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Aidun

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House Targaryen
Part 6: 15 AL - 18 AL

King Aegon's half-brother had been cursed with stillborn children, both legitimate and bastard ones. When one of his two daughters, Cassana, died at the age of two, concerns emerged whether Lord Orys would or would not father a healthy son to continue his line. Princess Argella Durrandon remained at Storm's End as his lord husband's regent while Orys was in the capital most of his time, helping King Aegon rule the realm. There was also the fact that Lady Ravella Baratheon might not be Orys' child after all. So when the news reached the capital that Orys' wife had given birth to a healthy son, there was much celebrating. The relationship between the two brothers was a close one, and honoring that bond Orys announced he'd name his newborn son after his own brother.

Lord Owen Tyrell of Reach had history with the King dating back years. He'd squired for Aegon back when he was but the second son of Lord Harlan Tyrell, and had married one of the Conqueror's daughters. Still, it seemed that the alliance that the marriage provided was not enough to lord Owen; he'd sent one of his advisors to King's Landing to try to win Aegon's favor with gifts and flattering words. The efforts and the intentions of the young lord of the Reach seemed sincere, and made the King more certain of Lord Owen's loyalty and friendship. Once there was but one man Aegon could trust, yet now there were two.

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Trying to improve his damaged reputation among the smallfolk of the Crownlands, Aegon decided to put the money Lord Owen had sent to good use. A summer fair was hosted at King's Landing, and people poured into the capital to take part in the celebrations. The amount of peasants surprised all the local authorities, and the Commander of the City Watch took the matter to the King, asking for a permission to restrict entry to the capital. The King was reluctant to give such a permission, but knowing well how heavily the City Watch was burdened by the amount of visitors, he hired sellswords to help the guards. To distinguish those preserving the King's peace from other folk, King Aegon invested in new attire for his City Watch. Every guardsman received a heavy woolen cloak that was painted in the color of gold, marking that they had taken the King's gold and in exchange worked to uphold his laws.

With wine flowing, there was much work for the City Watch to do - even with their reinforcements. In addition to bards and minstrels, the fair attracted other attention-seekers beyond counting. While most of them were harmless, some caused more trouble than they were worth. One errant monk preached that the Targaryens were the harbingers of the end, bringing fire, blood and death upon Westeros. Silencing the man was necessary, so Aegon commanded the priest to be thrown out of the city. Though the act angered some peasants, Aegon knew that letting the man preach would've been a worse option in the long run.

There had been a tradition in the former kingdoms of Westeros about a reverse of roles during fairs. For one day, even the lowest of people would be treated like a king, while the king himself could walk among the commoners and enjoy about the celebrations without having to fear he was acting inappropriately. The idea didn't please King Aegon, but he agreed to it all the same to win the people's favor. It was due to that change of roles that Grand Maester Lyman made a request he would never otherwise had done. The man was a servant, but he'd admired the dragons and had long desired to sit on one. Despite the fact that the Grand Maester was slightly in his cups, Aegon agreed to his request. Though dragons accepted but one rider at a time, or two in case the actual rider was also present, the King deemed it safe in case Balerion didn't take the air. Only it wasn't.

Dragons are creatures to be both feared and respected. There is a reason why only the Targaryens, or those with Valyrian blood in their veins, can tame them. It is unknown what went wrong, but the moment Grand Maester Lyman approached the Black Dread, everyone realized something was awry. The first man to ever be granted the honorary title of Grand Maester of the Citadel met his death in an exceptionally brutal way, burning alive in dragonfire as a crowd of commoners shouted and shrieked in terror. It was far from the end Aegon had planned for the fair to have, and it resulted with whispering that perhaps the errant monk had been right after all.

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Already stressed by the amount of work to be done, the mishap with the Grand Maester didn't make the King's life any easier. Although years of ruling had taken most glamor off from holding the reins of the kingdoms, Aegon was determined not to let his realm fall apart because of him. King Aegon Targaryen was a man with ambitions for the future and he had the means to make them come true. Although the Seven Kingdoms were united under his leadership - with the exception of Dorne - they were quite independent from one another and the people of each region distinguished themselves as 'Stormlanders' and 'Westerlanders' instead of 'Westerosi.' To make the people realize they were suddenly of the same civilization after thousands of years of being ruled by one king or another, Aegon realized he had to start from the bottom level.

Highborn children were called to the capital to serve as pages, wards and squires from all around Westeros. The King himself was busy enough overseering the training of both his sons, having taken them as his squires now that Lord Owen and Lord Ronnel had come of age. With his hands full already, Aegon gave these children as wards to be tutored by other noblemen sworn to him. Lord Commander 'Greatheart' was reluctant at first, stating that he was a Kingsguard and not a Kidsguard. The King's stubbornness got the better of him, however. Serving as a squire to the finest swordsman of Westeros was a great honor, and Aegon managed to convince 'Greatheart' of that fact.

Aegon's reforms concerned other highborn than just children old enough to serve as wards. To show that corruption was a punishable crime, King Aegon had several nobles arrested and confined to the dungeons of King's Landing. While most arrests went well, Commander Valarr of the City Watch managed to evade capture and gatherered his most loyal officers to support him in an attempt to overthrow the Conqueror's rule. The several hundred men were no match to all the armies of Westeros that Aegon commanded, but in a swift move their numbers might've been enough to topple the Targaryen dynasty and undo everything Aegon had done for the past fifteen years. Against any other ruler this plan might've worked, but Aegon posessed an advantage that couldn't be outdone by numbers or quick actions. When the King took the air atop Balerion, the rogue guards lost their courage and turned Commander Valarr over, confined in chains he personally so often had used on others.

The cells the City Watch used to lock up criminals were not into Commander Valarr's liking. In his opinion it was an embarassment to be held in there by his employees after serving Aegon faithfully for so long, and so he requested to be moved out to some other quarters. When the guards came to escort Commander Valarr out of his cell, it was indeed to a more suitable location for him. It was said he began to cry like a girl when it was revealed that he was being escorted to a ship that would take him to the Wall.

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Commander Valarr wasn't the only warning example Aegon wished to make. The King received information through his spymaster that Lord Banfred Hightower's eldest son and heir, Quentyn, was plotting to buy the loyalty of the authorities in Highgarden. What power his father had earned with hard work and loyalty, his son meant to buy for himself with his father's money. Princess Valaena had been sent to Highgarden to be Lord Banfred's ward, but the tutelage she'd received from the Lord of Oldtown hadn't been sufficient and the current lady of the Reach remained but a pretty face. It was a sad thing to admit, considering Lord Banfred had decided not to follow King Mern Gardener to war during the Conquest and later opened the gates of Oldtown to King Aegon without resistance.

