The year is 286 AC. King Jaehaerys II has just passed, leaving the throne without a rightful ruler. While his three children fight for the crown, Winter creeps closer, and unimaginable darkness looms.
Not all alliances will be so typical this time. In fact, many people have a crucial effect on the way this story is told. As for the ending, we only hope there are enough people left alive to tell it after its passed.
Events
Join us for our first event, the wake of recently deceased King Jaehaerys II.
Updates
AUG. 19: So we are now officially open to the public. We have a mini-event flashback thread going on, and our main event just began. Feel free to make a second canon if you can keep both of them active enough.
Don't hesitate in pestering staff with questions; it's what we're here for! Let's raise a glass and make a cheer toward a successful launch of Winds of Winter.
Andaren sat comfortably on his horse, donned in brightly polished plate armour with a leaping red trout on his chest. His young squire brought him his lance and Andaren gripped it confidently. A knight, roughly Andaren's age, was opposite of him. He did not recognize the sigil on the knights plate, but it did not matter because after this he would no longer be a knight. Andaren aimed his lance for the man's neck, if the Gods willed it his lance would take the knight's head clean off. His blood flowed faster at the thought and the adrenaline pumped when he kicked his heels into the horse.
The knight had noticed his nearing death and moved slightly out of the way. Andaren's lance hit hard against the knight's chest and he spiraled off his horse. He left his horse and returned to his father's side with a frown, there would be no bloodshed this time. He would have to make up for lost time. When he returned to his family he noticed the absence of his twin sister. "Father, where has Selyse gone to? Did she not see me joust?" he questioned, but his father paid him no attention. Andaren's face grew red, he had just won and Selyse had not been there to watch. He stormed from the crowd and quickly noticed Selyse's bright red hair, as well as the dashing Tybalt Lannister himself.
"Selyse!" Andaren yelled for his sister and jogged towards her. "What are you doing here? I expected you to watch." He was not pleased, but he could not be too cross with his sweet sister. She had missed his joust for a Lannister? Andaren's face grew even more red from the insult. He grabbed his twin by the wrist gently, and tried to lead her back to the arena. "I won't have you miss my jousting for a lion." Glaring at the Lannister he turned away and beckoned his sister to come with him.
She should not be with one of those Lions. He understood the importance of the game, but this was no game they played. Everyone had seen them leave together and rumours would soon follow. He could not have the Seven Kingdoms think his sister no better than a Dornish whore. Andaren understood Selyse's intentions, but did she understand Tybalts? He could not trust his sister alone with someone as untrustworthy as a Lannister.
Last Edit: Jun 26, 2015 5:04:51 GMT by Andaren Tully
Post by Tybalt Lannister on Jun 26, 2015 17:45:54 GMT
[attr="class","foreign"]
[attr="class","dust"]
[attr="class","gold"]@selyse, Andaren
[attr="class","gold"]398
[attr="class","gold"]--
ulla
[attr="class","sun"]Hear Me Roar
Every time it seemed impossible for Tybalt’s smile to grow wider, he always managed to seamlessly, perfectly express a higher level of joy than before. It were as though everything this young man saw was the best thing he had experienced in his life and, upon realising Selyse’s passion for her ‘dull’ children’s’ tales, Tybalt virtually radiated sunshine.
”Hah! I don’t find that to be dull in the slightest, My Lady!” The Lannister knight boomed with no amount of guilt or embarrassment. ”In fact, it was tales such as those that inspired me to pursue knighthood since I was a child! I confess that it is fortunate to meet someone who may not consider me foolish for it.”
Whilst always a friendly and jolly man to be around, Tybalt rarely managed to find a common interest with anyone that was not centred on battle. Indeed, he had knocked so many heads about the tourney fields in the past years he had almost forgotten exactly what it was that got him in to combat in the first place.
Sadly, as quickly as this joy came to him it managed to escape him with equal swiftness. The pair’s conversation was interrupted by the introduction of whom Tybalt assumed to be Lady Selyse’s brother, for he could see the resemblance. The young man, who barely appeared old enough to grow himself a decent beard, bludgeoned his way between the two of them and grabbed at Selyse’s wrist. The action, so vulgar in its audacity, brought Tybalt’s smile from ‘elated’ to simply ‘amused’.
