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.
Pitch black darkness had consumed the heavens, the once bright blue skies void of color, only the dull glow of the stars and the moon lit up Westeros. A mystical ambiance given to the Felwood with the storm bound weather. Heavy winds brought up the dense pillows of fog from the marshes, turning the forest passages into a labyrinth of ivory and shadows. Ghastly visages of trees painted the moonlit woods. Hoove prints would mark the ground beneath him, mounted atop a black steed from his homelands. The young lord had not wandered into the Stormlands unprepared.
Sudden splintering of wood would draw the attention of the Lord to the road nearby, his senses did not deceive him. A horse drawn carriage could be heard rattling through these woods. A dim lantern displaying its position behind him as it rushed forward. Just who needed to travel at midnight. Glancing through the veil of fog to the moon above his head. Perhaps it was a lord returning to his lands or someone escaping their fate. Neither had drawn his attention until a loud crash shook the entire woods. The sound of wood splintering into a thousand pieces as metal and bodies hit the ground.
Steering his horse back towards the main passage, the sound of hooves rushing towards the carriage could be heard thundering through the trees. Where they being chased? It would explain the jarring pace the carriage was traveling as he closed the distance between him and the carriage. Coming upon a scene of destruction and chaos, a carriage with the sigil of House Baratheon laid on the ground with sigiless men circling the carriage like birds of prey. Darius had no debts to those of the Stormlands but he would earn their favor on this night, removing a javelin from his back in silence as the group of thieves before him dismounted. Pulling on the reins of his steed the horse shrieked, drawing the attention of the men.
The first to turn would have a massive golden spear placed into his chest, piercing the shoddy chain-mail he used to protect himself as the man was taken from his saddle and forced onto the ground, the Harlaw's weapon impaling him to Westeros as the bandits horses were startled. Trampeling over many of the men as the Lord rode into the chaos, removing a lance from his back and riding it straight into another of the thieves. Carrying him with the weight of the weapon straight into a tree as he ended the mans pitiful existence. Bringing an end to those who sought to rob the carriage of its property and guests. Darius dismounting to inspect the carriage in the dark. Its lantern broken upon the ground, oil mixing with blood.
Darius would come upon the rider first, the poor man had been crushed by the steed that was carrying the carriage. His last breathes had been drawn long before he had gotten to him. Kneeling down in the moonlight the young male closed his eyes and prayed to the gods of the sea to return this man to where he belonged. Rising from the prayer to inspect the carriage further, one of the wheels had completely shattered into pieces while another was close to the same shape. The vile men must have chased them down this path knowing the carriage would break under its weight on the roots. Eyes furrowed at the idea as he climbed on top the tipped over carriage.
Soft noises could be heard being made behind the locked door of the carriage, the Lord grasped for his lance from one of the shadowy trees and brought it down upon the lock of the door. Slicing the wooden gateway open as the door way fell inward, opening up to display the young lord in the moon light. Golden eyes happily greeting whoever waited inside for him. " You are no longer in any danger, are your alright?" titles would be in order but he knew not who was in the carriage, from a vassal house of the Stormlands to the Lord of Baratheon himself. Offering whoever was inside a hand and a small charming wink.
Post by ARGELLA ARRYN on Jun 30, 2015 18:13:45 GMT
When an invitation from one of her childhood friends arrived by raven at Storm's End, Dione wasn't sure if it was a joke or if the woman truly wanted to see her old friend, if she wanted to brag about being able to have a family or simply check on the crippled Baratheon. But she left anyway, at one of her brothers' insistence, abandoning all her doubts.
Her friend had suggested for Dione to spend the night there, but there was no way she could do that: she had promised she'd return within a day and she was going to. Not to mention that Storm's End wasn't all that far, just a couple of hours by carriage and she'd be home, in her bed, reading about the wildlings. Or history. Or the history of wildlings. Both worked just fine for the tired, almost sleeping Dione.
It was too late when she realized the gravity of her mistake. She hadn't heard anything, just the carriage's wheels at first, then a scream, and it was then when she reached for her sword. How foolish of her: she hadn't properly used that sword in almost a decade, although she kept it sharp, ready to defend herself. A stupid idea nonetheless, since she lost her balance as one of the wheels broke and she fell forward, a sharp pain shooting through her leg, but the raven-haired woman did not let go of the sword: if she would let go of it, she'd die, she was aware of it. The silence before the storm settled quickly as the last gurgling died off (she made a mental note to bury the poor guards that had to taste their own blood that night) and Dione was like a spring, silently unsheathing her sword. Breathe, she told herself, the steel of her blade reflected in the steel of her eyes.