But good lords may not necessarily make good fathers, it seemed. While Lord Banfred remained in Highgarden at Lord Owen's court, his wayward son ruled in his name at Oldtown. Acting behind Lord Tyrell's back, Aegon ordered Quentyn Hightower's arrest and had the young man brought to the capital before his father Lord Banfred could react. Knowing well that the evidence against him was enough to condemn him, Quentyn Hightower demanded a trial by combat, trying to win his way out of the situation with swords when he couldn't accomplish it with words. Had he chosen anyone else to be his champion, Aegon might've considered doing the same. But the young, proud lad wanted to fight his own battle - and though none said it, everyone expected Aegon to do the same.

King Aegon had won himself the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne with fire and blood - surely this boy couldn't match the Conqueror himself? The question was on everyone's lips when King Aegon ordered Blackfyre to be brought to him. Claiming that the faith was his shield, Quentyn desired to fight with only a sword and no armor - taking that option from his opponent as well. The Conquest had happened fifteen years ago, and Aegon wasn't a young man any longer. He still considered himself a fairly good swordsman who posessed a great strength few men did, but the boy facing him had everything to lose. Like an animal driven to a corner, Aegon expected him to fight to the bitter end, using every trick he knew.

And so he did.​

Although Quentyn was but a sloppy swordsman, no better than an average soldier, he put up a good fight and made King Aegon struggle for his life the way he hadn't for the past fifteen years. The sound of swords clashing against one another rang in the throne room where the court witnessed the duel, knowing well that the spectacle might cost their king's life. With each close miss, there was a hundred gasps of air - but the tension grew thousandfold when the King suddenly staggered. Trying to topple his opponent off his feet, Quentyn struck his sword at Aegon so hard that the impact of Blackfyre meeting it sent the Conqueror on his back on the ground.

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Some knights would've ended the duel then and there, but Quentyn didn't show any signs of relenting. If there had been a moment to think before the young Hightower's blade began its approach, Aegon's thoughts would've been with his children. Young Maelon and Aerion watched the duel, both in horror that their father was two seconds away from death. Yet the fate had something else in mind than staining Quentyn Hightower's name and reputation for regicide; the King rolled aside, making his opponent's sword miss him with mere inches. Quentyn stalled his hand in disbelief, allowing Aegon regain his footing. And as he gripped the hilt of Blackfyre harder in his hands, the duel was about to get a new turn.

Aegon launched a furious attack, forcing Quentyn to defend without giving him a chance to fight back. The young Hightower was a smart, brave man with tricks up his sleeve. But he was no match to Aegon now that the dragon inside him had woken. The Valyrian steel cut Quentyn's flesh, staining the marble floor of the throne room in red for the first but not the last time in its history. Though it is said that all men must die, the Stranger was forced to wait a little while longer as King Aegon emerged victorious from the duel. But his relief over having survived was cut short as the next morning Lord Banfred Hightower, Quentyn's father, rode to the capital. Whatever hopes the Lord of Oldtown had harbored of getting his son out of the King's dungeons were robbed of him the moment he set his foot in the Red Keep. He returned home with his son's body, but only after stating that the North is not the only region that remembers.

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After Lord Hightower returned home to put his son and heir to final rest, the Iron Fleet emerged at his doorsteps. Lord Greyjoy had gathered twenty-thousand raiders and now set upon the southern coast of Reach, plundering their fertile and rich lands. Despite the fact that Lord Vickon Greyjoy had sworn fealty to King Aegon the Conqueror, his son Harren had gone rogue and cared little and less of old ties. It seemed that even being married to Lady Falia Tyrell didn't stop the Greyjoy from attacking his brother-in-law's subjects. To support Lord Owen Tyrell was Aegon's initial plan, but making a choice over two of his vassals and showing that he favored one over the other wouldn't have been beneficial. The Ironborn had raided the western coast of Westeros for ages, and not even the arrival of the Targaryens seemed to be enough to change their nature. Knowing that Lord Owen's bannermen would be enough to drive the Ironborn back to the sea, Aegon remained neutral in the conflict.

It was around that time that Princess Elaena reached her sixteenth nameday. For the past few years she'd served as a ward to Lord Loren Lannister of Westerlands as a compensation for King Aegon having fired him from the Small Council. Elaena had learned Lord Loren's trade and now, having had reached adulthood, she returned to King's Landing. King Aegon's younger daughter was a true beauty who time and Casterly Rock had molded into a brilliant steward. Whereas Princess Valaena was but a shade of her mother, Queen Rhaenys, Elaena shone like a star in her own, special way. It was clear that Rhaenys favored the younger daughter of hers as well: soon after Elaena's return the queen granted her an egg of her dragon, Meraxes, as a gift. It was not long later that it hatched, likely sensing Elaena's greatness and deciding there was a woman worth bonding with.

When Aegon had sent his younger daughter to be fostered elsewhere, she'd been but a girl with unusually fierce temper. When she got back, she'd become a woman who knew her duties as a princess and a future queen, along with the possibilities that her position granted her. Endearments the king gave her were received in a way none couldn't have anticipated; the way Elaena looked at him and acted overall when alone in his company, biting her lip teasingly or subtly touching him made Aegon realize that his daughter desired to get something entirely different than just fatherly love from him. To get her daughter's attention elsewhere without causing a scandal or turning members of the Targaryen family against one another, Aegon replaced the master of coin Lord Celtigar with Elaena, hoping that work might keep her mind away from further distractions until Prince Maelon was old enough to marry her.

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The dragon that had hatched to Princess Elaena was yet small, but with the construction of Dragonpit atop Rhaenys' hill having finished, there was now a place in King's Landing for the other three dragons to stay in. Public opinion about the winged beasts had always been suspicious, and Balerion had given the smallfolk one reason more to fear them during the fair. For everyone's safety dragons of the three siblings were locked in the huge dome and kept under guard, only to be released in the presence of their riders. It was one fear less for Aegon, knowing that locking the dragons served to keep the people away from them to avoid any other accidents. They were no animals to be caged, but for the safety of his subjects Aegon had to make sacrifices.

The Ironborn raiders troubling Oldtown retreated quickly to their ships when the Reachmen, united under the banner of Lord Owen Tyrell, finally emerged to drive them away. Luckily no major battle was fought between them, making the situation easier to repair once things would calm down. Harren Greyjoy didn't turn his fleet around, however, but led his ships to continue the raid elsewhere. Aegon was determined to try mend the dispute between him and Lord Owen once the Lord of Pyke would return from his raid, but until then the king's justice would have to wait.

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Starting a conflict with another realm was an old but working way for a kingdom to fix its internal discord. Dorne remained independent and the fact that the seventh of the kingdoms of Westeros was yet to be conquered kept bothering King Aegon. With the other six kingdoms backing him and four dragons at his disposal, the war would likely turn out differently than the one Aegon had started eighteen years earlier. But the Conqueror wanted to be remembered differently than just as a man who made Westeros bend their knees in fear of dragons. He was a soldier at heart, born for battle and baptised in the blood of his fallen foes - but also an idealist. To show the world he was more than just a man with a weapon and the strength to use it, King Aegon decided to try and win Dorne with not four dragons - but one.

