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Woot, an update! A brief calm in the storm, but...what a storm it looks to be.
 
So i read it right that Arry now became gregarious,cynical and chaste?(my Internet doesn't load the pics just now :/ )
Gregarious, lustful and cynical.

Dang, I guess Kings grow up a bit faster than the rest of us.
The last update took place over two to three years. I'm trying to speed up things a little to keep it interesting. Even though it's important for me to show Arry grow up and shape into the man he will be, what comes after is the big thing.

Wooo! A new update. Didn't expect to get one for awhile. Nice to see you're back anyway.
I had part 24 done halfway with the pictures already set up, so it didn't take that long to finish the update. My fingers were itching too much so my head told me to write some moar.
 
Found this in an older bookmark and regret that...because I spent over 2 hours reading it all today. Fascinating AAR, thanks for doing it. Looking forward to more! Edric will pay.
 
The Little Cub
Part 35 - The Pointy End

--

News from Dragonstone were disturbing. King Edric had sent five thousand men to clear my lands of rebels, yet reports about their numbers had been highly underestimated. Not only had the Crownlander militia been outnumbered two to one and slaughtered like cattle, but the intervention had also led to even more followers of R'hllor taking up the arms. More and more people joined the revolt, and the numbers of the rebels were now estimated to be close to twenty-thousand men and women. Ser Rolland Storm, the Bastard of Nightsong and Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing had lost his life in the fighting, and more reports about the casualties came to the capital every day.

Dragonstone in its entirety had fallen to the Red God's followers. Although everything seemed to be going well for them, the rebels were still facing the rest of Westeros. King Edric had over a hundred thousand men at his disposal, and it was only a matter of time before my uncle would cast the rebels to the sea. Angered by the death of the Commander of the Goldcloaks who'd led the small army and died fighting, Edric swore vengeance. The defeat had been a blow to the reputation of the Faith of the Seven and my uncle himself, and he was not a man with tendency to forget and forgive his enemies.

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I do not think Edric hated the followers of R'hllor despite his past with them. After fleeing from Dragonstone, he spent years in Essos. Unlike Westeros, the eastern continent was a place where many gods were worshipped. Whereas the Westerosi people acknowledged four deities; the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God and R'hllor, their number was hundredfold in the east. Living among people of different religion and culture, Edric learned early the things I'd began to realise only now. Gods were but a tool to unite people behind a single cause, and if they even were real, they seemed not to care what happened in our world. And I was fine with that.

The only god I acknowledged was death, and even it was my enemy. Every day I practiced swordsplay and honed my skills, knowing that the day would come when I would have to stand up against it. My body was a temple dedicated to surviving, and both time and constant training shaped me for that purpose. Despite being only twelve years old, I was already able to surpass most of the knights in King's Landing in mêlée. I was eager to learn and Ser Balon always had yet new move or trick to teach me. Although he served as the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep and therefore was responsible of training everyone willing, he always found time to aid me in my 'studies.' Dragonbane had a strange ability to notice every flaw in a person's way of fighting, and it sometimes made me feel like he knew me better than I myself.

People had always looked up to me because of my father, a thing that hadn't changed even with Edric sitting on the Iron Throne. As I began to earn my name and place as a Baratheon, people of my age began to treat me with even higher respect. Whenever I spoke up, everyone else went quiet and listened. I gained more and more authority over the other children as time passed and learned to choose my words carefully, knowing that they would be heeded. I was a king to the young folk, even if not to rest of Westeros. My role among the children of my age had become a position that placed me higher than anyone else. I was a cynical little rascal who'd never quite liked taking orders from adults, and growing up didn't soothe my temper. Acting like a leader in front of children and then bowing and scraping in front of people older than me didn't fit so well in together, so soon I found myself talking in a similar manner to all people regardless of their age.

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Ser Balon soon noticed the change in my attitude. Instead of trying to do something about my manners, he was glad I'd adopted the role I was born into. Not only was I a leader by my blood, but also by my nature. Seeing how everyone looked up to me and listened closely to my every word could've been frightening to some people. I didn't allow myself a moment of hesitation, though, knowing that others would take their strength from me one day. If their leader is a craven, how can his men look up to him and try be brave? If there was one thing that I feared, it was fearing itself and it's consequences.

