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.
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 Sept 12, 2017 16:06:15 GMT
No souls remained inside where a thousand had just roared and collided. Except two: Arkas Baratheon and Alysanne Targaryen. The kingsguard and bloodguards awaited outside the door, one push away from the slightest sign of trouble. Though, there would be no physical issues here. Only two of the most level-headed politicians trying to swim through the muck that had been made by others.
"I share the sentiment in wanting Quellon dead." He had been stripped of titles. He was just Quellon now. "But I don't think price-per-head Ironborn slaying is the right answer. Do you know how many Ironborn there are? Punish the ones who specifically dared to threaten Rhaegar and the others present at Dragonstone." The others included Daella. Why his wife had fled to Dragonstone like that she would never knew. Her cousin was truly wild. Nevertheless, Alysanne only wanted those directly responsible punished.
"I wish not to digress on such a minor detail, however." The Princess held her wrists behind her back. She still wore black in mourning for her father, and now it was equally befitting for her brother's supposed death. The thought of Rhaegar's bones crunching under Quellon's boots made tears come to Alysanne's eyes. But she sucked in a quiet breath and calmed them. No more tears would fall over the death of a Targaryen. It was commonplace now.
"Lords are beginning to lose their respect for the Crown. Look how many did not show up. Look how many sent wives or children in their stead." She thought bitterly to Morella. "Look how many left amidst an integral discussion." Alysanne had seen this brewing since her father's death. With only a Hand ruling and the heir or heiress decision in limbo, the Iron Throne was sitting on a thin sheet of ice. Soon, the ice would shatter and the throne would fall.
Post by ARKAS BARATHEON on Sept 12, 2017 19:11:17 GMT
"If I crowned Daeron, your brother, he'd make me his Hand. If I crowned Rhaegar, he'd make me his Hand. If I crowned you, perhaps you would make me your Hand."
Alas.
He had crowned nobody.
"What does that say about my allegiance?"
Arkas could have chosen the easy way out. He had not. He had decided to stand against the heirs, the realm and all opinions that existed, until reason could rule.
"I serve the realm. The Iron Throne is as strong as the King that sits on it. Your father was a weak King. Your grandfather was a weak King."
Not to say that he couldn't appreciate peace, but the lords of the Seven Kingdoms no longer heeled at the click of a tongue. They were no longer well-trained horses, were they? They had discovered the notion of opportunity.
Or rather.
They had never forgotten it.
But without the iron frame of dragons as the ultimate tool of power, the wheel kept on turning. It turned at all, because no longer did dragons roam the sky.
"Why do you think they were looking for dragons in the ruins of the past? Sorcery and old legends, the shadow of Summerhall is just that - a shadow."
Arkas had fought with companies in the Free Cities. He had learned the nature of man. Both in good times and in bad times.
"Coins put the common man in line. The Ironborn will be fine if they stay on their Island. If they decide to go against the peace, they'll die. First of all, the bounty is a motivation for people to keep the order. They're not fire-spitting dragons ruling through fire. But they are golden dragons, ruling through the greed that lies in the heart of men."
It wasn't as though Arkas had called for an invasion of the Iron Islands. As divided as the realm was, it wasn't possible to begin with. The lords wouldn't sit together productively while their adversaries plotted their downfall.
"Quellon Greyjoy entered the city with five ships. He left with five ships. Nobody saw it coming - they must have sailed the Iron Fleet around Essos. This plan has been in the making for years. They were just waiting for the death of the King. Given his speed, we can not catch him. He'll sit at Dragonstone. Let him sit on that pile of dark stone and darker glass."
Having lost half the royal fleet was a blow, no doubt, but Arkas had learned the taunts of enemies on the Dornish border. Quellon couldn't siege castles. The Ironborn weren't meant for shieldwall combat of extended duration.
They were reavers.
But there were topics at hand than just Lord Greyjoy. "For someone in your position, I would have thought you to be the last one to speak out against the inclusion of sons and women. If you don't think Morella Lannister can represent her house, why should you represent the kingdom and sit on that chair?"
Arkas looked to the throne. He had descended before the start of the conversation, facing the princess face to face on the stairs at the bottom of the symbol of the realms.
"I need your help."
And that was a problem. He wanted to remain impartial, didn't he? But the lords were cunts indeed, and they knew nothing of loyalty. Getting the lords of the Crownlands to act on his orders would take the smoother voice of a member of the royal house. Luckily he was looking at one. The question was: Would she ask for a price?
Would she sell the safety of her homeland for political backing?
