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 Jul 18, 2015 21:47:46 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
Daemon chuckled appreciatively. “No, that it is not.”
After his soft chuckle, only the sound of rustling sheets penetrated the silence, though the physical space between them remained. Althea rolled over to look into his eyes. Her faced carried a certain gloom to it, and sadness for which it seemed she wanted to blame Daemon but could not fully do so. He just studied her beautiful face and the intricate emotions it hid. When she kicked around the covers and sheets just enough that they reached Daemon for him to pull onto himself, he just looked at her, still fumbling in his mind for something to say.
He wrapped himself in the soft warmth of the covers. He wouldn’t receive any from his lady wife that night, save for the bedding itself. Daemon had expected the distance afterward, but for a fleeting moment, he hoped it wouldn’t come. There was affection in their bedding, some sort of endearment and passion that impulsively made its way to the surface of Althea’s feelings — Daemon had seen it. He felt it when she kissed him on the nose. And he felt it too, between his legs and in his heart. But it was not love, nothing so deep. He rolled back onto his back and started at the stone ceiling, his own face being pulled down with a mild melancholy.
“No, you’re not what I expected. I had heard rumors about you, but it doesn’t matter. My expectations mean little. You’re my first and only woman. I couldn’t have made any real expectations for you. What would I base them off of? There has been no one else. Anything I tried to set would be unrealistic, childish, unworthy.” he muttered. Then, he turned is head so that he could glance at his wife. “You’ll ‘do’ for me. But I don’t want our marriage to fall into that kind of thinking. It doesn’t have to. This union…this union is going to be what we make of it. It’s not up to others to decide, no ancestors nor fathers nor kings. They won’t share our bed. I will be Lord of Storm’s End, and you my lady. What that means is for us to define.”
Post by ASHARA MARTELL on Jul 20, 2015 8:19:57 GMT
i've got darkness and fears to appease
She wasn't sure why he turned to face away from her. Did he not want to appraise her? Like as not she was just overthinking things, using every excuse she could grab hold of to make her the distaste easier to swallow. She knew it, but that changed nothing. His words threw her for a loop, however, as they always seemed to do. As if she he was trying to demonstrate how thoughtful he was, trying to win points. Oh, but she was surely just overthinking things again.
Still, it was rather strange to hear him talk about such matters so impartially. Analytically. She watched the way his mouth moved as she spoke his words up into the air like it would fall down on them with greater weight. There were certainly not alike, these two, not at all. Althea had conjured up all sorts of expectations that she held to him even before they had met. Was she supposed to feel ashamed at doing so? It's true that he had had his way with her, and that he tore down many of the things she thought would be hold fast. It's true that her heart danced a little with the agonizing hope that maybe things could end up well.
He turned to look at her, and would find her own eyes fixed on him. When he was done, she'd stir rather uncomfortably.
"You are so optimistic." It was a wonder, really. "Sometimes happiness just does not chose a pair. Perhaps we two could grow to... love," she said, her voice getting soft momentarily at those words, "but it's never the same as picking the one you want. It's a dutiful love. You talk as if we set our minds to it, anything is possible. That just does not happen. How many marriages end up that way?"
She sighed, pulling the sheets carefully over her shoulders such that it didn't yank on his end. "What it means is that you will rule, and I'll bear your children," she said simply.
Post by Daemon Baratheon on Jul 21, 2015 1:24:15 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
Althea could hide so many emotions and thoughts behind her stares, and Daemon could only take leaps of faith in trying to guess them. The way her alluring eyes studied him both intrigued and unnerved him. Their gaze had a certain sharpness to them. They were a rapier, her mind the duelist’s hand, prepared for quick deflections and precise jabs. But Althea was neither venomous nor malicious. She was warm and soft, yet harsh and firm at the same time. A true northern woman, she wouldn’t stand for indirectness or bloated idealism from him. Thankfully Daemon possessed little of that, but instead had the will to forge his own reality through practical means.
He wondered about the softness of her tone, the echoing sound of ‘love’ that clung to the air between them longer than any other word. Even the sound of her voice, of the meaning behind a seemingly distant hope, drifted away. Althea sounded harsher when she spoke again, and Daemon’s eyes trailed off to look at her lips as she spoke. He wouldn’t mind bringing them back to his own one more time. Perhaps more than once…
“I don’t believe in fates, or the predetermined nature of things,” he responded bluntly, though not coldly. “It is not a dutiful love. It is just duty. Sadly there is no guarantee of love of any sort. There is no guarantee of true duty, either. Marriages have been broken by lord and lady alike, either on paper, by tongue, or in another’s bed. But I speak with optimism, aye, because I believe myself capable. And I enjoy the potential of the unknown, dangers and all.”