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I'd learned the names of all the regions, their leading houses and the words. Still, the Red Keep was my world. I'd left the capital only seldom, and the last time had been years ago. I'd always thought that rest of the world could wait until I was old enough. I myself was not yet, but it seemed Brenna was. My uncle was soon heading to war, but during his preparations he'd received a letter from the Vale. He confronted me about the matter, informing that Lord Harrold Arryn was asking if my twin sister's hand could be given to his son, Gylbert. I recalled that Damon Arryn, my father's former squire, was heir of the Vale, and Edric confirmed that, saying Gylbert was Lord Harrold's second son. Apparently my uncle had already talked with my mother about the matter, and they both had agreed to the marriage between my sister and the Arryn boy.

I was fourteen and old enough to marry as well. The plan for Brenna's future was not the only thing the King wanted to talk with me; indeed, he and my mother had talked about my marriage as well. Although I was but a high lord, one of the many that Westeros had, my name carried a lot of weight. I was also a son of a king, a prince, and therefore a possible threat to Edric's rule should someone try to use me as a tool in their plot. To minimize the risks, my mother and my uncle had agreed that I would be betrothed to King Edric's daughter, Malora. The King had wanted to ask my opinion first, although I was but a child in their standards and therefore unqualified to make my own decision. Malora was four years younger than I was, which seemed like a huge difference to me. Edric assured me it would be nothing in the future, though. There was also the matter that she was my cousin, but intermarriages were common within nobility. I didn't have a high opinion of my uncle, but still agreed to be betrothed to his daughter. Better a person I know than some girl half-a-world away who I've never seen before, I assured myself.

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It was common knowledge that King Edric would make a move against the rebels soon. After Commander Rolland's defeat at Dragonstone, the King had began to raise a levy in the capital. Now, after a month with close to thirty-thousand men at hand, he was ready to take the fight to the enemies. Rhaegal, Ser Barristan's dragon would've been a great asset to the crownlander army, but the green beast had never recovered from the wounds it'd received during the battle of Last Refuge. Leaving behind a single egg, the winged creature had died. Barristan the Bold, the oldest person alive in whole Westeros, had soon after fallen into a dream from which he never woke up. But death hadn't reached the old knight yet: even if not conscious, Ser Barristan was still alive.

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Over three hundred ships departed from King's Landing, carrying the army first to Driftmark. King Edric personally led the attack, determined to bring an end to the rebellion. By the time Edric's army arrived, both Driftmark and Dragonstone had fallen to the followers of R'hllor. Instead of staying in the smaller island and retaking the castles, Edric embarked once more and sailed his fleet to Dragonstone where the rebel army awaited for him. There was a massive battle at the beach of Dragonstone. Hoping to hold the Crownlander army from landing and defend their homes, the rebels fought hard and fiercely. King Edric's army was bigger in number and better armed, but the followers of R'hllor had the ground advantage. In the end, as we all had known, King Edric's men prevailed.

When the royal fleet returned from war, the capital was filled with war stories. Men were drunk from both wine and glory, and watching the whole King's Landing celebrate made me feel even more confident about my decision to learn the ways of the sword. I was the Lord of Dragonstone, but I hadn't personally joined the fight to clear my lands from the rebels. The fact shamed me, and made me regret not asking to come along with King Edric. When I happened to tell that to Ser Balon during one of our sparring sessions, he looked at me, tilting his head as if not believing what he just heard. As the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep, he was bound to the capital even though his place as a kingsguard would've been beside the King. Though he had not taken part in the campaign, he knew more details about the rebellion than I myself.

''Not all rebels died in battle'', Dragonbane began after looking at me for a long moment in silence. ''Do you know what happened to the rest of them?'' I was confused by his sudden change of tone and only shaked my head. He looked at me sharply as if pondering whether he should go on or not. ''Those who surrendered and refused to renounce their red god'', Ser Balon went on, ''Were put to sword like animals. Several thousand people, men and women both.'' I looked at my guardian, frightened by his words. Ser Balon explained that it had been ordered by the King himself. ''War brings the worst out of people'', Dragonbane told me with a serious voice, and I realized he meant my uncle though he didn't say it. It was not his place to speak out loud against his king, no matter how cold my uncle's heart had turned into.