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EtzelHoveri

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Dorne - House Martell
Part 4: 15-21

Watching his sister make her way around the room throwing things and screaming, Lewyn did his very best to keep from showing any emotions. They were alone save for Perros, Obara's husband, and their cousin, Gerris. Bors Santagar had also been requested to attend, but failed to make an appearance thus far. That was very unlike him, the man seemed to thrive on knowing every little thing that was going on in Dorne.

Though he hadn't moved, Lewyn noticed Gerris glance momentarily in his direction. With the glance, Gerris made the smallest adjustment in his stance to more perfectly mirror his own. Standing on the other side of the throne of Dorne, Gerris had the privilege of being another one of Obara's bodyguards.

Lewyn Martell and Gerris Martell, the deadly cousin and brother of the Princess of Dorne and her personal bodyguards. Though in truth she had hundreds of guards protecting her day in and day out. They were just the most visible as one of them was always with her. No major attempt had been made on her life yet, but that did not mean it wasn't coming.

Returning his attention momentarily to what his sister was screaming about, Lewyn had trouble understanding her at first because she was talking so quickly. Thankfully, Perros put up his hand which brought her out of her rage at the north wall. "Dear, what are you so mad about?"

Pointing at the north wall she said in a slower, though still anger infused, voice, "That man has denied it again. We tried to create a peaceful understanding, and he spit in our face. Delonne, our first born and heir to the Kingdom of Dorne, was betrothed to a lesser son of that bastard. It's time for them to be wed but no. Once again he has said it is not time for a wedding." Yet again she pointed at the north wall. Kind of funny really. Everytime she mentioned him or earlier was trying to yell at him, she would face or point in his general direction. "We never should have agreed to this bethrothal. It's almost as if he is hoping to start a fight over this.

"Dearest, it was the right course of action to make. We made an attempt to reconcile our two people. It's not our fault that they refuse to make this peace official, at this time. We will wait a month or two and send another delegate to try and arrange the date for the wedding. You will see, this time a date will be set."

"No!!!! There will be no wedding. As of this moment, Delonne is no longer betrothed to Areion Targaryen. We shall no longer attempt to make peace with these people." Returning her gaze at the north wall, you could almost see the hatred radiating from her body.

Lewyn had never seen his sister like this before. It reminded him of their father. He could not allow her to become like him. Obsessed with 'saving Dorne from the evil Targaryens'. He was Obara's bodyguard which meant he had to keep her life safe from those who wanted to end it; stop plots which would cause her harm in any way; and keep her mind intact even from herself.

Before Lewyn could even try to calm her down, Obara said, "Leave me. All of you. I just want to be alone."

Each of them left out the main entrance. Lewyn caught a last glimpse of Obara sitting in her throne with her face held in her hands before the doors were closed behind them. "Gerris, I need you to wait here with the Princess. I have an errand to run before my part of the night shift begins." Gerris was not a man of many words, like himself, so simply nodded.

As Lewyn made his way out of the palace, he remembered those first few days when Gerris had been made one of Obara's bodyguards. Unsure of Gerris' ability to keep his sister safe, Lewyn had spent those days just down the hall from her room, just incase. He had not been a part of making Gerris one of her bodyguards. No, it was Lyrean Dayne in one of his private meetings with the Princess which brought this about. Lord Lyrean had stood toe to toe with him once in a practice fight, and even made a name for himself in the Tyroshi War, but that did not mean he should dictate who stood guard for the Princess.

After three days of no sleep, the three of them made their way to one of the closed off gardens in the palace. He remembered this day as if it was yesterday. There was normally other nobles or at least servants working in the garden, but that day it was empty which caused him to nearly panic. That was when Obara turned on him and said, "Gerris has informed me that you have been posting a second guard when you should be resting. That is unacceptable. Now you two are going to fight out here until you are comfortable with Gerris protecting me without your supervision. Do not worry, nobody will come through here. The entire area is closed off."

He had first tried to stop this, but Obara would not hear it. They would fight or Lewyn would be removed as one of her bodyguards. In the end, his spear met Gerris' long handled axe for three hours. The tide of the fight would sway back and forth, but each bout ended the same way, the axe blade pressed against his throat.

Never, until this day, had he ever lost a fight. To lose time after time was maddening. He simply had to accept that Gerris was a superb fighter. He would make an excellent guard for his sister. After this day, the three of them would meet in this garden like this at least once a week. Once rested Lewyn would win some of the bouts, yet it was Gerris who won more often than not.

Outside of being Obara's bodyguards, great warriors, and members of the Martell line, they had many similar traits. Both of them, people said had claim to the Dornish throne, but neither had any aspirations to take it. Known for being warriors, they both were also avid scholars and wrote poetry. Even with their busy lives they were married and had families of their own.

The way they met their wives could not have been any more different. With Gerris' father dead when he was only a boy, Lyrean Dayne had introduced him to his future bride. In some ways Dayne had become a surrogate father for Gerris. Lewyn on the other hand met his wife during the Tyroshi War. The war had been going on for a few months with mostly success, but they were not getting the hype and volunteers that Obara was hoping for. So against his and nearly every other person's judgment, Obara joined one of the fleets hunting down Tyroshi ships.

They had hoped to free some captured slaves, maybe destroy some Tyroshi ships, then return home to Sunspear. The did all of this, but not in the way they hoped. On their eighth day at sea, they were suddenly ambushed by the Tyroshi. Even with the element of surprise, the Tyroshi should have been slaughtered. They were drastically outnumbered. However, the Tyroshi commander used his smaller vessels as fire ships.

Hundreds of people burned alive that day. In the middle of the battle, their ship was boarded. Leading the counter offensive, Lewyn and the other Dornish soldiers slew every last Tyroshi warrior on that ship. By the end of the battle the Dornish had won at a great cost.

The Tyroshi ship was still attached to the Defiance at the end of the battle, so Lewyn led a party aboard to search for any survivors. There were no other warriors, just some of their slaves. One of these women, Elinor, stayed with him the entire way back to Sunspear. They were married shortly after their return. His wife was a former slave, one of the first peasant women captured actually. Some people even said she had converted to some far off religion and was considered a witch. Did anybody care? No. That is one of the beautiful things about Dorne.

Finally leaving the palace, Lewyn returned his thoughts to the present and made his way through the streets of Sunspear. He paid no attention to where he was going. He just kept walking until another man in a cloak and hood started walking beside him. Neither looked at the other. "Take me to him," was all Lewyn said.

The cloaked man pulled ahead and Lewyn was happy to follow. They took a few more streets until they were in one of the warehouse districts. Pointing towards one of the buildings that looked abandoned, the cloaked man suddenly reversed directions and walked away. His job was done.

Not even making an attempt at stealth, Lewyn went straight into the front entrance. As the door opened a cudgel made its way towards his head almost instantaneously. It never found its mark. Taking the weapon from the man who had originally swung it, Lewyn brought the piece of wood across the side of the man's own head. The man collapsed without an attempt to catch himself. Either dead or unconscious. Neither really mattered to Lewyn.