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 Sept 13, 2017 16:54:08 GMT
Alysanne closed her eyes in brief sympathy for Arkas. He had unrealistic expectations of the three children. "Daeron just tried to strip you of your position, and you think he would keep you as Hand? Rhaegar has no interest in keeping his father's old council. And I as well would not keep you as my Hand." None of the three claimants to the throne would keep Arkas as their Hand, although the man thought differently. She stared pointedly at the Baratheon. He was an excellent mediator and the only person who could rule during this temporary string of chaos. But he would return to the Stormlands after the Grand Council convened, regardless of who won.
It was true about his allegiance, Alysanne supposed. Arkas was an immensely impartial man when it came to the three, but she had learned quickly in her bid that impartiality gained you more enemies than decided allegiance. He could not last forever without swaying in one direction. He, too, would need to cast a vote when the council convened. Alysanne was the only one of the three children that planned to support the decision of the Westeros Lords. In her weaker moments, she almost wondered if letting Daeron take the crown would be a healthier alternative to the rampage that would ensue if he did not ascend.
When the conversation turned toward Quellon and his plans, Alysanne wondered if Arkas overestimated the intellect of the Iron Lord. Years? She was not so sure this plan had been in the making for years. Surely, the Iron Islands had always sought a better position in the Seven Kingdoms, but this plan likely hatched and grew the moment the late King fell ill.
As the topic of Morella was brought up, Alysanne merely offered a genuine smile. "True, I suppose it is hypocritical of me. Although, a Lord's wife with no experience in leading a house and a King's daughter with a lifetime of rulership tutelage is much different." She would have loved to see more women in a position of power, but only the right ones. "My stepping up is for the betterment of the kingdom. Morella Lannister stepping up is so her husband can be excused from an important matter. Lords' children stepping up is so their father can go hunt. If Morella was a better leader, perhaps I would not be so inclined to blame her shortcomings on her gender."
Arkas seemed to move deftly to his main point of the evening. It caused Alysanne's eyes to narrow in suspicion. If there was one thing she hated, it was dancing around words. Dancing always meant an unpleasantry was about to arise. "It depends on what the number represents. One kingdom is greater than five cities." She would not walk into an outright answer. "Speak plainly, Lord Arkas. What is it you want from me?"
Post by ARKAS BARATHEON on Sept 13, 2017 17:26:26 GMT
Had the plan of the Ironborn truly only been hatched when the King had fallen ill? Jaehaerys had been sickly and plagued by weakness all his life. Did that not leave ample time for plans of chaos? The decline of House Targaryen had begun with the shrinking of their dragons. Aegon the Conquerer commanded because he could burn cities, fortresses and keeps - ten thousand men in a single day - as he had done on the Field of Fire.
It was the nature of ruling.
Lacking the absolute power of their sigil, House Targaryen remained the top of the wheel, only because people didn't remember a world where they had not been.
But Quellon had seen the world.
He had seen not the future.
But possibilities.
"These things come as the tides on the shore of Shipbreaker Bay. All we can do is to endure, for the time being."
Inviting the lords and ladies from across the realm meant spreading the plan of the council throughout the entire realm.
"If I were a plotting man, I could place a crown on your head. Do you really think you could deny me the price I asked of you? Or that your brothers could deny me a price? If I gave any of you the access to ultimate power?"
Was that arrogation?
Or the opposite?
"By choosing nobody, by calling a grand council, I'm giving away any say in the matter, do I not? I'll speak before the gathered nobles as Lord of House Baratheon. Not as Lord Regent."
He had always disliked how stubborn Alysanne could be; her twin, Rhaegar, had always been the more amiable of the two, winning the hearts of people, even though that had also made him less reasonable.
"I'm returning to Storm's End after the council. As it stands - no matter who will be elected is going to like me - are they?"
Did she really think her brother, Daeron, wasn't the type to draw his sword and complete the action that had begun during the small council? It didn't matter who thought they had a claim once somebody sat on the Iron Throne.
What would happen to her claim then?
To her children?
To herself?
"Quellon sitting at Dragonstone doesn't matter. He's as much a threat as the wonderous things on the other end of the world."
But that regarded King's Landing.
"The entire coast of the crownlands is at his mercy. I could command these lords to raise their defenses. They'll perhaps do so on their own. But they'll get caught up in the squabbling. They won't be one. They'll be five."
Arkas met her gaze.
"You grew up with these lords. They are the vassals of your house. If the call to defend the coastline together comes in the tone of your voice, they'll be more inclined."
He took a step forward. His face was a mask. Like the visor of a knight in the joust. It seemed calm. But below, there was the roaring fury of his house.
"I'm asking you to do something that should be in your own interest. Taking Dragonstone is not a possibility at this point. We have to sit it out. The realms have to."
