OLD RP - The Crownlands

[Asua]

Rogar Bolton
Quarters, King's Landing

Rogar stood in the corner of his chamber's, staring into the large mirror that was also in the corner of the room, it was clear, unlike most mirrors in these times that were heavily stained. He was dressed in fine leather clothing, embroiled with the flayed man sigil of House Bolton. Rogar was in a particularly solemn mood today has his mind had decided to torture him with the past. It was 26 years ago....

It was a gloomy day at the Dreadfort, the clouds sat heavy, on the verge of bursting, in the sky. Rogar was only 14 years old and he was already much like he would be 26 years later, cold, ruthless and cunning yet Rogar Bolton was not the heir to the Dreadfort, he had an older brother named after their Grandfather, Roose Bolton the one time warden of the North.

Rogar stood at the window of his chambers in the main keep of the Dreadfort, watching Roose play tennis in the main courtyard. Roose was never much of a fighter or leader for that matter. He enjoyed singing and playing tennis and shied away from any decisions that he would have to make. Rogar's eyes drifted from Roose to his 11 year old sister, Jeyne who stood on the battlements with a big smile watching Roose win at tennis against a servant. She was a cheery child and loved all her family.

Rogar stood their for the next twenty minutes, just waiting for Roose to ask for some water. Every minute seemed like an eternity. This had to be done, if House Bolton was ever to regain power in the North they absolutely could not have such an indecisive leader like Roose leading them. Then it happened, after winning the match Roose pointed at a servant who was holding a jug of water in his hands "Water, please" Roose said in a kind and honeyed tone. The servant stood up and jogged over to Roose, pouring the water into a cup before quickly handing it to him. Roose chugged down all the water quickly, there was no turning back now, it was done. Rogar felt chills run down his spine as Roose went back to playing tennis, casting a fast and well timed serve. Roose and the servant hit the back back and forth for a moment before Roose suddenly stopped, reeling over and putting his hands on his knees. He started to cough violently, from his window Roose could see blood flinging itself out of Roose's mouth, hitting the damp ground beneath him, servants rushed from all around to the heir's aid.

Rogar's eyes drifted to Jeyne who had left the battlements and ran down to the aid of her older brother who had now fallen over onto the ground. There was suddenly an urgent knock at Roose's door. He swiftly walked over to the door, opening it. There stood a filthy and scruffy haired servant "I-it's Roose, somethings wrong!" The servant panted, he had obviously ran straight from the courtyard to Rogar's room. Rogar stayed silent, breaking into a run, past the servant.

Within a minute Rogar reached the courtyard, a crowd had gathered around Roose, including Jeyne and his father Eric Bolton, lord of the Dreadfort. Rogar pushed his way through the crowd, suddenly a piercing and agonising scream broke out, it was his sister, Jeyne. Rogar quickly reached Roose and saw him flat on his back, his eyes were covered in thick blood that continued to ooze out of its sockets. Roose was dead. It was done.



Talia Bolton
Stadium, Kings Landing >>> Stark Box

Talia smiled as Lord William Ashwood accepted her invitation to the Stark box. Talia suspected that the only obstacle in them staying there would be her lord father, Rogar Bolton. She was on good terms with her Aunt and Uncle, Lord and Lady of Winterfell and she didnt think her many cousins would mind. "Shall we go my lady?" Daimen Ashwood said as she held his arm, her body close to his own, one arm linked with his own while one rested gently on his shoulder. "Yes, we shall" She smiled and the party set off towards the Stark box.

Once the party reached the Stark box, Talia spotted her cousin, the red headed Lyara Stark who was only a year younger then herself. "Dear cousin!" Talia announced as the rather large party approached her. Talia gave Lyara a large smile but in truth she despised her.​

Dylon and Alys Bolton (And Rogar)
Stark box, King's Landing

All the commoners parted as Dylon and Alys walked through them. They were surrounded by a massive retinue of a dozen guards. Dylon was the sole heir to the Dreadfort, there were no other living members of House Bolton besides himself and his father, so his father insisted that he be guarded well at all times, especially while in King's Landing, the centre of betrayal and backstabbing in Westeros. The party drew eyes from all the other nobles, it was a little overkill to have so many guards at such an event but Rogar did seem to care.

"Where is father?" Alys suddenly spoke in her sweet and innocent tone. "I think he's still in his ch-" Suddenly the guards halted. Dylon was confused for a moment before looking behind him and spotting his father coming up behind him with another four guards, making the part total, 16 guards. "Father" Dylon said bowing slightly. Rogar did not speak but just walked straight past his two children, heading towards the Stark box. Dylon and Alys quickly followed and the party started moving again.

"What's with father?" Alys whispered as she clutched her twins arm. "You know how father is..." Dylon whispered back.

When the party reached the Stark box, the Bolton soldiers surrounded it, facing outwards, they were now 20. Dylon, Alys and Rogar quickly spotted Talia speaking to Lyara but she wasnt alone. The whole Ashwood family was with her. Dylon and Alys must have been thinking the same thing because they both looked at eachother with uneasy looks when they spotted the Ashwoods.

"Lord Ashwood" Rogar came up next to his eldest daughter, speaking plain and coldly to the small lord before turning his piercing gaze to his daughter's companion who he didnt know the name of, he assumed he was one of the elder Ashwood children. "And you are?" Rogar spoke giving Daimen a cold and nearly hostile gaze. Rogar didnt approve of his daughter being so close to such an insignificant family in the North, who also had nothing that would benefit Rogar's house but then he's thoughts changed. Talia was not one to get close to a family just to make friends, no, she must have a hidden ambition that he didnt know about.

"Lyara!" Alys nearly yelled in excitement, she hadnt seen her at all since they had been in King's Landing. Alys ran up to Lyara and gave her cousin a big, smothering hug. Dylon came up beside the pair "Hello sweet cousin" He said smiling at Lyara with his arms crossed.​

JPTheWarrior
ailurophile

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[JPTheWarrior]

The Ashwood
Stark's Box, Stadium, King's Landing
​

The Ashwood moved behind Talia, William looking at his son and how close he was with the woman. He guessed it was probably because of him that Talia invited them to sit with her family. He sighed and Miya said "Be nice" she ordered and Lord Ashwood nodded and put on his best smile. When they reached the box all of the Ashwood bow "My Lords, My Ladies" they all said in chorus, greeting every Stark and Bolton who were there. Daniel started counting how many there were there. There were too many but fortunetely the box was big. Daniel guessed that if it started to get full, the Ashwood would have to leave.

Talia's siblings were also there, the twins Dylon and Alys Bolton. William was about to relax but someone called him. He knew this voice very well and his body started shaking a bit. Nonetheless, he still turned around to face Rogar Bolton, Lord of the House Bolton. "My lord" William said with a bow followed by his entire family. Daimen let go of Talia's arm and also bowed. The cold tone could be noticed and William knew exactly why he was like that. The lord didn't like the idea of having a low ranked noble house by his side. William was about to speak and apologize but Rogar had already asked Daimen a question. William nodded to his eldest son, so he could speak freely.

"My name is Daimen Ashwood my lord." he said bowing again "Son of William Ashwood and heir to the House Ashwood" he explainned afraid that Rogar would have his head removed for even touching her daughter's arm.