It surprised her and took her off guard to hear more sounds of fighting from the outside, but she didn't dare to look out the window. Her knuckles had turned white from the sheer strength of her grip on the hilt, a drop of blood running down her chin from her broken lower lip (a reward for her loss of balance earlier, she scolded herself), but she wouldn't lose focus this time, no.
But her leg hurt, a lot more than before: the awkward position she was sitting in was making it hurt like that, and she could not stifle a groan, shaky hands dropping the sword to the floor as she gripped her knee, fingers feeling the scar she had been cursed with through the fabric of her white dress.
The door of the carriage opened, however, and her savior stood proudly in the moonlight, her eyes meeting his for just a moment. "Ugh, no." She took his hand, although a voice inside her head told her she was being stupid, that she was lowering her guard, but she chose to ignore it and Dione made her way out of the carriage, slowly, until she stood before the unknown moonlit hero.
"I've had better days, I suppose." Despite her wince caused by pain, she still rewarded him with a smile, glad that at least her sense of humor was unharmed. "Don't suppose you come here often, do you?"
It truly had been sometime since he felt this feeling, the weight of another human body against his flesh. Soft delicate fingers that had not held onto a sword for war nor a hoe to plough the fields grasped around his own digits. Strong fingers latched onto the likes of the person beneath as he hoisted a woman from the crash. Golden eyes focused on the beauty, long black hair draped down her shoulders, as she found footing next to his in her white gown. Had these vile bandits gotten their hands on her he would hate to think of the result.
Hearing her speak at long last, elegance void from her first words. Though the alluring vocalization had the young lord completely focused on the injured lady. " I hope that the old and new gods will allow me to make this day better for you milady." Darius explained as he brought his weapon to his side, the weapon twirling between his fingers with precision and ease as he stored it upon his back. The means to take a life no longer needed as a second hand fell upon the hip of the woman to better support her on their tricky footing.
A charming smile greeted the Lady as she questioned Darius if he visited the area often. " I would be inclined to visit the Felwood if I was lucky enough to be greeted by you each time milady." the young lord playfully added, enjoying the intellect on this interesting woman. " Perhaps you are a Lady who fancies herself midnight strolls in the woods compared to the luxurious beaches?" Darius teased as his free hand fell upon the soft cheeks of the Baratheon. " Forgive me, this might sting." Darius warned Dione as he brushed away the sanguine ichor from her lip and rested his thumb atop the cracked flesh. Applying pressure softly to halt the bleeding.
" We should find better footing and make sure you arent hurt elsewhere milady." Darius suggested, moving his hands without warning. Placing the one from her hip towards the nape of her back, the other falling beneath her bottom. Placed on a plump amount of ivory cloth as he grasped onto her thighs and gown. Carrying the woman against his chest much like the knight in shiny armor in common fairy tales. Golden eyes carefully navigating his feet through wooden splinters and broken metal until the man landed upon the gravel of Westeros. A whistle escaped his lips as he ordered his steed close to them.
Trained to obey its master the dark steed came from the fog towards the two, Darius commanding it with a second low pitch whistle as the horse fell to the ground softly. Laying before them as he placed the Lady upon the saddle. Having pulled herself up with his aid with her arms the male doubted that her arms were injured beyond minor scrapes and bruises. Though they had only stood there, perhaps she had injured her legs. Kneeling down on the dirt the young lord cupped the bottom of her feet, fabric adoring the noble. " Move your legs for me. Can't have you stand before me on a sprain."
It had been a long time since she saw eyes like his, their golden colour making Dione try to catch yet another glimpse of them, but when their eyes met, she hastily looked away, embarrassed that she attempted such a childish thing. Her fascination would end eventually, she knew, because the probability of them seeing each other again was minimal.
He took good care of her bleeding lip and she felt herself blush at the gesture. It had been a very long time since someone treated her like that and it caused a high-pitched voice inside her head to scream at her, tell her to get the hell out of there, because he would just use her, because she was his prize and, like all outlaws, he'd try to take advantage of it, but she knew she wouldn't get very far: her leg would be the death of her one day.
He placed his hands on her and she opened her lips to protest, but no words came out before he picked her up, quickly earning a terribly red face from the raven-haired Dione and a quiet squeak that betrayed her surprise. She placed her hands on his shoulders, to hold on, fingers grasping at the fabric of his top and at the skin of his shoulders, and Dione shut her eyes tightly. He's just helping, she told herself, he's just helping me out, he knows I'm scared. But no matter how much she told herself that, she could not ignore his touch and the closeness of their bodies, the way their chests pressed against each other and the scent of a man, scent that she had not sensed in a long, long time.