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''The gift of words is a rare thing'', Ser Balon told me weeks later, ''But you also have a talent with swords.'' The look on his face was distant when he finished saying it, and I knew he was once again comparing me with my father. It'd been years since his passing and I'd been but nine years old at the time. Yet I still remembered the way the courtyard's attention turned to King Tommen whenever he decided it was time to spar a bit. There were only a handful of men that could match him in a swordfight - Ser Balon included. ''In roughly over a year you'll turn sixteen. Then you'll be a man of your own.'', he went on. ''I've taught you what I could, and you've learned everything that I have to offer. But you do not posess such strength as myself or King Edric and it can be a disadvantage during a fight.'' It was something that couldn't be helped, but Ser Balon had something else in his mind. And so I was assigned to a different teacher.

The name Meralyn didn't say anything to me. He was a Braavosi swordsman who recently had arrived in King's Landing. Ser Balon had accomodated him in the Red Keep, and this stranger from a foreign land was now to be my new teacher. I wasn't enthusiasted about the whole matter for I'd grown fond of Ser Balon. Meralyn had a strong accent and it was sometimes hard to understand what he said, but he talked with swords well enough. He was not as formidable fighter as I was, but his technique was interesting. Waterdancing, he called it. I'd mastered the Westerosi style of fighting, and now Meralyn helped me to understand the Braavosi way.

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For my entire life I'd known only one way to use a sword. I could use it for many purposes, but they were all but means to a brutal end. Meralyn showed me a different, more elegant way of fighting. I'd grown accustomed to the hacking and slashing, and suddenly facing an opponent who fought entirely in a different way was fascinating. Whereas I fought like a bear, he was a shadowcat. I wanted to switfly put an end to our fights and landed heavy blows. Meralyn but dodged my strikes or parried and countered them. He moved swiftly, he moved unpredictably - and made his way of fighting look like dancing. It was not a coward's way, I soon came to realise, for his sudden moves sometimes caught me unawares. Every time I learned to shield myself from his moves, he tried a different trick. I could not use my body to pin him down: first he was in front of me, then he was moving behind me, and all the while he forced me to defend myself from sudden strikes.

I didn't learn to fight like he did, for it would take years of practice to master all the arts of waterdancing. Those few weeks that we spent training wouldn't have taught much to an amateur, but I was already one of the best swordsmen in King's Landing. That made it easier for me to adapt what he was trying to teach me, and so I was a quick learner. I embraced what I was taught, and used the moves I'd learned from Meralyn against other sparring opponents out in the courtyard. When I noticed how more effective the Braavosi way of fighting was against my countrymen, I was surprised. It'd taken me a while to learn to hold Meralyn's attacks back at the beginning of our training, but even so, I was better swordsman than most people. As I experimented what I'd learned, I slowly began to realise the full extent of my abilities. I no longer needed to learn to fight to stay alive and cheat death.

I had become death.

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It probably comes from Barristan being very healthy at the age of 60. That combined with his strong trait and we have a guy whose health rating can stay high a long time.
 
Damn this is just getting better! :cool:
Found this in an older bookmark and regret that...because I spent over 2 hours reading it all today. Fascinating AAR, thanks for doing it. Looking forward to more! Edric will pay.
Welcome aboard, both of you!

Great update. I am a bit scared of how Arry's personality is building up, with all those mentions to death, haha. What personality traits does he have?
Thanks! Below you can see what traits Arry has at the end of pt. 34. I'll have to do something about his facial hair once he reaches sixteen..
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Should be the Event for authoritative.
correct.

how about a plot to kill Edric...?
Indeed, all men must die. I can start plotting once Arry reaches adulthood - which will be in the next update.

The last time someone looked so good in a GoT AAR GRR Martins touch surprised everyone. I'm anxiously looking forward to whether or not it goes the same way here.
Which AAR do you mean?

Holy sh*t,barristan selmy 92?that's walder Frey nivou xD
Tough much likelyer than 89 year old Boros blount XD
I'm also surprised he still has a 'skilled fighter' -trait. Barristan the Badass.

