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.
The outer yard of Storm's End was often abuzz with the sound of its occupants working on whatever task was deemed suitable for the day. Always were there militants crafting, training, or cleaning with armaments under the watchful gaze of the Storm Lords. This was every day life for those retainers of the Baratheons, those souls of storm and war. To do otherwise was deemed irresponsible to those loyal and devout to the realm. Doran was no different in that way of thinking. He stood watch over a few young boys, barely men in the eyes of the law, who had yet to grow hair on their chin, nor know the warmth of a woman. Yet here they were, training to take lives. In their hands, they held bows, arrows knocked on string and pointing at target dummies. None of them would hit their target.
The arrow shafts buzzed through the air, one not even reaching it's target, another barely missing the dummies codpiece, and yet another zooming past the target altogether and planting firmly into a wooden beam. Varying degrees of failure. The young knight couldn't help but laugh, stifling his ironic chuckle as best he could to spare the children's egos. "Well, let's start with corrections, shall we?" Doran spoke, walking over to the arrow that had fallen short and plucking it from the ground. "To begin, you--" He pointed the arrow at the first boy, it's owner. "-- Your form is off. Straighten your back. Remember, firing an arrow is a single fluid movement. Don't think step to step. You keep worrying whether you're putting in the right amount of strength and you're bound to under compensate."
The knight continued on, picking the second arrow from the ground. It had fallen just a bit short. "For you, child, I would say that you're too concerned with theatrics. Don't be distracted with tales of pinpoint precision, start slow and work your way up. Follow the advice I gave your fellow squire, and from there, simply imagine hitting the enemy. Nothing else." Doran droned on, almost as if this was rehearsed. Training the pups how to shoot a proper arrow was common practice for Doran after all. They always made the same mistakes. It was easy to work from the simple problems up to the more minute ones.
The last arrow was buried deep into the wooden beam that supported the stone wall of Storms End. Not that it'd do any lasting damage. Nothing could shake these walls, not even negligence. "Lastly, you, the burly one. You're too eager to do damage. Archery is about efficiency. You waste movements by drawing too early. Your aim suffered because your hands began to shake from pulling back too long." The knight stated matter of factly. None of the boys could really say anything on the matter. Their egos were certainly bruised, but they were more concerned about the physical bruising the knight would give them if they talked back. Doran returned their arrows and took his place again, waiting for them to do the same. "Again, do it right this time." The knight commanded, watching as they practiced some more, unaware of people watching, waiting...
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 10, 2015 13:33:36 GMT
ENDINGS WITHOUT END
► it seems paper-thin ◄
She had been watching him all along. Her childhood friend and longtime sparring partner, he was now almost a man grown. She watched him bend his head, adjust and teach the small children. Doran Storm, friend to all living creatures, she thought dryly. She had been watching for a while, hiding somewhere. Now, when was the right time to drop in and make a scene? If this was Brynden Tyrell, this would be absolutely perfect as heck.
She could try strangling him (fake-strangling) or threaten to drown him in the sea for the sake of putting a show. The clingy girl friend. But with Doran, this was... more tricky. Trickier than she had imagined. She had her own bow and arrow on her back, and from the back of the tree, she was still there. Quiet. Stealthy. Maybe she was a spymaster in another life? Looking at it now, she saw Doran as a good friend. Her best friend. He needed to take it chill sometimes.
When she stole another glance, she found herself sighing. Really, he was the sweet and steady one to her fire and violent temper and tendency to drive things onto action. Sweet, and steady, like the calm of the water, to her steady fire and earth. Fire and earth, to wind and water. Really, Doran deserved much better than her as the one he guarded. His position was high, in esteem but he was baseborn.
Doran seemed like a man who could become a good father. The way he was teaching them, it was gentle. Steady.
Hmm. Now how to catch Doran's attention? She was his... friend. Just that. Time not to make a spectacle. Smirking, Alayne drew out her own bow and arrow - and made an aim. The arrow flew past the tree, and it hit expertly the tree beside Doran. Ha. Caught him, like a prey. With no more ado, Alayne stepped in, commanding and authoritative. Lord Baratheon's thirdborn child, the Storm Lady, the girl who patrolled to keep the Stormlands safe.
