly involved himself in. Ser Adrian and Arthur both stayed back cautiously, then locked eyes, mutually shrugged, and charged each other. Arthur blocked Ser Adrian's first blow, only to be shaken by the power of it. He often forgot that despite the Lord Commander's advancing age, he was still a very powerfully built man with a lot of muscle in that breadth of shoulder. Ser Adrian capitalised, sending another swing from the other side. Arthur angled his shield to skitter it away and countered with a swift, simultaneous thrust from under the shield. Ser Adrian caught it on his own shield, but not easily. Right. He couldn't beat Ser Adrian in a straight brawl. He had to fight quickly and fight cleverly.
Arthur, pressing his attack for all it was worth, feinted an overhead cut, but instead brought it down into a thrust up into Ser Adrian's side. Ser Adrian, once again, was a little bit slow, but still managed to interpose his shield. Then his sword came whistling in from the side, and Arthur mistimed knocking it away, taking the full impact right on the shield. His shield arm jarred, but Arthur gritted his teeth and flashed a quick stroke down onto the top of Ser Adrian's distinctive red helm, which hit with a loud 'clang'. Ser Adrian, undeterred, swung again, but Arthur had already skittered back out of reach. Damn it, he let himself get drawn into a straight fight. Ser Adrian came at him, but Arthur warded him off with a surprise lunge forward which almost slid right past his shield. Adrian tried to bat his sword out of the way to open Arthur's defence, but he was too slow.
Arthur and Ser Adrian circled each other for a moment, then Arthur stepped forward, feinting an attack. Ser Adrian didn't fall for it, and instead pushed right through to try and slam into him with his shield. Arthur stepped aside, desperate to get out of Ser Adrian's path, and instead slid his sword low at Ser Adrian's legs, which were currently mid-stride. The hit threw Ser Adrian off balance and nearly stumbling into the dirt. Nearly was enough for Arthur to connect another solid hit onto the back of Ser Adrian's helm, sending him down onto a knee.
"Yield!" Ser Adrian called. Arthur felt a rush of giddy exhilaration flow through him at the prospect of defeating the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, before feeling a little silly about it.
It was in this state that Arthur, still caught up in a rush, was surprised by Ser Lyle, fresh off the defeat of Ser Eden. The fight was quick, and Arthur recovered well. Not well enough, however, as Lyle beat him quickly, before Arthur could refocus.
Arthur removed himself to the side of the fight, alongside Ser Adrian and Ser Eden. Ser Adrian quickly gave him a pat on the shoulder, then turned his attention back to the fight. Ser Symon had just been taken out by Ser Mace. As Ser Lyle made his way into the melee, it quickly became clear that he had overstepped. Ser Steffon turned and rained down blows on Ser Lyle's defence, beating through with raw speed and power, before turning back to Ser Mace, whom he mounted a surprisingly stiff defence against, but was eventually defeated.
Ser Adrian stepped forward again, as the squires came and took their blunt practice blades out of their hands, replaced them with sharp ones, and then ran off to store the practice swords away.
"Alright, that's enough of that. Well done, all of you, that was some good fighting. Now, the assignments. Ser Eden Butterwell! Guard the King, as usual. Ser Mace Greenfield! Guard the Queen. Ser Symon Bywater! You're guarding... you're guarding... oh you know the one, the Queen's fucking baby. Err, where was I? Ah. Ser Arthur Roxton! You're posted to Maegor's Holdfast! Ser Lyle Hightower! You are guarding Lady Vaella. Ser Steffon Rogers! You've got a free day, go pester someone who isn't me. King Aemond, for all I care. And I have a Small Council meeting to attend. Eden, when the King arrives at the meeting, stand at the doors of the Council Chambers. We need someone there, and I'm inside if anyone tries anything in there, so you'll at least hear the struggle."