Staring at him from a collection of boxes and chairs placed in a circle, a group of nearly thirty people all looked poised to run. "Don't any of you move." Those words sparked one of the furthest men to make an attempt towards one of the rear doors. He only made it two or three steps before the cudgel he had been carrying made its way across the distance dropping him to the ground as well when its found its mark on the back of the man's head.

"Let me repeat myself, do not move. Next person who moves will have a knife in their head instead." Waiting for any other fool to run, Lewyn allowed these people to see who had made this threat. After a suitable time, he at last made his way into the middle of the circle. "I know why you are all meeting here. I know what it is you are hoping to accomplish. Let me tell you now, I will never be Prince.

"I don't care if every other Martell died today, I will not be Prince. I don't care if every other person in Dorne died today, I will not be Prince. I am ashamed that I have to do this today. When this foolishness was just the thought of Ser Bors Santagar and Lady Sylva Jordayne, I ignored it. Now to see so many of our people; Lords, Ladies, Sers, and other nobles plotting treason against our Princess, my sister, I can not help but feel shame for all of you.

"You will cease this foolishness this instance. Every one of you return to your lands and duties. None of you will be punished for your conspiring, but if the Princess should suddenly fall ill, I swear I will put my spear through each and every one of your hearts."

Taking in these people's faces, Lewyn saw some crying of shame or grief, he did not know which. Among these people were second and third sons and daughters who no doubt supported the case simply in hopes of being rewarded for their efforts. Others were angry, but none spoke out. Lady Jordayne had a poised look about her, as if she had been expecting this and nothing surprised her. Seated next to her was a man exactly opposite of this look of near serenity. Blistering anger and rage was plastered across Bors' face. Neither of these two he paid any mind to and left to return to his own duties.


(Really wrapped up with work and school right now. Didn't have time to add the screenshots. Will do it when I have some free time. Sorry. Hope you still enjoyed this next part.)
 
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cyrileom

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Chapter 2 - Harren II

11 AL - 15 AL

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Harren sat in a chair, swirling a goblet of wine around. It had been close to a decade since he had last been in Pyke, and it was still the same night of his arrival. Falia lay in her labor bed, no doubt screaming. Sipping from his goblet, Harren looked at his Castellan. "So, Lord Theon, tell me, what has happened in the Isles since my father's death?"

Lord Theon grimaced, turned, and spat at the roaring fire. "Terrible things, my lord. Terrible terrible things." He took a deep breath. "Everything starts with that devil of a Maester. By the Drowned God, he tried to seize power! Him and that bastard lord of Saltcliffe. He convinced the other lords to re-instate the Kingsmoot with the intent of endorsing Lord Harrag, though thankfully the captains of real power still support you. That didn't stop Maester Sawane though." His voice dripped with venom when he spat that name. "His next foul act was to fake letters from the King who Knelt, claiming that you had gone mad and were unfit for rule. No one believed it for a second, but the gall of that man! Even worse, he's been stealing from the treasury for years, and-"

A loud shattering sound filled the room, and both men glanced at Harren's right hand. It seemed that the goblet had turned out rather brittle. Tossing it aside in disgust, I turned back to my Castellan, my voice cold as the Northern winter. "Where. Is. Sawane?" Lord Theon spat again. "Fled, my lord. He left a few days prior, claiming that he had been summoned by his Conclave. With the gold he's stolen, I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that he bribed his way onto it. He had to know his time here was done. My lord, if you will forgive my impropriety, what do you plan to do about him?" Harren closed his eyes. "For now, nothing. But I will find him, and I will kill him. Now, what about Harrag Saltcliffe?"

Lord Theon licked his lips. "After the, uh, failed attempt at a coup, myself and Lord Urzen took it upon ourselves to imprison Lord Harrag for his crimes. Unfortunately, he demanded a trial-by-combat at a time when no competent warrior could be found, and thus escaped punishment. He still lords over Saltcliffe, my lord."

"Have Lord Ambrode of Harlaw find something, anything, that can be used as an excuse to strip Harrag of land and title. Some obscure law, some old family, anything. Have him fabricate the claims if it comes to it."

"A-are you sure-" "DO IT LORD THEON!"

Someone knocked at the door, and a moment later I heard someone come in. "M-milord?" Harren opened his eyes and saw a short woman in blood spattered clothing. "Yes?" He spoke. The woman spoke with a stutter, nervous. "I-It's about your w-wife, sir." I waved my hand impatiently. The woman took a deep breath. "Y-your daughter, sir, she - she did not survive." The woman stuttered for a few moments more, before quickly leaving the room. Harren closed his eyes again. "Tell me, loyal servant, where is my father's saltwife. I assume she still lives." A short silence filled the air until Theon spoke. "Yes, she does. The servants probably know where. Why?" Harren opened his eyes again and stood up. "Call for a reaving, Lord Theon. I have to start my reign properly." Without explaining himself further, Harren strode out of the room.

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_____________________________

Lady Falia was waiting at the docks, watching the fleet arrive and waiting for it to dock. It took a while for the flagship, the pretentiously named Iron Storm. The Ironborn were overly dramatic and too focused on their titles. She'd already had a few servants consigned to the dungeon for repeating the moniker that had followed her from Highgarden - the Black Rose.

She spotted Harren coming out onto the deck and turning to walk to her. She waited patiently for his arrival, and then slapped him when he walked up. The ambient chatter froze up and died then. Harren rubbed his cheek. "The hunchback, I presume?" Falia's tone was sickly sweet. "Of course, husband. Who else gave birth while you were gone?" Harren waved for everyone to continue.

"Honestly, I don't know why you're surprised. Surely your tutors must have covered this - we've been betrothed for years."

Falia seethed with anger. "She's a decade older than you! Your FATHER bedded her!"

Harren shrugged. "Your point?"

Falia took a deep breath. "Alright, alright. Let's forget about this and talk about nicer things. Did you succeed?"

"Somewhat. The Summer Islanders were tougher than expected. We won a few, but for the most part they repelled us. I did get up to some fun with Urzen though, danced the finger dance." Harren motioned to his face, which bore a slight scar.

Falia shook her head. "Men."

Harren smirked. "So, what about the babe?"

Falia almost slapped him again.

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____________________________________

"Well, Lord Theon? Did you do as I commanded?" The Castellan nodded. "Lord Ambrode has indeed found something. I pray you will forgive me taking the initiative and sending a raven to Harrag - he has already replied, and it seems that he will not oppose your will. Saltcliffe is yours."

Harren grunted. "Pity. Would have been nice to imprison him." Harren sighed. "Very well. Send some of my retainers over to take over Saltcliffe. Make sure that no ardent loyalists remain."

Lord Theon nodded, then paused, then cocked his head, and then made a small jump. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot. A raven flew in from Winterfell the day before lord. Lord Torrhen invites you to the wedding between your sister and Owen Stark."

Harren snorted. "He'd better - I'm the one escorting her."