After he set her on the saddle, she opened her eyes and was surprised to see that it wasn't all just a dream. The ache in her leg still bothered her, but she would not complain: she was a Baratheon, too proud to even admit her obvious vulnerability. She mentally groaned when he asked her to move her feet and she did, even though it made her wince when she tried to move her right one, the already damaged leg, the one that made her known as the limping Baratheon.
"Sorry." She apologized while offering him a smile, and a moment later it dawned on her, the stupidity of her apology: there was no reason for her to say sorry, but she blamed it on her current state of mind, she blamed it on the fact that she was flustered and she blamed it on fate, for some reason. Stupid fate.
Tonight the crystal clear blue skies would meet their rivals within this Baratheon's eyes. They sparkled brightly in the moonlight, drawing attention to the azure pools between a ring of black. Ebony pupils captivated by the sight, being drawn away from her gaze as she brought distance between their focus. Harlaw would not trouble the Baratheon to look his way. Gathering the fawn was likely scared and embarrassed. A bright trail of crimson lit up her soft cheeks, a delightful warmth rising from them.
Hearing the young fawn peep as he brought her up away from the wooden carriage. Darius attention brought down to her over the small noise. A simple smile portrayed on his lips as he shared a few words with her, " Your body betrays you my grace." addressing her flustered features, complimenting the bright face. " Though such a color has enchanted your cheeks, you should wear it more often." Harlaw mused to the crippled fawn. Had he been able to hear her thoughts he would have tried to calm the Baratheon daughter. Alas feeling the grace of her touch as she held onto him through their small endeavor.
However when asked to move her legs the lady was hesitant, moving her knee up with ease, the leg turned with his hands. Though her right leg would cause the fawn to display a pained expression. Not forcing Dione to move it any further then the small amount. Unknown to him that the woman was bound with a limp from a prior accident. Darius would hear an apology from the Baratheon beauty. " You have not wronged me milady, save your breathe and waste it not on me quiet yet." Darius explained as he whistled. The dormant stallion rising from its earthly rest. Harlaw bringing the gown and legs of the woman into the stirrup of the saddle. Brushing the dark coat of the horse before mounting
Bringing himself up upon the horse, sitting on the back of the saddle with his Baratheon guest. The two had shared a closer proximity as Darius leaned forward. His chest pronounced against the back of her body. Strong hands rising from his own hips to grasp onto the reins before the fawn. Pulling on the dark leather as the horse cantered back and forth. Jarring the two closer to one another as he held tightly onto her. A large hand appropriately placed upon her stomach to keep her from falling off as he kept against his chest, beneath the nape of his neck. Had he the need he could rest his head atop hers. " We should bring you home after such an attack, I hope you don't mind a moonlight ride with a stranger." Darius explained to the Baratheon, which sparked his next question.
" Which would be where exactly? I imagine you are not a maiden of the Felwood."
She said sorry so easily nowadays. When she was younger, she had been a terrible girl, a storm worthy of the words Ours is the fury. Now she was a simple shell of her former glory, a crippled doe with an equally crippled heart and even more broken dreams. She had abandoned the hopes of becoming a wife, a mother, a warrior: now it was just her and her cursed leg and unspoken words that she often whispered to herself at night, as she laid in bed, under the safety of her covers and the dark.
She was still a maiden and she was easily embarrassed, so it was no wonder Dione blushed so often and with such intensity. Her pale skin only served to emphasize the redness of her cheeks, and the raven-haired woman could only pray that he wasn't going to notice her shyness. Back when she realized that the other sex wasn't just for fighting, that men served some other purpose than wrestling and playing, she had been embarrassed, more than words could explain. By the age of sixteen, she stopped seeing men as simple playmates. Needless to say, when she met her betrothed, she had felt the first flutters of love and, ever since, she was cautious: love either brought happiness and peace, or disappointment, bitterness and solitude.
He climbed onto the horse as well and she bit her lip, hesitation making it's way to the young doe's heart. Was he going to make her brothers pay a hefty ransom to get her back? Was he going to take her to meet his outlaw friends and have the sort of fun that didn't seem so entertaining to her? It mattered not, she thought, because she couldn't do anything to turn the tides. "A stranger. I'm a stranger to you as well. Hope you don't mind it either." She still found some sort of amusement in this situation, despite all that happened: she was on an adventure.