Not only her brother had been at Dragonstone. His wife had been. Were they to believe the words of a rebel that had no honour?
Arkas refused.
Had Alysanne ever forgiven him that he had helped Rhaegar steal his wife? She had cleaned that political misdeed up, serving as her father's council. Arkas had suffered many a grief-filled night because of that incident, but in the end, it had been an act of - while selfish - still love.
"If you sat on that throne, the realms would be served well. If Daeron sat on it, the realms would bleed. If Rhaegar sat on it, he would chase more dreams of dragons. Dragons don't have scales. They have silver hair."
And he had decided to fight all three of them.
A thankless task.
Thankless like her fate; the daughter that should have been Jaehaerys' Hand. That should have been Jaehaerys' heir.
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 Sept 14, 2017 15:22:43 GMT
Alysanne had no overwhelming skill. She was not the best at everything. She was not the best mother, the best leader, the most fair, the most cunning, the most diplomatic. But she was good at all of those things. She was an entirely well-rounded person when it came to politics. She knew when to be harsh, when to be forgiving, and when to be conniving. The latter part she was still working on, as her heart often got in the way.
Alysanne may have killed her brother, but it was something akin to teaching a young child a lesson by spanking their hands with a wooden spoon, a splinter getting stuck, and the child dying from infection. It had been Alys's mistake, one she would grow from.
"I like you, Lord Arkas," she answered him. "My brothers are the ones who do not like you. And they have their reasons." Their reasons were childish and asinine, but Alysanne would not dwell on the shortcomings of her family.
Rhaegar's marriage had not been the only political shitstorm Alysanne was forced to clean up over the years. The only reason Daeron had not been immediately disinherited was due to her. Their father had wanted Daeron removed from the line of succession, but a young Alysanne had fought it. Perhaps she could clean up her own mess, too.
"You realize that out of the three contenders, only I would benefit the realm. You even proclaim this to me. And yet you remain impartial." She was not bitter. Not in the slightest. "I understand it, really. Crowning me outright would have resulted in Daeron storming the castle and Rhaegar never giving up Dragonstone. The kingdom would be in shambles." Instead, they played this game of wait. It was the only way her succession had a chance.
But as he asked of her what he had been leading up to for several minutes now, she her stare hardened. "You're asking me to sacrifice my ability to be crowned Queen in order to aid the coasts. My allies will come, and many will only do it out of love for me. And their people will die. Their family members will die. And win or lose, they will resent me." There was no way around that. Unless the families she called upon came out relatively unscathed, which they would not, she would lose all of the love fostered for her. If she cared about only getting the Crown, she would keep her allies in her pocket -- safe and able to participate in the election. But she was merely not that type of woman.
Post by ARKAS BARATHEON on Sept 14, 2017 17:14:29 GMT
"Your brothers don't like me because I denied them. Because they stood where you stand at this very moment. Before the throne. And I told them they would not sit on it until a Great Council decides."
And of course, Alysanne didn't like that either.
But it wasn't the world of women. She had been brought up not as a successor. Maybe being denied was either to understand for her, for she had internalized the ways of the world.
Would she break it?
"The Seven Kingdoms aren't Dorne. The Lords from the Arbour to the Wall would rebel a Queen on the Throne if there are sons that are able to inherit - it's the way of our past."
It had been the law of the land for ten thousand years.
"I'm not a shaper of new worlds."
It was good to hear that she would support him in the defense of the Crownlands, although cynically one could think that she was helping him defend her home.
"All the coasts of the Seven Kingdoms will face Ironborn attacks. Highborns will be safe in the castles. But a rightful ruler should protect all of them. Your followers might suffer, Alysanne - but can you ask them to sit you on that throne when you were not able to raise them in defense?"
It was a sacrifice. No doubt. But what other options?
"If you can't defend the Crownlands, why should you be able to be the Protector of the Realm?"
Currently Arkas was holding that title, but there would be a time after Arkas. And it would come sooner than expected.
"I can defend the capital with my men and the city watch. Ironborn won't attack King's Landing. They'll hit the vulnerable castles. And the islands in the bay."
House Velaryon and House Celtigar would suffer the most. There wasn't any way to reach them.
"I'm going to send Prince Maekar and a group of volunteers to Dragonstone. We can't act against Quellon if we do not know the circumstances. If he betrays a parlay, he'll just have more hostages."
It would be a sacrifical night raid with the possibility for casualtiies. The exiles of the Golden Company wanted to redeem their family names and fortunes: They would be given the chance to bleed for the realm they had made bleed during the Blackfyre Rebellions.