"I never knew you had the aptitude for both teaching and children, Don," Alayne teased, smirking. She came up closer to her old friend and hit him casually on the arm. That was the way she showed her affection - hitting in the arm. She turned to look at the young boys in front of her. "You know what? Listen to him if you want to be a damn good archer."
She smiled politely at them. Little warmth for them. More was given to Don. He deserved much credit. She put her lips to Don's ear. "You know, you're too serious. You need to fool around with girls."
The squires arrows planted nicely into their assigned targets not too long after the initial corrections. Doran made sure to straighten out their form as they went, positioning them in the uniform stance of the common archer. These boys were simple peasants children, not bred for war like the nobility, they needed special attention in order to be up to par with the Baratheon standard of military competence. Doran understood this better than most, having been in the same situation himself. As a baseborn, nothing is given freely. You must claw your way into distinction. The young knight hoped that at least these few would follow in that example. The children learned quickly though, thankfully managing to hit their targets in designated kill spots before the sessions end.
one, two, three... four? Doran counted the thunk of the arrows planting into wooden posts, only to find an extra echo near his ear, almost too close for comfort. The knight turned on his heel, his eye catching an arrow stuck firmly in the trunk of a tree and snapping back to trace it's trajectory back to its origin. Who would so carelessly fire an arrow like that? The Storm Knight already knew before his eyes hit the mark. A young woman, dark of hair and slim of form, carrying the weapon of the hour. Alayne Baratheon, the Storm Lady, Doran's charge, and incidentally dearest friend. His form turned rigid out of instinct, bowing to the daughter of his lord with the respect she commanded of him, looking to his squires to do the same. They awkwardly managed to mimic his movements by the time he had straightened himself. When he was certain formality was done, he relaxed his shoulders and smiled at his younger friend.
"I'm simply echoing the lessons of my youth, My lady." Doran retorted to Alayne, as careful with his wording as ever. They weren't in private company, it would be poor form for him to adopt a more casual speech with her. He let the lady speak her mind, regarding the squires with her cold yet polite self and watched them all sweat a little at the weight of her words. Perhaps they had not realized just what sort of privilege these lessons were. That might have annoyed Doran if there was time for such things. Before he knew it, Alayne had turned back and put her lips dangerously close to his ear. The sensation of her warm breath against his skin sent color to his cheeks, and her words caused a jarring and overwhelming flustering.
"I..." Doran turned to his students and gave them a dismissive wave, hiding his face from their view. "Dismissed. Seek out the other knights for more tasks." He stated, waiting for them all to leave in confusion before turning back to Alayne. "H-honestly, Fool around with the girls? You do realize my position isn't one that allows me to philander about, right?" Doran spoke, releasing all of his exasperation at once. This woman's teasing was enough to drive any man into a stir, but it was even harder on Doran, who toiled to keep up some air of professionalism.
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 12, 2015 13:39:31 GMT
ENDINGS WITHOUT END
► it seems paper-thin ◄
Doran had been steady, but serious. The baseborn knight quickly dismissed his class, prompting them to seek another knight for more tasks. So now, they were all alone. And then came the sad truth out of his lips: that he couldn't fool around with girls, because his circumstances demanded it. For a moment, Alayne glanced at her friend, sober and then she sighed to herself. Sweet summer children, both of them were young.
"I was just teasing you." With a laugh, she allowed her features to relax. "I'm not surprised you reacted like that. You're always just so serious. Fancying someone is common among knights, right? You should at least fancy from afar, at least once. Take your chances, we're only young once, you know. Make the most out of it." She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't have time to fancy someone. Besides, I think you're too serious. Lighten up, will you?"