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_____________________________________

Harren rode through the winter town, his twelve guards surrounding him. The walls of Winterfell looked as he remembered - impressive, grey, and bland. The Stark banner flew high above the castle, and the small golden kraken on a black field that flew alongside it was a pleasant surprise. The other flags - a rampant golden lion on a red field and a leaping white fish on a blue and red field - were a greater surprise. He heard a muffled cry from the gatehouse up ahead, and the gates slowly swung open. Harren smiled as he saw who waited on the other side of the gate. After riding through and dismounting, Harren shook Brandon Stark’s outstretched hand.

“It’s been a few years, Harren.”

“Yes, it has. I noticed the flags. What are the others here for?”

Brandon smirked. “An amusing coincidence. Seems that my father, my brother, and I are getting married at the same time.”

Harren burst out laughing. “All of you? Well, this will certainly be amusing. Are they here?”

Brandon shook his head. “No, not yet. Speaking of which, your party seems very light - and lacking in women.”

“Yes, well, my sister took ill travelling here, so she’s coming the slow way, by carriage. By the way, where’s Morra?”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “She’s around, and betrothed to my future uncle-in-law.”

Harren contorted his expression into one mock hurt. “I’m married! And Falia is coming to the wedding anyway.”

Brandon laughed. “That hasn’t stopped you at all, if what I hear is true.”

Grabbing each other by the shoulders, the two men headed towards the Great Hall, laughing all the while.
_________________________________

The wedding itself was one of grandeur. After all, every Stark male was getting married in the span of a few days. So much food was made that the leftovers would be able to feed King's Landing for a week. The ceremonies were conducted one after the other, and the large group of retainers from every family filled the godswood to bursting.

The night after was one of revelry. The high point of the night was Lanna Lannister's shriek of terror and Brandon Stark's creative list of obscenities upon discovering a skinned rabbit in their wedding bed. The most relevant part, however, was the night of wild abandon shared by Harren and Falia, which again resulted in a pregnancy.

Harren was heard to have quipped. "People should get married more. I need more children."

Nine months later, the child was born, healthy and hale. Lord Harren's second daughter was named Gwyneth, at Lady Falia's request.

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_________________________________

Harren tried the doorknob on Oluhura's room again. Getting increasingly frustrated by the locked door, Harren eventually gave up and tried to bash the door open. It came down on the third try.

Unfortunately for Harren, and ultimately for Oluhura as well, Oluhura threw a slipper at Harren's head, which clipped him on the scar of his face. Harren wobbled from the blow, then fixed an angry gaze at Oluhura who, despite her best efforts, withered at the stare.

With an abrupt chuckle, however, Harren turned around and walked out of the room.

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Henry v. Keiper

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House of Arryn
15 AL – 17 AL

After the Almost War, in which the wolf howled at the falcon but whimpered at the dragon, things began to calm down in the Eyrie, especially with Ronnel's attempts to pursue peace between North and Vale. In 15 AL, Ronnel began to ponder something about his daughter's interest in military affairs, and an idea dawned on him. He sent a raven to King's Landing, inquiring if there would be anyone there in the king's court who would be qualified enough to train her. A raven was sent back...and it was from King Aegon himself, offering a chance for Myranda to be tutored by Queen Visenya! Under Visenya, Myranda would learn the greater arts of war, the ability to use a sword, and the proper way for a woman in battle to handle herself, and from one of the greatest female warriors in all of Westeros. The only downside, in the mind of a father, was that his daughter would be away from him for much of her young life. She was about eight-years old now, and had already learned much from Lord Eon – but the prospect of serving under Visenya had benefits too great to ignore.

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When Myranda herself was told of the news, she seemed to take it with a mix of joy, confusion, and hesitancy.

“Is she one of the dragon women?” Myranda asked.

Ronnel nodded, “Yes, she is the king's...wife.” Ronnel had almost said sister, but did not want to introduce Myranda to too much too soon. She would find out how bizarre this world could be in due time. “I met her when I was your age, in fact. She is a lovely lady, but much more serious than her sister, and far more a warrior. She will train you to be as strong and brave as the king is.”

Myranda's eyes lit up a bit, and a smile crept over her lips. She seemed to be welcoming the idea more and more. “Oh? Do you think she will let me ride her dragon?”

Ronnel laughed and patted his daughter on the head. “She let me ride her dragon when I was your age. Twice, in fact. Perhaps she will let you ride it at least once. You will have to ask her.” Thoughts strayed in Ronnel's mind of that fateful day, when he was younger, and he did indeed get to ride on Visenya's dragon, soaring through the Vale, around Giant's Lance, and through the land. It was done during the innocence of youth, and when there was less to worry about. It almost seemed like a dream: clutching to the dragon, feeling the blow of the wind, feeling the strong but soft arms of Visenya around him. The dragon wings could be heard as they pierced the air, and the ground below them moved quickly when they drew close, and slowly when they rose up high. Yes, it seemed all like a dream now; it seemed like something he had concocted in his boyhood imagination. Would King's Landing and her initial experiences be the same for Myranda?

Myranda's things were packed, and some of Ronnel's personal guard would see her through the Bloody Gate and down to King's Landing, where she would meet Aegon and Visenya. Valiete was disappointed to see her go (and even more disappointed that Myranda's warrior ways would only be encouraged), but Ronnel was the saddest of all. It was hard to watch from Maiden's Tower as the caravan made its way from the Gates of the Moon, heading towards the valley that led through the Bloody Gate and through the mountain paths, into the open world of Westeros beyond. Even though he was certain the king would take good care of her, and he would see her again upon her sixteenth birthday, it was still unpleasant to see his firstborn leave him for some distant city. When he saw her again, she would be a woman.

Ronnel tried to busy his mind on other things, and focused on improving the Eyrie and much of the land under his direct control. He reorganized how the servants were divvied up, and detailed the assignments in a more efficient way. What's more, he provided funds to improving the lands and defenses of not only the Eyrie, but the Gates of the Moon and Bloody Gate as well. Over time, his stewardship abilities grew, and he found that he could handle the financial matters of the Vale in a much more efficient manner.

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In addition to worrying about the affairs of the Eyrie, Ronnel also looked to himself. He felt that his hairstyle and beard had grown too stiff, and reminded him too much of his more naive youth. As such, he decided to let both grow out: he let his hair grow and curl, and he let his beard grow out all around his face. It especially did a good job hiding the scar he had obtained during that tourney, which he grew to appreciate.

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At first, Valiete was unsure of how to take the hair and the beard. Then, as she would curiously run her nails through his scalp, and then grip his beard on both sides of his face, it became clear that she had become very enamored with it. She began scratching his beard or playing with his hair even at Eyrie functions, which slightly embarrassed him though, to be perfectly honest, he did not mind. When his beard was finally fully grown, he found that, when they were alone, it would cause Valiete to suddenly grab his hair, look at him up close with those blue eyes of hers, and whisper in a sultry tone, “Oh, lord husband...don't look at me that way...”

This led to a series of events with a happy result in January of 16 AL...

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And then another in February of 17 AL...