All together, there was another topic that interested him. But there was a reason it came at the end of his considerations, for they had never been a part of his thoughts regarding the future of the realm.
"What do you know about the remaining dragon eggs of Aegon, your grandfather? The batch that - as they say - hatched a dragon that flew into the smoke of Valyria?"
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 Sept 14, 2017 22:54:47 GMT
It was not that Alysanne disliked Arkas denying her the crown. She knew it to be necessary. But pretending to be impartial, at such an extreme, was annoying. He was playing the politician's game, one she sneered at.
"You are growing old, Arkas. The ways of the old days are changing. No one would rebel against me except for Daeron and Rhaegar's supporters. And those are few and far between." The sight of empowered women was becoming more commonplace. Most of the Lords had not batted an eye at the amount of females present at the meeting today. Twenty years ago, it would have not even gotten that far.
Arkas seemed to ramble on even though she had already given in. Manipulation of her conscience. But he had already won, and there was no need to prattle on about how she should protect her people. She would.
When Arkas brought up the infiltration of Dragonstone, Alysanne laughed. This was no chuckle or hushed chortle. No. She laughed fully and with genuine humor. "That sounds like the absolute worst idea I have ever heard of!" Alysanne knew the argument was a lost cause. She would not even bother. "But you are the Hand, and I will rely on you to protect us. You, who relies on me to protect us." She winked cheekily at the man.
"What do you want to know about the dragon eggs? For all I care, they can be buried at sea." She had never wanted them near any human's touch. So what did Arkas Baratheon want with them?
Post by ARKAS BARATHEON on Sept 14, 2017 23:47:22 GMT
Was the time of women upon the realms of men?
"It may be."
But some people still saw it as Dornish influence. There would always be those clinging to power. Alysanne shouldn't underestimate the conservative forces at work. A great council was the smoothest way of introducing policy changes, was it not? All the lords of the realm would have a chance to speak, and all of the lords could not deny that they had heard.
Listening was another aspect of it.
And then she laughed.
"It's a mission with a low likelihood of survival."
But there was glory in the defiance of death.
And prisoners, sellsword and an exile prince lusted for the fruits of fearless, reason-defying expeditions.
"You're forgetting yourself."
His eyes narrowed.
"Daella sailed to Dragonstone. Do you find that amusing?" Clearly she hadn't laughed out of some sadistic joy.
She was just harder than she had been. Not that she had ever been a friend of Arkas. They had certainly not been enemies.
"Like these dragon eggs - You've become cold."
Were the realms to believe some slip of paper sent by a rebel? Sending a ship with a white flag to the island would just give Quellon Greyjoy more hostages.
Arkas was blind.
He needed to see.
Even if it were just whispers.
Hearing footsteps at the end of the throne room, Arkas looked to the side. It was Naerys, the captain of his guard. His squire. A young face. But almost a man.
Post by NAERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 15, 2017 13:59:02 GMT
The most frustrating part of current events for the boy wasn't that he had his duties interrupted by a black dragon, it wasn't that his cousin could be a traitor, it wasn't even that he had been kidnapped from this very room, it was that he had to sit around and wait to inform anyone who cared. Of course, Naerys wanted to speak to Arkas as soon as humanly possible, but he was told he couldn't bust into a small council meeting with blood caked hair shouting hysterically.
As if he were ever hysterical. After getting cleaned up and having the gash at the base of his skull tended to, he'd been drugged to sleep and now that he had awakened to suffer another living nightmare he had dressed quickly in something more mundane than his armor. A charcoal doublet and matching trousers, dragons emblazoned on the silver buttons that climbed each side of its breast. Of course the bandage wrapped around his head clashed with how smart he looked.
He would no longer be denied what he saw as matters of grave importance.
''Lord Arkas,'' a nod was given to the man, ''Lady Alysanne.'' His words were calm, but his hands fidgeted as they clasped together in front of him. ''I bring startling news,'' he swallowed hard, ''Aerys Targaryen lives.'' Twas a bombshell for him, but he was ignorant of the events of the small council or the attack on Dragonstone. ''Just last eve a man dressed within the garb of a guard stole the dragon egg from this room,'' he explained the events of the previous day.
''Upon accosting him, rightly,'' it was added as if he wasn't convinced, ''he refused to return the egg to its resting place, here.'' A hand swept out to indicate the throne room, in case they didn't know for some reason. ''I drew my sword upon him, and in the course of our brief melee I knocked the helmet from his head. The man underneath was indeed Aerys. He spoke of not allowing the heirs of the late king to possess such relics, judging them all undeserving.''