The knight and his lady, best friends from the start. Doran had been a constant pillar in her life - their meetings in secret, training in the courtyard, being children. Back then, things were just less complicated. Less messy, too. Her world had been Storm's End, walking around, yelling and being messy, with that messy ball of energy she had. She had the drive to work, even back then, she thought fondly, she could've driven Doran mad if she went on nagging him all the time.
Doran was one of the few boys Alayne had not found gross. Supportive, strong and steady to her fire and desire to work. He wasn't a pervert; he wasn't judgemental; he did not call her out on her awkwardness; he did not judge her for being too rough for a girl. In time, thankfully, Fate had been kind enough to let him stay by her side as her personal knight. From playmates to comrades, they were a team as far as she could remember.
"Although I do wonder, do you fancy someone? I'm curious. How have you been, by the way? You seemed to be having fun teaching all those cute little children earlier. That seemed more pleasant a way to spend an afternoon than...." She let the sentence hang. So what had she been doing before spying on Doran? Ah, that nasty old septa making her sew the tablecloth for accidentally spilling some mess on it. "...than sewing. The nasty old septa made me sew the tablecloth after I spilled some food on it." She pouted.
Preoccupied. She found the word to describe herself. Hm. Was she being too awkward around him today? Well, that was kind of weird. Usually, she was and would be compelled to blabber and ramble all sorts of things with him. She wasn't scared of being foul-mouthed in his presence. Not that she was foul-mouthed at all; occasionally, she did run her mouth was all.
She glanced at him again. And wondered what he was thinking. And what he would say to her. How he would react, how his face would crease. Around him, she let her guard down. Come on, she thought, we've been around together, almost forever. Don't disappoint me.
'Fancy from afar' she said. Oh if only she knew. It wasn't that Doran didn't acknowledge other women or his own desires, there was just no room for such affairs in his duty, and he found he was content without them. There was a side to being lowborn that the Highborn often did not see, and that was the 'freedom' of the lowborn to seek out their own flames of romance. This applied to both men and women. Seven forfend, if Doran isn't with Alayne, some maid is fluttering her eyes at him and pushing their chest against his arm like a warm hearth or fur. Every day was a test of his restraint, and he wasn't about to let go of that hard-fought chastity for just anyone. Perhaps she had a point though... the frustration was making him a bit snappish, uptight even. Maybe he needed a break from Storm's End for a while. A patrol might help him 'lighten up' as it were.
That said, Alayne had managed to change the subject of the conversation on her own already. She was always the rambling type. If Doran didn't feel like answering a question, all he needed to do was simply wait for her to say the next thing on her mind. That was one of her many peculiarities after all. With her family and outsiders, she was often to the point, cold even, save perhaps with her father who proved the exception to the rule. With Doran however, she had always shown a more... warm disposition, perhaps even fiery. She could ramble for hours, and all that was required of Doran were a few words of wisdom and reassurance. He could trace that attitude back to their younger days, before Alayen had even reached her tenth year. The image of a young child, brazen as you please attacking an unsuspecting Doran with a wooden stick and forcing him to spar with her. The knight was certain had it been any other of the pages his age, they wouldn't have survived her flare. His ice was the coolant to her fire though, or so it seemed. She was certainly more calm now than back then.
"The Septa has always been peculiar about the castles linens. I'm surprised you got away with only sewing, my lady." Doran spoke softly, dodging her question about fancying someone. Who would he even consider? The kitchen maid who helped the cook? Perhaps the comely lass who arrived from one of the surrounding farms on occasion to trade their crops? They were nice looking, but none held his attention enough to be considerable. The only woman in his life that he had time for was Alayne and that... wasn't anything more than it should be now. A healthy relationship between childhood friends. He had hoped to leave it at that and move on, but the expectant look on Alayne's face made it clear she was fixated on seeing his reaction. An almost tired sigh escaped Doran's lips. "I'm eager to get out of the castle and ride, if that means anything. It's been too long since I've had the quiet of a smooth patrol to calm my nerves. A half truth. The real comfort was being by Alayne's side. Otherwise, patrolling around the Stormland's would be as empty as sitting in the castle doing nothing.
