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 VAERYIA AGYARE on Aug 24, 2017 5:26:13 GMT
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A Lyseni pirate had shown up at her home in the early hours of the morning, initially given a disdained shout before he one name hollered back a response. Dalton. Wrapped in a silk sheet, her drowsy voice commanded for more details pertaining to his arrival in the Lyseni port. The Iornborn had wormed his way into her heart three years prior, one night overflowing with lust transforming into the title of salt wife and a peculiar fondness she didn’t dare question. The nature of their relationship suited the Emerald Trader, an arrangement she wouldn’t compromise unless it was the wish of the Westerosi man. She sent the weathered pirate off to bring the Greyjoy to her for a proper meeting.
His arrival to Lys couldn’t have been more aptly timed.
She knew the life of a sailor, understanding matters on the ship needed to be tended to before free time would be granted to the captain. Her time wouldn’t be spend lazing around while she waited for the kraken, but rather Vaeryia would tend to her own matters until his arrival. Lys the Lovely produced specimens of beauty and the green headed woman had been bred specifically for the sake of attractiveness. She laid out an ivory dress with delicate golden trim, a costly piece that wrapped around her form to hug her curves. Sitting before an ornate mirror, a considerable amount of time was dedicated to curling and perfuming her hair. Once completed, she couldn’t help but laugh at how closely resembled the bed slaves who poured out of the island’s pleasure houses. A life she had scrambled to escape seven years prior.
Idly, Vaeryia bit into a piece of fruit as she sat on a chaise lounge placed closely by the entrance to the main room of her living quarters. Lowering the apple from her mouth, an anticipatory smirk spread across her lips after she sensed movement from outside. “Lord Greyjoy, is that you?” she purred out, her accent causing the worlds to flow off her tongue as if they were music notes.
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Aug 24, 2017 13:01:54 GMT
Her senses were sharp. Maybe that was one of the things that separated her from the others. Dalton found himself thinking about that as her heard her call out for him. All the way up here, he had found himself wondering: was this really all that different than what his men were doing? After all, most of the time they were coming here to have some fun with the bed slaves. His girl had been one, too, and he visited her oftentimes much like a whore. Thus, thoughts about the difference between these situations had occupied his mind as he’d climbed up from the harbour.
Yet, her sharp senses were one of the sharpest and starkest differences. Those whores and slaves, they were usually intoxicated, used, in some ways dirty. But Vaeryia was his. Hopefully, she was his alone, but he did not police that much. As long as he did not have to vacate multiple suitors when he came over to visit, it was okay. After all, he left her alone for months on end, too. A mutually beneficial agreement that gave her the freedom to follow her desires, as long as she was at the beck and call of his.
And she truly was, judging from how she had already prettied herself up this early. “Yes, it is, my dear salt,” he announced himself, speaking out an otherwise demeaning title with affection. She was his, but he was not hers. That was what it meant. But sometimes, he kind of was. Likely that was what made it not just endurable, but even enjoyable for the Essosi. He would never understand her completely. But as he entered and saw her in front of him like this, it mattered not. Wordlessly, he would swiftly close the distance between them, whether she had gotten up or was still sitting. In either event, he was going to gently push her back onto and against the lounge. With hands on her back, he was going to simply steal a kiss from her and pull her as close as possible as his first action.
It would be a deep kiss, passionate and long. Her voice alone had made him want to shut her up like this, although that was more of a side effect. It just was as melodious as this mouth was kissable. “I missed you,” he simply stated once it had finished, wondering what he should do next with her.
Post by VAERYIA AGYARE on Aug 26, 2017 16:37:58 GMT
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been eighteen or so when they had initially met but the Ironborn presented himself to her as a man, fully established and prepared to prove himself worthy. Worthy of her company, worth of taking up space in her bed, and worthy of bestowing a belittling title that had transformed into one of utter endearment. The specifics of his culture did not concern her as long as she was not chained down by the title or forced to bear children as a result of their relationship. Neither occurred, causing her great elation each time his name was spoken in the harbor of Lys or any other Essosi country she frequented.