It probably comes from Barristan being very healthy at the age of 60. That combined with his strong trait and we have a guy whose health rating can stay high a long time.
A little bit of luck is needed as well. I'm amazed he made it this far.
 
Lets hope he wakes up again,it's blnot Nice to see one of your Best men to sleep trough everything.
Like Balon Swann did in one of my Games,he just sleeped like 30 years while crowseye,Aegon and stannis Tried to f*ck me.

Actually,are the tallharts still in the Game?
It's quite unlikely for eddara to marry matrilenial,but you never know

And what about lyanna mormont,is she as badass as usual?
 
Which AAR do you mean?

I believe he is referencing this one from a few months ago. It had excellent writing.
http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum...d-Now-My-Watch-is-Ended-A-Game-of-Thrones-Mod

Ah, right. I've read Victor's work. I suppose it's fair to say it played a part in motivating me to start my own aGoT AAR.

Lets hope he wakes up again,it's blnot Nice to see one of your Best men to sleep trough everything.
Like Balon Swann did in one of my Games,he just sleeped like 30 years while crowseye,Aegon and stannis Tried to f*ck me.

Actually,are the tallharts still in the Game?
It's quite unlikely for eddara to marry matrilenial,but you never know

And what about lyanna mormont,is she as badass as usual?

Characters can fall into coma both by sustaining a crushing blow to head in a battle and from old age. In Barristan's case I think we're talking about the latter one, and that usually means the time for passing approaches. There's a chance an incapable person will recover, too, but he's pretty old already.

Eddara died and Torrhen's Square passed to her cousin, Brandon. His daughter Erena is married to some sisterman and their children belong to his dynasty. Beren is 40 yrs old homosexual, so I'm guessing that the male line of the House Tallhart will extinguish.
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Lyanna Mormont ended up with 'incompetent commander'- and 'poor fighter' -traits. But she has an eagle! Her trueborn children belong to the House Slate. Below is the family tree of the House Mormont.
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What's this sword you have? A nameless one? Great AAR, and congratulations for keeping the awesome quality, even with non-canon characters.
Indeed. I switched Widow's Wail to a nameless Valyrian steel sword after the events of Part 30. It has a part to play in the future. And thanks for the positive feedback!
 
The Little Cub
Part 36 - Ice and Fire

--

My guardian, Lord Commander Balon Swann of the Kingsguard saw how much my ability to fight had improved. I had the skills and the temper required from a knight, and so he deemed I was ready to be anointed one. I'd officially served as his squire, but his work as the Master-at-Arms of King's Landing had often been an obstacle for him to travel to distant tourneys. Therefore I'd never truly squired for him, amd then there was also the matter about my background. Still, becoming a knight was yet another step towards becoming a man. Squires were often knighted at the age of 21 after one and half decade of service, but Ser Balon thought it'd be best if I spoke the words already. I'd become one of the best swordsmen in Seven Kingdoms, and there was nothing else Ser Balon could teach me.

Part of the rite was that a septon gave his blessings, but I was not a very religious person. Ser Balon said it was necessary and so I agreed to his demands. The High Septon had done all that to my father but he had been king at the time. I wanted to have the matter done without too much fuss, and so the ceremony was only modest. I spoke the words in Baelor's Sept at nightfall and was anointed with holy oils by a common septon. My friend Clayton Follard, also a squire serving under Ser Balon, was knighted at the same time. I'd asked mother to come witness the event, and she spectated us from the crowd along with Ser Perkin, Clayton's father. Close to six years had passed from my father's death, but my mother had never recovered from it. She still mourned him and had cast down any suggestions of her remarrying. My turn would come soon, though.

I spent the following night in the sept with Clayton and Ser Balon. I was not blessed with the virtue of patience, but the company of them both kept me awake. I'd practiced sparring countless times together with Clayton and he'd become as formidable fighter as I was. I'd never been blessed with a brother, but he'd filled that hole in my heart. Just like when Ser Balon had taken me under his protection after my father's demise. Both Ser Balon and Clayton were my family even though we were not united by blood. I was sure the latter would make a fine knight, and Westeros would need plenty more of his kind now that Barristan the Bold had died. How Ser Grandfather had cheated death so far was a common joke in the Red Keep for many years, but now his story had come to an end. The night was long, and I had a lot of time to think. Ser Barristan drifted to my mind several times, for I envied the man and wanted to be as good knight as he was.

