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.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Aug 26, 2017 2:07:36 GMT
This is it.
Aerys thought to himself as he used the armor, helmet, and equipment provided by Vaelys to seamlessly walk among the guards that patrolled the Red Keep. This was his home and one he hadn't seen for over five years, but it was still as familiar as the back of his own hand. He grew up here and the mischief he took part in would prove to be invaluable experience today. The routines the guards took and even their mannerisms—Aerys had it all down to the smallest of details.
He remembered the days of when he and his cousin Jaehaera would sneak out of the Red Keep and sneak down to fleabottom using disguises they came up with on the fly. They pretended to be all sorts of characters and a Red Keep guard was one of the first they had practiced to perfection. Each corner he turned and hall he stepped into reminded him of a story of his days within the Red Keep. He could see where his father Daeron Targaryen first taught him how to properly hold a sword and where his mother would often lecture him in another spot all from where he stood now. The Targaryen prince shook off his thoughts of nostalgia, focusing on the operation at hand instead.
The prince had relied on his cousin Vaelys once more to provide a guard assigned to Alysanne's detail with food poisoning. Aerys was there in his stead, minimizing his presence to the best of his ability. Now it was Cassius's turn. The plan hinged entirely on the Stark Lord's private meeting with Alysanne Targaryen taking place within the Great Hall. Once inside, Vaelys would notify them of an urgent emergency that would clear the room and Aerys would take advantage of the ensuing chaos to stay behind. The short window provided by Cassius and Vaelys was all he needed to snatch the sole egg in the Red Keep. His escape would be straight forward enough.
Alysanne is one of the three Targaryen children who purport they have claim to the throne. The now-dead King decreed Alysanne be Queen, and the unorthodox mother of three plans to become one.
Post by ALYSANNE TARGARYEN on Aug 26, 2017 2:34:19 GMT
Often times, Alysanne thought back to the simpler days. Those days were filled with genuine smiles and rosy cheeks. Cassius spent a lot of those days with her. The boy she had befriended over twenty years ago was a man now. A man with a family and a personality she did not recognized. But she still trusted him more than anyone. She counted on no one other than herself in this world. But if she had to choose someone to run to, it would be the Lord of Winterfell.
Cassius was already awaiting her arrival in the throne room. Still glad in a black gown over the death of her father, Alysanne made her way toward their meeting destination. There was a certain fire to her step that she had not felt in a very long time. As the two grew older, they saw each other less and less. There was never a reason for Lord Stark to leave Winterfell, and the Princess could not draw too much attention to herself by leaving the Crownlands to travel north. "Cassius." She spoke his name when she entered the room, as if reminding herself of how it sounded on her tongue. He was Lord Stark in the presence of others, just as she was Princess Alysanne. But now, only guards loomed over the meeting, allowing Alysanne to drop some pleasantries.
It was not an entirely appropriate gesture, but Alysanne strode toward him and stopped when only an inch remained between the two. She stared up with amethyst eyes, taking in the sight of his aging face. It only took her a moment to decide to throw her arms around him and rest her face against his torso. It took all of her power not to burst into tears. She had already cried at the wake. A Princess and vying Queen was not permitted any other instances of weakness. "Thank you for coming for his passing."
As surreal as it felt to be back within the heart of Kingslanding, it strangely also felt much like home. The people were different, the very air that he breathed felt richer and warmer. Of course, it took some adjusting to get used to the stench and poverty, but for the most part it remained unchanged since his youth. How many times had he made the month long voyage since his father died? He could not tell, but it was enough times for a simple crush to blossom into a friendship that had lasted just over two decades. Now he was a Lord, in charge of thousands of men, women and children. And Alysanne? Well, she had the entire realm to worry about now.
There was very few people in this world that Cassius would wait on. Time was a precious commodity for a Lord, especially one who had spent so long away from home - and yet, he waited. He was aware how taxing and consuming such an event was, having remembered what it felt like when his own father passed. It was a bittersweet feeling, really. A reunion between long friends, but one that came at a time when one felt so hurt and broken, while the other could only stand by and watch from a distance. At least now they were alone, well— as alone as they could be with so many guards around, and Aerys undoubtedly within hearing distance.
Regardless, it was tiring putting on such a facade.
