Fandom Westeros of Years Past || RP

[Bumblebeee]

RHAENA TARGARYEN & OLIRA WATER​

collab with @​

The last three months had been hard on Kings Landing. Plague rolled through the population in surges that left the streets more somber than they had been in a generation and no one had been immune to it's wrath. Street venders had been wiped out at the same rate as guardsmen and though it had taken time to breach the isolation of the castle, even Kings had fallen. Since Rhaena was young she had lost more kin to pestilence than the sword and the plague had taken out her Father as well as her last remaining uncle and cousin.

The Red Keep that emerged from this illness had half its usual force and a new ruler on the Iron Throne. Hundreds of ravens were sent across the vast expanse of Westeros to tell the world the news of their new king and invite the nobility to the upcoming coronation in several weeks time. Most accepted, and Rhaena's life since then had been full of decisions. It was her job to keep the Targaryen dynasty afloat... At least for the next decade or so. Valarr was still so young, no one even bothered to put up a fight when Rhaena declared herself Queen Regent. After all, a woman on the throne was bad, but a King who just mastered speaking in full sentences was worse.

Rhaena hired as many skilled guards as she was able, settled matters in the city, comforted her sister and the boy King through the ordeal, and spent more days sitting at a desk than in her bed. Things could always be worse, but knowing that didn't exactly bring her any level of peace while she invited wolves, squids, scorpions and all manner of other beasts into her home. Rhaena's solution? Keep the nobles busy enough that they couldn't slip off and send them packing as soon as was polite to do so. The coronation was tomorrow, a celebratory tourney after that, and no one had been allowed into the palace until this very morning. They would stay up to a week and then be gone... Well, all but one family. Rhaena hoped that perhaps her childhood friend might stay a bit longer. It had been five long years since they had last spoken.

Regardless, there was an activity set up for tonight as well. The great hall of the Red Keep and the courtyard had been prepared for an evening of merriment. The extra servants had been called and (aside from the girl specifically selected by the Princess herself) vetted by the palace staff, the dragons had been fed, the celebratory events prepared for, the coronation preparations were nearly complete, and her sister as well as her 'brother' were dressed and ready.

Rhaena had hoped that when she saw the nobles milling about peacefully she would feel relief, like she could finally let out the breath she'd been holding, but it had been quite the opposite. It made her feel sick... Though, that could just be nerves.

"Darling," Rhaena turned to the brown eyed boy sitting on a throne that was far too large for him. "Stay here a while longer." She carded her hands through his white hair and smiled down at the little face that matched her own. "I'm just going to go mingle." Rhae had conflicting feelings about Valarr, sometimes when she looked at him she saw herself in the ways he smiled or tilted his head but others all she could see were those dark eyes that made her skin itch with memories... Tonight it was the former and for that she was grateful. "Perhaps Ser Thorne will entertain you in my absence."

The boy turned to his faithful guard with an open look of delight as Rhaena gestured for the fatherly man to watch over Valarr in her absence, and Rhae made her way down the steps and into the crowd. Two guards of her own lingered near enough to be known but not close enough to be intrusive as Rhaena entered the fog of perfume and insincere smiles. The Queen Regent made sure to steer herself away from the Northmen and their loud, gruff mannerism and instead wandered closer to a serving girl with pale blonde hair. She was another one of Rhaena's problems.

"Thank you, child," Rhaena murmured, offering a slight tilt of her head rather than a blatant dismissal as she plucked a goblet of wine from the girl's platter. Rhaena's face puckered as she sipped, but not from the taste. Her father had mentioned something strange to her as the illness loosened his mind and his personal records had confirmed it. The late king had fathered a bastard, and Rhaena wanted that liability close where she could keep control over it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she should do about the situation, but until she made a decision on the matter this 'Catlyn Waters' was staying near enough to snuff out or keep safe on Rhaena's own terms.