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Soon an opportunity opened for me to prove myself out in the field of battle: Lord Ryan Tully of the Riverlands had raised his armies for one more campaign against the Ironborn. They had invaded the Riverlands during Lady Lyssa Baelish's rule and won, but due to my father's intervention the lands were returned back to the fold. A few castles had remained under Queen Asha's rule, though: the Twins and Seagard. The aforementioned had been retaken by the Riverlanders soon after Ryan Tully's rise to power, and now my brother-in-law made a move to take the latter. It was the last fortification the Ironborn still manned in the 'green lands'.

Heading out to aid Lord Ryan would have to wait a little while longer, though: I would soon turn sixteen, and only after that I was free to go wherever I wanted. Besides, Dragonstone had been ransacked by the rebels and its garrison needed a moment to get manned again. I gave that task to my cousin Horas Flowers and sent him to my lands to overseer the training of the levy and Dragonstone's garrison.

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And then the day came. Traditionally boys became men when they turned sixteen. I didn't feel any different than before, though: the only thing that changed was how people now regarded me. I was responsible of myself and all my actions, and free to make decisions of my own. As a means to show the people that I was ready to step into adulthood, I had my hair cut.

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Though I was perhaps one of the best swordsmen alive, I'd never led men into battle. People listened to me for I posessed an authorative voice. But still I was inexperienced and incompetent at commanding other people, and a leader needs more than just a loud voice to bring on victory. I didn't lack for courage or skills in swordsplay, but battles were not only won with swords. It's the words that matter, the commands that are given. I had never mastered that art, but hopefully time and fights to come would help me understand warfare better. I was eager to prove myself in actual combat, but there would be time for that later.

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I received many gifts during my nameday, but one was above them all. Ser Balon had used my father's Valyrian steel sword Widow's Wail to slay the black dragon that killed my father. The weapon had partly melted in the process, but Dragonbane had taken care of it for all these years until I was old enough. Time had come, and so Ser Balon humbly relinquished of the repaired and remodeled sword and granted it to its rightful owner. I knew the story behind Widow's Wail: it was originally reforged from the greatsword Ice by Lord Tywin Lannister's orders. The golden decorations of the blade had melted in dragonfire, along with my father, and they had been replaced with pitch-black dragonbone. ''The hilt is made from the bones of the Black Dread Reborn'', Ser Balon told me. ''It was used to vanquish the very-same dragon. I thought it would be fitting that the sword matches with its history.'' If I had Clayton's temper, I might've taken that as an insult. The blade was used to slay a dragon, but that moment also bore another meaning to me. The dragon killed my father as well, along with thousands of others.

I took the weapon into my hand, weighing it. It was lighter than any sword of its size I'd ever held, and the steel was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Red ripples ran through the dark grey steel as if the sword had captured the dragonfire it'd once been awashed with. There was also a huge, red ruby at its pommel. Diamonds are harder than any steel. Not only will it look nice, but it'll also come in handy during a fight should I hit someone with it. Overall it was the finest sword I'd ever seen. I could not help but to think of Blackfyre, the ancient sword of House Targaryen that was traditionally carried by the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I did not know what it looked like, as the sword's fate was unknown. But if I had to guess, it was black-and-red in a similar way as mine since they were the colors of House Targaryen. As I looked at the blade in my hand, a sudden realization struck me. It's a sword worthy of a king.

The name Widow's Wail was the doings of my uncle, King Joffrey Baratheon. No doubt the blade had brought sadness to many women's life, just like the person that had named it, but that sword was no more. What I now held in my hand had been died and born again, anew. I did not want to forget the past or the people that had bore the sword before me, but it nevertheless needed a new name. And I had a perfect one in my mind. It was both a referance to Blackfyre, the sword of kings, and Ice, the sword it had once been. I am Arry Baratheon, the prince who bears the sword and the king who is to come. And mine is the song of ice and fire.