Ser Adrian sauntered off, apparently confident in a perfect morning routine. The rest scattered like ants, and it occurred to Arthur that perhaps he should follow suit. So he did, taking the same route to Maegor's Holdfast, that big, square, ugly fortress in the heart of the Red Keep that he'd gotten so used to seeing. Only this time, Ser Steffon intercepted him with a smile, his helm under his arm for now. "I'll come keep you company. I know from experience how boring Maegor's Holdfast can get."
TheAncientCelt
your character's involved, obviously
TheFordee20
ailurophile
Blitzer
your characters are having Kingsguard heading their way, so you can write them appearing if you want, so I don't have to, and I'll take it from there. kthxbye.Whoops, Blitz, you're in Dragonstone. Sorry lad.
Last edited:
TheAncientCelt
The Leech Lord
Viserys Bloodraven
Driftmark - Crownlands
The Captain-General of the Golden Company allowed himself to remain silent for the time being, letting young Addam reacquaint himself with his cousins. The sight threatened to break his stoic mold, a small smile creeping at the edges of his lips, only for the talk of Addam's father to be brought up. Once more, a hard expression crossed the beautiful features of the man, deciding to keep his tongue still on the matter. The Late Ser Aegon was a close friend of Viserys, apart from the now dead King Valarr, there were few who Bloodraven enjoyed the company of. It pained the Witch of the East to consider his brother in arms deceased, but the matter was Essos was openly hostile to all who entered it, Westerosi were no exceptions. The matter of finding his lost father was. .Troubling, 'He'd be almost my age at this point, if not older. Should he be alive, he'd of notified us. He'd of written to me.' Still, Bloodraven wished not to break the boy's heart any further. He always err'd on the side of skepticism when discussing the location of Aegon with Addam, but outright expressing his belief that Ser Aegon was in fact dead had yet to be done.When the conversation finally drifted back to the more important matter, Bloodraven let a graceful smirk extend out to the young Kingsguard Commander. Without words, Bloodraven clutched the top of the cloak, steadily untying the knot that held the rain cloak together before letting the front slip apart. A fierce, three headed red dragon lay open to the inspection of the Velaryon's, burning the black background. There was no hints on who's side Bloodraven was on. Falling into view was a small ruby red amulet hanging precariously from his neck, more signs of the Targaryen colors could also be found in smaller douses throughout his body. "I would reveal myself, Lord and Lady Velaryon. Though it is dangerous, my cousins who now sit the throne and revel in the Hoarse Hall of the Rivers have seen to my demise since I was a babe." His words paused as he stared up at the two, violet eyes shining out of the hood with the briefest hints of Valyrian silver peaking through as well.
"I am a loyal servant to the true king of Westeros, as was my father before me. I go by many names in the East, Lord Bastard of the Exiles, Captain-General by those who fancy my presence. Bloodraven, though, is the most accurate." The Leader of the Golden Company formally introduced, his words barely above a hush. "We have arrived on your island with the intention of discussing matters so dire that it would put your family in danger, put your stewards and any man who has a positive word to say about you in precarious situations." His lips remained parted as he went silent, looking over the two nobles for any hint of repulsion. Viserys suspected this may be too much for them to take in at one time, but he hoped they would accept them in without much hesitation. "Should you not be devoted to the cause of the Red Dragon, send us away now and we'll speak no more of this meeting." He ended.
