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.
It had been a few days since the wake. Part of the night in which he remembered making a fool of himself. It may have been unwise to drink at a wake and then place oneself near the company of a beautiful and fiery girl. Lukas was still licking his wounds from the rejection he received. What did he expect?
He had made a mistake in trying to hit on someone, especially during their grandfather's wake. He wasn't perfect, though he tried to be and sometimes the pressure ate him up. The young Tyrell was usually very spry and suave with the ladies, but something about Vivaenne made him stumble more than he was used to.
I hope she comes he minded himself in the Red Keep, hoping his messenger had gotten to her and she received him.
He had been burned by her once, and he wanted to see how many times he'd have to walk through fire until she gave in—if she ever gave in. He waited within one of the rooms inside the Red Keep that had been allowed for esteemed guests. It wasn't his plan to stay inside though, he intended to take a nice walk on this beautiful, sunny day. He donned a black shirt made out of silk with the edges dipped in satin gold and his House's golden rose embroidered by his chest. The shirt wasn't the prettiest he'd ever worn, but it was surely of high quality and very soft to the touch.
Post by Vivaenne Targaryen on Sept 8, 2017 19:43:28 GMT
Vivaenne wasn't accustomed to receiving invitations such as the one that had arrived in her hand from the Tyrell. It was odd--she could still see his face in her mind, just as clearly as she could any of the other's--like Ashe. She hadn't particularly wanted to speak with anyone when the letter had arrived, but the look on her maids face when her hand had been moments away from tossing it into the fireplace had made her pause.
She had stepped away from people as a while in the aftermath of the Wake. It had been a stressful day in more ways than one, and the Targaryen simply wanted to know if what she had done had been the right thing. If letting Ashe go without trying to change her mind more had been wise. A part of her still felt like the other had been dropped off in the sea somewhere, dead.
So when her maid had looked at her, about to deny this invitation with such sad eyes, Vivaenne paused. She wasn't used to being pitied, and that was what was being conveyed. Poor Vivaenne--still has trouble sleeping in the dark and can count on one had how many friends she has. Lost her Grandfather and won't leave her room because she was so depressed. Was she so concerned of their fate that she'd neglected to look after her own? If it gave those around her a reason to stop worrying, then she would step out and speak with him. Lukas was far from being a friend after what he'd pulled at the funeral, but he could be. If he didn't lay another hand on her again.
The letter spared the lick of the flames, she'd left her quarters and went to the room. A knock on the door, and then the muffled noise of a voice announcing the Targaryen's arrival came through. Wrapped in the same palette as she'd worn the day of her grandfather's passing; arms crossed underneath her bust in a defensive position.
As he waited, he began to think. He had a bad habit of overthinking. It would begin with a small spark, and would continue till it consumed him. Unfortunately he sometimes struggled with quelling his mind, but the sound of her voice knocked him out of the trance and looking at her with his blue eyes he had trouble keeping himself from smiling. When he first met her several years ago at her mother's nameday, he did not expect to see her in this light.
To his discontent he had ruined whatever good thoughts she initially had of him. He pushed a little too hard at the wrong time and now she was visibly upset with him. Lukas understood, but he couldn't allow himself to not at least try and make things better. Her coming out and actually meeting him was a good sign, and hopefully he would be able to build on that.
"Lady Targaryen" the words came softly off his lips. Oh how he wanted to say her name, but with what happened it just didn't feel right. He looked into her eyes, the same eyes that showed what she had been through in the last few days—but the same eyes that shined beautifully regardless of the pain and sadness she felt. "I'm thankful you accepted my invitation. I just wanted to see you personally—I apologize for my inappropriate actions the other day. I don't know what I was thinking, I really hope you forgive me."
Life gave multiple chances, however if Vivaenne did, he wasn't sure. Behind all the bravado, and intelligence laid a man who wore his heart on a sleeve. Though, in recent years that sleeve had been covered with steel—but one look at her, and one moment with her melted away the steel as if it was dragon fire.
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