Asua

 

[Asua]

Talia and Rogar Bolton
Stark box, Stadium, King's Landing

Talia could see the look on her father's face, although it just looked chilling to everyone else she knew he was about to say something insulting to the Ashwoods. Talia stepped towards her father and just made it look like she was turning around to be next to her father but as she turned she mumbled something so only Rogar could hear "Be nice". Rogar sighed for a moment before speaking "Ronald" He called to the captain of the guard. Ronald jogged over to Rogar "Yes, my lord" He said bowing low to his liege "Stay with my daughter..." Rogar paused "And her new companion" He finished. "Yes my lord" Ronald replied, resting one hand on his sword, not in a hostile way of course but in a casual manner, Ronald didnt have much reputation outside of Bolton territory but inside the territory he was known as a fierce and extremely skilled swordsman.

Rogar then preceded to walk past the Ashwoods and take his seat right next to where lord Stark would be sitting. If there was a hand of the King in the North, Rogar would be it. Talia's gaze followed her father's movements before she turned back to the Ashwood family, now she had her father's most loyal man following her around, but that was just it, he was loyal to her father and not Talia. "Shall we sit?" Talia announced, her eyes moving from Daimen Ashwood and then to the rest of the family before she led the way to the seats directly behind where the Stark family would sit. Usually, Talia would sit next to her father but this time she had guests and she didnt much want her father to hear what she would be saying to the Ashwoods, even if it was innocent, luckily the crowd would drown out whatever she spoke.​

JPTheWarrior

 

[JPTheWarrior]

The Ashwood sat next to Talia. Daimen was the one who sat next to Talia while his brother and sisters sat on his left side followed by his parents. Daniel was right about the view of the duels. Here you could watch the fighters brawl much better and not have to worry about the rest of the crowd. Daimen didn't dislike the common folk but he knew that in events like this they could get crazy and start pushing each others around. Even worst was the fact that he had two beautiful sisters who might be a target of someone's perversion and that Daimen couldn't tolerate. Here was mich better and you could have a normal conversation without needing to scream or talk loudly so your companion could hear.

Daimen was pretty admired that Talia would sit next to them instead of staying with her family. However he did not open his mouth to start a conversation with her. He didn't know if she would like to have a low noble start a conversation. She could think that Daimen would see himself as someone equal to her. Catherine started talking with Daniel about the fighters and who they thought could win. Isabella soon joined their conversation and were just having a great time. William had calmed down now and was holding hands with his wife, Miya Ashwood. Lady Ashwood smiled at her husband "See this isn't too bad." she said with a little but kind smile. William nodded finally giving a real smile.

As for Daimen, he would love to join his brother and sisters but he needed to be respectful to Talia and give her company. He looked at her with a little smile, thinking of what they could talk about and waiting that she would actually be the one to speak first.

Asua

 

[Yarrow]

Axell Tyrell
Tyrell's Box
​

Axell listened to the words of his brother "Smart choice, I don't expect a full war.. " That was a lie, Axell knew for sure there would be a war ".. but at least some trouble at our borders. When I install a new commander, the troops need to get to know him, so it's smart that the new commander will show the troops his skill"

Then the Redwyne siblings joined them in the Tyrell Box. Axell greeted them both, he showed them their seats and continued talking to his brother "So, even if it didn't come to war, would you still want to be a commander? I can at least get you a high position in the command staff"

Axell noticed everything that happened in their box, so also Ave looking to Walder. He took a note of that, if he wanted to make his bonds with the Redwynes even stronger, he might need a marriage between Walder and Ave.

Looking around their box, Axell noticed that the Hightowers weren't there, he wrote down something on a piece of paper and then gave it to a handmaiden "Give this to the Hightowers"

JPTheWarrior
TheFordee20
WanderingJester

Spoiler: letter

My dear Hightower friends, please do come sit at your reserved spots at the Tyrell Box, you won't regret it

 

[JPTheWarrior]

Walder and Elia Tyrell
Tyrell's Box, King’s Landing
​

Walder and Elia greeted the Redwynes as soon as they came. Walder remembered Austen Redwyne was in fact a good friend of his brother, Axell. Walder looked at his brother and sighed "I will think about it. I hope our army is not rusty from this peaceful times" he said and Elia smiled "Now now brother, have faith in our House's men." she chuckled and Walder smiled "Yeah you are right, I shouldn't be so doubtful." he said a little chuckle after. Elia looked at the Redwynes and decided to have a conversation with them. "Are you enjoying your stay in King's Landing my lord and my lady?" she asked with a little smile. Walder looked at Ave and their eyes met for brief seconds before the young Tyrell sat on his seat with his sister by his side. Walder sighed and waited for the melee to start. Ave and Austen were right about the event. It was taking too long to start.

Elia holded Walder's hand "Be patient my brother. It will br worth the wait" she said and his brother squeezed a bit her hand before letting it go "Yeah yeah..." he sighed as he started watching the common folk. They were hungry for blood, that is why most of them came. Some were already screaming for the duels to start, others were laughing about their own bad jokes, others were with money on their hands ready to gamble. He then took a slight look at his sister who looked beautiful in that dress. She really had been blessed by the Gods. He cursed the day she would have to leave and marry someone in order to create alliances or to enrich his House. The siblings shared the same fate.

TheFordee20 Yarrow

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Tourney Grounds - Stark Box

Cregan Stark - Warden of the North
​

The Starks were late arriving to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Winterfell was quite the distance and arranging for Cregan's steward to take over his usual duties had been tedious. Cregan handled most matters personally, for better or worse, and the new responsibilities on one Ser Rodrik proved too great. Cregan discussed what duties he should personally handle and what could wait until Cregan returned. . . Lord Stark had tried first to check in at the Red Keep and meet with his highness, forgoing the council of mangy dogs whose company he kept. Instead, Cregan was informed that his grace wasn't seeing anyone. 'Rumors of ill health seem truer than what I've heard on the road.' Cregan thought miserably. He'd rather not be around for a sickly king or his son's wedding. Not that Lord Stark begrudged them any, but the South and their ways were not his own. They enjoyed luxuries and indulged far too much for his taste. Lord Stark would rather be up North with his people, his weirwood tree, and his family safe from the lecherous clutches of other houses. 'If I see that Arryn with his mitts on any of my daughters he'll be begging my forgiveness from the Blackwater Rush.'

Cregan urged his children to go on without him, find the grounds where the melee would take place and socialize. Most of the house guards would accompany them, Lord Stark kept only eight for himself and was well armed. He didn't fear for his own safety, the SIlent Wolf wouldn't wander down any questionable street and be attacked by passing bandits and street ruffians. Likewise, no decent minded person in King's Landing would strike a Lord so openly. 'Or so I'd hope,' He thought. 'These people aren't like the Northerners. They lost touch with any sense of duty and obligation, there's no piety or love for the common man. They think only in terms of personal gain.' It wasn't just the Nobility of the South, but the people of all their large cities and keeps. He was a stranger to them but seeing even the poor beggers on the streets made him turn his nose upwards in disgust. The king allowed the poor to starve and die like a raccoon in winter. It made the idea of traveling through King's Landing on a day by day basis for the next few weeks unequally unappealing.