Driftmark - Crownlands
The Captain-General of the Golden Company allowed himself to remain silent for the time being, letting young Addam reacquaint himself with his cousins. The sight threatened to break his stoic mold, a small smile creeping at the edges of his lips, only for the talk of Addam's father to be brought up. Once more, a hard expression crossed the beautiful features of the man, deciding to keep his tongue still on the matter. The Late Ser Aegon was a close friend of Viserys, apart from the now dead King Valarr, there were few who Bloodraven enjoyed the company of. It pained the Witch of the East to consider his brother in arms deceased, but the matter was Essos was openly hostile to all who entered it, Westerosi were no exceptions. The matter of finding his lost father was. .Troubling, 'He'd be almost my age at this point, if not older. Should he be alive, he'd of notified us. He'd of written to me.' Still, Bloodraven wished not to break the boy's heart any further. He always err'd on the side of skepticism when discussing the location of Aegon with Addam, but outright expressing his belief that Ser Aegon was in fact dead had yet to be done.When the conversation finally drifted back to the more important matter, Bloodraven let a graceful smirk extend out to the young Kingsguard Commander. Without words, Bloodraven clutched the top of the cloak, steadily untying the knot that held the rain cloak together before letting the front slip apart. A fierce, three headed red dragon lay open to the inspection of the Velaryon's, burning the black background. There was no hints on who's side Bloodraven was on. Falling into view was a small ruby red amulet hanging precariously from his neck, more signs of the Targaryen colors could also be found in smaller douses throughout his body. "I would reveal myself, Lord and Lady Velaryon. Though it is dangerous, my cousins who now sit the throne and revel in the Hoarse Hall of the Rivers have seen to my demise since I was a babe." His words paused as he stared up at the two, violet eyes shining out of the hood with the briefest hints of Valyrian silver peaking through as well.
"I am a loyal servant to the true king of Westeros, as was my father before me. I go by many names in the East, Lord Bastard of the Exiles, Captain-General by those who fancy my presence. Bloodraven, though, is the most accurate." The Leader of the Golden Company formally introduced, his words barely above a hush. "We have arrived on your island with the intention of discussing matters so dire that it would put your family in danger, put your stewards and any man who has a positive word to say about you in precarious situations." His lips remained parted as he went silent, looking over the two nobles for any hint of repulsion. Viserys suspected this may be too much for them to take in at one time, but he hoped they would accept them in without much hesitation. "Should you not be devoted to the cause of the Red Dragon, send us away now and we'll speak no more of this meeting." He ended.
Ridend
Braddington
Yarrow
Senior Member
Bowena Peake
The Red Keep
Bowena hurried through the castle, she was late. The handmaidens hadn’t woken her up, she would talk to the Castellan, what was his name again?, about this for sure. Because of this she was now late, had to do her own hair and had no clue where the Princes Vaella was. She couldn’t go to the breakfast yet, because if Vaella wasn’t there it would be very rude and the lady they were supposed to have dinner, what was her name again? She always forgot the names of the important people in the castle they were supposed to meet. She always had that and she couldn't afford that. Back at Starpike it was easy, most visitors were either Peakes from other branches or houses from the region, and since she grew up there is was all so much easier. It was either Lord Peake, Ashford, Tarly, Caswell or Meadows. These new names were confusing for her, and the names of the sister of Vaella, Aerea, how did she pronounce that? She was happy that she was here now, at the Red Keep, between all the important lord and ladies, where she could wear the newest dresses, hairstyles and other trends. It always took a few months for the dresses to arrive at Starpike, and then in King’s landing, the ladies were already walking in new dresses, more beautiful and better.
Finally she saw her princes, with Illyana, that ironborn girl and another young boy. The boy was certainly not from here. When she approached Vaella, she bowed and said with her perfect Reach accent “Vaella, here you are! Breakfast is ready, we should be going” totally ignoring the other two persons
ailurophile
JPTheWarrior
Akio
The Red Keep
Bowena hurried through the castle, she was late. The handmaidens hadn’t woken her up, she would talk to the Castellan, what was his name again?, about this for sure. Because of this she was now late, had to do her own hair and had no clue where the Princes Vaella was. She couldn’t go to the breakfast yet, because if Vaella wasn’t there it would be very rude and the lady they were supposed to have dinner, what was her name again? She always forgot the names of the important people in the castle they were supposed to meet. She always had that and she couldn't afford that. Back at Starpike it was easy, most visitors were either Peakes from other branches or houses from the region, and since she grew up there is was all so much easier. It was either Lord Peake, Ashford, Tarly, Caswell or Meadows. These new names were confusing for her, and the names of the sister of Vaella, Aerea, how did she pronounce that? She was happy that she was here now, at the Red Keep, between all the important lord and ladies, where she could wear the newest dresses, hairstyles and other trends. It always took a few months for the dresses to arrive at Starpike, and then in King’s landing, the ladies were already walking in new dresses, more beautiful and better.