"Storm's End." She sighed, the idea of riding back home not seeming too pleasant to her, nor her leg. He could easily guess she belonged to house Baratheon from the sigil on the carriage, as well as the stag shaped medallion she wore around her neck, and she was certain he had noticed that already, since he seemed rather observant.
"I'm Dione, stranger. Who are you?" She dared to ask his name, since either way they were stuck with each other until the end of their adventure.
Helpless the stag curled up between his grasp, trying to lick its wounds and be wary of its surroundings. Failure to calm the nerves of the Baratheon was the fault of the Iron Born. " I do not enjoy taking lives. That is the job of the Seven. No harm will come to you, you have my word." Harlaw shared softly, his hips spread wide to accommodate for the woman as his legs hung heavily of either side of the horse. Heavy boots lightly spurring the horse to move faster, a paced gallop delivering the two from grave of lesser men. " You are no prisoner, you are welcome to rid of me at your own leisure." he mused, hoping it calm the doe.
Alas the doe would find her strength, curiosity had struck the heart of the Baratheon. " Less a stranger than I. I did not come bearing crest and sigil of my House." Darius replied with his focus returning to the passage. Guiding the steed forward with care, not to bring them between branches that would scratch them nor towards the main roads that brought attention to the brigands that occupied them. The nail upon the coffin with the location the Lady desired to return too. The visage of Daemon Baratheon appeared in his head, the man known for his dislike for the iron born. However such thoughts and worries would rinse away with the voice of the doe. Introducing herself as Dione, Dione Baratheon first of her name.
" Who am I you ask ? Let me introduce myself." Harlaw mused as he brought his head down, eyes locked on the azure pools that Dione housed. Sharing a brief glimpse of his golden eyes before locking lips with the stag. Lightly forcing his lips upon the injured stag, fingers falling from the reins to rest upon her sides. Though such an act was not to steal her breathe, but rather to share himself with the stag. Salt upon his lips would give away his identity as the scent of the man lingered around the two. " House Harlaw, Darius." completing his introduction. Lifting his head up high and proud with a small trail of red upon his cheeks. Between the bloodshed and felwood he had not noticed the smell of the Baratheon.
It was pleasant and rather alluring, was this the radiance of a Lady? The vassal lord had no partner to return to. He had never quite encountered a woman of this calibur before. Drawn to the stag like a moth to flame. Unlike any woman to call the Iron Isles their home. Attracted to the shy nature of the stag. Grasping for the reins, the young man adjusted the course of his mount. " Would you be against taking the long route to Storms End." the young man expressed averting his gaze to the midnight moon. The pale radiance lighting up the felwood like a fairy tale. Dione gown appeared enchanted by the moon, a sight that he would never forget. " I'd rather not have our adventure come to an abrupt end."
His word meant absolutely nothing to her, but she wasn't going to tell him that. People lied, honor was nothing nowadays and Dione had learned, in time, that it was better if she didn't trust people so easily. Last time she trusted someone, she got hurt so much that she didn't know if she could ever fully recover. Her lips formed a straight line as she stared in front of her, the darkness that surrounded them feeling so very easy to get lost in. Yes, she had dreamed of getting lost one day, but it was her brothers who reminded her of who she was, reminded her that she had a responsibility, that she was indebted to them and to the people.
She looked up at him for a brief moment, but more than enough for him to catch her unprepared, more than enough for his mouth to capture hers in a kiss that she had not expected, not in a million years. It had been more than nine years since she kissed someone- no, since she got kissed by someone, and she had not imagined that she would end up kissing a complete stranger, moments after he had just saved- oooooh, he saved her, maybe that was it, maybe he was just looking for his prize. Still, she tensed considerably, hands grasping at the soft fabric of her white dress with a fury that truly belonged to a Baratheon. The nerve of this person! How dared he! And despite the inner monologue that addressed him quite some heavy words, she felt herself becoming gradually more flustered and frustrated. What a despicable person she was.
He tasted like salt and bravery, like a man who politely asked for a reward for his heroic deed. She would have been lost without his aid, Dione was painfully aware of it, but she could not bring herself to tell him that he could take anything he wanted as reward: she saw him as the sort of person who would pick her up and take her with him, like the sort of person who would take everything she said literally. He tasted like salt and bravery and perhaps a touch of madness, of excitement, of adventure, and Dione found herself at a loss for words and actions. Like a deer cornered by a hunter, she stared at him, at his golden eyes, with an unspoken fury that she would release, in time. Though, was she furious because of his action or because he ended their kiss far too soon for her liking, just when she got a taste of the reward?