“You’re far too handsome to be a kraken, do you know that? You’re not a squid, either. I’ll find a more fitting name soon enough,” the lilt of her flowing accent spoke to him, words as airy as the breeze that languidly traveled through the open windows of her home. Vaeryia’s golden orbs fixated upon the weathered and familiar form of Dalton, beckoning him closer as he hovered momentarily in the entryway. Obligingly, she slid to press herself against the chaise, her arms instinctively slithering around his neck to keep him anchored closely to her. A sigh of contentment had already passed through her lips. Her body was humming in satisfaction at the sensation of his hands upon her, a feeling she had gone months without experiencing.
Fully indulging herself within the impassioned kiss, a whine of displeasure at Dalton pulling away sounded from the Lyseni woman. She kept her forehead pressed to his, gaze locked upon his as a sense of fondness could be detected in her stare. “How funny is fate? You popped into my thoughts only yesterday and look who is before me now,” Vaeryia purred, her tone bemused. She pulled him down with a slight amount of force, hoping to have him lay atop of her as she leaned back to fully lounge on the couch.
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Aug 26, 2017 17:39:52 GMT
Some of his Ironborn brethren were fixated on raping and reaving – maybe a bit too fixated. True, he had, in a way conquered this woman and kind of deemed her his possession, but ultimately, Dalton had not acquired his saltwife that way. There had not been any pussyfooting or highborn courting involved, no, but she had followed him to the beach on her own accord. He had drowned her, leisurely and maybe a bit quicker than would be customary. But that was fine in his book. Vae was not a conventional saltwife, after all.
And besides, back then he had wanted to get it over with quickly so that he could take her right then and there, as his wife. Just like he planned on taking her tonight. However, that ws still a ways off. For now, the pirate was simply content feeling her beneath him, entwining limbs and tongues. Nothing in this world was better than a willing woman. That was not an opinion, it was fact. It was also why he liked her so much, she was almost always willing and more than ready for him. Now was no exception at all.
But while he had only smiled at her intention of giving him a better title, he did have a few things to say about her other comment. “Well, I do hope that you think of me every day, Emerald,” he replied with a smirk, using one of his nicknames for her. He had to come up with better ones too. That one was a tad bit on the nose, all things considered. “Maybe I will need to indulge you a little longer and harder this time, to make sure that you do~.” Talking dirty with his salt wife was one of the things he enjoyed the most, ironically. Too often did he have to talk so very controlled and neutrally to womenfolk that he might marry the normal way. Saltwives really were the best, weren’t they? “But knowing how crafty you are, you must have another reason for that as well. Maybe you should tell me before I make you scream again." Putting some emphasize on these words, he thoroughly groped her behind through the dress with his free hand.
Post by VAERYIA AGYARE on Aug 28, 2017 2:08:43 GMT
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She often overlooked the weight of being labelled a ‘salt wife,’ though to gain the title she had gone through the proper ceremony and all. Vaeryia was not called a salt wife out of teasing affection but rather because she had been drowned to earn the labelled placed onto her by the Ironborn and his religion. The emerald headed woman was not viewed as a slave to Dalton nor did she ever feel like one when in his company. The most trying aspect of the arrangement was readily making herself available when word arrived that the Greyjoy’s ship had docked in the harbor. But that meant that he would arrive at her doorstep soon enough.
He referred to her as Emerald, a name she had heard since her little mind was developed enough to comprehend words and their meanings. Her nickname in the mercantile tile was also the Emerald Trader, proving that the name did not boast of much originality. It didn’t matter; the smile she directed back at him was still radiant. “You’re the first thought that fills my mind when I wake in the morning,” she reaffirmed to him, the words a heated whisper as her golden orbs looking to him ravenously. “I worry I’ll have to beg if you don’t deliver on your promise, Dalton. Please, don’t make me do so. Use whatever means you must to assure that your name leaves my mind.” The nature of her words matched his effortlessly, the mood between the two fully understood and expected.
Dalton’s grope caused her to expel a pleased gasp while she arced her back, pressing her body more feverishly against his. Shifting to lean towards him, her mouth position itself against her cheek to allow Vaeryia to speak a warm whisper against it. “I made the mistake of entrusting a shipment of my goods to a Lyseni pirate with a poor reputation. He hasn’t left the harbor once the past week but refuses to return my inventory or the gold I paid for his service. Would it be too much of a bother to ask you to deliver a message to this pirate, who clearly misunderstood the nature of our deal?”