Finally she saw her princes, with Illyana, that ironborn girl and another young boy. The boy was certainly not from here. When she approached Vaella, she bowed and said with her perfect Reach accent “Vaella, here you are! Breakfast is ready, we should be going” totally ignoring the other two persons
ailurophile
JPTheWarrior
Akio
Ridend
Magic Eight Ball
Driftmark, Crownlands
Lady, Lord and Jacaerys Velaryon
"Yes, our Targaryen relatives will always have our support! Their family and will always be our family." Jacaerys said without any hesitation, as if he was anticipating the question...which The Velaryons were, since before he was born and dating back to when Lady & Lord Velaryon we're just little kids. "My sword is yours..." 'The Silver Dragon' stated while raising the family valaryian steel 'Rogue Wave' up in his tight grasp, while staring directly at Viserys violet eyes with his own, as if he was making sure The Captain General felt in his soul that The Silver Shark was sincere with his words... "Our family valaryian steel sword Rogue Wave isn't mine to give, but you have my sword nevertheless." Jacaerys explained to The Bloodraven, before Lord Velaryon interjected..."Excuse my son outburst, because he isn't in a position to make such a decision for our whole family, although he is speaking truthful from the heart." Aenar sighed, before looking to his wife, who in return look to The Hand Of The True King... "Their both correct. We been preparing for this since I was a little girl, and we have made sure all our children and men would be ready for such a call. The Blackfyres have took so much from both us Targaryens and Velaryons." Valaena said raising her tone a bit, and all nodded in agreement with her statement. She took a deep breath, to reflect on her past...especially losing her Father in the rebellion and having to perpetrate all this time, that she had no problem with the Blackfyres by playing nice with them.
"We have setup a meeting today with both The Company Of The Cat for use of their men, and The Saan Pirate Family for use of their warships mostly. While we're producing more armor and weapons ourselves. The only thing is...we don't have enough coin to hire both mercenary companies, but enough to hire one. Their no better sea commanders in all of Westeros than us Velaryons, but we don't have enough ships right now. Not to mention...our son here is the best champion in all of Westeros, and I know this because I seen them all...even better when welding Rogue Wave, which I'll make sure he has. We just need your help with two things, one we'll discuss later...but now we need coin to pay for the service of one of the mercenary companies I named before. Could you assist us?" Lady Velaryon asked of Viserys Bloodraven. Jacaerys look to his Mother with his violet eyes, knowing what this means and could mean to his family. The wind blew by, smacking his silver hair against his pale cheek bones. He was ready no matter the odds. Was his ambition, lead to his very own end???
Lady, Lord and Jacaerys Velaryon
"Yes, our Targaryen relatives will always have our support! Their family and will always be our family." Jacaerys said without any hesitation, as if he was anticipating the question...which The Velaryons were, since before he was born and dating back to when Lady & Lord Velaryon we're just little kids. "My sword is yours..." 'The Silver Dragon' stated while raising the family valaryian steel 'Rogue Wave' up in his tight grasp, while staring directly at Viserys violet eyes with his own, as if he was making sure The Captain General felt in his soul that The Silver Shark was sincere with his words... "Our family valaryian steel sword Rogue Wave isn't mine to give, but you have my sword nevertheless." Jacaerys explained to The Bloodraven, before Lord Velaryon interjected..."Excuse my son outburst, because he isn't in a position to make such a decision for our whole family, although he is speaking truthful from the heart." Aenar sighed, before looking to his wife, who in return look to The Hand Of The True King... "Their both correct. We been preparing for this since I was a little girl, and we have made sure all our children and men would be ready for such a call. The Blackfyres have took so much from both us Targaryens and Velaryons." Valaena said raising her tone a bit, and all nodded in agreement with her statement. She took a deep breath, to reflect on her past...especially losing her Father in the rebellion and having to perpetrate all this time, that she had no problem with the Blackfyres by playing nice with them.