One of the few benefits of coming back down south was reuniting with his son, Devlin. It'd been some years since Cregan saw his son and the Silent Wolf was anxious to see what kind of man Devlin grew to be. No doubt an honorable one, being raised with House Baratheon. 'Maybe he'll have won the hearts of the Baratheon Lady' it wasn't the intention when Cregan sent Devlin down south, but if a marriage could be worked out, he wouldn't be opposed to the two houses being tied in blood. Ivana Baratheon was young and unmarried as of yet, Lord Stark had plenty of healthy young men that needed to do something with their lives as well. A small smile crept over Lord Stark's face, 'If they aren't buggering each other, I'm sure they'll leap at the chance to marry such a woman.'

Soon enough, Cregan was at the grounds for the melee, the Stark Guards pushing peasants out of the way when necessary. Lord Stark led them, keeping his pale blue eyes open for his family or the box for the Northern Lords of greater significance. He saw his cousin's guards around the box and offered a smile to them, "Stand down men. Your Lord has arrived." Cregan Stark had been to the Dreadfort plenty of times. As a child, Lord Eddard and Lady Marna, his parents, visited on numerous occasions. It's where Cregan first developed an infatuation with his now wife - then cousin - Jeyne Stark. Cregan stepped up and into his box, spotting at least Lyara Stark, the Bolton family, and most surprising of all - the Ashwoods.

He didn't recall inviting them. . Lord Stark assumed most families of lower nobility had their own positions, shared booths or sections of the stands for them. 'I suppose His Lord Hand must've decided to stick us all together.' Cregan had nothing against the Ashwoods or Lord William, they were good and honest folk, but a time where he could be himself with family would now be spent more sullen as he acted as the Lord of the North. 'No matter how friendly you are to your subjects, there's a clear divide that cannot be crossed.' Cregan gave them a weak smile, "Lord William. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcomed one." The Stark Lord was upon William in a moment, pulling him into a quick hug and patting him on the back. "You've been well I hope? It's been some months since we've talked at length," Cregan asked as he moved on to the next member of his extended family. "Nieces. Nephew. Give your Uncle a hug," He practically demanded in his "Lord Stark" tone of voice, giving them little choice as he fought an encroaching smile. "That goes for you as well, Lord Bolton."

Asua
JPTheWarrior
ailurophile

The Tourney Grounds

Viserys Blackfyre - Triarch of Volantis​

"I'm sure you're a very capable woman, but how do you help his grace?" Viserys asked the question, his purple eyes focusing on the brunette with a piercing gaze. She was being coy with him, not something he entirely hated. 'A mistress isn't a far of guess. Maybe a communal mistress.' She must've been some kind of whore to garner the affection of a king, though. Viserys wasn't one to shy away from the Ladies of the Night, though it'd been some time since he indulged himself, but they never were worthy of sharing his bed for more than one night. Two, if they were especially attractive. 'She might also be a bastard.' That was an entertaining thought process. A little dragon spawn that the king put to work for him. 'Very productive, Maegor.' He applauded that action. Use familial ties to bind and manipulate different individuals. 'Far too cunning from what I've heard of this man and the current stock of Targaryen's, however.' Blackfyre shifted, moving out of the mud and closer to Miranda's side. "As you wish, Miranda. ." Viserys stopped talking as another approached, one who looked eerily similar to Viserys. He was older, but had platinum blond hair and the same shade of eyes as the Blackfyre Triarch. The woman said it all, 'Lord Aenar'.

Viserys, as he had done with Miranda, studied his appearance for the first two seconds of when he was in front of the Bull Elephant. Lord Velaryon shared some superficial details with Viserys, but the quality between the men was drastic. Immediately, The Triarch found Aenar to be an eye sore, an ugly and withered man who aged about as well as a fisherman's wife. He looked exhausted and beyond the pale, willing to lay down and slip into a darkness many called the after life. Viserys adjusted himself accordingly, the red cape cascading down his backside magnificently as the wind blew against him. 'An ugly little creature. He has met me personally, which of it's far too late to be doing. I'll greet him as if the earlier moments of neglect never happened.' With a beaming smile, The Bull Elephant responded.

"Lord Hand, Aenar Velaryon. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He started, bowing his head softly, a sign of mutual respect for the man. "I'll admit I was astonished to find myself invited to such a wedding, though a chance to see the land of Westeros and the capital of the world was something I leapt at. I've brought gifts for the groom, of which I'll unload further up shore. .If you could send some of your own from the Red Keep to help unload all of it, I'd be eternally grateful." Polite and charming, with only a hint of smugness creeping to the surface, Viserys let a moment of silence fill the void between them. "I'd of been capable of meeting you up there, in your private booth, Lord Velaryon. There was no need to meet me down here, so far from your seat. I was merely having a delightful conversation with. ." He eyed the woman next to him, "Our mutual friend. Quite an interesting swan she is, would you not agree?" He counted on Aenar unknowingly revealing the identity of Miranda - be she a whore for the king or a bastard he used to sniff out and "warm up" important guests.

diwa
Hypnos

 

[Asua]

Dylon, Alys and Rogar Bolton
Stark box, Stadium, King's Landing

Dylon and Alys both turned around at the same time as if they were synchronised to each other, in time to see their uncle, Lord Cregan Stark entering the box. "Nieces. Nephew. Give your Uncle a hug," Their lord uncle nearly commanded them, Alys leaped at the chance and gave her uncle a huge hug while Dylon stepped forward and gavehis uncle a hesitant but man like hug which was quite short in length.

Rogar's men looked hesitantly at their lord when the Warden of the North told them they could stand down, all it took was a quick and decisive nod from Rogar and they did it. When Cregan asked for the Bolton lord, Rogar immediately stood up, flashing his cousin a smile that looked quite strange on Rogar's face as he very rarely smiled. "Good to see you my lord" He said, clasping his brother by law in a hug before withdrawing.
(Writers Block! T T)​

TheAncientCelt

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[Hypnos]

Aenar Velaryon
Tourney Grounds, King’s Landing​

Giving himself a moment to regain composure, Aenar exhaled softly, his brow arched in an inquisitive yet non aggressive manner. Viserys Blackfyre was little more than a snake, proudly bearing a dragon’s name and though his silver tongue had propelled him to success across the Narrow Sea, the Hand had little tolerance for whatever game the man was playing. Invitations to the wedding had been limited strictly to the lords and ladies of Westeros with only a few exceptions being made for friends and family who found themselves upon the eastern continent, the insinuation that one such invitation had been sent to the Triarch of Volantis was either a bold faced lie, or a jab too subtle for Aenar to understand. Shifting his gaze away from the Blackfyre and towards his fellow councillor, the Velaryon met Miranda’s eyes with a mixture of both confusion and curiosity, searching her face for any hint regarding the information the man had yielded in their short interaction. He didn’t trust Viserys to be very forthcoming about his motives whilst he was present, but perhaps Miranda’s softer demeanor and more meticulous approach had achieved better results.

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” Aenar’s voice was gruff, if not a tad indelicate and he made little to no attempt to conceal the slight look of irritation that had crept onto his face upon hearing the Triarch speak. Whilst he would show Viserys all the courtesy he was due as the leader of one of the nine free cities, he wouldn’t for a moment pretend to consider the man anything more than the mild inconvenience that he was.”I must confess however that your presence comes as a shock, your words are the first I have heard of any initiation sent to the city of Volantis and I assure you had your company been desired the royal party would have ridden out at once to meet you as soon as you entered the city.” He glanced at Viserys’ face, attempting to gauge the man’s reaction. The Blackfyre had an aura of smugness about him that was prevalent in most of the leader’s of the free cities and Aenar recognised the man’s aloof half-manners from his time spent warring with the Lyseni in his youth: just enough politeness to maintain civility, yet behind it a raging contempt for the Westerosi ‘savages.’