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 13, 2015 9:00:12 GMT
ENDINGS WITHOUT END
► it seems paper-thin ◄
"Yes, I could have gotten worse." The murmur slipped so softly from her lips, as she tried to get another read on him. Her fingers had been slippery that time. Her fingers had gotten some pricks from the needle while sewing the tablecloth. Hopefully, she prayed that he wouldn't notice the more injuries she was sustaining on her fingers. Ladies were not supposed to have messes on their fingers, did they? Hers were already ruined.
He obviously needed a distraction. And Alayne knew that better than anything right now. Years of friendship gave one many things to learn about. Trying not to be awkward was a huge struggle; she hated dealing with the new changes on her hands, but someone had to be accountable and that was her get-go. The best distractions? She wanted to go drink alcohol, try drinking him out of the table, but that was... a bit risky. She had a good tolerance for alcohol, but she had her own limits too. Certainly, she had no desire to make a fool out of herself drinking. That heady brat certainly had time to make fusses out of nothings. "Sure, a patrol will do us just fine," Alayne returned back to him, trying to be the best friend. She gestured for him to walk with her. "We'll go patrol, you need to clear your head and relax. And you, can talk to me. And I can talk to you. That's a win-win situation, isn't it? Besides, I feel like clearing my head, too." Almost cheerful, she was certainly not afraid of doing any job she held. She walked along, intent on leaving the castle's premises, aware Don would be following her. From the wide array of spaces, she would have to target the stables, get the horses, and go on a patrol session.
Nothing indeed like a small patrol to keep things at bay. It was a nuance - to keep watch of the Stormlands, her way, and to have Don's mind set on another task. As far as she knew, he was working hard to do his duties. Duty certainly fueled them both. Being baseborn, it would be understandable if he didn't want to bring a bastard into the world. Sensitivity was a concept Alayne grappled with; she was not the most sensitive person in the world. Her tendencies were at odds with each other onto that issue.
There were truths. His paradigm. Her paradigm. She walked quietly, and she had reached the stable, opening the door, and taking her horse out, while the stablemaster watched. The stablemaster was used to her dropping by. She had been a frequent visitor to the stables as a child, and now, as a young woman, she had been using her horse most often than late. Patrol sessions, and frequent rides. She had reasons to keep going on. Without a word, the stablemaster rose to his feet, to help them get the horses out.
Once outside with the horses, Alayne could not stop the feeling anymore. She took her place with relative ease on the horse. Her mother was a better horsewoman than her; she was more practiced at it. Hmm, Storm's end, the forest, perhaps, Crow's Nest. Only the distance of their patrol would decide the time that they would spend. She was not a fool to rely on little to no calculations that ensured efficiency on her side.
"Are you worried about something? Tell me. Come on, I'm your best friend."
Doran followed behind Alayne quietly. Despite any work related stress that he carried, the Storm bastard was always calm. Even with Alayne, his exasperation was merely exaggeration on his part. That was something that Doran found helped him get along with others. As a child, he had always been overly quiet. Obedient, but so silent as to startle his masters whenever he would appear. So when it became troublesome for everyone, he took up a habit of embellishing emotion. The notion that their interactions made an impact on his state of mind seemed to make people happy, and that was just fine with Don. He'd just keep his musings to himself and move on.
Of course, this was not the exact case with Alayne. She was one of the few that garnered at least some genuine emotion from him. It was perhaps due to his comfort in her presence. Still a rare trait and very much appreciated on Don's part. As the two strode over to the stables, he automatically fell into the motions that they had practiced for years. While the Stablemaster brought out the horses, Don acquired their saddles and began securing their equipment onto the steeds. His work as a squire made this job second nature. He had even helped the old man tend the stables on his free time as a child.