"Alysanne." He answered in return, accepting her embrace with open arms. He had almost forgotten how endearing her hugs were. "A months travel is nothing when it means being here for you when you need it to the most. I just wish I could have arrived earlier to say my good-byes, I owe His Grace my life." His hand rested softly on the small of her back, gently massaging away. It was what she used to do whenever he got upset, and it usually worked. He could see that she was putting on a brave front, but it was just as easy to tell that she was very much in pain inside.
Breaking their embrace if not for his own benefit, he took a step back. "Feels just like yesterday when life was easy. We had no one to worry about aside from ourselves, no one to rely on us to be strong even when we felt so weak." He paused, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. In truth, he did not know what to say. What do you say to a person who just lost their father, but was now expected to lead the entire seven kingdoms lest she go against her late father's last dying wish?
Alysanne is one of the three Targaryen children who purport they have claim to the throne. The now-dead King decreed Alysanne be Queen, and the unorthodox mother of three plans to become one.
Post by ALYSANNE TARGARYEN on Aug 26, 2017 15:20:13 GMT
Relationships were not so black and white that is consisted of in love or not in love. When Alysanne was a child, she had asked her father if she could marry Cassius. It had been the only time in her life her father had looked at her with disappointment knit in his brow. She had to marry a Targaryen, he had told her. She had to keep the bloodline pure. People had suspected something between the two for a while now, but Cassius and Alysanne remained so diplomatic toward each other that the rumors never really caused a true buzz.
The Princess had felt love for the now Lord of Winterfell over a decade ago. But her life had become so busy and consumed with politics that she forgot if she still felt that way or not. She honestly had no idea if she loved the man the way a woman often does. She didn't even think about it anymore. She never had time to.
"It's a bit different being comforted by you now," she laughed, pulling back to stare up at him. "You were my size when we were children. Now I think my neck might snap looking up at you." She always commented on his immense size when he came, and she swore even in their thirties, Cassius was bigger than he was a year ago.
"But that was not the purpose for this meeting." She finally left his arms and sighed. Her eyes traveled to the Iron Throne. Not long ago, her father had sat on it. "I understand your predicament as Lord of Winterfell. You're going to be pressured to pick a side. And I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I used our friendship to manipulate your allegiance. So do not think I expect an open declaration from you."
All Lords now faced the precarious situation. Pick the wrong child to back, and it could cost their entire family. "That being said, I would like marry Saera to your boy. Jeren." This should have been her husband's job, but Alysanne could not trust him with it. "Whether I ascend to the throne or not, I'd like our families joined. And I want Saera to only be with the best." She smiled softly, a sullen gleam in her eyes. "I don't foresee me coming out of this alive, and knowing my children are safe when I'm gone is all I care for."
Cassius was very much aware of the precarious situation the two of them were now in. With the late King's passing and his inexplicable lack of a proper succession plan, the throne was open for the taking. In normal situations, Cassius would not have even entertained the thought of stepping away from the norm; the eldest male child of a Lord or King, in his experience, was always the most entitled to the thrones nd what it entailed. That is how it was always done in Winterfell for longer than the history books even remembered. However, things in Kingslanding were just too muddy.
Daeron was the rightful heir to the throne, but he represented an almost polar opposite of everything His Grace stood for. Rhaegar was perhaps the best suited out of all three, but his political aspirations were dashed by his lack of control. Alysanne stood among them with the best intentions, the only thing that held her back was the fact that she was a Lioness trying to play in a den full of Lions; she would never be properly respected because of it, and frankly Cassius was among the detractors. The idea of a Queen with supreme power struck a cord within him, if not only for the simple fact that he had never seen such a thing.
In truth, he knew not who to support.
"You've always been too kind, Aly." He meant it as both a compliment and a critique. Her next statement, however, caught him off guard. Jeren as his eldest was next in line to lead Winterfell, the combined forces of both the Starks and the Targaryens together was, for what it was worth, quite tempting - even moreso if Alysanne became the very face of the united Kingdoms. But why now? Cassius had never heard his longtime friend speak with such pessimism, and while he expected the fight for the throne to be bloody and not without casualties, did she really expect him to sit idly by while she made preparations for her eventual death?
"If that is what you wish, I will not deny you that. Jeren will lead the North to far greater heights than I ever could, it is only fitting that he do so with Saera by his side. A Stark and Targaryen heir will represent a unified force we have yet to ever see." His eyes left hers momentarily. Always notoriously composed, even Cassius could not hide the resentment that flashed upon his face. He wished the best for his son, but he could not help but feel envious at the prospect. That was always something he had desired with Alysanne, even if he had never told her so. He had no idea she had felt the same.
