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 Sept 4, 2017 5:55:52 GMT
282 AC
It had been months since Aerys's journey into Old Valyria. The venture had left him with more questions than answers and more enemies than allies. His betrayal of one of The Thirteen from Qarth left him with many pursuers. The Valyrian Steel armor Aerys felt entitled to had been more trouble than the Targaryen had bargained for. Mercenaries had pursued him relentlessly and although Aerys had managed to shake off most of the Qarth merchant's hired steel there was one that continued to best him. Time after time did the prince escaped with his life from an assassin who served death itself.
Now he arrived at a village between Volantis and Tyrosh as a broken man. Mind and body had been pushed beyond it's limits as he walked with a limp through the village, uncertain of where he would go from here. His clothes were tattered, his equipment broken, and his body had been covered in cuts and bruises. There was only one part of him that remained unmarred—the Valyrian Steel breastplate. It appeared untouched as if it had been freshly forged. It's intricate weaves and patterns along with it's smoke black color giving away it's origins to those that knew anything about the famous metal.
Despite finding civilization once more after escaping into the Dothraki Sea, Aerys couldn't help but feel that this was where he would die. Not because the assassin—he had finally lost him, but to the wounds he had already sustained. The poison he felt spreading in his body told him he wasn't long for this world anymore. His violet eyes looked around as if he would discover salvation in a place like this, only to find one figure who stood out among the growing crowd of natives.
A Westerosi?
And then his consciousness slipped away, his body following suit as he hit the ground.
Post by Guinevere Tully on Sept 5, 2017 12:48:29 GMT
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[attr="class","textieno"] Volantis... [break][break] Gwyn roamed the land to spread the good word; she was a preacher and a healer. While the Lord of Light's religion was almost dominant in Essos, a faithful Guinevere had to make sure everyone had the opportunity to hear about R'hllor and worship him; she had to give them the chance to survive the machinations of the other lord whose name shouldn't be uttered or spoken. Clad in her dark red robe, she tended to the people. Gwyn had herbs and other ingredients which helped her ease the pains of the common people and soothe their wounds if they had any. She cooked for them and brought them the means to help sustain them from hunger and thirst. She played with the children if there were any. She helped the elderly with their daily chores. Gwyn was trying her best to serve the low-born; she was trying her best to preach them about her ways. And like any other day, Gwyn continued on with her tasks; however, this day was special. This day, she had met Aerys Targaryen. By then, she didn't know who he was. The young prince had Ivorian hair and exotic eyes, but he could pass for someone who had old Valyrian blood in them. By then, he was wounded and battered. By then, he was facing death. Gwyn had to help him, for she was moved by kindness. The priestess of R'hllor came running, she yelled for the locals to come assist with carrying into a place where she could attempt to heal him. Gwyn was a herbalist; she knew a bit about medicine. She told the Locals to bring her certain ingredients. While doing so, she began sealing his wounds with a heated rod; Gwyn didn't want to lose him out of blood loss. After that, she cleaned the wounds and tried her best to sterilize it fearing an infection. [break][break] Guinevere sat by his side, day and night. She prayed R'hllor to save his soul; she took care of him until the time would come for him to wake up and rise.
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 6, 2017 3:07:23 GMT
Dreams and sleep held Aerys captive for the next few days. The prince relived past memories that he shared with his mother and father in Harrenhal. His days in the Red Keep, with the Starks, the Greyjoys, and any other person he had me until now had been experienced again as if he was witnessing his own life through the eyes of another. Yet when it came time to look towards the future, it was only fire that he saw. A man emerged from the fire, his face appearing as only a shadow, with a poison coated dagger in his hand.
Aerys's eyes shot wide open as Gwyn sat at his bedside. She only appeared as a faceless blur in the haze of his sudden waking, the prince only seeing an arm coming down at his skull. His hand caught her wrist, twisted her arm tightly to wrestle the weapon out of his assassin's hands. Valyrian eyes narrowed onto the weapon of choice: a washcloth. His face twisted with confusion and his gaze shifted towards his supposed assailant: the red headed Westerosi woman he saw before succumbing to his wounds.