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In between these two births, much more happened, of course. One very important moment happened when Robar, only two-years of age, approached Ronnel with a very important question. He had come up to Ronnel when he and Valiete were in a small room, reading books on various subjects. Robar walked in with his little feet going pat pat pat on the floor, and, turning to Ronnel, immediately asked:

“Father, where do babies come from?”

Ronnel blinked, glancing over at his son, “W-what?!”

“Well...we have Edmore now...where did he come from?”

Valiete, who had looked up when Robar spoke, now looked to Ronnel with a mischevous gleam in her blue eyes. She let out a giggle, putting the book down upon a table and standing up, saying, “I shall leave this to you, husband – it is best sons learn this from their fathers.” She turned and left a much disparaged Ronnel looking on helplessly as he was abandoned. Turning back to his son, he cleared his throat and replied:

“Well...I uh...I...Maester Brus has not spoken with you about this yet?”

Robar bit his lip, shaking his head.

“Well, you see...well yes, um...” He cleared his throat, delaying in the hopes that some important message would be brought in requiring his assistance, and hence provide the perfect distraction. However, no such message was coming, and so he was stuck with a curious child looking at him and awaiting an answer. “Well, Robar, when a...when a lord and lady love one another they...they decide to have one, yes. That's it.”

“Oh,” Robar said, “so you and mother wanted to have Edmore? Did you want to have Myranda as well?”

“Oh yes, we wanted Myr Myr very much,” Ronnel said, smiling, feeling a tad more relaxed now, “and of course, we wanted to have you. So...does that answer your question?”

Robar smiled, nodding eagerly, “Oh yes! Thank you, father!”

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And at that exact moment, the door to the room creaked open, and a familiar bearded face peeked in. A few minutes late, you are, Ronnel thought rather bitterly. It was the maester of the Eyrie, a Stormlander named Brus. As far as maesters went, he was skilled in affairs of state, though knew little of war. Ronnel liked him, except he often had a way of looking at Valiete that made the lord paramount feel very uncomfortable.

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“Begging your lord's pardon, my lord,” Brus murmured, speaking redundantly for no discernable reason, “but I have received a report you may want to know about...”

“Oh?” Ronnel said. He stood up, patting Robar on the head and bidding him away. After the boy had left, Brus entered the room fully and shut the door, holding up a small piece of paper. Ronnel walked over and took it, reading it over. It was a message from Lord Eon: they had received word that Ser Artys Arryn, the son of Ronnel's Uncle Arstan, had run off and eloped with some courtier. Ronnel scanned the message bit more to try to find the courtier's name. He was somewhat unsurprised to discover who it was:

Rienne.

“Your Uncle Osmyn has already taken a small detachment of men to look for them,” explained Brus, “they went off to some small hamlet in the Vale, to do their marriage.”

Ronnel was still thinking about the bride in this elopement. She had come to him privately to try to seduce him, he had remembered. She had tried to draw him away from his wife...and been turned down flat for it. Now, it seems, she had left one Arryn to find another. The last thing Ronnel needed was his house tearing itself apart over troublesome courtiers.

“Keep me updated on what happens,” Ronnel told Brus, “and pray that Osmyn does not kill his nephew when he finds him.”

As it turned out, that would not be an issue...because Rienne and Artys had heard about Osmyn and his guard, and had chosen to flee. They had fled somewhere outside of the Vale, with the intent to settle in another court. Osmyn was furious over the “stupid boy”, and Arstan was quite embarrassed, but aside from that, the entire drama was short lived. Ronnel did not want to concern himself too much with the matter, and was privately happy that Rienne had left not only the Eyrie, but the Vale itself.

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Soon afterward, something far more tragic struck the court: the Master of Whispers for the Eyrie, Lord Kyle Wydman, died. He was a young man – only in his mid-30's – and the cause of death had not been of natural causes. From what Ronnel had heard, Lord Kyle had taken to great drinking, to the point of extreme intoxication on a nightly basis. The hedonistic lifestyle had finally taken its toll, and, according to some rumors, he had quite literally drowned in his own alcohol. How this was done, Ronnel was unsure, but Wycliffe now had a new lord, and Ronnel was in need of a new Master of Whisperers. He chose as his replacement a courtier by the name of Ser Damon Coldwater. Ser Damon was one of many who had personally asked to come to the Eyrie to serve directly under Ronnel, and now he was able to function on the council. For many, he was a man of infamous past: he had supposedly killed one of his own blood for whatever reason, and he was known to have little to no scruples about how to obtain information. However, he was very precise and thorough in his work, and had an excellent grasp of his surroundings, all of which made him very qualified for the position.

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Andrzej I

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HOUSE TYRELL
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Owen Tyrell
15th through 16th Years Since Aegon's Landing

Owen Tyrell had scarcely emerged from his chambers for nearly a fortnight, forsaking the training yards that he was once so fond of. The death of his second child, before she truly yet lived, had sapped much of his strength, and it was whispered that the love he bore for Princess Valaena was the only thing that preserved the Tyrell lordling. Already an austere man, Owen had taken to nearly starving himself in his despair, often eating but one meal a day. The only time that the Lord of Highgarden seemed to emerge from his chambers was late in the evening, skulking towards the septry in the dead of night. Though neither he nor his close kin were known to be pious men, the young lord seemed to find some bitter comfort amongst the graven statues of the Seven, kneeled before the Father and Mother in silent reflection.

As the moon glinted through the stained glass, painting the marbled Mother in a silvery hue, the shadowy figure of a curvaceous young lady stepped silently forward. Brushing a hand gently over Lord Tyrell's shoulder, she spoke quietly, noting, "M'lord, you are up oh so late…" Lord Tyrell listlessly broke his trance, looking up to see one of his courtiers, a lady by the name of Freya, looking meaningfully down at him. With a charming little smile, she continued, "Is there aught that I could do, to salve your wounded soul?" She hesitated a moment, concerned by the look that had crossed her liege's face, soon adding, "Any prayer that I might offer up to the Seven on your behalf, m'lord?"

The guarded look soon faded from Lord Tyrell, and though the heat within Freya's gaze was not matched in turn, Owen smiled fondly up to her, and with a single nod, replied, voice full of distress, "Pray that the Seven may lift their hand from upon my House. These past many years, it has been as though a curse has fallen upon my kin, and I fear that the Seven may wish to blot out my name." Looking away for but a moment, Owen heaves a heavy sigh, and then rising back up to his feet, Owen looks into Freya's deep blue eyes, and with a faint smile that was mimicry of his more charismatic youth, Lord Tyrell says in a hushed tone, "Thank you, Freya." Those three words seemed to set Freya's heart a flutter, and even as she was dismissed, she was blushing faintly, clearly scheming for the nights to come, leaving Owen oblivious and back to his prayers. It was not before long that he would have another visitor…

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"My Lord," came the rumbling, deep voice of the Defender of the Citadel, his tone full of empathy for the young man, "Your wife was distressed to not find you abed." Standing a full head above his young liege, Lord Banfred was clad in a doublet of dark grey wool, the sigil of his family's keep, the Hightower, stitched upon his breast. Lord Hightower soon took another silent step closer, his deep brown eyes seeming almost black in the darkness, "Will you not comfort her as she has you?" A pitiable smile from the Voice of Oldtown seemed to move Owen, and yet…

"I will in time," Lord Tyrell said in a hushed but firm tone. Upon closer inspection, Owen's head had not been bowed in some pious prayer, Lord Hightower would find, but in a vacant gaze to the tiled floor before the Father. His dark chestnut hair had grown unruly over the past few weeks, hiding those weary, forest green eyes that had long since run out of tears to shed.