Mind spinning with thoughts of threats, thrones, and any number of other jobs that had yet to be done, Rhaena lingered at the edges of the room and watched the crowd, wondering who might be bold enough to first approach the Queen of Westeros.

~~~~~~​

Events like this always made Olira smile. Despite her humble origins, Olira had always adored the colors, patterns, and music of noble festivities. To this day she still remembered accompanying Lady Stark to her eldest son's name-day celebration and experiencing the wonders for the first time. Perhaps the extravagance should have bothered her, she had starved through days as a child and yet there was food enough in this very hall to feed a whole village, but she found it enchanting.

Today, however, she wasn't looking for any fancy dresses or beautiful jewels. Today, she was looking for home.

It had been four years since she left Winterfell on Lord Stark's orders and acquired a job here, in the Red Keep. She had managed one visit since then to see the Starks and her Lady Ilyana, but if to remain undetected Olira had been unconnected save for the messages she sent back for the Rebellion and whatever brief instruction Gawyn issued via raven. Tonight, however, Olira was going to lay eyes on the people that she had done all of this for. The Starks were here, somewhere in the ballroom, as was Larra Sand, a woman Olira desperately wanted to see.

It was bittersweet, knowing that she might look them all in the eyes tonight but would not be able to wrap her arms around them or shout her welcome as she wished to. Still, it was better than nothing and soon enough she would be done with this rouse and get to return to the Stark's side, where she belonged.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)



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Spoiler: Mobile friendly

The last three months had been hard on Kings Landing. Plague rolled through the population in surges that left the streets more somber than they had been in a generation and no one had been immune to it's wrath. Street venders had been wiped out at the same rate as guardsmen and though it had taken time to breach the isolation of the castle, even Kings had fallen. Since Rhaena was young she had lost more kin to pestilence than the sword and the plague had taken out her Father as well as her last remaining uncle and cousin.

The Red Keep that emerged from this illness had half its usual force and a new ruler on the Iron Throne. Hundreds of ravens were sent across the vast expanse of Westeros to tell the world the news of their new king and invite the nobility to the upcoming coronation in several weeks time. Most accepted, and Rhaena's life since then had been full of decisions. It was her job to keep the Targaryen dynasty afloat... At least for the next decade or so. Valarr was still so young, no one even bothered to put up a fight when Rhaena declared herself Queen Regent. After all, a woman on the throne was bad, but a King who just mastered speaking in full sentences was worse.

Rhaena hired as many skilled guards as she was able, settled matters in the city, comforted her sister and the boy King through the ordeal, and spent more days sitting at a desk than in her bed. Things could always be worse, but knowing that didn't exactly bring her any level of peace while she invited wolves, squids, scorpions and all manner of other beasts into her home. Rhaena's solution? Keep the nobles busy enough that they couldn't slip off and send them packing as soon as was polite to do so. The coronation was tomorrow, a celebratory tourney after that, and no one had been allowed into the palace until this very morning. They would stay up to a week and then be gone... Well, all but one family. Rhaena hoped that perhaps her childhood friend might stay a bit longer. It had been five long years since they had last spoken.

Regardless, there was an activity set up for tonight as well. The great hall of the Red Keep and the courtyard had been prepared for an evening of merriment. The extra servants had been called and (aside from the girl specifically selected by the Princess herself) vetted by the palace staff, the dragons had been fed, the celebratory events prepared for, the coronation preparations were nearly complete, and her sister as well as her 'brother' were dressed and ready.

Rhaena had hoped that when she saw the nobles milling about peacefully she would feel relief, like she could finally let out the breath she'd been holding, but it had been quite the opposite. It made her feel sick... Though, that could just be nerves.

"Darling," Rhaena turned to the brown eyed boy sitting on a throne that was far too large for him. "Stay here a while longer." She carded her hands through his white hair and smiled down at the little face that matched her own. "I'm just going to go mingle." Rhae had conflicting feelings about Valarr, sometimes when she looked at him she saw herself in the ways he smiled or tilted his head but others all she could see were those dark eyes that made her skin itch with memories... Tonight it was the former and for that she was grateful. "Perhaps Ser Thorne will entertain you in my absence."

The boy turned to his faithful guard with an open look of delight as Rhaena gestured for the fatherly man to watch over Valarr in her absence, and Rhae made her way down the steps and into the crowd. Two guards of her own lingered near enough to be known but not close enough to be intrusive as Rhaena entered the fog of perfume and insincere smiles. The Queen Regent made sure to steer herself away from the Northmen and their loud, gruff mannerism and instead wandered closer to a serving girl with pale blonde hair. She was another one of Rhaena's problems.

"Thank you, child," Rhaena murmured, offering a slight tilt of her head rather than a blatant dismissal as she plucked a goblet of wine from the girl's platter. Rhaena's face puckered as she sipped, but not from the taste. Her father had mentioned something strange to her as the illness loosened his mind and his personal records had confirmed it. The late king had fathered a bastard, and Rhaena wanted that liability close where she could keep control over it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she should do about the situation, but until she made a decision on the matter this 'Catlyn Waters' was staying near enough to snuff out or keep safe on Rhaena's own terms.

Mind spinning with thoughts of threats, thrones, and any number of other jobs that had yet to be done, Rhaena lingered at the edges of the room and watched the crowd, wondering who might be bold enough to first approach the Queen of Westeros.