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Aug 28, 2017 16:07:16 GMT
“Hmm, but what if I want to hear you beg, my little lime?” A chuckle escaped his no longer dry lips. Of course he would not force her to do so and was just joking. But it would have been a lie to say that he had never entertained the thought. Just slinging that slender body over his shoulder and take her with, so that he could have her whenever. The temptation to do so always rose whenever her journeyed towards her, missed her. But then he took one look into those almost feline eyes and remembered exactly why he would not do so. Screw Lannisters, this one was his green lion, a proud beast that lived in the wild, so to speak. If he dragged her to Pyke, or just kept her on his ship, he would be able to enjoy her every day if he wanted to. But it would not be the same. Those alert eyes would dull and so would her hunger for him. Dalton much rather had the greatest lay of Lys, than just a good one all the time in Pyke.
Besides, that butt could only become so nice and firm when seasoned in the sun and winds of the summer seas. He enjoyed the taste for a little longer, feeling her up through that hint of cloth she was wearing while Vae explained what precisely she needed help with. Apparently, the Emerald Trader was still lacking in muscle, relying on wandering Ironborn to do the intimidation for her. “Hmm,” he indicated once more, before raising his free hand to coax her head upwards again, lifting her chin briefly, before putting his thumb upon her lips. “I don’t think the heir of one of the great houses of Westeros could ever be a messenger to his own salt wife,” he explained before pushing her butt upwards, intent on getting her to straddle him properly. “But if I accompanied my dear wife down to the harbour and someone insulted her, say, by trying to cheat her out of her gold or goods….well, I think I would have to teach them a lesson. That would be good for her reputation as someone not to be trifled with, too.”
Well, at least that was his opinion. It was through and through the thought processes of an Ironborn, not that of a trader.
Post by VAERYIA AGYARE on Aug 29, 2017 23:33:52 GMT
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“You can do whatever you desire with me, remember? It’s the biggest consolation of having a salt wife. At least, that is what you’ve told me. I can’t pretend to be familiar with the Ironborn tradition, but I always raptly listen to everything you say,” Vaeryia chirped to Dalton, the lightness of her tone unable to keep the sultry undertone from emerging.
She was not the proper material for a…what had he called it when she had asked one drunken and hazy night? Rock wife. Nobility and birthright did not operate similarly in Westeros, not that she had fully experienced the various cultures of the continent. Dorne was still unlike the rest of other countries, at least that was what the Dornishman she encountered relayed to her. Her mind would be continually shocked when she finally made it further south they assured Vaeryia, only offering more fodder for her desire to travel throughout Westeros.
His hands were familiar with her form, possessing the capability to excite her with a simple placement or grab. Just as he was currently doing. A soft hum of pleasure sounded from her pursed lips as she remained still, basking in the sensation that he touched caused her. The brief time they spent reuniting and relearning the scape of each other’s bodies was redeemed with how they chose to pass the time, no matter how brief each encounter was. She obliged to his desire to reposition her face, eyes refocusing on him while she bit gently at the thumb he dared to set on her lips. “The Emerald Trader of Lys would never dream of having a Westerosi noble doing her dirty work. She knows better than that,” Vaeryia assured him, a sly smile accentuating the mischievousness currently sparking in her stare.
The hum returned momentarily as she parted her legs, wrapping them loosely around Dalton while one hand grabbed at his hips to press his form more earnestly against her own. “If you have some time to spare then, dear husband, would you entertain the idea of joining me at the harbor? I have a revelation of sorts to show you.” The wicked gleam of her golden orbs only burned brighter before she locked her lips onto his, inciting an impassioned kiss.
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Aug 31, 2017 0:40:38 GMT
Yes, she definitely could talk quite dirty. Just those few words filled his mind with possibilities and depravities. On some, even her would never act, though. His treasure needed her reputation to be at least somewhat intact, after all, if she wanted to keep her business. As such, at least a little bit of restraint was to be kept and cultivated. Though he did give her a brief and light slap on the butt in response. They would be able to have their fun even without going to the ultimate extremes. Besides, where in the world would they get unicorn milk in Lys?