"As you wish." She spoke, steel sharp words slipping from her red, soft lips. "But kiss me again without my permission and my lord brother will hear about it. And he will not like it. Nor will he like you." Her gaze fell on the dark path ahead of them once more, her thoughts flying away to her beloved siblings, who no doubt worried about her. "You're rather far from home, huh." Simple words, just as simple as her curiosity.
Silence would fill the woods with the stags lack of words, hearing only the clap of the horse hooves against the brush beneath its feet. Perhaps it had been the wrong way to approach the Baratheon to ease her worries. Knowing little beyond her name he knew not how to act. Experience had shown the Harlaw to react on instinct at times like these. Doing just that when he placed his lips upon the Baratheon. A scene worthy of the bards songs with the two sharing a kiss beneath the midnight 'sun'. Truly this child belonged to her house as the cloth of her gown began to frill beneath her touch.
A breathless Harlaw would hear the first heated words of the stag, they were not to tell him off. Agreeing to continue their midnight adventure with him, alas the fury of the stag reaching his ears. Dione would not hold back against him if he stole a kiss without her permission. Explained fully well that her brother would not enjoy the fact. Knowing all to well that Daemon hated the Iron born. Among the many that hated his family and houses that formed the Iron Isles. " Are you saying with your permission I may steal a second kiss from those lips?" Darius questioned the doe with a slight smile.
Though he would try not to tease her much longer, after-all the threat of being reported to her brother was all to real. Doubting the man would outweigh saving his sister for his own life. However before Dione could go on the man brought a hand over her red lips. Trying to bring silence to the realm. Even halting his horse abruptly as the sound of other hooves made themselves known through the forest. Voices far off could be heard, likely more bandits. Coming to see what was taking their companions so long. With a soft tap of his boots he commanded the steed forward quietly. Weaving through the felwood peacefully.
" I am far from the Iron Isles, but I would not trade my night with you stag to return home. I rather enjoy this adventure." Harlaw whispered down to the ivory bound goddess as he wrapped his fingers around the reins and brought them further through the forest. Picking up speed until they reached a clearing. Bringing the Baratheon into the heart of the field where they not be found. " Lets rest here, I imagine he's exhausted." moving a hand to the mane of his horse. It had been running up to this point and with their added passenger he felt like the magnificent creature deserved a rest. Dismounting the horse and plucking one of the many white flowers that filled the field, offering it to the stag with his hand to help dismount.
" I am not worried about your brother disliking me milady, only you." Darius replied alas now that they were safe from harm. Offering her any means to help her down so not to put pressure on her injured leg.
She didn't know what to do. Sure, she had been in difficult situations before, like back then when she got into a fight with the young Jaime Tarth who thought he'd best her in combat (it didn't happen, obviously, because she knew she was the best), or when she slapped her own septa (and the repercussions had been horrifying, really), but nothing compared to this: an adventure, all for herself! How exciting! And how scary at the same time! But it was the adrenaline in her body, the kiss they had shared earlier and the smell of the forest that kept her going, she believed.
Maybe if they would have met when she was young, when she was a terrible storm, when she wielded her sword like it was an extension of her arm, then she would have certainly challenged him to a duel, despite his earlier show. Right now, however, she knew she would have more than likely died before she even got to swing her sword once. She was no longer a furious Baratheon on the outside. Instead, the storm brewed in her heart and in her mind, a terrible thunderstorm that kept her going, that made her remember who she was and why she was still alive.
"Only with my permission, Ser Darius of House Harlaw." She was being serious, although she looked more like a huffy little teenager than a stern Baratheon. But she'd have the last say in this, one way or another: her kisses were not for sharing with just anyone. The fact that just took it, that he kissed her even though he didn't know almost anything about her, it made her so utterly flustered.
The hand so rudely placed on her lips only made her glare at the darkness ahead of them for a while, even though she understood why he did it. But she made a mental note to make him pay for that. Soon, however, his words made her a tad more confused: he wanted to rest? In the woods? Just the two of them? At night? Wasn't that dangerous? Sure, the whole definition of dangerous seemed to pass right by Dione the moment she allowed him to take her home, and she felt so utterly embarrassed because of that.
"I am not very different from my brother. We tend to have the same reactions to things that we dislike." She warned him, her eyes falling upon him as he dismounted and held a hand and a flower, both for her to take. She took the flower first, carefully placing it into her hair, then carefully took a strong hold of his hand and used it to dismount as well, wincing when she put a bit too much pressure on her injured leg. "Thank you." The words were sincere, and she offered him a simple, yet grateful smile as reward for his aid.