”Ah, the young Lord Andaren, I assume? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Tybalt’s voice was coarse like sand as he gently wedged himself between the brother and sister, holding out his hand for the man to shake as he surreptitiously tried to release Selyse from Andaren’s grasp. He appeared to tower over the younger man, his face still plastered with that ever-present (but now somewhat false) smile.
”I’m sorry to hear that I missed your tilt. You’ll have to tell me all about it, later.” Though his face smiled, Tybalt’s eyes weighed like stones as they looked in to Andaren’s. Though he may have been Selyse’s brother, he did not own her and the Lion was not about to let him facilitate the misery the rest of the tournament was imposing upon her.
Post by JAEHAERA TARGARYEN on Jun 26, 2015 19:56:58 GMT
She saw his face illuminate, like a child's, and Selyse listened to his words with a delighted surprise, clearly mirrored on her face, reflected in the shape of simple smile, one she didn't often share with others. It was so strange to stumble upon someone who shared this interest, someone who seemed to enjoy fighting and other such things, and it surprised her so much that she didn't know how to react. Instead, she held her hands together, secretly enjoying the idea that writing stories was not such a terrible thing.
"I'm glad to hear that, ser." She spoke, and she would have continued if it weren't for her name being spoken out loud by someone very close to her. Almost instantly she looked at her counterpart, her twin, a glimpse of uneasiness slithering onto her face, but only for a second as she fully regained control over herself, her earlier smile disappearing entirely. His behavior was unacceptable, although she understood him, in a way: they had each other, an unseen link between them that no one could take away from them. It had been a stupid thing of her to do, to leave before his fight ended.
He grasped her wrist and she had no reaction, no facial expression to betray her thoughts and no movement on her part: she'd stand her ground. Finally, she found someone that didn't think she was dull, and she wasn't going to let go of that so easily. "Andaren." She spoke his name, and there was a characteristic look on her part that said behave. He needed to control himself more, but she never managed to make him understand that.
Tybalt, however, interfered between the two of them and continued being polite about it all. Surely, he'd understand her brother was only trying to protect her, even though he was possessive and even if he seemed rude about it. But she knew that it was a moment in which she had to hold her mouth and keep silent, a moment in which she had to play her role as spectator.
Post by Cassandra Stark on Jun 27, 2015 16:09:14 GMT
how cold have i become?
It burns for a moment but then it numbs you, takes you and leaves you just caught in the gray.
It seemed her conversation with her brother and the Tyrell maiden were cut short by the arrival of Lord Tully’s wife. Cassandra had been given various lessons on the current ruling lords and their children, and lessons about the great houses of Westeros. She knew the woman to be a former Greyjoy and that their house was not one to overlook easily. Krakens of the sea that certainly had a more brutal culture than she liked to think about. Former pillagers and raiders that worshipped their Drowned God and were a proud people that disliked bowing to anyone. Of course, she could not judge someone based on what a tutor had taught her from books alone. Experience was a very important factor in getting to know another person as well.
Cassandra followed the custom as she curtsied gracefully to the Lady of Riverrun. It was not a gesture she often had to use in Winterfell when she was running around the keep and trailing after her brothers to cause mischief with Mysha. Everything was so much more proper and demanding down here. The young girl did not think she could ever grow used to the games these southron high lords enjoyed playing. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. The tourney here is quite different from what I am used to in the north.” All the pomp and ceremony of it would take time for her to grow used to. Wearing these silks was certainly another.
“Do you enjoy the tourney at all?” Ah, she was not too great when it came to small talk. The things she enjoyed conversing about were not pastimes a lady of her standing should be indulging in. She enjoyed speaking of sword fighting and horses. Warfare did not interest her overmuch, but she liked speaking with her sister most of all about being a warrior maiden. No doubt the songs she had listened to in her girlhood years had influenced these fancies of hers.