"You. . ." Aerys's words were strained and throaty, still having her arm twisted in his hands. Finally putting together that this woman was his savior and not the relentless assassin, Aerys let go of her arm and allowed his own to fall down to his side. "I'm sorry." The prince spoke, his eyes meeting hers now. "I've been having trouble trusting a face I don't recognize. . . Or even those that I do, for that matter." He lamented, knowing that his attacker was a shapeshifter of sorts. Able to not only take on the appearance of men he had never seen, but those he knew as well. His inability to discern friend from foe had led him to his current state. Yet the assassin only wanted him dead. With Gwyn clearly having been the one to nurse him back to health, he could be sure she wasn't someone he needed to be worried about. Not yet anyways.
"I'm afraid I've no money to pay you." He added as he began to prop himself up, only to feel a sharp pain in his abdomen and lay back comfortably into the bed. Aerys assumed that was what she wanted. Payment. Why else would anyone rescue a man of Valyrian descent garbed in fancy armor?
Post by Guinevere Tully on Sept 8, 2017 17:37:34 GMT
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[attr="class","textieno"]The fever was gone, and there were no signs of infection. All that she needed was to observe the wounded man and give him proper attention and treatment. Guinevere felt the Valyrian's forehead. He was cold to the touch and sweating, and she was about to clean the beads falling from his temple with a clean cloth. Her heart skipped a beat, though. With lightning speed, the wounded man caught her wrist. And Gwyn was no warrior, she didn't have the time to react or formulate a plan to escape his grasp. All she could feel was pain from his grip, and her forehead furrowed for a moment as she winced in pain. "You are hurting me, Kind Sir!" She fluttered the words, and they were warm like a heated butter. "No worries!" Gwyn accepted his apology, as she was prone to do so. The priestess of R'hllor had a kind heart; it was her weakness and strength. "Let me clean you." She said smiling, trying her best to make him comfortable as possible as she could. "Essos can be a treacherous place." The redhead concluded he was new to these parts, or perhaps not well accustomed enough to avoid harm's way. "You are safe, for now." She reassured him. It was a remote village, and only the needy and the humble lived there. "I am no warrior, though. I am a healer. So you need to get up on your feet soon enough." She feared he might be still in danger. Whoever did this to him might be pursuing him as they were speaking. [break][break] "You don't need to pay me anything!" Guinevere's lips curled into a gentle smile. She felt sad for him, for him to think about payments the first thing he woke up. He Looked young, almost the age of her son if she had one. "My name is Guinevere." She managed to clean his forehead if he would let her. "I am a priestess of R'hllor." She brought him a small bowl of milk. "Please sit." She wasn't commanding him. On the contrary, Gwyn was asking him to do so in order to know if there any open wounds to take care of. "You look fine. Just try your best not to do any kind of unexpected movements, lest your wounds open and fester." She said after examining his injuries. "You need to regain your strength." Her steps led her away from him, but she returned back nonetheless. "Here, a small bowl of milk." She passed him the deep dish. "What is your name, Kind Sir?" Surely, he had a name to call his own.
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 9, 2017 4:59:55 GMT
Aerys was taken aback by the woman's kindness. Even though he was harming her with his vice grip she spoke politely. Without missing a beat she immediately accepted Aerys's meager apology. Even in King's Landing or Harrenhal where he was a prince and would have been treated by the best maesters in Westeros he had not been spoken to so kindly. The kindness he received over there was out of fear or worry. A kindness that was demanded was no kindness at all.
"I shall be out of your way as soon as I'm able." Aerys nodded at his caretaker. He thought himself as a warrior once. It was clear this assassin had robbed him of his selfesteem in that regard. Aerys had been bested at every turn, only barely able to escape with his life and even then it was only thanks to this woman. Essos was treacherous indeed. It seemed he found trouble no matter where he went. Was this how Westeros was when your name wasn't following the title of Prince? "Guinevere..." Aerys echoed her name as if it had scratched an itch in the back of his mind. He brushed it off whenever she spoke of being a priestess. "I've heard of this R'hllor. He's quite popular in Essos. Not so much in Westeros, I'm afraid." Aerys said with a weak smile, his eyes examining Gwyn's features. "You are from Westeros, are you not? Where do you call home, Guinevere?" Aerys spoke, curious as to what kind of life in Westeros she must have lived to bring her into these parts as a priest of R'hllor.
Aerys thanked Gwyn and took the bowl of milk in his hands. He just gave a weak nod at her instructions and took a sip from the edge of the bowl. "My name is Aerys." He spoke before taking another sip. There was no need to share any more than that part of his name for now.
"How did you come into the service of R'hllor?" Aerys asked curiously.
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