Cassius' love for Alira was profound and he was forever grateful for all the children she had bore for him. But Alysanne was and would always be his soft spot. Unfortunately, she'd likely be his downfall as well.
"I will, however, not stand here and allow you to think in such a way." He recomposed himself, almost forgetting Aerys was in the background listening and watching. "Your enemies are my enemies. If anyone dare touch you, they will subject to a wrath hotter than even the mightiest of dragon flames. That is my word and I will take it to the grave fighting to make sure I honor it."
Last Edit: Aug 29, 2017 3:41:00 GMT by CASSIUS STARK
Post by VAELYS TARGARYEN on Aug 29, 2017 6:03:25 GMT
"I truly am sorry, Vivaenne," was the only thought in his mind.
Method acting was all he knew on how to be effective. And with the plan in motion, the only way to produce the ideal situation for Aerys was to create a true scenario. It involved some poor cooking with improper ingredients -- no poisons, just herbs and spices to stir an allergic reaction. It was in carefully measured amounts, enough to cause concern from a mother's heart, but none far enough to hurt the girl. She was sweet and his cousin afterall. There was fortune within the situation; Alysanne's responsibility to motherhood was powerful, and it would only require the slightest dash of seasoning to summon her attention.
"It all must be real. Every last detail," Vaelys mused as he sprinted down the hallway, the heels of his boot against the stone hardly masking the weak coughs in the distance. It wasn't a far distance, it would be too suspicious if it were. It mustn't appear as if he were leading her attention away. Lord Stark would have to play it off, but with a face as brash and hardened as his, it would be easy to maintain his normal disposition.
Hands pushed open a side door with the perfect balance of hurry and courteousy as he stepped into the hall. His eyes jumped between the people present before resting on Alysanne with distraught brows and worried eyes. "Aunt Alysanne, it's Vivaenne! I fed her something and she's- she's choking and I can't find the maesters!" Vaelys confessed in a half-hushed voice.
"Please -- I'm sorry -- help!" he finished in the same time, a weak stance that seemed ready to follow them out once they left.
Alysanne is one of the three Targaryen children who purport they have claim to the throne. The now-dead King decreed Alysanne be Queen, and the unorthodox mother of three plans to become one.
Post by ALYSANNE TARGARYEN on Aug 30, 2017 2:36:42 GMT
If anything could put her at peace, it was the assertion from Cassius that their children would marry. That took care of Saera, but she still had to find Vivaenne a place to call home. Somewhere safe and far away from the turmoil in Kings Landing. As for her son, Alysanne was forced by familial tradition to marry him to a cousin Targaryen, and she would do so. But she knew, as potential heir to the throne himself, her son might not make it out alive. Alysanne already refused drinks in fear of poison.
"Cassius, there is something I must tell you." She swallowed hard. His words comforted her, but she only feared his own death if he intervened to save her life at any point in time. He had already saved her on several occasions, whether it was an assassination attempt or almost falling off the ledge of a cliff overhanging near the Crownlands. "I've gotten myself into a situation that I can't get out of. I--." Alysanne was cut off by the sudden emergence of Vaelys, and the urgency of his appearance made the Princess's eyebrows furrow. Something had happened.
To any right-minded individual, the story would have seemed far-fetched. Had Vaelys not used Vivaenne's name, Alysanne would have immediately called foul play. Why would Vaelys run all the way to the conference room to tell her someone was choking? What good could a woman do in a situation like that? Unfortunately, Vivaenne was all Alysanne heard, and her children meant more to her than life itself. "You fed her something?!" Alysanne said and ran forward. "You fed her what?!" The Princess fumed, and her eyes shook with livid emotion. She could not lose her daughter, not in a time like this, and not ever.
Alysanne was not an athletic woman, but in this moment, her heart pounded so hard she wondered others might hear it, and her legs took her away faster than any destrier ever could.
Post by CASSIUS STARK on Sept 3, 2017 22:47:26 GMT
Vaelys interruption was expected, but could not have come at a worse time. Alysanne wasn't one to take situations lightly, so when she began to speak of a 'situation' that she had gotten herself into Cassius' brow naturally perked, unsure of the true meaning behind her words. He almost interceded to ask her to finish her sentence before he realized his reaction to Vaelys new, or rather lack thereof, would have been off-putting, even for someone as naturally composed as himself. Instead he feigned a look of shock and concern, watching helplessly as his old friend took off in search of her daughter.