“With all due respect I’m afraid his majesty’s personal box is reserved specifically for his own family and close friends, his grace does not like to mix business with pleasure.” Aenar put a subtle emphasis upon his final words, ensuring that Viserys knew exactly into which of those categories he fell. “Besides, a tourney ground is not the place for us to discuss such matters, perhaps we might move somewhere more private so that we can more efficiently resolve this misunderstanding? Lady Miranda, if you’d accompany us.” It was less a request a more a command, Aenar didn’t want to discuss such delicate matters in the open crowds of the melee’s stands and would much prefer a private audience where Viserys would be harder pressed to ignore his questions with small talk and courtesy. “Lady Miranda has served the crown loyalty for many years, she is a great asset to the King’s court.”

TheAncientCelt diwa

 

[Azalea]

ODELLA ARRYN

Spoiler

In her youth, Odella Arryn had loved rainy days for all the oddities it offered. The mud; the worms that spring to the top of the soil; even the wardrobe mishaps that occurred more often then not. It was ironic then, that those very reasons were why a now flowered Odella detested such temporal weather. Simply rising that morning had been a test of her patience, the Arryn Lady contemplating whether the Melee was worth leaving her warm bed to muddle through the mud and sludge that such weather practically guaranteed. Of course the mere thought of what number of things Jasper could do find to do to further stimulate the rumor mill had Odella up within a couple of minutes.

Accompanied by a certain dark-haired servant flourishing an umbrella he kept over-head Odella per her explicit request, the Arryn Lady made careful progress along the tourney grounds. Seating an indiscriminate smile onto her lips as she passed the boxes containing both common and noble folk, Odella examined the Arryn box as her eyes fell onto it. Unsurprisingly, her families box was unoccupied, though she'd still thought starting her search there was worth the pilgrimage.

Her older brother had far surpassed his unsupervised time, and Odella felt it was her duty to House Arryn to step in and spare the other houses the embarrassment of telling him off. Already, the news of what and exactly who her older brother had been up too in the few days they'd spent here has reached Odellas ears. If it wasn't so routine, perhaps the Arryn lady would've amusement at the extents the Arryn heir took too conducting his "business".

Given that Jasper was all predictably and no tact, in the process of locating him Odella had already acknowledged that the more woman were in the box the better his chances of being in that location. Rodgar would likely be near him, as he followed the older around as if his acting as the heirs shadow would do anything to change his behavior.

Realistically speaking, Odella had accepted that none were capable of the kind of drastic life changes Jasper needed to make. The best thing, Odella thought, House Arryn could do for itself at this particular moment would be to purge themselves of all those who threatened to put a stain on there reputation. But it was all a matter personal opinion, was it not?

"M'lady?"

The servants voice impinged on her thoughts and Odella realized she'd been standing in place for far too long. Thoughts on the rain forgotten for once as she dismissed the umbrella the servant donned with a swivel of the wrist, a familiar figure halted the swirl of Odella'a thoughts. Briskly making her way towards the youngest Arryn, Odella slowed only when she'd matched his pace. She didn't bother with a greeting, only letting amusement pervade her tone as she spoke.

"Brother," she intoned, "assuming we're heading towards the same little lost lord I would have you accompany me. That's of course given that you have more of an idea of who Jasper's currently sullying the Arryn name with."

The statements were more deragatory then truly conversational, but all the same Odella still spoke them.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (addressed) Hypnos (mentioned) JPTheWarrior (mentioned)

 

[diwa]

Miranda
Mistress of Whispers

A capable woman. Miranda figured that she can be describe as that, more than capable if she’s being honest. She’s been playing in the King’s Landing for years now, and her head is still connected in her slim neck because of her talents and skills. Truly one can say that she is indeed capable but Miranda only answered the Triarch's compliment and questions with her signature sly smile while thinking of the answer herself. When the Triarch moved closer, it made her smile broader. He smelled of musk and something else. A perfume, perhaps? Suddenly, she remembered some of the things that was told to her, that the Triarch of Volantis was known to be rather frisky and creative in bed, or that’s what she was told as she received accounts, among other things, from various ladies that served him. Maybe they were exaggerating but only further prove that Miranda’s business is not only lucrative, but beneficial as well.

“It is a pleasure meeting you, my Lord.” Miranda said with a smile at Viserys Blackfyre. “It truly is. Your reputation precedes you, and I am glad to meet you in person. If I may be so bold, I heard news that the Bull Elephant is a very handsome man,” she added with her silvery voice, “I’m delighted to see that it was all true.” Her light brown eyes were bright and playful but Miranda reeled herself in.

The Blackfyre’s arrival in King’s Landing clearly set the Hand on edge. His words were ever formal and courteous but there something in it that can be observe as blunt and direct. Miranda glanced at the Triarch, hoping to see if the Hand’s words were having an effect on him.

With Lord Aenar’s candor, she realized that she was right. The Hand was not the one responsible for the Blackfyre's arrival. No one in the Council even knows about him being invited to the royal celebration and she highly doubted that the King Maegor himself would extend a hand and invite the Triarch in King's Landing. So who has the power to invite guest such as Viserys Blackfyre, a highly important politician from Volantis, in to the Capital. The Triarch won't just risk going to the capital just because some lowly lord invited him. No. Definitely not. It has to be someone with a name that has a weight and bearing. A name the Triarch respects to be his equal. Finally, a realization dawned upon her. Yes. With the rumors and along the arrival of the Triarch some things are making sense. But her information, or rather speculations are not enough for condemnation.

“You’re being generous, Lord Aenar.” Miranda let out a fruity laugh as she folded her hands together in front of her, “I was just merely doing my job.” She added dismissively. Besides, not all the credits belong to her.

The Hand’s voice was rather tensed as he spoke again. He was all business as usual. Miranda looked behind her where the tourney pit stands. The crowd was cheering and chanting happily without knowing that something is starting, some plots are in motion. An elephant and a dragon moving in the game of Cyvasse. Looking back at the Hand, "Yes, my Lord." she answered quietly as she followed them.
​

Hypnos TheAncientCelt

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[TheAncientCelt]

The Tourney Grounds

Viserys Blackfyre - Truest King of Westeros​

A deep, crimson flush crept across the pale visage of the Blackfyre Triarch as the words escaped Lord Velaryon. It wasn't the king or his Hand that invited Viserys? Was this some cruel ruse then? The way Aenar spoke, The Bull Elephant thought he was the ass of some prank. As the crimson left his face, a pale image of Viserys remained as the shock and embarrassment settled in. Such expressions common among men and women of all walks of life when realizing an err on their part. The slights that Aenar sent were not ignored, but Viserys was no child to be drawn to a rage over passive aggressive comments. Every year, for the past six years - at least - he was slandered by local elites and rivals. The occasional letter denouncing him, riddled with horrid insults from foreign rivals likewise wasn't dreadfully uncommon. To the Blackfyre, The Hand was another feudal lord who sat content with his power and with little fear of losing it. He did not have to accomplish much in his days but keep the status quo. 'Try that in Volantis and you'll be out of a job in a year.' It was a reason Viserys applauded his home cities system of government. It assured the masses that the right person would always be in the highest positions.