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 1, 2015 12:00:39 GMT
IT'LL BE HELD AGAINST YOU
IF HEAVEN'S GRIEF
BRINGS HELL'S RAIN, THEN I'D TRADE ALL MY TOMORROWS FOR JUST ONE YESTERDAY. I KNOW YOU'RE BAD NEWS. JUST ONE YESTERDAY. I WANNA TEACH YOU A LESSON IN THE WORST KIND OF WAY. STILL, I'D TRADE ALL MY TOMORROWS FOR JUST ONE YESTERDAY
Try not to attract too much unwanted attention, Alayne, the septa had told Alayne when she had woken up. If you must go to a tourney, behave like a lady. Smile. Courtesy is a lady's armor. Advice or not, Alayne had decided to take a look at the tourney; it had been scheduled in her day book, so without any hurry, gotten to work on her appearance; she'd take a flank of guards, the same ones who had joined her to patrol around, and gotten ready. Some powder and cream on her face, and she'd slipped on a golden dress, silk, tailored to suit her active lifestyle.
Hopefully she would not attract too much attention. It was hard getting a smile on her typically stoic face. The doe was no stranger to people but to act absolutely nice and proper - it sucked the passion out of her veins. Where were the nice people she could be herself around with? It annoyed her, that people would expect her to be dumb and docile. Full of curiosity, she was careful in her spring and step, and without any good reason, approached a little bird and whispered into her ear, asking where a certain little rose was.
Orders obeyed, now, Alayne waited, her message sent, with a small strand of her hair in the message, cut off swiftly with her small pocketknife hidden beneath her sleeves. The little rose would have to be here. They had a role to play, for the world was a stage.
She fanned herself with her hand, eyes cold and lifeless. Now, now, Alayne. Perhaps Brynden was late. Impatience seeped in, but she held her tongue. The doe was a patient girl by nature. Let him go on. Nothing should stop the farce.
For a brief moment a slight wickedness flashed across the visage of Hans at the mentioning of Eryn Martell. The Lord had had the pleasure of meeting her before all other guests and it would be a lie to say that their encounter hadn’t been a most interesting one. “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen lovely Eryn since she went to speak with Euron Baratheon,” lied the brute, his tongue dripping cool venom. “I worry for her but alas I must retire to my keep and take care of other matters.”
And without another words Hans would turn on his heel and leave the premises.
“I did not even know they had tourneys in the North, to be quite honest,” the Greyjoy-born Tully replied. It was true. She had usually taken the northerners to be more of a pragmatic kind, just like her own people. Ironborn did not joust or play around, fights like these were relegated for other things such as kingsmeets. Or maybe lordsmeets, since they did not have kings anymore, at least for now. Her father was an idiot to actually play the game like this, but he was clearly trying to bring their people back from the brink.
Not that she cared. She had her own whales to hunt. And as much as it pained to do so, having allies for this would not be bad at all. And this one seemed to be an impressionable little lass that even she with her crude skills might be able to somehow approach. She decided that the best way to do so was to take the mentor’s route. “But you should not pick a topic that you seem so disinterested in if you have the free choice. You’re a Stark, so talk about things that a Stark would like or let the other party come up with something. If you lead into something that you just hope the other likes you are setting yourself up, a faux-pas for any proper lady. How old are you, anyway?”
Post by Cassandra Stark on Jul 4, 2015 2:51:29 GMT
how cold have i become?
It burns for a moment but then it numbs you, takes you and leaves you just caught in the gray.
“Oh, no, forgive me. We do not exactly hold tourneys like this, since we do not truly have knights in the north. We do have our own celebrations, though. Just simply without all the pomp and ceremony this has,” Cassandra replied with a slight laugh. Honestly, she could not even bring herself to feel apologetic for describing this tourney as overly done. Oh, it was quite amazing to experience and see! All of these knights entering into the lists to test their mettle against other knights, or to enjoy the free events Lord Tully had set up. There was simply not much use for celebrations like these when the snows in her homeland would make such things very difficult and nearly impossible.
Were her words so transparent? A thin smile curled her lips before she shook her head. It seemed her courtesies could use more practice if Lady Tully could see through them so easily. Then again, Cassandra had not put forth much of an effort. Her head tilted as she listened to the older woman’s advice. Speaking of something that interested her would ease the conversation for sure. Perhaps the lady was humoring her, or she was trying to be helpful in her own way. “Well, then I shall admit that this tourney was exciting for the first few rounds, but there are only so many times I can watch a man become unseated from his horse to fall upon his ass. I prefer riding a horse myself rather than watching another do so.”