~~~~~~

Events like this always made Olira smile. Despite her humble origins, Olira had always adored the colors, patterns, and music of noble festivities. To this day she still remembered accompanying Lady Stark to her eldest son's name-day celebration and experiencing the wonders for the first time. Perhaps the extravagance should have bothered her, she had starved through days as a child and yet there was food enough in this very hall to feed a whole village, but she found it enchanting.

Today, however, she wasn't looking for any fancy dresses or beautiful jewels. Today, she was looking for home.

It had been four years since she left Winterfell on Lord Stark's orders and acquired a job here, in the Red Keep. She had managed one visit since then to see the Starks and her Lady Ilyana, but if to remain undetected Olira had been unconnected save for the messages she sent back for the Rebellion and whatever brief instruction Gawyn issued via raven. Tonight, however, Olira was going to lay eyes on the people that she had done all of this for. The Starks were here, somewhere in the ballroom, as was Larra Sand, a woman Olira desperately wanted to see.

It was bittersweet, knowing that she might look them all in the eyes tonight but would not be able to wrap her arms around them or shout her welcome as she wished to. Still, it was better than nothing and soon enough she would be done with this rouse and get to return to the Stark's side, where she belonged.

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[NanLia]

Aobrey Sesa Martel​

DragonHeart grunted and huffed as he galloped through the cobblestone streets of King's Landing. He'd been running for hours now, carrying his rider easily over the grassy hills and dirt roads. The sand steed powered through the run; this was nothing compared to what he and his companion at his side had been bred for. The caravan would meet with them by mid-day; allowing time for her and Olyvar to rest before the afternoon and evening festivities.

Aobrey had left Dorne later than intended; whispers in her own palace had detained her and Olyvar a day behind her caravan. She would not leave her throne or palace at a time where there may be any doubt of the legitimacy of her reign. The surfacing of her half blood brother had unsettled voices amongst her people. Naturally none brave enough to speak their curiosity (or discontent) directly to her face. There were those, like in any Kingdom, that believed that someone else would be better suited to rule.

After the attempted assassination of herself, and the deaths of her husband and child, Aobrey took no chances when she heard her name on the wind. She knew better than to allow any kind of dissent towards her rise; it could cost her life in the end.

The Red Keep - Guest Quarters​

As it turned out the rumours were nothing more than that, Olyvar had sussed out their origins to a disgruntled cook in the House of one of her bannermen. They’d formerly been in the employ of the House she’d eradicated years ago and displeased with the current state of things. They’d voiced their wishes, of a new Prine and a new King and that of a Free Dorne. The last two were something she’d heard more and more often in recent days, both troublesome.

She pulled up on the reins of DragonHeart, slowing the beast to a trot then a canter as they arrived at the King’s Gate. The Captain of the Gate stepped out to greet them and she watched as Olyvar dismounted and approached the man. After a short discussion and exchange of coins they were on their way once more towards the Red Keep.

Aubrey and Olyvar turned over their reigns to the stablemen before retreating to the guest quarters they always inhabited when visiting court. It was always Olyvar’s preference, since he’d become the captain of her guard; he always arranged for the same room and declared it was for his own sense of familiarity but she wasn’t a fool, she knew better than that. She accepted the answer nonetheless, there wasn’t a need for her to make the man dwell any further on his sensibilities.