'Right, as in the wealthy nobles and the most competent among them. Anyone who is unwilling or incapable won't linger as a Triarch or any other modicum of political position.' It was for that reason that Viserys could hardly find the Slight's bothersome. They were sent by a man who inherited power and wealth, rather than achieving it in his own life time. A type of man Viserys found hard to respect. Rather, it was the implication that he was arriving in a land he hadn't been to, more specifically to a wedding of the prince, uninvited and expecting royal and regal treatment.

The purple eyes of his turned to the woman next to him, who Aenar tactfully did not reveal to the Blackfyre Heir - either in purpose or his own nature being one of simple and concise statements. "Truly. I had assumed it to be you or his grace to order the letter written," Viserys began after the moment of fear and terror, not for his life but of his reputation, resolved itself.

"It was addressed to me, Viserys Blackfyre of Volantis, signed with the name of the groom. Prince Aegon Targaryen himself. I assumed that the Prince would not know of my identity, and either you or the king ordered the letter to be drawn up and sent. . But." Viserys paused to wipe a string of water from his forehead, the rain not getting any more tolerable the longer he stood under it, "It appears otherwise. it'd be a crime of the highest degree if it were a forgery. I invite you to send someone to investigate the matter. I have it on my ship, ask for a man who goes by Xharar Daanqom. You'll recognize him by his skin, a soot tinted man of the far South." Reluctantly, Viserys drifted after the older Valyrian man with guards shadowing the two. He was far from happy with the unfolding events. The Blackfyre Triarch couldn't imagine what he'd do if this was just a large misunderstanding, 'It'd be a shame. Shipping an elephant from Volantis to King's Landing is no simple feat.' He thought dryly.

"Indeed. This is quite awkward, to be invited without your knowledge, or for me to be here with a false invitation. I say, do not let it dampen this occasion, Lord Hand. I come as a friend with gifts for the bride and groom and fantastic stories to spin once wine has been settling in our gullets for hours." There was no point in arguing with the man on the basis of staying. Viserys received a letter, genuine or not only Aegon Targaryen could say, but he was here now. Unless Aenar planned to have Viserys arrested and dragged off in chains for simply having the Blackfyre surname, there was no cause for great concern. . . Yet. He traveled to Westeros with no ill intentions. True, he might have benefited from any number of crisis to behalf the Westerosi - maybe even sent offerings to the Red God himself, so that Viserys could claim honor in warfare before old age crippled him. But in this occasion? He was coming with open arms and a mirthful smile, which only dropped as the hours went past and no one of importance came to see him. . 'Because they weren't expecting me.' He added. It wasn't their fault. . Just. .Miss communication from the Prince to his father's officials. Or so Viserys hoped.

Hypnos
diwa

 

[Hypnos]

Aenar Velaryon
Tourney Grounds, King’s Landing​

Displeasure was too light a word to describe the expression that adorned the Hand’s face upon hearing the Blackfyre Triarch mutter his excuses, its ancient features twisting into a shape that resembled a frown. Deceit was not something that he considered below the Volantine, however even with his steely predisposition against the man and his family name, he had to admit that the crimson hue adopted by Viserys’ face upon learning the reason, or rather lack thereof, for his presence in King’s Landing, was something that was hard to fake. Perhaps he was being truthful and fault for his unannounced incursion into the royal wedding rested not with himself but rather another, or perhaps such an idea was merely what Viserys wanted him to think in order to create a divide between the members of the king’s court. In truth, Aenar very much doubted that the latter notion had much credence, the low cunning that Viserys possessed may have won him favour with the commons of Volantis, but he did not believe the man capable of concocting such a convoluted plot merely to gain access to the Red Keep. For now, he was content to listen as Viserys told his side of events, though further investigation would need to be conducted at a later time.

“A falsified document such as the one you mentioned would be cause for great concern, his majesty would not want any uninvited guests making an embarrassment of the royal household, nor would he wish for the name of his son to be tarnished by an imposter.” As he spoke, Aenar led the small party away from the tourney grounds and towards the Red Keep itself, mindful of the prying eyes that would take great interest in learning of the presence of a Volantine delegation. Whilst other men might find paranoia in the fact that Viserys’ guard trumped his own non-existent existent protection, Aenar embraced the fact. Many of the guards around the city held no allegiance but towards he who paid them, and with so many external character present in the city, Aenar felt more secure knowing that the only spy that would hear his words would be his own.

“You have my sincerest apologies for the hassle that this has caused you.” Their journey ended swiftly at the as their motley group approached the large oaken slabs that concealed Aenar’s personal study, the Hand pushing the doors aside to reveal the humble, yet spacious room that would serve as a backdrop for the following proceedings. It was at time likes these: when hosting the leaders of faraway lands, that Aenar would think longingly of the days when the Hand’s abode had been a much more grandiose tower, meant to inspire envy in all those that looked upon it, however since reconstructing the tower of the hand to his fancy was an impossibility he supposed he would have to settle for this room.

“May I tempt you with some wine? One of the finest vintages the Arbor has to offer.” His tone had shifted somewhat since their initial encounter outside however his gaze still retained a metal edge. He very much doubted that the man would accept his offering due to fear of poison, or more likely a more ‘refined palate’ built up from only drinking the drivel that passed for wine across the Narrow Sea, however Aenar poured himself a glass nevertheless: wine would help to calm his temper, which he feared would be necessary if he were to make it through the entirety of their interaction.

“Lady Miranda, I understand that you may have better things to do with your time than listening to us converse, however I would appreciate your, unique, insight upon the affair and I would you stay with us for a spell.” The Hand cast his mind back towards his previous interaction with the mistress of whispers, when she had pulled him aside after the end of the last convening of the small council and shared with him an interesting speculation regarding events that had yet to transpire. Whilst he wanted to believe that those rumours, and the arrival of Viserys Blackfyre into the capital were unrelated, he knew better than to discard the notion, coincidence may not have been impossible but it was certainly unlikely.

“I would take you up on your offer to examine the letter you received for any trace of forgery, I will have preparations made at once for a few trusted individuals to look into the matter.” Aenar sighed, taking only a small sip of wine from his goblet before placing it back down. “If the evidence suggests as you have told me, then I would be interested in working with you further to understand the purpose behind such a work. Of course none of this will be necessary if we can get a confirmation that the invitation did in fact come from Prince Aegon, though I will not be the one to disturb him from his wedding celebration, I will send for the Grandmaester, who will be much better equipped than I in validating the integrity of the royal seal and confirming any ravens sent to Volantis.” It was clear from the Hand’s demeanor that he didn’t want to dwell on the issue any longer than he needed to and his uncomfortable expression suggested that perhaps he did not enjoy the Blackfyre’s company as much as his words would suggest.

diwa TheAncientCelt

 

[Asua]

Talia Bolton
Stark Box, Stadium, King's Landing

Talia was already picking up a vibe from Daimen. One that she interpreted as him wanting to be talking with his brother and sisters, rather then be in her company. This was strange for Talia as most men and boys would be falling over backwards to be in her company, well at least in Dreadfort territory they were, Talia was slightly perplexed, who would not want to be in the company of the daughter of arguably the second (or even first) most powerful man in the North and not to mention, Talia wielded considerable influence herself much more then someone would expect a seventeen year old to wield. Talia's gaze turned away from Daimen, watching the warriors on the Stadium grounds practising and preparing for the melee. No Dreadfort man had been permitted to join in the fight, as Rogar wanted each man focused on the protection of his family and more specifically, his heir then to be focused upon winning themselves some glory in the melee.