Oh, her mother would be quite annoyed with her should she hear the words she was uttering! Cassandra wanted to laugh at the thought, but she had the feeling she could speak freely enough about some of her opinions. No doubt a few others felt the same as she did. “I turned five-and-ten a few months past. I am still learning how to be a proper lady it seems.”
SAID NO MORE COUNTING DOLLARS, WE’LL BE COUNTING STARS
❝
SEVEN HELLS, he’d lost sight of Marko. Well, it wasn’t as if his esteemed leader had told Jaime to shadow him, but when more than one lord had placed a price upon your head it was safer to move socially in a group. Especially in the midst of a tournament overfilled with armed knights. Oh well, Jaime’s storm-grey gaze had spotted the roaring lion of House Lannister being flashed about, he could play at being among their numbers – he’d been told more than once that his hair was like spun gold. It seemed as good of an opportunity as any to take advantage of his looks. Especially when the only ever notable trait commonly shared by Lannisters was a holier-than-thou attitude, easy enough to mimic.
His attire wasn’t shabby – that at least Marko had insisted upon. That each brother looked the part of yet another lordling, or a knight, or welcomed bard. Jaime had chosen to play as the first, considering that at one point he had been a lordling. Well-tailored breeches of dark stag leather, a tunic of bold purple satin, a black jerkin with pale damask printing. Jaime had forgotten how comfortable not being peasant was. Or how it suited him. Already, Jaime had made friends. Patiently explaining the rules of the games as they watched knight after knight compete. Obliging in dancing when asked, a nearby bard having struck up more than one jovial song.
Yet, the contagious fever of competition, rowdy melody, crowded atmosphere and flowing wine became too much for some. Jaime’s female companion having lost her balance as Jaime twirled her around, falling into a woman stylishly dressed in golden silk.
”Oh! Oh!” Laughing as he grinned, apologetic and good-natured, Jaime hurried forth to help both girls to recover their posture. ”My apologises, we got too carried away there. I hope you’re not hurt.” Grey hues focussed upon dark hair and a fair complexion, Jaime was struck with a vague notion of recognition.
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 7, 2015 14:49:08 GMT
ENDINGS WITHOUT END
► it seems paper-thin ◄
Alayne had been trying to keep her cool, as she watched the others get into the mood of merriment. Sober, cool, she thought of herself that way. Brynden was certainly keeping her waiting far too long. Hm. What else could she plan before she would actually see him? Grumbling guts, a mind minted to plan, what could even go wrong? First thing: Brynden was late, and it annoyed her. Where was efficiency when you wanted it? She'd been a threatening force in his life, and around him, she bossed him around, wanting her way the same way she demanded for her way at Storm's End as a child. To be comfortable in this sea of vipers, that was a challenge and she owned the challenges. Rose up to them. Screamed in their faces.
Yes! Yes! I'll take you on. You want that? They had come for her and she'd chased them, like the stars that visited the back of her head. That spark of life, the smooth ebb of movement, and the vigor, it had always been about strength. The strength to take up the way and to maintain it. She refused to bow down. She never bent down.
She breathed it in, what she was today. She breathed in, the air, the smell of the grass, the small dust gathering on the road. Her clothed gold was nothing more than an ornament, to make her look pretty. She could shed her skin, a snake under the sunlight. The way her hair had been arranged today... She had to admit, it was a bit unsettling, so proper.
The question was when. When would Brynden come? She had waited, patient. Patient women did not die of waiting.
However, her train of thought was interrupted when she felt another body move against hers, colliding. She was taken entirely by surprise - she was falling, powerless to reach out for anything near. Then her body met the grass below, and luckily, the dress was not ruined. Taking a look, she noticed the fellow who had collided with her was another female.
Male laughter followed, and the rush of footsteps. Alayne was about to get up - when a pair of gray eyes and blond hair came into view, and she ended up staring - and blushing. Those eyes - were very familiar.