"We have setup a meeting today with both The Company Of The Cat for use of their men, and The Saan Pirate Family for use of their warships mostly. While we're producing more armor and weapons ourselves. The only thing is...we don't have enough coin to hire both mercenary companies, but enough to hire one. Their no better sea commanders in all of Westeros than us Velaryons, but we don't have enough ships right now. Not to mention...our son here is the best champion in all of Westeros, and I know this because I seen them all...even better when welding Rogue Wave, which I'll make sure he has. We just need your help with two things, one we'll discuss later...but now we need coin to pay for the service of one of the mercenary companies I named before. Could you assist us?" Lady Velaryon asked of Viserys Bloodraven. Jacaerys look to his Mother with his violet eyes, knowing what this means and could mean to his family. The wind blew by, smacking his silver hair against his pale cheek bones. He was ready no matter the odds. Was his ambition, lead to his very own end???
TheAncientCelt
Braddington
TheFordee20
Akio
Lord of Naptime
Ilyana Pyke
Ilyana had only just finished doing Vaellas hair when Vaella shot up, twirling in evident cheerful nature as she ran for the door, grasping at her arm playfully as if it could make her go faster. She was calling for her to come, as impatient as a humming bird endlessly flapping its wings, unable to stay still. One would almost forget that she had to drag her out of bed this morning. Rolling her eyes she stood and followed her out, moving with almost lupine grace compared to Vaellas way of almost floating as she followed her out into the hall. They walked for some small distance, hardly out of the room, before some young child came into their path, staring at Vaella the way she had seen many look at her before she had been married and even then. Ilyana rolled her eyes, wasn't this kid a bit young to be already having thoughts like that? However a closer look made his face familiar and it brought on a greater frown. Horatio. Daarys son though she had only met him while training with the bold pirate. A child, slow of wit and too quick of tongue. Vaella was making some jest about how while she was not some goddess she wasn't sure about her and trying to prompt the boy to introduce himself with the cheerful if slightly confused attitude and Ilyana could no longer hold her tongue.
"His name is Hotario, he's someone i know in passing." She would likely tell Vaella who he was after, but not in his hearing, Daarys child was in some ways a secret and other ways open but he rarely saw others. She had other responsibilities but respected Daarys enough and knew him well enough that she hesitated in deciding what to do. Then she heard another voice that grated on her ears made her grimace and turn, regarding one Bowena Peake. Another one of Vaellas maids who was unfortunately as empty headed and entitled as anyone she ever met. She couldn't help but scowl as she regarded her and indeed she ignored her as well, instead rushing to Vaella and trying to pull her around to breakfast. "Hotario, where is your father, where were you going?" Ilyana would question softly, ignoring the girl as she came to take a knee in front of him, wondering if Daarys knew that he was wandering around.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
Ser Lyle Hightower
King's Landing, The Red Keep
Lyle ambled through the halls and corridors of the Red Keep, slowly but surely making his way to the chambers of Vaella Blackfyre, confident that she'd likely still be near there by the time he arrived. He was wearing all the usual trappings of the Kingsguard: the intricate, white armour, the white helm, the white cloak, the white shield. His hand rested lazily on his sword's hilt as he walked, partially because it was comfortable and natural, and partially because it couldn't hurt to be ready, or at least look it.
The journey passed largely uneventfully, although as he neared Vaella's chamber he heard the sound of someone rushing through the castle in the direction of Vaella's chambers, and sped his gait to a purposeful stride. 'Someone had better not be trying to kill my charge, or so help me, I will slice their balls or tits off, then get the cooks to make a stew of it,' he thought to himself, not quite trusting himself to say it quietly enough. He rounded a bend and came in sight of Vaella's chambers, discovering that it was, in fact, a handmaiden of Vaella rushing to her, along with Vaella herself, the handmaiden Ilyana Pyke, and a young boy who looked oddly familiar. Lyle felt like he'd seen the boy before. Was that one that he'd fucked? No, he seemed too young for that. Maybe his father? A brother?