"What are you fools doing?" He'd shout at the guards around. They stood aimlessly, each one looking at the other as if contemplating whether to remain complacent or to follow after Lady Alysanne. It did not take much more than a couple steps in their direction for them to pick the right choice, and with much haste they all but sprinted out of the room. All that would be left would be one guard, and although Cassius had no idea whether it was Aerys or not, he did not stick around to find out. As much as he wanted to do the right thing for everyone, breaking the law was still something that made him uncomfortable.
"Its all yours." He put a single hand up as he headed in the direction all the guards and Alysanne had darted off into, not a single look given to the remaining guard. If it was indeed Aerys, good. If not... plausible deniability wouldn't be a bad thing.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 4, 2017 0:31:20 GMT
And then there was one.
Aerys had remained idle during Lord Stark's and his aunt's conversation. The arch in his brow going unnoticed underneath his helmet whenever aunt Alysanne spoke of marrying Saera to Jeren. Aerys thoughts drifted to the time he and Saera shared since their encounter in Braavos up until they parted ways at Qarth. It put a smile on his face knowing Saera and Jeren, two people that he had grown close with in the past, could be joining hands soon. His wandering mind returned whenever Cassius spoke passionately of defending her and wreaking havoc upon those that would do her harm. Aerys knew the two were close, but not to this extent.
Aerys too was eager to hear about the situation Alysanne seemed distressed over. What kind of trouble had his aunt gotten in? If it was something she looked burden Cassius Stark with instead of her own flesh and blood, it was no doubt at least tangentially related to consolidating power against his father and uncle. Aerys grit his teeth at the very thought. He had only thought of preventing his house from crumbling under another civil war, yet his uncle and aunt had already conspired to take what belong to his father and by extension Aerys.
Like everyone else in the room, Aerys's head reared towards the doors when Vaelys emerged with terrible news. He truly was a demon in his own special way. Everything down to his expression and inflection was as if his performance was being delivered by the greatest actor Westeros could summon. Had Aerys not been required to play a role of his own he would have clapped and cheered, but instead he remained vigilant and pretended to be shocked. He trailed behind the rest of the guards, stopping just short of the doors as Cassius lifted his hand.
Good work. He wanted to say the words but he could only think it for now. It wasn't long before the rushing footsteps grew in distance and eventually disappeared altogether. Aerys turned on his heel, violet eyes veering towards the dragon egg hoisted among the skulls. "There you are." He said in a low hum, stepping towards the egg. Red and black in color, it reminded Aerys of the stories he had read about Balerion. Shaking off the sense of wonder that overcame him, the Targaryen prince reached out and grabbed the egg, pulling it down and into his arms. He spent far too long mesmerized by the thing before tucking it into the satchel he had and turned towards the doorway.
Post by NAERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 4, 2017 19:31:19 GMT
Someone as young as he wasn't a guard, much less a guard captain anyone would take seriously. Had Naerys been anyone else, he might have been laughed out of the Red Keep. But as the squire to the Lord Hand himself, and a Targaryen to boot the only laughing was likely done behind his back. The boy was sure that plenty did, especially the kingsguard. Be that as it may however, the boy took his duties seriously.
Wandering the halls of the Keep to check in on the supplemental troops of the Baratheon House Guard that Arkas had brought along with them, the distant, rapid footsteps drew the boy's attention. The lord of Storm's End had not picked Naerys Targaryen to captain his men because he was the strongest fighter. He had been picked because he was a discerning individual. Knowing that no one ran in this place unless something urgent was happening, he picked up his own pace.
Though the boy quickened his gait, he didn't trot. There was reasonable doubt he would have to draw his sword while in one of the most secure castles in Westeros. As he approached the throne room, the seat of power for the seven kingdoms, he saw a several people hurrying away including a handful of guards. Arching and eyebrow, his own footfalls slowed. Had someone fallen ill in the throne room? A chill went down his spine.
Had there been an assassination attempt?
How bad would that have reflected on himself as much as the kingsguard. Cautiously, Naerys eased up to the gaping door, partly afraid to see some pool of blood, the blood of his kin, and prove his fears true. As he came around doorway however, he saw the room largely vacated entirely. No blood, no vomit, no nothing. What had the fuss been about then? He almost looked back over his shoulder with the intent to leave then something caught his eye.
