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.
Post by Daemon Baratheon on Jun 28, 2015 20:46:01 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
“That settles it then,” he sighed. She had truly won, again. Daemon Baratheon, a lord who prided himself on analytical shrewdness and a knack for rhetorical back-and-forth, submitting to the whims of his beautiful and ferocious wife. Alynne would rejoice to hear of her mother’s newest arrangements. Althea seemed pleased with her victory, too. After disposing of the last few shards and rags, she approached her husband’s side...in a different mood than before. Daemon arched his eyebrows, briefly perplexed, and Althea answered his look with a wicked and seductive smile.
She leaned in, their noses dancing right in front of each other, faces almost one. “Can’t say you’re wrong, love. But I know what you like, too,” he whispered, and then without warning pressed his face and body up against hers. The taste of wine still coated her lips and tongue. Her chest pressed up against him, and he felt her heart beat quickening, just like his. Her black curls fell around his face, and Daemon hugged her tightly as he brought her down onto the bed on top of him. So soft, so warm, so beautiful. To take such a woman to bed, she could scream at him with all the fury she liked. She was partially right, none had it harder than he did then. His hands moved from the small of her back up and toward the fastenings of her dress...
Daemon gazed up from beneath the blankets at the stone ceiling. The storm continued to howl outside, having now reached the castle. His black doublet and boots lay on the floor next to the bed, and along his right side lay his wife. His right arm wrapped around her, and his fingers played with her black hair. They coiled around her thin strands, their silky touch ensnaring them. “Alynne will be overjoyed with the news even before you leave to receive Lord Stark’s reply. I can’t recall if I’ve ever met the man. You believe he’ll accept the match?”
Post by ASHARA MARTELL on Jun 29, 2015 5:25:20 GMT
i've got darkness and fears to appease
Despite her assurances otherwise, she gave into him more than freely, as she always did; hands roaming down his skin, breath hot in his, back arched as she was pulled down on top of him. The clothes came off quick and they got started even quicker, perhaps aided somewhat by the need to release the pent-up energy from just before. And while she was not fond of the idea that this was their almost ritual way to loosen up after arguments - or, dare she admit, way to reassert dominance - she had to confess, there were... perks.
While Daemon found himself looking at things beyond their ceiling, Althea was pleased just with tracing shapes on his shoulder with her finger, happily thinking about nothing at all. She lay on her side and partway curled up next to him, very much like a lazy and contented cat after being fed. In fact she would have purred if she could, too, what with the way his fingers gently tugged on her hair and tickled her scalp. The sounds of the storm was just background to her now, and actually rather soothing, though she had some forethought to how much rain could enter their room from the balcony. Her slippers were safe, having thrown them to the side of the room early on, but she couldn't for the life of her recall where Daemon had chucked her dress. She was also far too comfortable to get up and look. Eh, it was probably OK.
But she stirred from her reverie at his words and focused on his face, though her finger continued to play absent-mindedly. "Honestly? I'm not sure," she mused. "I can hardly remember his face anymore, let alone the intricacies of his character. But I don't think he would reject it unless out of promise or circumstance beyond Alynne."
The Starks were a rather interesting discussion point that had been brought up between the two over the years. It was no secret that Althea was still loyal to them; indeed, it had taken some time as a wife, and more importantly the birth of her firstborn, before her allegiances started to change from the wolf to the stag. At one point in her life, perhaps they were equal. But nowadays she had responsibilities to her children, and that always meant putting the Baratheons first. Yet sometimes she wondered if he ever worried about that.
She would push the blankets away - the humidity of the storm and her body still hot from exertion making it a tad bit stifling - and clambered on top of his chest, chin propped up on her palm as she gazed at him. "A long trip," she remarked as she used a finger on her other hand to lightly stroke back and forth one side of his beard. "How much will you miss me, hmm?"
Post by Daemon Baratheon on Jun 30, 2015 1:06:33 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
Her movements across his shoulder teetered on the verge of numbing and tickling, and helped Daemon drift off into a state of pure bliss as he lay beside his lady. His heart still drummed in his chest, and it felt overly hot under the covers. Yet he had no will to move, no desire to stir his wife and discard his comfort. “I hope you’re right. Perhaps all the better that you’re going after all, in case he remembers more of you than you him. After all, you’re quite hard to forget,” Daemon said softly with a smile, moving his hand out from her thick strands of hair. They draped over his fingers as Althea rose, throwing off the blankets that smothered her.
Gods, she was temptation made flesh. Even with the dim lighting of their room, her naked silhouette, her curvaceous bust and smooth, unblemished skin made Daemon feel like some ogre brute in comparison. But what he loved most about his lady lay beneath her ravishing appearance. He took the body of a goddess to bed, but it was the strong woman within that he loved. Daemon still could not move himself as Althea shifted to lay partially atop his chest, her finger stroking his pitch black beard. In turn, Daemon returned his hand to her body, resting his right palm atop her smooth back.
“Plenty,” he admitted. “Whether or not Lord Stark agrees to the match, first thing you do is come right back to me, right here.” An uncharacteristic smirk now spread across Daemon’s face, one that looked almost as mischievous as it did loving. “The North’s cold, after all, as will I be when you’re gone. Perhaps I’ll get to work on addressing my wrinkle problem by the time you return, eh?”