"Perhaps then…" Banfred began, choosing his words carefully, "You might aid us in a matter of grave importance…" Seeing that such words stirred some interest in the Lord of Highgarden, Lord Hightower continued, still speaking in a low rumble of a voice, "Come, it is best that we speak elsewhere…" With that, Banfred extended a large hand out towards Owen, who accepted the gesture and rose shakily to his feet. With the candles of the faithful flickering behind them, lord and trusted retainer exited the sept, stepping into the dusky night.

Their quiet footsteps soon found themselves along the path to a secluded courtyard, tall, stark white columns standing like silent sentinels as Lord Hightower led Owen to one of the shadowy corners. It was only then that Lord Tyrell took note of the portly figure of his master-at-arms, Lord Rowan, arms crossed over his chest, the bald man clad in a deep scarlet doublet. Lord Hightower spoke again, noting, "It concerns Septon Garse. Lord Fossoway…" And at his name, another man stepped out of the darkness, nodding in affirmation as Banfred continued, "- was reviewing the expenses of the realm, and it appeared that your Lordship was losing a significant amount of hands to some unknown expense. When Lord Leygood investigated into the matter, it seems that our Septon, Septon Garse, has been stealing from your Lordship's treasury, claiming to have need of more gold in his efforts to soothe the woes of the masses…"

"We should cut off his hands," Lord Rowan growled out, his lips in a scowl as he gazed intently at Lord Tyrell. His hand was already upon the hilt of a dagger sheathed at his hip, eager to get down to the bloody business.

Pursing his lips, Owen seemed greatly distressed at the news. Septon Garse had served in Highgarden for many a year, and it was through his efforts that the smallfolk of Highgarden had come to cherish House Tyrell. How could he have betrayed him so? Shocked out of his distress, it was not before long that Owen's iron will surfaced again, and with a firm tone, he rebuked his master-at-arms, "No. He is a loyal man of House Tyrell, and a servant of the Faith, we shall not touch him." He paused a moment, letting this sink in before he adds, "But… Lord Rowan, you shall visit Septon Garse. Seize him and see that he spends the next seven days in a cell, for each of the Seven he has stole from." Appeased, his master-at-arms and other councillors nodded, and so it was that Lord Tyrell returned to his quarters and to the comfort of his beloved wife.

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It was not before long that such comforts bore fruit, with Princess Valaena falling pregnant again. Many months later, it seemed as though Freya's prayers and appeals had also bought purchase with the Seven, for a healthy young girl was born to Lord Tyrell and Princess Valaena, named Cassandra. Released after his week in the dungeon, Septon Garse was again giving generous alms to the smallfolk of Highgarden, and the harvest of the fields were bountiful beyond compare to the prior few years. Some of these funds were soon given over to Lord Fossoway for the construction of farms that would be directly owned by House Tyrell, ensuring that the lords of Highgarden would never be in want, even in lean years.

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Yet, even as good fortune fell upon House Tyrell, the dark cloud seemed to have merely moved. A raven soon arrived in Highgarden, addressing not only Lord Tyrell, but Lord Hightower as well. It appeared that in the past few days, men of the King had seized Lord Banfred's eldest son, Quenton, on charges of treason against the crown. Deeply moved and distraught, Lord Hightower begged Owen's leave, and was immediately granted it. What more, Lord Tyrell vowed to speak with his good-father on Lord Hightower's behalf, having grown close to the Dragon after the loss of two children. Yet, it would be for naught in the end, for even as the Voice of Oldtown rode hard upon the Roseroad, scarcely stopping to rest upon his journey to King's Landing, another raven arrived soon thereafter, noting Ser Quenton's death at the hands of the King himself. Merely a month later, another raven arrived in Highgarden, this time from Oldtown itself. Embittered at the loss of his son, Lord Banfred's only words upon reading the message were, "Dark wings, dark words…"

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Last edited:

Saxon125

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And so the Greyjoys pay the iron price, what is the exact cliam on the Reach and can you repell them.
 

NACBEAST

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My suspicion is that this isn't a war meant to go out and claim a part of The Reach, but rather just a way to simulate a full-on war with all the raiding that entails, since the actual raid for money casus belli got removed from the mod when The Old Gods expansion gave raiding its own full-on mechanic. At least, in terms of roleplaying this out. I don't quite imagine that even the Ironborn would declare war on a good-brother with the intent of taking his lands. Hell, Euron got banned from the Iron Islands for raping (or just seducing) his brother's wife.
 

cyrileom

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"Your low character is the subject of Braavosi plays."
Like Harren even knows what those are.
 

EtzelHoveri

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Dorne- House Martell
Part 5: 21-22

From her position atop one of the higher hills, Obara could see a wide range of territory. Every direction there was threats. To the west the Stone Way had nearly completely fallen into the hands of Orys Baratheon and his Stormlanders. She had dispatched Bors Santagar with two thousand reinforcements, but she doubted that would do anything to really slow Orys' advance.

Orys was bastard born, but had risen high. That was of course thanks to who his half brother was, the Dragon King himself. Throw in the fact that he was one of the greatest commanders of the North made the Stormlands an even greater threat then when it was ruled by the Last Storm King.

Even though Bors would not be able to stop Orys, she needed him to simply slow him down. Bog him down while they dealt with the other two threats to her Kingdom. In the opposite direction, word had come only yesterday that the Iron Islands had landed in Lemonwood. She had already summoned all of her people to meet her here at Chast Hill which allowed the Islanders to take no resistance when they landed. Twenty thousand men moving south through the Stone Way, another twenty just landed at Lemonwood.

If this wasn't bad enough, the greatest threat was to the east. It was here that the Dragon King had landed with his ten thousand men. Hundreds, no thousands of ships raced across the Sea of Dorne. Neither she, nor her advisors, saw this coming. The Targaryen power came from their dragons. This meant they needed soldiers on the field to distract the enemy army. For them to come by sea instead of marching meant their attack had come months earlier then expected. Her troops were still scattered across Dorne. Bors and others advocated for trying to hold Sunspear, but she knew it couldn't happen. A few hundred guards would not be able to hold this place against such a vast number of people who were on those ships.

Thus the retreat began.

In one quick and sudden strike, Aegon Targaryen had taken Sunspear and with it, the heart of those who followed her. Her people were still loyal and would fight to the death for her and Dorne, but now their heart was not truly into it. Their capitol taken without even a fight. She even knew it was shameful. She would see the place returned to her once her army was prepared.