Mood: Playful​

Hours later Aobrey woke as light from the mid-morning sun poured into the room. She groaned, turned over in the soft silks of the guest bed to bury her face into Olyvar’s shoulder and beneath his pillow.

“It’s time to rise, my Prince.” A familiarly soft female voice spoke at a distance. More light soon joined the first and as Aobrey started to become more awake she could hear others in the room, walking softly on the stone floors.

“You can’t call me that here,” She mumbled against Olyvar’s bare shoulder, pulling back the pillow to peer at the older woman and trusted hand maid. “It’s treason.”

The wrinkled face of her oldest House companion wrinkled further into a frown. “Then put my head on a pike.” She huffed in defiance. “I’ve lived long enough and I tire of coming North into the cold.” The old woman was tugging the silken sheets away from herself as she spoke. “But since I still have my head, my Prince, it’s time for you to rise, bathe and meet with the Queen Regent.”

Aubrey smirked, watching Olyvar and the elderly handmaid have a tug of war over the sheets until the large man relented and released them with a grunt of annoyance. She placed a kiss on the corner of his lips before crawling across the bed and stepping barefoot on the cold stone floors. She hissed in surprise, tiptoeing away from the bed towards the fire that was growing and the deep copper tub being filled with steaming waters.

Her handmaid was right in one thing, the Red Keep was ever cold; despite the arguments from other nobles, including the royalty that inhabited it. She stepped into the tub with a sigh, sitting in the warmth of the waters. “You should join me, Var.” She called to the knight still lounging on the bed. “Break your fast with me here before you disappear to do whatever it is you do when I’m with Rhae.”

She smiled all the wider seeing the disapproving frown on her handmaid’s wrinkled visage.

Safton

 

[NanLia]

Tybolt Lannister​

Tybolt stood at the edge of the grand hall, smiling politely to the seven maidens that had him backed against a wall. Houses representing all the kingdoms, save the North and Dorne, stood around him bantering about the upcoming festivities, the excitement for the coronation and the tourney to come.

They asked an endless line of questions about himself, his brother, Casterly Rock and he answered them all as kindly as he could, they were fishing for information - as young women from noble houses often did. Dutiful little soldiers for their fathers, seemingly harmless innocuous questions about this or that but in the end they added up to critical information about his family’s health, wealth and wellbeing.

The Red Keep - Grand Hall​

He wondered if this is what Tymond felt, on the battlefield or in the free-for-all surrounded by opponents vying to be the champion of the day. He adjusted his red coat uncomfortably, his hand slipping within to brush along the sealed parchment he carried. It felt like a weighted target in his pocket; if anyone knew what he carried, what his fathers intent was himself, his brother, his whole damned lineage would be in danger.

Interactions: Open

 

[NanLia]

Tymond Lannister​

Tymond smiled, bemused at the sight of her older brother being surrounded by women hounding the attractive eligible man. He didn’t envy Tybolt, he was never suited for noble society, despite being a child of the House Lannister. He’d dread events where he had to dress up in uncomfortable clothes and pretend to be civil. Tymond had been thankful when he started doing tourney’s his father had forbade him from being present at any more of these events.

It was for the best, really, Tybolt needed to make the best match possible for the survival of their House and he could live out his days in peace doing what he enjoyed the most.

The Red Keep - Servants Hall​

He left then, bowing deeply to arriving nobles until they passed, then swiftly made his exit for the servants stairwell. Down the narrow passage he passed by servants with trays along his way until it emptied out into the servants hall. Here he felt far more at home, other guardsmen and handmaidens already seated at tables, awaiting for their employers to be done with their festivities.

He slid onto the end of a bench seat, gladly accepting a wooden plate filled with simple food and mug of warm ale.

Interactions: Open

 

[Safton]

Olyvar Dayne​

The journey to King's Landing had been uneventful... just as Olyvar liked it. With the rising tension in Dorne of past weeks, he had been on high alert. Treasonous mutterings were one thing, but they could just as easily escalate to daggers in the dark. Aobrey and her family had experienced plenty of that firsthand and he had no intention of letting it happen yet again --not on his watch. He had tracked down the source of the talk and handled it as his Prince saw fit. The cook's rhetoric wasn't the first of its kind and certainly wouldn't be the last, but for the time being it had given them leave to make the expedition north to the capital.