A weak chuckle, and then a brief pause. He looked her in the eyes, peering past her pretty face and deep into the fiery northern heart that beat within. “And be safe. Take a good number of men with you. I don’t care if it’s your homeland. The journey’s long, and I won’t risk anything happening to you. Besides, arriving with men at Winterfell will immediately show its guards that you have some clout before they recognize you. I’ll have no arguments on that.” She was tough, able to survive away from him for long enough, but he didn’t want to give her any cause to need her strength.
Post by ASHARA MARTELL on Jun 30, 2015 16:41:50 GMT
i've got darkness and fears to appease
She gazed down at him as he talked with a faintly sly smile, enjoying the feel of hand along her back and the way his voice hummed between that small space of theirs and down into her bones, where they stayed like a warm vibration for several moments after. When did her feelings for him turn from quickening attraction into the slow, heavy devotion of earthen plates shifting under the sea? Whether too fast or too slow for her to realize, she could not possibly articulate her fortune. Even now, just looking at him felt like her heart would crack and burst and kill her from the strain of trying to contain it all. She loved him far too much, dangerously so.
"I can do that." At the mention of coldness her smile would grow, and her finger would travel down to his chin where she would hold it between her thumb and index finger as he chuckled. "Mhmm." She would tilt his chin to accommodate her as she leaned in to press her lips against his, and then drew back. She could sense his serious creeping in as he talked about bringing guards with her to the North - something she honestly did not see a need for - but she didn't want to ruin the moment by arguing. It was, after all, not a big deal, and it was touching that he cared so. "As you say." And then she laughed lightly. "I wonder who would still recall me from Winterfell. Perhaps the riding instructor, if he's still alive. Or the cook. Or the stableboy." She laughed again at the inside joke. Oh, that stableboy. What a whipped lad.
At that point Althea rolled a bit and lowered herself to lie her ear against his heart, as well listening to his sonorous voice as it rumbled through his chest when he talked. It would be too easy to lie here forever, to never want to get up and send that raven and make preparations to leave. Far too easy. But it'd soon be time to sleep, as much as she would've liked to push that thought back.
"Will you be controlling things at Storm's End while I'm gone, or did you have more plans? Because honestly, if I come back and Domitan has yet more bruises on him..." she let the exasperation, albeit fond, hang in the air.
Post by Daemon Baratheon on Jun 30, 2015 23:36:15 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
Daemon’s sly smile would return as Althea held his chin in between her fingers, and once more their lips met. Their faces hung close to each other, even when she finally drew away. He felt grateful that Althea knew better than to argue with him over her safety. She knew that he understood her strength, her force of will. But he would not risk her health, not for the sake of his lordship but for the sake of his love. The world had vanished around them as she lay atop him, their bodies hot and naked and no longer solely their own. “I would think all of them, had they any sense,” Daemon replied with his own hearty laugh, his chest moving with Althea laid upon it. “Any man that forgets you may as well be deemed blind.”
She rolled herself so that her ear rested just over his heart. Daemon’s hand once again returned to her hair as it slumped around the side of her shoulder and face. He resumed stroking it, all the while gazing at his wife’s face. He sat in blissful silence, his thoughts mixed still with his captivations of all that she was, and the brooding apprehension he felt at her leaving his side, even if for a worthwhile cause. Thunder crashed outside, and following it came Althea’s sweet voice, though with a hint of worry. Daemon sighed, his chest rising and lifting Althea’s head along with it.
“If Dom causes trouble while the both of us are here, you leaving is not going to change that,” he admitted. “But I am the lord of this castle. I always have my duties to tend to, but I will keep watch over Dom and the rest. Seeing as how this ended up, perhaps I’ll still let him get a few scrapes so you can yell at me again,” he jested, his hands laced in her silken threads. “Worry about Alynne and the Stark boy, and I’ll worry about the others.”
Post by ASHARA MARTELL on Jul 1, 2015 13:31:55 GMT
i've got darkness and fears to appease
His resumed touch would lull her into sleepiness. Her own heart slowed with his, as did her breathing, and soon her eyes were unfocused, looking less up at him but more through him and to what she really saw him as beyond his shell. And she would probably move in the night into a position that she could maintain for longer periods of time, but as it was, she was best off right then there in his hold, fingers skirting through her hair and brushing her skin.
She did smile a bit at his words though, using one hand to sneak back up to his face and pulling at his lower lip with her thumb. "Have I ever told you how attractive you are when you talk like a lord?" Playing to her nature perhaps, but here was a man who could lay the foundation, build on it, and support everything that would come after. A man that could tell her that he'd take care of things, and she'd believe it fully. I am the lord of this castle. She laughed softly again.
In other words, he was ideal.
Althea would let him be, tucking one of her arms close to her chest and placing her other hand on his own arm that he used to soothe her. She'd stay still for some time to the point where it would seem she had fallen asleep listening to his heart. But she did, eventually, speak, though her eyes were still closed and her voice barely above a murmur.
"Love you, darling."
And then she really would drift off into a slumber.
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