Making sure that Alayne's horse was properly saddled, Don turned to his own horse, the ever stalwart Wick. He'd bought this horse with savings from his childhood onward not long after his knighting. The pride and joy of Doran Storm. He gently pet the horses mane, soothing his old friend as he strapped the leather saddle onto his back, tightening it just right for efficiency and comfort before mounting Wick and petting its neck, smiling gently at his companion. It could seem worrisome to onlookers how he cared for his horse. The man put more effort into caring for his equipment and horse than anything and payed no mind to normal things like women and ale. It was a joke among the less tactful of the knights that Don ought better be off marrying his horse. A shame they couldn't back their words with their swords. Then again, not many dared challenge Doran to a duel. No use throwing away your honor over a joke after all.
As the two rode out from Storm's End, Don's state of mind fell into passive alertness. Second nature, as always. He was Lady Alayne's bodyguard of course. That came first and foremost in his mind. Any threat to her was to be neutralized with precision. Even while Alayne spoke, Don's eyes were analyzing the familiar paths and landmarks that they rode by. "Not particularly worried about anything, my lady." Doran replied casually, absently stroking his horses mane as they galloped through the forest road. "Perhaps vexed by all the commotion of late, but so long as it doesn't cause any trouble for us, I've no complaints." He mused, looking to Alayne with a smile as calm as the wind. "What of you, Alayne? You seem to have much on your mind these days as well."
Post by alayne baratheon on Jul 17, 2015 14:14:48 GMT
ENDINGS WITHOUT END
► it seems paper-thin ◄
And so the shift from concern of his own to hers. He was the one to bear with her violent tendencies - from flinging sticks to knives - and then actual arrows at him when she was training. Growing up had been a fun time. Yet childhood was coming to an end. Doran would twenty and two to her ten and eight and in a few years, or even half of a decade, they would be parted, away. Doran would earn his stripes and become a worthy knight, and she, she would leave Storm's End for marriage, to be another man's lady and a wife and a mother. Small moments like this, well, she had much more reason to cherish the silence and their little talks together.
Hmph, if she had her way.. Like she even had a choice in it. The best of it was she knew her father would be very mindful of his decisions. Mother and she had already talked about it, and she'd murmured her concessions, ever the dutiful daughter of the House of Baratheon. Alynne would be sent off to another Great House and Euron would be off, courting the Targaryen princess. Well, she was lucky in her own way. She didn't worry about the food that came in her stomach, nor worry about the taxes paid.
Sometimes, she did wonder. Doran was quiet, obedient, as a child. His reactions were exasperation, and it was amusing. She didn't exactly brag being the one to get so much emotional reactions from her friend. It really tickled her fancy. She hadn't really contemplated and overthought her closest relationship. They were similar, driven to achieve and lead. Birds of the same feather flocked together, after all.
Hmm... So what were her worries? What plagued the mind of such a girl? She wanted to hesitate. Why have Doran worry for her when she was the one calling her own shots? As much as she wanted to badger with questions, she had no mood for small talk. No bullshitting, just pure unadulterated honesty, the strings tugging where they were not seen and were not tangible.
"I... I do have a lot on my mind. Father and Mother and I have talked of marriage," she admitted. "I just wonder how long it will be before they find someone who's going to take me away from Storm's End. I was thinking, Doran, of going sometime to King's Landing. You would have to come with me."
Yes, he would. He was her sworn sword, after all. Protecting her was supposed to be his job. She could hold her own against him. There never really had been a time when her safety had been crossed. Lucky, too. His duty dictated it. He had a high position, being in charge of protecting her.
"And I do mean it, Doran. King's Landing is a dangerous place, that's why I need you. I want you. I want you with me, at least, there's a guarantee that you will keep me safe. That's what's been on my mind these past days," so she went on, swift. "Not that I doubt you at all. I have a lot to think more of, and it's only just beginning."
WINDS OF WINTER is the original work of AARON, AERIE and WINTER. Any and all content is copyrighted to WINDS OF WINTER.
Copying, altering, or stealing any of the site's content is prohibited.
All of WINDS OF WINTER characters are the original work of their owners may not be replicated or stolen.
All images and graphics belong to their rightful owners and WINDS OF WINTER does not claim to own any of them.
The skin was created by TIMELAPSE OF WICKED WONDERLAND.