" Understood Lady Dione Baratheon, I dare not bring the righteous fury of your house down upon myself." Harlaw nodded in agreement to her terms. Only with her permission? A challenge given to the iron born from the stag. A request for his lips upon hers would be made before nights end. Darius would not allow such a short moment be the only one with the Baratheon. " I do not wish to be exiled from your company." his lips parted to share the truth with her. The night had just begun and without her it would be a long one. Being flustered before him only made the Lord enjoy his time more with the doe.
Had the warning came after her the flower the young man would have felt perhaps an ounce of fear, but watching the Baratheon accept the gift and place it upon her erased such a feeling from his heart. " A fact I shall never forget." he expressed as he brought his head down, a humble bow for the stag. Assisting her down from the steed was an easy task. Dione weighed like a feather compared to the two weapons holstered on his back. However the doe could not shield her pain from him. Spotting the moment of weakness by the Baratheon. " I will be your legs." Darius whispered as he eased her towards him.
Providing support for the injured doe upon his shoulder. " Do not waste your breathe." trying to hush the sincere words of the Lady. There was no need to thank him for helping. Harlaw may be bound to houses the Baratheon hated but Harlaw differed greatly from his kin. " Just don't apply pressure to your right leg." he warned, scolding her would be in order if he saw her wince in agony a second time. " Right Loki." calling out to his partner as the horse had laid down next to them. Offering a loud neigh of approval before nudging its head against the bottom of the Baratheon. Bumping her into the chest of the Iron born second-born.
Capturing the Lady with a gentle grip, arms placed best to support her hips and body then keep her in place. All of his focus on keeping her right leg from causing her pain. Had the woman not banned him from stealing a kiss this moment would have been opportune for such an event. Instead the young man brought his head up towards the night sky, " Even you have found your match." the boy called out to the heavens, " For your beauty can not compare to the sparkling depths of her eyes." excited lips explained to the night sky. Watching the cloudless sky cry as a single star shot across.
" Make a wish." the boy ordered the stag as he closed his eyes. Thoughts did not race to having a wish of immortal life, nor endless wealth but rather the leg of the Baratheon. Wishing it would no longer ail her. Holding his breathe for the moment as if to preserve it. Had a second star soared past them perhaps he would wish for the night to be eternal. Though such a sight was beyond rare, Harlaw could not complain that such a moment occurred with the stag. Keeping his eyes sealed he parted his lips, " Care to join me?" had the stag found herself still in his arms they would descend to the ground. A soft thud as the boy opened his eyes, hoping the first thing he would see would be the Baratheon and the night sky.
He was acting strange and it felt to her like he was mocking her. Was he really that cruel? Was he not aware that she'd been abandoned by her own betrothed nine years ago and had been relying on her brother to find a suitable match, even though it was all in vain? 'You understand the situation I find myself in, Lord Baratheon, your sister is a beautiful maiden, there is absolutely no doubt about that, but... you understand, surely...' They all said that, one way or another, and little by little, Dione's hopes had been crushed under the heavy wheel of politics. 'How do I know she's still able to conceive?' That was the rude question she once received from an idiotic lord of a minor house and, in her blind rage, she vowed to bring his house down as quickly as possible, so as to not let his stupidity infect the realm. She didn't have to do anything: he died a couple of weeks after her visit.
He said he would be her legs, but she could only pity him for those words: he didn't even know what he was getting into. Or maybe he did, and he deliberately messed around with her, just for fun, the sort of sick amusement that often made Dione wish she could wield a sword once more. But he hushed her quickly and she pouted, although her reaction quickly changed into one of surprise when the horse, Loki, pushed her closer to Darius' chest.
He spoke to the night's sky and she could only look up at him, face red from utter, endless embarrassment. She wanted to hush him, tell him to shut up, that he was just overreacting, but could not bring herself to speak, her mouth open, but no words coming out. Instead, she looked silly, almost childish as she struggled to utter a couple of words, but all she managed to let go of was a surprised squeak as her gaze caught a glimpse of the shooting star. Making a wish? Really? Really? She wished she could go home, but at the same time, she wished she could get away from all this unharmed. She wished she could go back in time and make sure nothing bad happened to her, she wished she could change everything. And there was a sadness about her gaze that she could not explain to him, not properly.