He drew nearer. "Ladies," he greeted, casting his gaze over the two handmaidens, the other of whom Lyle now recognised as Bowena Peake, as well as Vaella and the boy. Then he turned his head to Vaella. "Lady Vaella. I trust I did not miss another riveting 'discussion' between you and Duncan while I was away, and that nobody tried to kill you?" he joked.
King's Landing, The Red Keep
Lyle ambled through the halls and corridors of the Red Keep, slowly but surely making his way to the chambers of Vaella Blackfyre, confident that she'd likely still be near there by the time he arrived. He was wearing all the usual trappings of the Kingsguard: the intricate, white armour, the white helm, the white cloak, the white shield. His hand rested lazily on his sword's hilt as he walked, partially because it was comfortable and natural, and partially because it couldn't hurt to be ready, or at least look it.
The journey passed largely uneventfully, although as he neared Vaella's chamber he heard the sound of someone rushing through the castle in the direction of Vaella's chambers, and sped his gait to a purposeful stride. 'Someone had better not be trying to kill my charge, or so help me, I will slice their balls or tits off, then get the cooks to make a stew of it,' he thought to himself, not quite trusting himself to say it quietly enough. He rounded a bend and came in sight of Vaella's chambers, discovering that it was, in fact, a handmaiden of Vaella rushing to her, along with Vaella herself, the handmaiden Ilyana Pyke, and a young boy who looked oddly familiar. Lyle felt like he'd seen the boy before. Was that one that he'd fucked? No, he seemed too young for that. Maybe his father? A brother?
He drew nearer. "Ladies," he greeted, casting his gaze over the two handmaidens, the other of whom Lyle now recognised as Bowena Peake, as well as Vaella and the boy. Then he turned his head to Vaella. "Lady Vaella. I trust I did not miss another riveting 'discussion' between you and Duncan while I was away, and that nobody tried to kill you?" he joked.
ailurophile
Akio
JPTheWarrior
Yarrow
Ser Adrian Redwyne
King's Landing, The Red Keep > Council Chambers
What, in the name of the Seven, was the name of that twice-damned baby? Adrian was sharp, highly intelligent. So why was the name of one of the Royal family escaping him? Was he really that lost in his study of battles past? Adrian shook his head as he walked, to clear his thoughts. He couldn't let it bother him. His duty and vows demanded that he ward the king with all his strength, he couldn't do that if his mind was wandering. Adrian rubbed his forehead with a balled fist for a moment, then set off with renewed vigour to the Council Chambers.
He made his way behind the Iron Throne to the doors to the Council Chambers, barely even paying the spectacle of the Iron Throne a glance. Just a big seat, that's all it was. An uncomfortable one, too. The King had just as much authority off the throne as he did on it. Just looked scarier ordering people's heads removed while he was on it than when he was, say, stark naked. Adrian pictured King Aemond sitting naked on the Iron Throne, then immediately wished he hadn't. He'd rather replace that image with the same but with one of his daughters instead, but it was too late.
Adrian grimaced, and not just because of the mental image. He could hear the whistling from outside the doors. Who in the Seven Hells was that? It was fucking Daarys, wasn't it? Essosi prick. He'd never liked that one. Respected his skill as an admiral? Sure. Liking him? That was a step too far. The man's an Essosi pirate, he should be getting his head cleaved off, not getting his arse put in a Small Council seat. Adrian stepped through the door and made his way over to a chair, sitting opposite Daarys. "Would you shut up? And stop that tapping, that's a good table, someone spent days if not weeks of their life on that, I don't want you to scratch it just because you're bored," he told the man, irritated.