She got up, brushing the dirt from her dress, trying to figure out who this one was. Turning her back to him, she took a deep breath. So now what?
She flipped her hair, smiling her best smile. Her dark hair shone, and her eyes did not lose their typical gleam. She'd fallen, and she'd survived. Time not to die, after all. "I'm not hurt at all!" Her voice was clear, and she flashed him another smile. "It's nothing, really. Are you well, ser? I'm Alayne, by the way."
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Jul 7, 2015 17:26:59 GMT
"Fifteen, eh? Then you must be at the prime age for marriage, my dear," she noted straight away. Sarra liked to push that into the faces of little girls, hoping to make sure they dreaded it as much as she had. And if they got a better husband, she could always resent them. Until then, though, she could at least act amicable. "But yes, you have a long way until you can be a proper lady. Towards me you needn't be since I can relate, but you have to make sure to impress the parents of your intended. Remember that they are much more important than he is, for they make the decision. You have a valuable name so you don't have to look overly enticing."
Why was she giving advice here? Why not. She was bored and as long as no one with a better name came around, she was just going to do her thing. The girl was more or less her entertainment, for she too did not really care about the joust. But that was for entirely different reasons. “But let’s not talk about topics as dry as that. As I said, to keep a conversation up you need to find something that at the same time is something you care about, and which the other person might like. You will need to find that on your own or stronger ladies will just string you along like a puppet. And you are a Stark, aren’t you? You can’t falter easily like that.”
Post by Cassandra Stark on Jul 7, 2015 21:15:52 GMT
how cold have i become?
It burns for a moment but then it numbs you, takes you and leaves you just caught in the gray.
So it was to be that particular topic? Cassandra was unsure whether Lady Tully was trying to push her buttons, or simply wanted to broach the subject. It was well known to her that her parents would arrange a marriage for her, but she had heard no news on the topic. She had never been betrothed to anyone as a young girl, nor was she in a contract now. Her head tilted as a slight smile crossed her lips before she shrugged her slender shoulders. "I am not betrothed yet, nor has the topic been brought to my attention. I still have two older brothers and an elder sister for them to worry about before I am remembered." At least, that was her sincere hope in the matter. Being the middle child could be quite an advantage when it came to avoiding things.
"I shall keep your words in mind when my parents do remember to have me betrothed. Until then, I am more interested in enjoying what freedoms I have left, as selfish as it sounds." It was sound advice, since she would have to be seeing the parents of her future husband far more than her own once a marriage contract went through. Cassandra had accustomed herself to the idea once she had matured fully, but the idea still gave her a fear that would not dissipate with time. Being viewed as only a broodmare to give a man children to carry on his name only had her wishing to run as far as she could in the opposite direction. She could only imagine her rebellious ways being accepted by a husband from the North, since it seemed that a few of these southroners preferred their wives pretty and silent.
"String me along like a puppet, you say? The politics in the south are quite convoluted, and who is to say you conversing with me does not suit some purpose of your own for the time being?" Perhaps the advice Lady Tully was giving her was to be for her own good, but she was not completely ignorant. No one wanted something for nothing, so Cassandra wondered what this conversation was doing for Lady Tully. Unfortunately, she knew that she lacked subtlety when it came to pleasant conversation. These games were not unheard of in the north, but her people were usually more forthcoming with their intentions and quite boisterous about it as well. "Whatever your reasoning, I will keep this advice in mind when I converse with these other ladies at some point. I do not want to be the receptacle for another's desires."
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Jul 12, 2015 23:52:45 GMT
“Yeah, I can understand quite well. You’re quite lucky one, child. Be glad you weren’t sold off already. It can be quite the….fate….” For a little bit, the lady Tully trailed off. It was commonly known that her marriage had not been the happiest there was, even though the worst was still a secret. Maybe the Northerner had heart of it, maybe they were smart enough to pick it up on their own. Either way, she definitely did mean it. That girl had been very lucky to not have been given to some bastard and essentially raped. Although, of course, Greenlanders never cared abot it. What did they call it? A bedding ceremony, because they were idiots.