All she managed to let go of was a surprised squeak as he pulled her down with him, and she hated the fact that she was so malleable, so easy to take advantage of, that she couldn't do anything. "You- You're going to shut up and you're going to listen to me." She huffed, face red from embarrassment and anger alike, and Dione looked at his face, not even caring how close their faces were at that moment. Her voice was clear, strong, betraying her lineage, and she pinned him down with her steel-like gaze.
"You. Are you trying to make fun of me? Are you just mocking me for your own sick amusement? I'll have none of that, Ser Harlaw. Speaking of which: aren't you rather far away from home? What are you doing in the Stormlands? Speak." She was commanding, even though she knew he could easily break her stupid little neck for her foolish bravery. But she felt like there was a missing link in there somewhere and she needed to know all about it.
"If you're just looking for a good laugh, stop it. I know, it's funny, to make the old Baratheon lady with a limp think that someone actually likes her, but really, stop it. It's not funny anymore." There was a steel in her voice, similar to the steel in her eyes, and the moon shined down upon them, witnessing the scene in utter silence.
Before Harlaw was the visage of a goddess who had sprung a trap. How little the black strands of hair to shield the stag from his golden stare. Such a comforting warmth radiating from the cheekbones of the doe, the Baratheon face decorated with a river of red. The blush adorning the furious face of the lady. " Had you been your brother I surely would have meet the horns of stag." Lord Darius shared to the magnificent beauty before him. Believing that the Baratheon Lady could be so easily embarrassed with simple words, to think the Harlaw second born had such a silver-tongue. Words often bested the likes of the steel forged weapons that sat upon his back, the ability to bring someone up and break them all the way down was a dangerous gift.
Such a gift as foresight or telepathy would have found themselves useful at this moment. For a world of thoughts and words were spinning within the head of the young stag. None of them would be forunate to reach the ears of the Iron born. Provided only a squeak of defiance from the doe. Dione vocabulary had all but vanished from her tongue. Lacking a furious retort to his clever words. Such thoughts kept a smile upon his face. Knowing that she was not used to being on the opposite end, watching her struggle for dominance in this conversation. Yet they would need no words as the sight that neither would soon forget soared beyond them. A sparkling trail left behind from the shooting star. Golden eyes wondered just what Dione desired yet the regretted it all together spotting the pain expression upon her face.
Words would spill from her lips like a well of water, the drought of silence no longer baring the stag back. Calling upon her resolve and tongue to quiet the young man. Harlaw would fall silent so Dione could share what had been eating away at her this entire time. Yet the woman made it near impossible to keep his wits. Warmth breathe from the doe rolled down his cheeks upon his neck. An fragrance that radiated from the lady that drove him mad. Had he no restraint he would have taken her there. However Harlaw laid beneath her and gave her his undivided attention. Feeling the pressure the woman had not had before displayed. Battered by an array of questions, that demanded answers. From the poisonous words of the stag, she believed this all to be a sick joke orchestrated by him.
It would be in that moment the stag would see the man before her expose his weakness. Golden eyes and pink lips betrayed him as his stare widened and his lips curved down. The second she believed him to be toying her for the sake of a laugh you could see his heart break. A single imaginary blade struck, fracturing through the middle of the red heart as the its crevices expanded and shattered beneath the weight of all her doubts and concerns. Pride being his only ally to showcase a defiant but neutral stare back to Dione. Replying to her after a short delay. " I do not understand why you would think such a terrible thing. Whoever wronged you before to plant such seeds into your imagination is lowborn scum." Darius expressed. Golden eyes did not waver from her own steel bound pools.
" I am far from the Iron Isles, but home is where my family is Dione Baratheon. And the only family I have left is here on the mainland. I wish to see him badly, for I have no one else to turn too. I have so many stories and tales to tell but nobody to listen." Harlaw shared a fact about him that no other knew. " Is it to much to want a family and a home to share." as an Iron born he understood the hatred for his people but he yearned for someone to see beyond such blood ties. Not addressing the Baratheon's limp would haunt him for a long time. Hearing her demanding he stop it, the laugh was over. Revealing the truth of her injured leg. " Its funny." A twisted smile rose upon his cheeks from the deadpan line that had formed his lips prior. " You believe such a pitiful excuse to dislike you to be true."
" Where is the fury of the stag. Such fury and anger that would not let the limp bring her down. You want to know whats funny stag? Your brother is going to hang me. I have fallen for his sister." many would address these feelings as love at first sight. Yet the Baratheon built up the foundations for his feelings with every little action she took. " Someones does like her." Darius quoted Dione. " I do. I want to support her." Harlaw finished, had he not been banned from kissing her he would have stolen a kiss from her. Instead he kept his focus on her, laying beneath her helpless until she replied to what he said. " I dont give a damn about the limp, you can lean on me. I'll be your legs stag."