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As I became of age, I had more power than I'd ever had before. Still, I knew my actions were now noted more carefully as well, and due to that I would be a great danger should I not calculate my moves with dire caution. Or so I believed. I was new to this game of thrones, and I did not want to lose right in the beginning by taking a wrong turn. I'd been raised by a soldier and taught to kill, but that alone was not enough. I needed different sort of tutelage as well, and Clayton found the right man for that job from a tavern at Flea Bottom. Problematic in with dealing with an assassin for the first time is that you have no idea if the person is capable of the job until afterwards. The old knife-for-hire that I agreed to meet with was an elder man who'd lost one of his ears. The scar proved that he'd seen combat, but also that he had failed in his task. His old age was either a proof that he'd been very good at his job, or that he'd been too bad at it. Either way, I could not read the person by just looking at him.

Sending this man to take out my enemies and thereby giving him the keys to my demise, should he fail, was a scary thought. I did not know him well enough to trust him, but in the end it did not matter; I had a more peaceful task for him in my mind. I needed not his skills, but only his experience. And so I spent an evening talking with this man as he taught me how to protect myself from those that seek to hurt me. I knew how to do that on a battlefield, but not outside of it. We talked many things, including poisons, and I became to understand that he'd either studied in the Citadel or been on his shady career for long enough to know them well. After the night gathered, I paid the man and headed back to my room in the Red Keep. The evening had taught me that most of all I needed to be one step ahead of my enemies and act unpredictably. So much for my daily routines, such as my daily training out on the yard.

I departed for Dragonstone two days later. The island fort was in worse condition than I'd hoped for and could not provide the amount of men I'd expected. King Edric had stripped me from all vassals, and so I could not raise levies from other castles and villages neither on Dragonstone or Driftmark. But I could take them back. The Velaryons of Driftmark posessed almost the same amount of men as Dragonstone's garrison once manned. Aurane Waters, a bastard from that house had betrayed my grandmother Cersei by going rogue and establishing a pirate kingdom in the Stepstones. My father sailed there with means to pay old debts but was killed instead. The sins of 'Lord of Waters' remained unforgotten and I meant to have Aurane's kinsmen suffer for his actions. I could've declared a war to subjucate Driftmark due to my position as the High Lord of Dragonstone and de-jure rights, but I wanted it all.

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Several courtiers insisted on joining me at Dragonstone, among them my friend Ser Clayton Follard, Gaston the White Bastard - Ser Balon's natural son - and the Kingsguard Ser Guyard Buckler, my personal bodyguard and a kingsguard. My cousin Ser Horas Flowers, a Tyrell from his father's side and a Lannister from his mother's side had gone to Dragonstone already earlier after I'd appointed him the marshal. Dragonstone was a sizable fort, but only a small part of it was used as a place to accomodate the highborn. It was certainly a smaller place than the Red Keep, and so I grew to know almost everyone at the court which would've been almost impossible at the capital. It also made me notice the glances a certain lady was giving me. Lyra Baelish was the younger one of Littlefinger's children, a sister to the late Lyssa Baelish of Harrenhal. I was betrothed to Princess Malora, King Edric's daughter, but the thought of it was not enough to stop me.. for I was young and in love.

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As time went on and I lived in peace without making any attempts to regain my birthright, my uncle granted back some of my de-jure vassals. Perhaps he trusted me or perhaps he simply wanted to make amends for his past actions. Whatever the case, I now had the men I needed. The Riverlander army had already taken Seagard and now besieged smaller keeps around the area. But an army of Ironborn was sailing from their homelands with intention to see that this war would have a different ending than the last one. Queen Asha did not want to lose Seagard like when the Twins had fallen, and so the Riverlanders were gathering all their troops together for a battle that would decide the fate of the war. Sending a word forth to Lord Ryan that I was coming to his aid, I prepared to leave Dragonstone with three-thousand men under my command.

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Marvellous, once more. Arry is a charming prince, a master swordsman and has a fine personality, could he be similar to Rhaegar? I assume many lords would look up to him as a potential/legitimate ruler, considering Storm's background.
All this makes me think that if GRRM was telling this tale, he would meet his doom rather quickly. Let's hope he doesn't!

Regarding the Velaryons, I always liked keeping canon dynasties in place, and it would be a shame to see them gone.