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 THE REAVING KING on Aug 18, 2017 2:15:28 GMT
Slashed by a beam of sunlight was Quellon Greyjoy, striding through the gardens of King’s Landing. His gait was slow, measured. His good eye studied the flowers around him, assigning them their rightful names. As a child, when he was known as the Reader, his brothers tried to beat him for wanting to study gardening. But poison was born from flower, and only a fool would discount such bountiful weapons.
But the Lord Reaver of Pyke was not here to admire flowers. He was here to break the Targaryen wheel and make his own. And to do that, he had to handle the other six spokes of that wheel.
In a gazebo overlooking the sea, Quellon spotted Lady Morella Lannister. She had her monikers and her reputations, but what mattered most was that last name of hers. Casterly Rock was a mountain of solid gold, and that meant wealth, which in turn meant the ability to secede if for no other reason than money alone.
They just had to be convinced.
“Would you like me to say the view is nice, comment on your looks, or thank you for meeting me here?” Quellon stepped into the gazebo and took a seat across from her. In his left hand was a book, its title and cover hidden by his sleeve. “Or would you rather us begin at the heart of the matter?”
The last daughter to the late lord of House Tyrell, Morella knows nothing below luxuriant wealth. As the third golden rose of her group of sisters, she was raised to be cunning and politically savvy. Her new role as She-Lion of House Lannister bestowed upon her an ample opportunity to insert herself into the great game of thrones.
Post by MORELLA LANNISTER on Aug 18, 2017 12:44:58 GMT
Their arrival upon Castle Rock was met with formalities befitting of the recent tragedy. Morella and her kin were ushered into a lower part of the castle with quarters that overlooked the royal gardens below. She lost herself in them the day after disembarking, enjoying the sentimentality the smells of roses brought.
This garden acted as a meeting space as well. One where politically charged talk would be disregarded as whimsy amongst the flora. Morella brought one such flower to her cheek, her eyes betraying the gesture as they stared strictly forward, burning.
Quellon’s interruption was anticipated and she angled herself so that she could present her profile to the towering man. One eye watched him in a disconnected fashion, the rose still hovering close to her face.
Morella was not one for theatrics in conversation. Little things that supplemented social interactions were typically left to flounder on without much reciprocation on her part.
She was a woman of business.
”Im intrigued by what it is you think I’d be interested in, Ser Greyjoy. Summoning a meeting so swiftly after the passing of our dearest king…” Morella looked out as if admiring something from afar, her words hanging from her open lips. She tilted her head towards him, granting full eye contact for the first time.
”No need to linger on trivialities. Dissect it, then.”
Post by THE REAVING KING on Aug 19, 2017 18:19:40 GMT
“I am uninterested in repeating the Dance of Dragons,” Quellon said. “The coming Grand Council will begin a civil war. Already the Targaryen children are building armies. They have not learned from their history.”
Quellon reached into his robes and produced a gold-and-black leather-bound book. He opened it to a dog-eared page and began to read. “During the Dance of Dragons, Lord Jason Lannister was killed, Casterly Rock was sent into disarray, and his brother Ser Tyland Lannister given to torturers in hopes of coin being returned.”
The book snapped shut. Quellon looked to Morella.
“It goes without saying that Morella Lannister and her kin do not want to relive those events in our current time. They want to succeed. They want to be rich.”
Quellon’s eye narrowed.
“Backing a Targaryen fool will not lead to either of these goals. It is time for us to learn from our histories.”
The last daughter to the late lord of House Tyrell, Morella knows nothing below luxuriant wealth. As the third golden rose of her group of sisters, she was raised to be cunning and politically savvy. Her new role as She-Lion of House Lannister bestowed upon her an ample opportunity to insert herself into the great game of thrones.
Post by MORELLA LANNISTER on Aug 19, 2017 19:28:52 GMT
Quellon Greyjoy was no kraken. Though he looked the part, his mind formed from understanding the world around him rather than being shaped by the raging seas. Morella respected his wisdom and the curious way his mind worked.
She also took what he said with sincerity.
Morella nodded at the retelling of history. She was aware of the tragedies that befell her house long before she was a lion. The chance of recurrence crossed her mind before.
”The Targaryen house may be splintered now, but the idea of using this time to declare independence from the Iron Throne is far too fantastical. We would run the risk of having all other great houses turn on us as well.”
She lifted her brow expectantly.
”If we were to secede, we would need more than just the Westerlands to abide. What is your answer to this conundrum?”