Eventually, she would shake her head and dismiss these thoughts. “These politics can be quite jarring and intimidating, I know. I personally am not too good at it, still too much of an Ironborn for that. But as a woman, you have the advantage that people don’t really look at you, at least not like a real person. It is quite hard to live like that, but I guess it has some perks as well.” She would shrug once more, before suddenly starting to laugh. Momentarily, she had thought about trying to get this girl to marry her boy, just to spite Hands and make it easy for the Stark.
But then again, her son wasn’t interested in that. He likely thought she did not know, but she was enough of a mother to do so and not to care. As long as he stuck his thing into the right hole at the appropriate time, it really did not matter. He was her best hope at getting anywhere once she had gotten rid of Hans. “And don’t worry, I have no way of benefitting from you in any way. As long as you do not marry one of my dear husband’s bastards, I am not at all pertained by your outcome, on that kind of level. I learned that someone not having anything to gain from it is the best protection against betrayal in the south.”
Post by Cassandra Stark on Jul 13, 2015 14:19:32 GMT
how cold have i become?
It burns for a moment but then it numbs you, takes you and leaves you just caught in the gray.
Cassandra had heard the whispers from the servants when they believed no one was listening. It was easy to realize that the marriage between Lady Tully and Lord Tully was not a happy one in the least. She had no wish to ask for the truth of the matter, nor was it any of her business to do so. All she could do was be very grateful that her father had not made such a match for her. She also believed that he would make sure the lord he had in mind for her betrothal would treat her with kindness and respect at the very least. All she could do was pray to the Old Gods that her future marriage would be a good one, and that she may even have a say in it. Cassandra truly wished to simply spend her days as a spinster that only had to worry about herself, but that was simply not an option.
"No, some men do not believe use capable of more than looking pretty and giving them children to further their line." She had experienced a little of the truth for herself when some of the men had not appreciated her quick words and more headstrong nature. Her brothers had never minded, which was why it had been somewhat of a culture shock to come to Riverrun for the first time. It did give the advantage of being underestimated, which meant she could give someone a nasty surprise when she wished to. No one knew about her sword lessons, right? They simply believed her father had brought in a tutor for dancing, which had been the original thought. Now she was gaining quite an array of bruises like her brothers had when they first started learning with the master-at-arms. Being able to defend herself was important should the need ever arise.
It was a relief to hear that Lady Tully would not benefit from this unusual conversation with her. Cassandra would quite enjoy being overlooked as a potential in this political game the southroners liked to play. There were many daughters from the greater noble houses to choose from after all. "I have no intention of doing so, so you do not need to worry there. Yes, that would be a good form of protection, but everyone wants something at some point."
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Jul 18, 2015 22:53:57 GMT
“Well, sometimes I actually envy those women who truly are that dim-witted. I am not sure. On one hand, these people are utterly stupid and wasting themselves. But on the other, being simple of mind likely means simply not seeing most of the problems around, and if you get a man that just gladly takes care of things, that might lead to the happier life overall,” she mused a little, whilst slowly moving away to make room for other guests arriving, beckoning the girl to follow. Whoever had just arrived was most likely not as interesting as this little Northerner, so she decided to keep what she had instead of taking a Mulligan.
“But well, it is not like we have a choice here, now is it? We’re born too smart for our own good, with the wrong gender to do too much about it. Alas, there is not much we can do about it, at least not permanently. In the short run though, there are ways to become a little more…unconcerned with the complexities of life.” By now they had reached the refreshments, where wine was usually the only suitable drink allowed. This was a Tully feast after all. However, she knew which of the offered bowls was a weaker drought – the one that she definitely wouldn’t give her dear husband – so she chose that for herself. “Although I personally do not use it that way though. What about you, little lady Stark? Do you drink?”
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“I did not even know they had tourneys in the North, to be quite honest,” the Greyjoy-born Tully replied. It was true. She had usually taken the northerners to be more of a pragmatic kind, just like her own people. Ironborn did not joust or play around, fights like these were relegated for other things such as kingsmeets. Or maybe lordsmeets, since they did not have kings anymore, at least for now. Her father was an idiot to actually play the game like this, but he was clearly trying to bring their people back from the brink.