They say that you never truly change, that there is a part of you that will always stay the same, the very core of a person that will always show who you really are. Dione had been a storm since the very beginning, an uncontrollable wrath that waited, always waited for the moment when she would be at her weakest, vulnerable, only to burst out and take control. She hadn't bothered controlling this demon. She still did not try to control it, for it was her very heart.
It was a lovely sight, to see lords and ladies surprised by how Dione truly was, despite her defect. Perhaps it was wrong of her to think of it as a defect. In the end, all it did was to make her stronger, although a lot sadder, mistrusting and alone. But she looked at the man before her, the hero of a long lost girl's dream, and all she saw was a man, a simple man. She then came to realize that names were of no importance there, in the moonlit clearing, that their only companions for the night were the moon, his horse and each other. She could've been anyone. He could've been anyone. But the slight ache in her right knee reminded her of who she was and Dione was more angry than ever before.
His smile melted away in the aftereffect of her words and she wished she could bring it back, reach over and tug on the corners of his lips to make it better. It felt wrong, to rob him of this small moment of peace, but she could not allow herself to be a fool, not anymore. Last time she had been a fool, her life changed and, instead of a lovely princess, she became a terrible burden on others. She remembered the year after her accident, how she spent most of her time inside her dark room, mind clouded by equally dark thoughts. She feared the person she had become then and, ever since, Dione tried to keep it locked somewhere inside her heart, but it would always be there, the monster.
So many stories to tell and no one to listen. Such a sad man he was. Had she truly let her limp control her? She had lost control from the very beginning, and she felt ashamed that he, a stranger, would remind her of that. "Fool." She called him a fool, although her expression had softened and there was only a terrible sadness lingering still on her face and in her eyes. Her anger had slowly turned to dust. She had no reason to judge him, just like he had no reason to judge her. Yet they did it still. She had been the fool, to rob him of his happiness.
"I'm sorry." She said, her voice devoid of her initial anger, the steel sword of her words crushed under the weight of the sorrow that his words had summoned. And she rested her forehead against his, eyes shut tightly, out of fear that he'd see right through her.
" They declared him dead and put the weight of the world on my shoulders. Only recently did ravens come to my window with messages from Marko, messages that could only be from my brother. I had to chance meeting him after all these years." words empowered by truth left the lips of Harlaw. " Though I was robbed my chance." words that deserved to be drowned in sadness were not, rather a soft smile pierced the sorrow of the boys face. " Rather I traded my chance to meet him to meet another." a secret to be shared with Dione. " I chose to save you." knowing that his brother never stayed anywhere long from his letters. By the time he would get her to Storms End Marko would be long gone from the Stormlands.
A single word would come from the flustered doe, a passionate term that felt more like an endearment than an insult. Dione expression was not lost to the fury of her house, rather his own feelings of sorrow had crept into her heart. " If liking a person who is perfect is normal or smart, i'd happily die a fool." retorting to her single word. Perfection was the idea of everything being the same and pristine, such an idea bore the Iron born. Rather he enjoyed the imperfections this world had, it gave everything character. Knowing that Dione would likely not be the same with out the limp, had he the choice between her before and after the accident the young lord would take the woman damaged. Not even Darius was perfect, cursed with his own flaws.
Two words replied to the last of his words as the doe seemingly collapsed atop of him. Feeling the warmth of her forehead through thick black strands of hair that the two shared. A simple smile formed the line on his face as he brought his right hand to the cheek of the doe. Calloused fingers brushed across the warm cheeks as his thumb sat beneath her eye. Cupping her cheek before him like that of a child. " You do not have to be anyone else before me, you need not be Lady Baratheon, you need not be the cripple of storms end, you only need to be." the man demanded as his left hand cupped her cheek so he could whisper to her without lifting himself from the ground. " Dione." his smile cracking to a smirk. It was near impossible to be sad around this one.
Beneath the stag the young man rose up from the ground beneath him, his body cradling the sides of the woman as he brought his lips to the pinnacle of her forehead. Softly pressing his lips to her flesh as he used his fingers to tuck away loose threads of black hair from the lady. Just holding her in his arms for a moment before letting his lips fall from her forehead. " So open your eyes again my lady and come back to me Dione" Darius explained to the stag. Labels that cruel people invented for her ailment would never be used by him. To him the woman before him would forever be the woman he fell in love with at first sight, Dione.
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