King's Landing, The Red Keep > Council Chambers
What, in the name of the Seven, was the name of that twice-damned baby? Adrian was sharp, highly intelligent. So why was the name of one of the Royal family escaping him? Was he really that lost in his study of battles past? Adrian shook his head as he walked, to clear his thoughts. He couldn't let it bother him. His duty and vows demanded that he ward the king with all his strength, he couldn't do that if his mind was wandering. Adrian rubbed his forehead with a balled fist for a moment, then set off with renewed vigour to the Council Chambers.
He made his way behind the Iron Throne to the doors to the Council Chambers, barely even paying the spectacle of the Iron Throne a glance. Just a big seat, that's all it was. An uncomfortable one, too. The King had just as much authority off the throne as he did on it. Just looked scarier ordering people's heads removed while he was on it than when he was, say, stark naked. Adrian pictured King Aemond sitting naked on the Iron Throne, then immediately wished he hadn't. He'd rather replace that image with the same but with one of his daughters instead, but it was too late.
Adrian grimaced, and not just because of the mental image. He could hear the whistling from outside the doors. Who in the Seven Hells was that? It was fucking Daarys, wasn't it? Essosi prick. He'd never liked that one. Respected his skill as an admiral? Sure. Liking him? That was a step too far. The man's an Essosi pirate, he should be getting his head cleaved off, not getting his arse put in a Small Council seat. Adrian stepped through the door and made his way over to a chair, sitting opposite Daarys. "Would you shut up? And stop that tapping, that's a good table, someone spent days if not weeks of their life on that, I don't want you to scratch it just because you're bored," he told the man, irritated.
JPTheWarrior
again
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JPTheWarrior
♥ Jack of Hearts ♥
Horatio
King's Landing, the Red Keep
Her voice was sweet, warm and welcoming, like a lit fireplace during the long cold days of winter. Horatio's jaw dropped a few inches as the woman took a few steps towards him. The girl of snow hair and violet eyes introduced herself as Vaella Blackfyre, a name Horatio recognized. She also meantioned another name, Ilyana, whom he immediately related with the Ilyana Pyke, bastard of the legendary Dagon Greyjoy. "My words were about you, my princess" Horatio eyes moved from her to the ground, bending his head as a sign of respect. Daarys told him many occasions about the Royal Family, House Blackfyre and how Horatio oughted to be courteous with its members. Horatio raised his head and gazed upon her eyes once again. "My name is Ho-" Ilyana walked out the door and interrupted him, introducing the boy. Horatio looked at Ilyana, her flaming hair as beautiful and magnificent as ever.King's Landing, the Red Keep
The boy raised an eyebrow. She did not mention who he was child of, something he did not understood the reason behind it. Horatio cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak again, but once again he was prevented from talking for another woman he didn't know about came with quick steps towards Vaella herself. The girl came to announce breakfast was ready for her and that they should leave to eat. Horatio's expression changed to a sad one, not wanting Vaella to go. This was a once in a lifetime experience. He knew that seeing her so close, speaking with her and she paying attention to what he was saying would happen no more. The handmaiden or whatever she was, completly ignored him and Ilyana, which clearly wasn't happy, her frowned face revealing her displeasure.
Ilyana turned to Horatio, asking the whereabouts of Daarys and where Horatio himself was going. Horatio shrugged, raising his shoulders "When I woke up he was already far from me. I know nothing about his location" he smiled to her and while Vaella was distracted with Bowena Peake he walked towards Ilyana " Im going to the gardens! Wanna come with me? We can play together!" he said grabbing her right hand with both of his "Like... not last time but the occasion... we played hide and seek? Remember?!"
His head turned quickly when another voice, a male one, spoke. By his armor and sword, the man was a knight, a Kingsguard to be more exact. Horatio smiled at him since he always admired guys like him. Horatio wanted to be a knight too, but he lacked their fighting skills. "You are a knight right Ser?! I loved to be like you one day!" Horatio said to the man.
ailurophile
Akio
Yarrow
Obi-Wan Kenobi