The colorful garb of one of the Keep's guards. Not an unusual sight here, and typically no cause for alarm. This man however was not standing idly by some pillar or door however. He was where he shouldn't be. The bright red of the egg drew the attention of his violet orbs. His young heart almost stopped beating. Thief! There was a clank that echoed through the chamber as Naerys slapped the visor of his sallet closed, and if that did not earn the robber's attention, the draw of Little Dragon would.
''Stop right there, whoreson.'' The boy didn't have to sound menacing, because plenty of ire was slipping into his youthful tone, even as he stood at the other end of the room. While it might be some relic, to steal the egg of a dragon was nearly as bad as kidnapping an unborn child, at least to a Targaryen, at least to Naerys. Arkas has been right in his warnings. Everyone would vie for power in the king's demise. Likely this was some agent of one of the players of the game of thrones, jockeying for power.
One of the people that would destroy peace. His peace.
He pressed forward.
''Put it back.'' He demanded, the Targaryen three headed dragon engraved into his gorget and the scales hammered onto his armor giving authority to those demands, even if his height betrayed his age. ''Put it back!'' He brandished his sword, ''and maybe you won't burn.''
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 4, 2017 21:56:13 GMT
Before Aerys could tuck the egg into his satchel, his attention had been drawn to another. Discovered already? Aerys was certain he had more time. His head turned slightly as his locked onto the small figure that carried a large presence. "You're a little short to be a guard here, no?" Aerys spoke, no longer trying to play pretend as he had been discovered with the egg in his hands. It wasn't until he spoke did he realize who he was dealing with. The sound of his voice, the castle-forged steel he held in his hands, and the Targaryen denotations that littered his attire.
Naerys.
"That's no way to speak to family you little monster." Aerys said with a half grin as he slowly approached his cousin. When he demanded the egg be put back, Aerys ignored him and tucked it into the satchel. Instead of heeding the little dragon's words he continued to step forward, the distance between them quickly fading. Aerys only stopped when he was approximately six feet away, his eyes scanning the boy that had grown so much in the last five years.
Aerys let out a chuckle whenever Naerys threatened him. "Very well then." He spoke, placing his hand on the hilt of his own sword though he did not draw it. He knew he shouldn't have indulged his own want for seeing what his little cousin could do. That he should have made rushed past him and made an immediate escape. Yet he couldn't help himself.
Post by NAERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 4, 2017 23:11:24 GMT
As soon as the voice came from under the guard's helmet, the tip of his sword lowered somewhat. The armor jostled, ever so slightly as the boy's frame became less tense for a moment. Did his ears deceive, or did he hear who he thought he did? As the guard came closer, continued speaking more and more of his doubts were extinguished. When the thief stopped short of him, he squinted his eyes from behind his sallet's visor.
Under the armor of the other man, there were sure enough Valyrian features. His own eyes widened. It couldn't be. His cousin has disappeared without a trace five year prior. Memories of their past interactions danced through his mind, a million minutes in a flash, visions viewed through the murky lens of time. His weapon was righted. The mail under his tabard creaked. Even if it was him, he still had a job to do.
''Aerys,'' he asked in a hoarse whisper, as if speaking too loudly would invoke the wrath of the Stranger. Or perhaps he merely wished to not draw the attention of his other guards. Rotting in some dungeon would be a hell of a way to spend one's homecoming. ''Is that really you?'' Did it matter? Any number of things could have befallen the lost dragon over the years. He could be an entirely different person from the Targaryen he knew. Still...
''What are you doing?'' His cousin seemed content to fight him, and if Naerys had to, he would give him the sword, and not how he would want it either. If it really was Daeron's missing child, he couldn't slay him. The wrath of the king's firstborn would be a horrible thing to bear, even if he was within his legal duty by all rights. If the man was to ascended the throne, then Naerys would have a hard time living under his reign, as would his family. But still...
''You shan't be allowed to flee with that. It does not belong to you.'' As if lecturing would do any good. ''You have no right to it.'' The other Targaryen had not yet drawn his blade, but surely he would. This would be a daunting prospect. Not only was the other man, Aerys or no, bigger, but he surely had all the same training, learned all the same lessons that the boy had. With the benefit of a few years of experience on top of that.
What would make it even harder is trying to do this without serious injury.
With tentative steps Naerys closed the distance, grasping his blade midways down its length with his gloved hand, half swording. He couldn't jab the man too deeply. This masked assailant needed to subdued and revealed. He had to know for sure who was under there. Knowing the older man would think him a total greenhorn, Naerys closed the distance with two broad strides, surprisingly nimble for all the plate he bore on his head and shoulders.