Post by THE REAVING KING on Aug 19, 2017 19:59:35 GMT
“Casterly Rock is impregnable. You sit on a gold mine, and have enough wealth to buy mercenary companies and foreign soldiers on demand. But with only your navy, you cannot last forever in a siege.”
Quellon leaned forward, his hands tenting together, his eye narrowing. There was something bloody doing calculations in his brain; a violent idea was being shaped and sharpened. “The Royal Fleet is split in two. That means the only fleets that are stronger right now are mine, and the Redwynes. If you give me your ships, I can destroy Rhaegar on Dragonstone and hold his wife hostage. The Dornish will be forced to listen to me. And if they listen to me, they’d have to listen to the Queen in the West.
“That gives you their men, my ships, and your ships. The Redwyne will be unable to fight that.”
Quellon sat back, hands coming undone. He gave Morella a knowing look. “But that still leaves two other Targaryen heirs. Have you spoken with Alysanne yet?”
The last daughter to the late lord of House Tyrell, Morella knows nothing below luxuriant wealth. As the third golden rose of her group of sisters, she was raised to be cunning and politically savvy. Her new role as She-Lion of House Lannister bestowed upon her an ample opportunity to insert herself into the great game of thrones.
Post by MORELLA LANNISTER on Aug 20, 2017 14:55:29 GMT
He had been sitting on these ideas for a while.
She thought, her eyes thinning as he painted the picture for her in that garden. Quellon Greyjoy with the upper hand? Morella could not picture another of his lineage with such ample opportunity. Could a man such as this be more than just the suggestions he sowed?
Morella was not one to blindly enter into agreements. Well-versed in the political history of Westeros, she knew enough to understand the motivations of others however camouflaged they seemed. Though he would make a formidable ally, his history would always stand to betray him.
She let the question he ended on hang in the air. Her gaze was strong, unwavering. Morella broke the silence after a particularly long stretch of time. Her voice cut through it sharply like a knife to smooth silk.
”You are a killer, Ser Greyjoy. One of cold blood. And yet you come to me urging me to align my ships with your own in an effort to save my family?” She laughed. ”You spin pretty tales, Quellon, but your image is not one that has me rushing to sit beside you as an ally.”
Morella leaned in, eyes never leaving the behemoth seated beside her. The She-Lion betrayed no fear for she had none. ”You forget that I am a rose of Highgarden. The Redwynes are friends of Casterly Rock.”
She looked away, saying little else besides an answer to his last inquiry.
”Alysanne? I have not. I have mingled little with the Dragons since first arriving.”
Post by THE REAVING KING on Aug 20, 2017 15:22:17 GMT
Ser Greyjoy. Quellon did not rise to insults, but he did categorize people by them. Morella’s insistence on refusing to call him a lord, and instead giving him a knightly title he neither held nor wanted, was a dull blade being jammed into his side.
Flexing his jaw, teeth bared, Quellon closed his good eye and took in a deep breath. Historically, the Lords and Ladies of the greenlands never respected the Ironborn. But that was a mistake. It was always a mistake.
“Alysanne is the king’s heir,” Quellon said, looking at Morella again. “He had no power to make her so. His eldest cannot take the throne rightfully because of his commoner wife. Rhaegar is a fool who cannot lead.”
Quellon leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. His gaze was focused on Morella’s now; it had become wide eyed, as if he was taking in every detail of her most subtle movements and micro expressions. He was like a predator appraising his next hunt. “The dragons are dead. The Targaryens have no power over this realm anymore except what we give them.
The last daughter to the late lord of House Tyrell, Morella knows nothing below luxuriant wealth. As the third golden rose of her group of sisters, she was raised to be cunning and politically savvy. Her new role as She-Lion of House Lannister bestowed upon her an ample opportunity to insert herself into the great game of thrones.
Post by MORELLA LANNISTER on Aug 30, 2017 1:57:45 GMT
The Greyjoy’s words did not fall on deaf ears. She agreed with most of his positions though she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing. Instead he would receive a pursed lip and a silence that would last until the very last word he uttered left his jagged teeth.
”The wheel is not yours to break. Nor is it mine. You are foolish to be spouting such treasonous musings so openly. Do you forget the name behind every tree in this garden?”
She eyed him with intensity, her furrowed brow supplementing her dismissal of such ideas. To be truthful, Morella was quite intrigued. Never would she utter such admissions to Quellon Greyjoy, not here.
”Hold your impulsivity for the duration of your stay, my lord. Or all you will be leaving here with are an assortment of new and powerful enemies.”
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.