His body once again turned to face her completely, his sheets tucking underneath his side. “Yes, I’ll rule over Storm’s End, and you’ll bear my children. Of course, they’ll be yours as well. I hope you can at least find happiness in that, if nothing else, though I will try to please you, my lady,” Daemon said sincerely.
Post by ASHARA MARTELL on Jul 22, 2015 6:15:52 GMT
i've got darkness and fears to appease
"I too am capable," she would mutter, feeling a slight sting and needed to remind Daemon that she could be trusted, at least, to not break their marriage. A paltry story theirs would be, for her man to wax eloquent about his views only to forsake her down the line because of her stirring stubbornness. And when he turned fully towards her, she found her eyes wandering down below, unashamed, even as he talked. It was still a new thing to her, after all, and she was going to have to get used to it anyway. Even if it was an ungainly and rather unattractive thing.
Still, she was not persuaded by him. She did not believe necessarily in a stone-set fate, either, but to say that some things could be gained entirely through effort and will was still beyond her. Wasn't that the reason why not everyone could be a knight? A king? Could attain happiness? Some things were just not meant to be. This she felt. And while she still could not determine how things would go with her lord husband, even exposed body and mind to her, she was not about to take into his aspirations. It was too dangerous for her to think so optimistically and be disappointed. Better to expect the worst, or nothing at all.
"I'll love my children, whatever they may be," she said coolly. 'And if necessary, I'll raise them away from you, too.' This she vowed. She felt it would not come to that, not with this man, but her children would be part her and that was one half more than Daemon Baratheon could say. There would always be Karstark in her, always blood of the first men, and though their children would have their duality, half was still more than enough to warrant Althea's unconditional love.
"How lucky I am, to have such a considerate husband." Again, a strange line dancing between honesty and sarcasm. Not quite both, yet could be taken both ways. And with that Althea would sigh, still facing him, and close her eyes. "We have a long day ahead of us. And you must be tired, after all," she murmured with the curl of her lips.
Post by Daemon Baratheon on Jul 25, 2015 19:32:05 GMT
OURS IS THE FURY
Perhaps both felt it, but neither Althea nor Daemon seemed to consciously notice that they had already grown more comfortable and familiar with each other’s bodies. Such made since after their bedding, but their eyes still drifted along each other’s figures long afterward. Daemon’s fixated on Althea’s luscious lips, drinking in her words as they left them, and then slowly began to trace down her neck and along her curves beneath the sheets. Likewise, Althea’s gaze gunned straight for Daemon’s manhood. He remained partially uncovered, not quite warm yet not cold enough to cocoon himself like his lady wife.
She never let slip a chance to remind him of her capability, implying strength. Daemon had taken notice that this was not the only time she replied with a tone equal parts reprimanding and reminding. Did his matter-of-fact speech wound her? Did his will and surprising optimism actually unnerve her? Truly, the following years would be unpredictable for either of them.
Daemon neither nodded nor retorted to Althea’s cold tone. Even with it, he still managed to find some reassurance from her words. But she didn’t say their children, only hers. He kept his sadness at that realization to himself, hiding it behind his stern, concerned face. Do women often act so defensive after giving men meek and affectionate kisses on the nose? That Althea was and would forever be his only experience with a woman meant that question would go unanswered. Daemon did not think lesser of himself for that. After all, he lacked a thirst for whores or sexual debauchery during his single years, and he would not develop passions for them afterward. But he wanted a wife by his side he could trust. To love would be grand, though that emotion still mostly evaded him in understanding. But, from what he had seen and felt so far that night, Daemon had no real cause to doubt or fear Althea. Her wrath, maybe, but not her allegiance.
“Heh,” he snorted at her almost sweet mockery. “How lucky, indeed.” Her eyes started to close, her lashes fanning downward. Gods, her face was beautiful. “We’ll have many long days ahead, I expect. Rest well, my lady. It’ll be some time before you’re in your new home.”
He shifted once more to wrap himself in the covers more tightly before letting his own eyes shut. Their breathing would grow slightly louder as the rest of their bodies stilled, and they drifted off while facing each other — separate, but together.
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.