After a few moments Talia's thoughts came back to the present and a charming and slightly flirtatious smile crossed her face as she looked at Daimen "So i hear they call you the Black Swallow?" Talia spoke.​

JPTheWarrior

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Rodwell Stark
Kings Landing Streets > Stark Box, Kings Landing


There were many things Rodwell disliked about the South. Their lack of respect for the North, and for the Night's Watch. Their obsession with luxury. Their self-aggrandising knighthoods and chivalrous codes that, if what he'd heard was anything to go by, few took seriously. The heat of their lands. The huge cities that seemingly contained a single good man for every dozen scum. He'd take a visit to the Wall any day. At least the criminals and thugs there were openly criminals and thugs. Even still, this was the lifestyle the southern Lords were used to. And the heat could be countered fairly easily by leaving much of the furs and coats and jackets that the North required in his accommodations, dressing simply in a loose black tunic, with the Stark Wolf in a light grey on the chest. The rest of his clothes were similarly loose, and coloured of blacks and dull greys. Around his neck was a simple silver necklace, with an impression of a weirwood tree hanging from it. On his hip was an arming sword, with the symbol of House Stark upon its pommel.

It was in such garb, and surrounded by six Stark guardsmen, that Rodwell found himself wandering through the cluttered maze that was Kings Landing, since Cregan had turned all the Starks loose, with their own guards. The thought of Lyara unleashed upon the peoples of Kings Landing almost made him smile. Then he turned yet another corner, only to see that he was still lost, and the amusement was gone. However, the corner had revealed something that Rodwell was not expecting to see. The three-headed black dragon of the Blackfyres, fluttering high. But there was no indication of an invasion, so what was this? Surely none of the Targaryens would invite a Blackfyre, so what, exactly, was this?

Rodwell moved through the streets towards the banner, the occasional smallfolk who did not clear the way being shoved aside by one of the two guardsmen beside him. The other four trailed behind, giving stern looks to random peasants. There were rather few peasants on the streets, although the number seemed to increase as they approached the banner, indicating that there was something worth watching in that area. Rodwell sped his pace, as he heard the voice of a man beginning to welcome people in the name of the King. Coming from roughly the direction of the banner, too.

A few moments later, he came upon the tourney ground, and caught the vaguest glimpse of a man he vaguely remembered as the Lord Hand accompanying another man on a horse, also with silver hair. Probably the Blackfyre. He himself was accompanied by a group of armoured men with helms that looked like one of the illustrations of a tiger he'd seen in the Maester's books. There was also a woman there, but Rodwell saw no more. The tourney was just beginning. He made his way up to the outer edge of the stands, scanning for the Stark Box, then making his way to it. Approaching it, he saw the guards of both House Stark and House Bolton. Understandable, the Boltons were practically family to Lord Cregan. For a brief moment the lovely face of a certain Bolton crossed his mind, but he banished it. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.

He waved off his guards as he approached, letting them station themselves around the Box, and entered the Box unopposed. The first thing to strike him was the presence of the Ashwoods. He was not unagreeable to their presence, but he had to wonder exactly what this was. Lord Cregan, his father, was going around and pulling people into hugs, including the Bolton twins, Dylon and Alys. His heart quickened for a moment, but he grimaced near-imperceptibly and forced it back under control. Near them was his sister, Lyara. It was good to see she was already here. He wanted to talk to her, and to the Bolton twins, especially Alys, but decided not to. While he may be able to conceal his emotions and thoughts under a stone mask, he wasn't sure if he could speak the same of Alys, not after a month of absence. So as much as it pained him, he quickly shuffled away from that group and, seeking to comfort himself, over to where he could see Daniel Ashwood, his good friend, talking with his sister. He allowed a tiny smile as he approached. "Daniel Ashwood. Catherine Ashwood. What brings you to the Stark Box?" he greeted them politely.

JPTheWarrior TheAncientCelt Asua




Rodger Arryn
Travelling to Baratheon Box, Kings Landing


The voice of his sister brought Rodger's attention to the side, where Odella was pacing along with him, looking amused. "I do. Well, mostly. He will likely be revisiting one of the ladies he has taken an interest in. Nymeria is in the Royal Box, and I doubt dear Jasper is stupid enough to think he'll gain entry to there, nor could I if he somehow did, I know not where the Mistress of Whispers is, and so I believe the only place I can check is with the Baratheons." he expained briskly. Oh, Mother have mercy on him, there wasn't just Ivana there, but the other one, too. Damn that name was elusive. He could hardly be blamed, Ivana's sister was so damned reclusive. Lara? Laina? L-

Azalea



Lysa Baratheon
Baratheon Box, Kings Landing


Lysa tittered at Ivana's comment about Isla, enjoying the moment with her sister far more than she'd even enjoy the melee that she could hear Aenar announcing. Then the moment was broken as one of the guards coughed to attract their attention, Ivana conversed quietly, then a man, Jasper Arryn, coming in as a whirlwind of honeyed words. Lysa couldn't help but blush a little when Jasper complimented her, and a little more when Jasper... rubbed her shoulder? It was strange. Affectionate, but somehow detached, like he'd done this thousands of times, to the point where it was a natural instinct of the body, like blinking and breathing. She mustered up a flustered smile and nodded quietly, too embarrassed and shy to speak in the presence of such a forward stranger.

Lysa was almost thankful when the man turned his attentions on her sister, although she was suspicious of his claims of their 'last meeting' and 'bonding over our shared experience', and doubly so when the wine was produced. Such a strange gift for a lady, many would have chosen some necklace or bracelet or other pretty thing, but Jasper apparently thought that wine was a good gift. She sealed her lips and, calmer now that Jasper had turned from her, regarded the Arryn Lord with a critical eye. She had read much of the political games of the past, and how nothing is different today. Surely this meeting had some game behind it. But of what nature?

ailurophile Hypnos ​

 

[Asua]

Alys and Dylon Bolton
Stark Box, Stadium, King's Landing

Alys was still hugging her uncle Cregan when her love, Rodwell Stark walked into the box. Her heart seemed to skip and beat for a moment at the sight of him and a massive smile consumed her face. Rodwell had been all she had thought about on her entire trip down to King's Landing and all the time she had spent in the capital. That smile however quickly faded as she saw the look on Rodwell's face as he glanced at her for a moment, it was stony cold, similar to how her father's always looked. Had he put an end to their 6 month long "Secret" romance without telling her? Perhaps he had been betrothed to another? Or maybe he had fallen in love with a girl on the road and decided to cast Alys aside?