''Or that's what he said.'' The boy shrugged. ''He may well be in league with Daeron. I just can't fathom why the man would have had his son disappear.'' His wrapped head fell as the weight of shame tugged at his young heart. ''Our duel was cut short however. I was hit from behind and – and knocked into slumber.'' The sting of unjust defeat still pained him. ''When I awoke we were near the docks, Aerys was stripping a limp guard, I'm uncertain if the man was dead.'' The whispering voices were left out.
''The man with him held me at bay,'' his paralysis when waking would also be excluded. Arkas would know, but he didn't wish for the other dragon, the King's own daughter, to know of such weakness. ''Aerys called him Daemon, and he had the features of a dragon, just like us.'' He wasn't familiar enough with the Blackfyres to know them by name, but who else could it be. ''The guard was a Dragonstone guard, so I'm sure he's headed for Prince Rhaegar's home. What if he intends to do him harm?''
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 Sept 19, 2017 1:31:16 GMT
Alysanne found none of this situation amusing. She was well-aware her cousin was at Dragonstone. She was well aware of the things she had done to her family by shaking hands with Quellon Greyjoy. But Arkas lacked the ability to reign in his emotions, which was amusing considering his earlier lecture to her at the wake. He would not have designed this farce of a mission if his wife was not there. It was too soon and ill-planned in her opinion.
She had become cold, but nowhere near frozen. Cold was good. It was necessary. Her father's true weakness had been being too warm, and she sought to fix that. But before she could comment, Naerys showed up with urgent information.
Her eyes remained wide.
Her lips parted slightly in shock.
She remained silent.
Alysanne did not give a fuck about those dragon eggs. But she remembered the situation well. The dragon egg was stolen after Alysanne had to urgently leave the room to tend to her 'choking' daughter. No one could simply camp out that room, waiting for everyone to leave, simply because that would never happen. Guards would have always remained in the room. There was only a few minutes of opportunity, one that would only happen if cleverly devised. Which meant either her daughter had faked choking and been part of it, or Vaelys had help set things up. And she gave her daughter the benefit of the doubt.
"Thank you, Naerys." Her eyes switched quickly to Arkas. "The only reason that egg was stolen was because Vaelys came and informed us Viviaenne was choking. Someone, or some people, planned this for some time." Her outward suspicion was made obvious, but she knew with no proof they could do nothing. As Naerys worried about the health of Rhaegar, Alysanne sighed. "Rhaegar is presumed dead. But devising thieving missions is commonplace for my brother." He had taken half of the Royal Fleet without cause or permission.
Post by ARKAS BARATHEON on Sept 20, 2017 14:32:15 GMT
There was only one Daemon in the Crownlands, and that was not a Daemon Targaryen. It was Daemon Blackfyre. His familiy had dragon features as prominent as the royal family, had they not once rebelled against them? But they had bent the knee. What was their business now?
Arkas didn't know.
And he was close to Alysanne's view on the issue: The dragon eggs were a dream for fools. He had not cared in his life before hearing the news of his squire. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Politics ruled the world. Alliances and machinations created by beings made of flesh and bone, dragon-haired or not.
"That'll be all, captain.
Summon Maekar Blackfyre to the Tower of the Hand. Summon Lord Tarly. Summon the Lord-Commander of the City Watch. We have a city to clean up."
The captain of his guard excused, Arkas waited until the young one had left the throne room. Eventually, the doors resounded.
With that, he turned from the smaller of the Targaryens, returning his attention to Alysanne.
"Your personal guard is your guard only. Not the police force of the city, Princess. I'll leave you to your own affairs."
They couldn't be openly separated and at the same time he couldn't openly bond with the Princess. She was a figure of power in the capital and the Crownlands, but for the greater question of succession of the realm, Arkas had to remain impartial.
Even though he favoured her.
For that very reason.
It was a hard decision.
But it was the only one before the truth.
The revelation that Daeron's son was alive created another problem. It meant that Quellon had been truthful, at least about one of his statements. Did that mean all the rest of this issue was true?
Arkas gave a formal bow to the Princess in the shadow of her father's throne, turning to follow after his squire toward fulfilling duty.
If the Princess wanted to discipline her own children, it was her ordeal. It wasn't as though she was lacking the manpower of a small strike force to do so.
In his heart, the darkness thickened. For all defiance, slowly it began to dawn on him. Rhaegar could very well be dead. But what of Daella? Had the Firestar perished?
What could Arkas do but harden his gaze? That had been the only probable action against the pinpoint attacks of the Dornish raiders. That had been the only thing those men were able to do, sitting below the shields in cover while poisoned arrows rained. He had seen what happened to men that let their rage overcome them - he had seen what happens when a defensive position is abandoned.
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.