Besides, it was not like he was not going to leave this house anytime soon. Not with the way she so expertly cemented her position on top of him. As far as he knew, she had actually been trained in this from a young age. It was a topic that he would not pry at in the slightest, only knowing what she told him or alluded to. And honestly? It did not matter too much. Dalton did prefer experienced women and while he did not like paying for whores, he certainly did not mind former whores. Besides, it was kind of impressive that his salt had managed to escape from such a fate all on her own accord. Plus, it massively stroke his ego that she still agreed to become such.
His hands planted on her hips for a bit, he could feel the kraken awakening fully beneath her. Maybe she was manipulating him, maybe not. It honestly did not matter at this point. No words were said – at least for now, as they kissed, tongues entwining and dancing for a little more until they separated once more. They did not have the kind of new lover flame that would make one only stop kissing to catcha breath, but that was not bad. It made for much more stimulating discussion. “Joining you does not seem like such a bad idea. But you do realize that any such relevation would have to be better than what you are going to give me tonight. Which is already something truly amazing, you can believe me that.” He laughed briefly, before burying his face almost playfully in her bosom.
Post by VAERYIA AGYARE on Sept 1, 2017 1:03:09 GMT
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She would never forget her experiences on the barge of an esteemed courtesan on a neighboring island. The young girl had been constantly reminded that as a slave she had been specifically bred for pleasure and satisfaction. Her beauty was undeniable and exotic, intended to tantalize and allure both men and women alike. Vaeryia’s body was a temple meant to be dedicated to the country’s love goddess, who had provided her with gorgeous features for an evident reason. A reason understood and upheld by any bed slave of Lys. She was meant to live and serve with her body, however those who supplied gold desired her body or even mind to please them.
His hands grasped at her hips and hers found their way to his shoulder, latching on to offer her support as she hovered over him. A curtain of emerald tresses fell over them but it was no challenge to overlook the annoyance as Vaeryia lost herself in the sensation of his mouth placed on hers. There was a feverish edge to their kiss but it was paced, allowing her to savor the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his tongue before they finally parted. She momentarily pressed her forehead to his, peering down at him fondly with a heated stare of gold. “Many thanks for appeasing the silly request of a mere merchant, Lord Greyjoy,” she quipped to him, the words sounding like a pleasant melody due to the lilt of her accent.
Dalton’s face found itself buried into her chest, coaxing a playful grin on her face as she allowed him to simply enjoy himself. She chose to offer him another source of stimulation, pushing her groin more urgently against his as she hummed lowly in contentment. “I truly doubt anything I could divulge to you will surpass what nightfall has in store for you. A sea song will be sung soon after you depart to commemorate the events that will soon unfold on my mattress,” Vaeryia cooed to him in a husky voice.
Post by Dalton Greyjoy on Sept 1, 2017 23:53:20 GMT
“Mere merchant, hah,” he replied, smirking. She really did like to downplay her achievement and skill, even to people whom she was not subservient to. Butt he was never fooled. Dalton had conquered this girl for himself because she was not just a merchant. Someone who was not impressive would not gain such a honour, to be his but also still her own, in a way. And if she just manipulated him to think that way – that would be even better. It was not exactly the iron price, but in her own way, she would have done something grand and commendable.
First though, he’d had to disabuse her of such a foolish notion. “Far more than just a mere merchant. You have been drowned and you rose again, stronger. May not be born Iron, but you certainly are not just like anyone else here anymore, either.” On that note, he would really like to see her soaked in seawater again, even if it ruined that dress of hers. The thought was just very, very enticing.
Just like whatever she had in mind for him today. Those big words were growing ever bigger. For a few moments, he almost fooled himself into thinking she had been planning this ever since his first visit. Yet, his wife likely had other matters to attend to, too. But still, when she started grinding himself against him, it was really hard not to think so – and quite hard to still remain restrained by his trousers. Foreplay like this was a bit straining. But in his experience, that made the final product only much more intense. The Greyjoy enjoyed every bit of it and leaned back again, after solidifying his hug momentarily. “I see but one problem with that though. Your mattress is all the way over there. Do you really think we will even make it that far?” Heck, he would take her wherever, whenever. But being a bit witty could only help with people such as his lovely lime.
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