The Bolton girl felt liquid start to form in the corner of her eyes as these thoughts burned themselves into her brain. She slowly pulled away from her Uncle, small teardrops rolling down her cheek at the thought of Rodwell with another girl. Dylon soon noticed this, looking at his twin sister "What's wrong?" He said in a normal speaking voice, but loud enough so that everyone could hear him speak, suddenly attention was drawn to Alys and the tears rolling down her cheeks. Alys started to breath in heavy and broken breaths as she became more upset by the second, she didnt dare look at Rodwell in case someone would connect the dots and reveal their relationship.​

TheAncientCelt Obi-Wan Kenobi

 

[JPTheWarrior]

The Ashwood
Stark's Box, Stadium, King's Landing​

Daimen Ashwood waited for Talia while she was lost in her thoughts. He didn't want to interrupt her but he couldn't let her father think he was just staring rudely at his daughter. He was about to say something when Lord Stark himself showed up. All the Ashwood got up and bowed to the ruler of the North. "My lord" William spoke. The Lord Ashwood looked at the warden of the North, showing respect for the man. However, he was suprised when Cregan Stark pulled the Black Crow into a quick hug. Every Ashwood felt a bit happy and proud that even a high noble like him would even allow someone of a not so high ranked to be close. "Yes we are all well my Lord" William said with a friendly smile.

The Ashwood sat and Daimen waited again for Talia. The woman finally looked at the young Ashwood with her bright blue eyes and questioned him about his little and irrelevant title with a warm and amorous smile. Daimen was caught off guard about her question but he couldn't help but let out a little smile, amazed by the fact that she knew of the Ashwood's self given titles. "Black Swallow? Ah yes my title.." he now managed to give her a truthful smile. "Each one of us has a title made of two words. The first one is of a color, black for all of us except my sister Isabella, who has the color white. Then the color is followed by a bird." he explained, though he wasn't sure if the young Bolton would be interested. "When I was young I used to have a flock of swallows around my house. I was given the task to feed them. That group still lives around us today though their number has lowered a little bit." he spoke "I received my 'Swallow" title because of that." The girl did not seem evil like his father had explained, which made the young lord relax.

Daniel was speaking with his sister when suddently a voice he very well recognized called for him. The two siblings looked in the direction of none other than Rodwell Stark. Daniel smile grew as he got up. He bowed down to his friend and so did his sister. "Rodwell!" he said. He was thinking of hugging him but he remembered where he was and it was no place to be informal. "Well Lady Talia Bolton was very kind and invited us in. We weren't sure if Lord Stark and Lord Bolton would agree but so far they haven't send us away" he explained, this last sentence like a whisper.

TheAncientCelt Asua Obi-Wan Kenobi

 

[Asua]

Talia Bolton
Stark Box, Stadium, King's Landing

Talia listened intently to Daimen Ashwood's story about how he came to be known as the "Black Swallow" it was rather uninteresting to Talia, she didn't care much for petty titles that tiny lords gave themselves and their family, yet for some reason she had heard from someone or another what the Ashwood's called themselves. "What a lovely story" Talia spoke in a tone almost as sweet and honeyed as her younger sister's before her eyes drifted to the Stadium where the Hand of the King was speaking with another Valyrian man mounted atop a horse, then she saw the Blackfyre sigil, fluttering in the breeze. What were Blackfyre's doing in King's Landing? Hadnt they tried to usurp the throne over five times in the last 300 years? Talia turned her attention away from the Blackfyre's and back to Daimen, flashing him a small smile as she waited for him to speak, the Blackwood man seemed more relaxed then he had been moments ago.​

JPTheWarrior

 

[JPTheWarrior]

Daimen Ashwood
Stark's Box, Stadium, King's Landing
​

Daimen chuckled a bit "My apologies my lady, this story must be quite tedious for you" he said, using the moment of Talia's distraction and looked back at his family. This wasn't going as he planned and he was afraid his family would be sent away back to the seats where the common folk stood and face humilation. Daniel was with Rodwell Stark, an old friend of him along with his two sisters. His father and mother were far away so he couldn't ask for help. He then looked to his right to look at his servants who stood there watching everything and everyone, looking for anything that could harm the House Ashwood and its members.

Talia turned her attention to Daimen once again and he looked back at her, his eyes meeting again. Should he praise her eyes? Compliment her beauty? For sure other men already told her about that and she should be already tired of hearing it. Furthermore, it would sound weird around her family who might not like the idea of having a low noble flirt with a high noble. He started thinking about why he was there in the first place. Why would she invite his family to the Stark's Box, knowing that she was offering seats of high ranked nobles to members of a humble House of low nobility?

In Daimen's mind, he only could see two options. Either she was really kind, which he doubted because of her parentage, or she was planning on using the Ashwood. But even that last option seemed unlikely as House Ashwood seemed worthless to the second richest House of the North. Nevertheless, the Black Swallow needed to remain calm and not break is composure. He smiled at Talia and finally spoke "If you don't mind me asking my lady, what do you think of our House?" he asked, clearly referring to House Ashwood.

Asua

 

[Asua]

Talia Bolton
Stark Box, Stadium, King's Landing

"My apologies my lady, this story must be quite tedious for you" The Ashwood heir spoke, Talia responded straight away "No, my lord, i found it rather interesting" She lied rather well with no hint of deception or boredom in her voice. Talia saw out of the corner of her eye, Daimen look nervously at his family and she could guess what he was thinking, once she turned her attention back to him she spoke again in a charming and quite soothing voice "Dont worry my lord, no one will send your family away from here".

Talia started to think again but this time not turning away from Daimen. Should she really be interacting with a house that could only just raise over a twentieth of the Bolton army? A megre 300 men or maybe even less? If Rogar willed it he could extinguish the Ashwoods from the North but the Bolton Lord was smart enough to break the stability of the North in these times. War was different, the Great houses were to busy embroiled in battles and trying to stay alive than to hand the ruling of their own realm. Talia remembered the stories from over 70 years ago when Ramsay the Bastard of Bolton, sometimes known as Ramsay the Wicked, fought battles with White Harbour men in the Hornwood forests for control of the Lordship and the Stark's could do nothing about it because they simply did not have the men to stop him.

"If you don't mind me asking my lady, what do you think of our House?" Daimen finally spoke. What did she think of the Ashwoods? Small. Insignificant. Overly proud to give themselves nicknames. Talia responded quickly and made up the words as she spoke "I think House Ashwood is a small yet proud house in the North, very underappreciated. Your family shows more courage and strength of houses twice the size of your own" Talia spoke perfectly, with just the right amount of sincerity in her voice, she was truly a master of deception.​

JPTheWarrior

 

[JPTheWarrior]

Daimen Ashwood
Stark's Box, Stadium, King's Landing
​

Daimen breathe in relief. At least someone important understands us and feels like we are more than an insignificant, powerless House he thought, oblivious that he was tricked by the young Bolton woman. He smiled and nodded "Thank you for that my lady. I am glad you think like that" he said, his face expression clearly showing happiness. Well at least she was kind, but Daimen was still having difficulties finding things to talk about with Talia. He looked at her and noticed her eyes were of a bright light blue, really beautiful if someone asked him. The girl herself was also dazzling and stunning and though there were prettier women like Nymeria Martell or Elia Tyrell, no one could deny the beauty of the eldest daughter of Rogar Bolton.

He noticed that a few seconds have passed and now it could look like he was just staring at her. He smiled and thought about something. "Again, I know it is not of my business, but, if you don't mind asking, are you thinking of marrying someone soon my lady?" he asked, not because he was curious, but because it could maybe be a topic of a conversation that could last for a little bit, that is, if she didn't get angry. He thought about how his father, William Ashwood, always told them to marry who they truly love and not make arranged marriages. Of course, their House would never become richer if they still followed that path. Lord Ashwood also taughter them that the other Houses were all different and rarely would someone marry another one because of true love.