It was one Oly had made more than once in his life -- not only at Aobrey's side but also before, when he was little more than a wandering hedge knight looking to find his fame and fortune in tourneys. That life had been a decidedly different one than the one he led now: serving his best friend and lover as her Sworn Shield and Captain of House Martell's Household Guard. Moving seamlessly between the light of social gatherings and noble court to the dark shadows where threats might lurk. He didn't doubt that it had ruffled some feathers and sparked some ire within Dorne (and possibly without) when he was granted the latter title. But that was none of his concern. Aobrey had placed great trust in him... he had to make good on that.

The Red Keep - Guest Quarters​

Now as Olyvar lay on the bed, entertaining the notion of joining Sesa in the tub, he turned to glance at the elderly crone of a handmaiden. The woman had been in the service of House Martell for decades -- even when Oly had first come to Sunspear as a ward, she had been there. And across the entire length of that time span, the two had been like oil and water -- as evidenced by the narrowed eyes and frown at Aobrey's proposal. For his part, he respected her for her long years of service and would defend the elderly woman like any member of House Martell... not that he would ever admit it.

Oly knew he and Aobrey had work to do, but the invitation was difficult to resist... too difficult, as it happened. "Very well," he said softly, watching the expression on the crone's face turn to an outright grimace of scorn. He rose from the bed, turning away and walking as if oblivious toward the tub. The cold bit at his flesh, but he ignored it. His travels had taken him to the North in his younger years -- albeit not enough to get him fully accustomed to the frigidity of the region. Before long he was sinking down into the tub alongside Sesa, letting out a small sigh as the steaming waters rose upward so high from his added volume that they ended up overflowing the tub, spilling out onto the stone floor of the guest quarters with a splash. He shot the handmaiden an apologetic look before turning his attention back towards Aobrey, his body carefully entangled beside her own. "So, my Lady, what are our plans for the day?" Olyvar honored the woman's wishes in not using her Princely appellation in public outside of Dorne, albeit reluctantly.


Interactions: Aobrey Martell ( NanLia )

 

[MissPlastique]

The inn was busy tonight, which suited Nymerion just fine as it allowed him to watch without being seen. Sipping his ale, he sat in the back as a fist fight broke out. He was waiting here for his contact to show up. Almost as if the seven willed it, the man sat down opposite him. Without saying a word the man proceeded to update him on the goings on around Dorne. Nymerion was thankful his time out east had afforded him the chances to build and forge these connections. It was not a big network he had but it was enough that he was not stumbling around blind.

Once the man finished his reports, Nymerion shared his own news that he had heard. The man thankful along with the coin he had been given quickly left the bar. Draining his ale, he left as well going to the room he occupied in an ongoing basis. He knew the whispers of an upstart dornish prince were false but still it was good to get confirmation that he had not been found out yet. Truthfully, he was here out of curiosity for the other side of his family. It just came with the added benefit of possible work as the west seemed to be brewing for war.

Using the threeway key to open the lockbox, he scanned through its contents again. He had a habit of doing this to make sure everything was still inside. He called for water for a bath. Thanking the maid with another coin, he proceeded to clean himself. He sat back in the tub, contemplating the actions and choices that led him to end up here. He had no notion of coming here at all, but something about his mother telling him of his father’s interest since the news of his birth came out. What had his father wanted him for.

In this world nobody wanted something for nothing; everyone and everything had a purpose to someone. For him he was a sword for his Grandfather to hone and refine for the family, for his uncle he was the physical embodiment of a threat to his standing in their family. The only one who had shown otherwise was his mother.

Falling asleep always proved challenging even as a child, but tonight it evaded Nymerion more than usual. He must have gotten 3 hours at most, but still it was better than nothing. Waking up, he took the lockbox and strapped it to his back. Thanking the woman who owned the inn, he left it. Like he was not even there. Today….Today he would make himself known. It was time to see what his other family was like. He wove his way through the streets, his destination firm in mind.

Sunspear

Mentions: NanLia​