He thrust low, slow, and deliberate and his opponent's crotch, relatively certain the typical guard regalia came with no codpiece.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 4, 2017 23:58:35 GMT
Little Naerys was quick to recognize who stood before him. Despite the helmet he wore over his face and the generic Red Keep guard armor that he covered himself with, his little cousin was able to see through it all as he uttered Aerys's name. The prince of dragon's didn't bother replying at first, only taking another step forward into a better lit area of the Great Hall so that his features were more discernible.
"I am saving our house from itself." Aerys spoke, the voice he often used when coddling Naerys and Taeil had been replaced with his usual, low voice. His eyes shifted from Naerys to the finely crafted blade held in his hands. "Even now as we stand here, our family conspires against one another. Itching to sink their teeth into each other's throats so that they could sit there." Aerys lifted a hand, his thumb pointing behind him towards the Iron Throne. Just the sight of it made people wonder what it would be like to sit upon such a seat of power.
As Naerys lectured him of right, Aerys finally drew his sword. "This isn't about my right. It is about duty." Aery said as he held his blade in both hands. Though his voice was stern as he drew his weapon on his little cousin, Aerys had no intention of harming the boy. Despite the intensity he gave off, he was still Aerys's adorable little monster of a cousin. "Duty as the future our house to protect it." Aerys's words rang with conviction as little Naerys crossed the distance between the two. While the heir to throne may have been in contention, there was no doubt that as the eldest Daeron was the head of their house with Aerys being his heir.
The prince's blade met Naerys's castle-forged steel, parrying his thrust with a downward strike while taking a step back. Aerys's parry had some force behind it, aiming to break Naerys's guard wide open as his arms were forced to follow his sword's new path. If so, the prince would bring his leg up and connect his boot to Naerys's chest with a powerful kick.
"Don't be in such a hurry to get yourself killed. If you're fighting someone stronger you need to wait for them to make a mistake." Aerys spoke as if he was giving lessons and not defending himself.
Post by NAERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 5, 2017 0:22:00 GMT
He well knew that most of his words were true. Arkas had spoiled that much of his idealism, though he still found it vehemently disappointing that the vast majority of his relatives were willing to kill each other over a chair. A chair. Of course, Aerys could well be playing on his own better nature, and wish to take the reigns of destiny to see himself there one day. His own father was the crown prince after all. Aerys stood to gain from his actions.
The egg was a rock, as sad as it was to say. But it still held great value, not just in gold, but in symbolism, the promise of one day seeing dragons in the skies of Westeros. They were a symbol of power, of birthright. Aerys could well have that birthright, once he sat on the throne, and not before. That was overstepping, and despite the daunting situation he had a duty himself, not only to his own idea of maintaining the peace, but to the Hand of the King.
His cousin, tall and strong and confident swept down at Naerys' stab. His steel would find nothing to meet. The boy had been slow and obvious deliberately. The jab was a faint. His boot heel screeched on the floor as his footwork angled his small form to the side, his shoulder intersecting his cousin's own midsection to allow the blade to pass. Simultaneously, the tip of his blade has already been pulled floorward.
Pressing his sword hilt over end with his half swording grip, Naerys steeped to the side, closer, and drove the pommel of Little Dragon towards the bottom opening of Aerys' helmet, a critical blind spot that he could take advantage of with his shorter height. Being so close would disallow his cousin from giving him the full boot his his kick, but his could knee at the boy's leg. Doing so would interrupt Naerys' balance and cause his sword's guard to clank against the man's chest.
Recovering, Naerys would sweep low now, driving the pommel with his dominant right towards the inside of the other dragon's knee. The lordling ignored the jibes.
Post by DAEMON BLACKFYRE on Sept 5, 2017 0:55:30 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
The maelstrom that would devour the Red Keep would sweep up the Blackfyre prince. In the depths of the King's Landing the young man hid in the shadows. Following the voices that bounced upon its walls. Hearing the battle starting to spark between dragon seed and forgotten son.
It would have been a heroic tale if the little dragon had stopped the fleeting thief but tonight the taverns would not sing of his feat. Behind the little dragon the pommel of his blade would strike the back of his head after his last motion. Enough force to feed the little one with a mouthful of the ground, not the least bit sorry.
It wasnt the prettiest of deeds but it was one that needed to be done. This would buy the only fool he knew precious time as he picked up the the young Targaryens knocked out figure. Throwing the small boy over his shoulder the best he could upon returning his stare to Aerys Targaryen.
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