Asua

 

[Asua]

Talia Bolton

Daimen had taken the bait and believed Talia's speech about the Ashwoods being a strong and courageous house when Talia felt the opposite way in reality. In the hundreds or thousands of years since they had existed, House Ashwood had made no attempt to further their house by strategic marriages or alliances but had stayed poor and insignificant. The Boltons however were once Red Kings of the North, ruling over close to half of it before they were finally beaten into submission by the Starks. Talia did not let a smirk cross her face at the thought of her deceit succeeding in case it gave the whole deception away.

Suddenly, Daimen Ashwood spoke again "Again, I know it is not of my business, but, if you don't mind asking, are you thinking of marrying someone soon my lady?" Talia raised an eyebrow at Daimen's question. Surely someone of such low status was not thinking of proposing to a Bolton of the Dreadfort? Many people inside Bolton territory even called Talia the Queen of the Dreadfort due to her authoritarian and decisive demenor and the fact that she acted like she owned the North. "Perhaps, my father has very particular houses in mind for my marriage... Great Houses" Talia continued not even looking at the Ashwood. She could not marry into the Stark house, they were already two generation intertwined so another marriage would be verging on queer. Yet, perhaps she could seduce Jasper Arryn? But she wasnt really in the mood for seduction, her run in with Nymeria had already satisfied that need. The Lannisters were not in good standing with the North after the War of the Five Kings, The Baratheons were already all betrothed or females so that left the Reach, Riverlands and Dorne, all possibilities or maybe even perhaps a powerful Vassal house? Although a Great House would be preferred .​

JPTheWarrior

 

[JPTheWarrior]

Daimen Ashwood
Stark's Box, Stadium, King's Landing​

When she raised an eyebrow and Daimen understood she had gotten the wrong idea. Both of his cheeks got a taint of red as he blushed. He shook his head "Wait my lady you got the wrong idea!" he said "I would never think of marrying you my lady" he said, his voice low so no one else could hear it. "I mean... it is not because you are not beautiful or a good wife, I believe you are.." he sighed and started thinking for moments before taking a deep breath and say "What I am trying to say is that I am not worthy of someone with such a high status like yourself, my lady" he finished now listening to every single word coming from Talia.

He hoped he had not offended the woman since he never really wanted that. The girl was just out of reach for him so the idea of even being friends was unlikely to happen. With the Starks was more easy, since their father wasn't someone grumpy like Lord Bolton. Daniel actually made a good friend, Rodwell Stark and the black crow was a friend of Lord Stark. The Boltons, however, were not as appealing as the other nicer Houses of the North.

Asua

 

[Asua]

Talia Bolton
Stark Box, Stadium, King's Landing

Talia watched intently as Daimen's cheeks turned a bright red at her raised eyebrow and then started to speak quickly and in a low tone, explaining himself to Talia. In truth she was slightly amused, after he explained himself, she could see that he was only trying to make conversation. He also called her beautiful but in a different way to most men, not to gain her favour but more as an apology. In truth, the Ashwood man had not offended Talia at all, he had just explained that he was not worthy of her, and he was right, well, atleast her father would think so.

"You may be more worthy than you think..." Talia said half playfully and with a hint of mysteriousness in her voice. She didnt know what would come out of this forming friendship with Daimen, if it lead to more Talia would have to keep it a secret, atleast for a while. If a war came, as many sensed it would be upon Maegor's death there was no doubt the Rogar would take more liberties in the North with his men, possibly attacking the Ashwoods if anything came from Talia and Daimen. Just like how Ramsay the Wicked had battled with White Harbour even while the Starks were still in power.​

JPTheWarrior

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Stark Box - Tourney Grounds - King's landing

Cregan Stark - Warden of the North​

As Cregan moved away from his niece and nephew and clasped his brother by law and cousin by blood in a tighter grip, a genuine smile crossed the Silent Wolf's features. He gazed, first at Rogar Bolton and then at William Ashwood. "What good it does me to see some Northern faces around here. The city is far too. . Different from what I am use to." Cregan had been to King's Landing before, naturally as he had to swear an oath of loyalty to the king when taking the position and replacing the late Lord Rickon. He hadn't liked it in his youth and after years of leading, Cregan liked it less. The Stark Lord had more to say, a few more comments about the stark differences between the more rural North and the nigh industrious south. It was a comment that caught his attention, escaping his nephew's lips that forced the Stark to shift his attention back to Alys Bolton. His pale eyes focused on the woman and the reddening eyes of hers, immediately feeling some paternal instincts that threatened to make the man move towards her. Cregan Stark stood as a statue at first, looking at his niece and then at his cousin. 'Is something wrong with her?' It seemed abrupt, as soon as the hug ended. . 'Did she need a longer one, then?' Lord Stark thought, half puzzled as he took a step closer and bridged the gap between Alys and himself.

Cregan pulled her back into another hug, a wider and more friendly smile on his face. "Long journey, Alys?" Cregan asked as he patted his nieces back twice, "The weather is dreadful." His deductions were that she was homesick, the south was far too different for Aly's liking and maybe her favorite (and only) uncle's sudden appearance and embrace reminded her too much of the North. Naively, Cregan separated from the girl. "Rodwell. Lyara." His voice demanded their attention, "Why don't you take Lord Ashwood's children and your cousins and find some entertainment in this carnival of a celebration? Take some of the house guards, too." Being around her family and other Northern houses would make the growing woman feel better. . 'Unless she's cramping, in that case it's best to just get something sweet into her.' He recalled how he tried to deal with Jeyne during those days of. . Joy.

Lord Cregan Stark moved forward, glancing past Rogar's ear he halted. In a whisper, Stark spoke softly and quickly. "I would never presume to tell you how to parent," He clarified. "But I'm sure you've heard the rumors as I have. Of the Targaryen's." Cregan couldn't claim to have met any of Maegor's brood once they were of a credible age, bu what occasionally drifted into his ears. . Was not good. "Any form of negative emotion might bring the dragons into a fury. ." House Bolton was arguably the second greatest in the North, a very important House. . To the North. But it wasn't seen as a House Hightower, House Redwyne, or other Southern Houses of similar standing. If a Bolton Lass cried publicly and disrupted Prince Aegon's enjoyment, Cregan couldn't say what would happen to her. 'They say he's as violent as Aeron Brightflame. As cruel as King Joffrey and Maegor combined.' With that, Cregan pushed to the front of the box and took a seat saved for the Warden of the North.

"Join me, my Lords. The South is exhausting and I direly wish to enjoy the company of my companions and brethren." He'd ask for an ale later, maybe something to eat once the rest of his family funneled in. He peered down at the tourney arena before finding his attention more geared towards the other House Boxes. "Is there a Lannister in the brawl?" Cregan was not one to gossip, at least not around those he didn't deem trustworthy and he wasn't close enough. Lord William Ashwood wasn't. . A man Cregan expected to betray the Starks. He also wasn't a man Cregan was comfortable around. Not like Rogar Bolton, at least. But, a desire for some levity and simple complaining overwhelmed the good senses in Stark's head. "I'd enjoy seeing their golden mane being trimmed." There was a near open animosity towards that house. Rickon had never forgiven them for what happened to his father, and Cregan looked up to his grandfather immensely. The dishonor that was Oathkeeper stained his house for three generations. "I hear nothing but sour grapes of Lord Tyber. Almost as bad as that Arryn boy. . ."

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