Glancing down from the hilltop, she could not believe all the tents before her. Tents, cook fires, people moving about. There was so many people, so much activity. "How many people are we up to now Lewyn?"

Even though she was Princess of Dorne, this camp as well as the war effort was truly his. He decided to fall back from Sunspear as well as chose this location for the meeting of the troops. When they were at last ready to begin their attack, it would be him who led their forces. She was merely the figurehead when it came to war.

"Nearly eight thousand spears. At least triple that in women, children, and the elderly. A sizeable force that could force the Dragon King from our lands. However, if we move on them we will leave our one route of escape open to the Islanders to cut us off. Instead, we should wait for Lord Dayne to return from the Red Mountains. He will be here in the next month with another eight thousand spears. This will be enough to force Aegon back into the sea, protect our flank, and reclaim Sunspear."

She could not wait for Lyreon Dayne to return. With Bors gone as well as Lyreon, Lewyn had taken on even more responsibilities. Captain of her guard, lead bodyguard, head of a spy ring within Dorne, and now Marshall of the Dorne army. This was more than any one person should have to do, but there was no one else she could turn to.

All of this, thousands of people forced into the desert from their homes and living because one man refused to accept the marriage which would have brought about a more lasting peace. Why would he not just set a date, such a simple thing. Instead, he chose to send thousands of people into her lands which will result in the death of tens of thousand if not hundreds of thousands of people. They could have made the transition of Dorne from its own Kingdom to another vassal of the Iron Throne peacefully. But no.

Noticing movement to the east, Obara's head spun that way. There was nothing. She could have sworn she saw something in her peripheral. "It was Caleotte Fowler," came her cousin's voice from beside her.

"What?"

"That movement you are searching for. That was Caleotte. He is returning from his mission." This time she looked back towards her cousin. Taking this cue, he continued, "To protect the Martell children, Caleotte along with a number of guards and his wife set out last night. Delonne, Quentyn, and Elia, along with his own children and Lewyns were taken into hiding."

Before she started screaming at him, Lewyn rested his hand on her shoulder. "We will not likely retake Sunspear, nor do I expect us to win this war. When we do at come into contact with Aegon, he will send his dragons and only a few of us will leave this place alive. So we took actions to protect all of our children.

"Though we do not know where they went into hiding, they are being taken care of by our sister. Emberlei will make sure they are well taken care of. Now before you hunt down Caleotte to force him to tell you where he took your children, remember that he lost more today than us. Not only did he have to take his children to safety, likely never to see them again, he also had to say good bye to his wife.

"When we meet our end, all of us will have our loved ones with us until that day. He had to say goodbye to his children and Emberlei. His family will survive, but he will have to spend these next weeks, months, maybe if we're lucky, years, without seeing them. Death will almost feel like a reward for him when it does come."

Knowing her brother was right, Obara took his advice once again. Turning her attention west she waited for signs of Lord Dayne.
 

NACBEAST

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Eager to see the Targaryen half of this. I wonder what's caused the collapse of the relations that Aegon had thought to make firm. I mean, sure, in game terms it's obvious, Dorne would've never become a vassal of the Iron Throne through marriage, it can't happen mechanically without the King directly inheriting Dorne himself (unlikely to say the least), but in roleplay terms I wonder what's got Aegon so flustered... the lunatic event triggered, I wonder?
 

Aidun

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Dragon conquest CB gives the defender a chance to submit without a fight and swear fealty to the attacker. I initially thought to use that event chain to our advantage. But eh, things went a bit differently. We're so far into the game that my chapters - which tend to cover several years - seem to always spoil what is going to happen in someone else's storyline. But oh well. I'll try to have mine out soon.
 

Andrzej I

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HOUSE TYRELL
untitled.png

Owen Tyrell
16th through 19th Years Since Aegon's Landing

Unlike many years before, when Lord Harren had gone reaving amongst the Summer Isles, the Iron Fleet that had set sail was an awe-inspiring sight. From Grimstone, Lord Ganton Grimm had spotted only the very edge of the Iron Fleet, sailing deep in the Sunset Sea. Ever a diligent man, Lord Grimm had sent word ahead to Oldtown and the Arbor, ensuring that Oldtown was well-prepared when the Iron Fleet of nearly four hundred longships was spotted in the Whispering Sound. Though Lord Tyrell prayed that it was not so, another raven arrived but a day after the first, confirming the ill news, the greatest city in all Westeros was under attack.

Ever since the death of his eldest son, Lord Hightower had come to rely upon the ignoble Lord Normund Beesbury to govern over Oldtown while he, himself, aided Lord Owen in Highgarden. Though a secretive fellow, and one despised by the Faith, Lord Beesbury was an ever-vigilant man, and so when word arrived from Greyshield that a sizable Iron Fleet was sailing south, Lord Beesbury had prepared the few warships in House Hightower's service, and notified some several merchants that he might call upon them in the coming days. Such prudence paid off, for though the fleet of Oldtown could not take the fight to the Iron Fleet, it seemed to have deterred the Ironmen from landing within the city proper, forcing Lord Greyjoy to land his troops in Hapsford while the Iron Fleet blockaded the port. While Lord Beesbury saw to the defense of Oldtown's walls, Ser Mallon Hightower, the youngest son of Lord Banfred, commanded the ships, ensuring the Ironmen could not come ashore within Oldtown.

Armies.png
Roused from his despondency, Lord Tyrell soon called upon his banners to march to the relief of Oldtown, raising a force of some twenty-one thousand men within a short matter of time. Before he was to depart, Lord Tyrell sent a raven to the Eyrie, fearing that this raid upon Oldtown might be the harbinger of darker things to come. Together with the Shield Island lords Ganton Grimm and Edwyn Chester, Owen Tyrell drove his men hard down the Roseroad toward Honeyholt, and from there to Oldtown. But a few weeks later, another twelve thousand men led by Lord Samwell Tarly departed Highgarden to reinforce Lord Owen's assault from the east, to be supplied by Lord Mullendore.

Even in his sullen mood, Lord Owen Tyrell was a fearsome foe, relentless against his enemies. With nearly four hundred armoured knights, the very flower of chivalry, the Reach army was an impressive force. Immediately upon hearing that his scouts had spied the Greyjoy force, Owen called his marshals to array their forces for combat. The sight surely must have intimidated the Ironmen, for before the cavalry of the Reach could engage, spurred on by the rousing commands of Lord Tyrell, the invaders took to their ships, sailing away from Oldtown. Within a short time, Lord Greyjoy ventured to Highgarden with Lady Falia, now called 'the Black Rose', and peace was had between the two kingdoms once again.

Peace.png
As the months passed, and Highgarden continued to grow due to the prosperity that House Tyrell had brought it, the influx of more smallfolk brought with it a certain squalor that Highgarden had not experienced before. Soon, Princess Valaena fell gravely ill, confined to her bed as she coughed bitterly. Finding that his prayers to the Seven had availed him before, Lord Tyrell soon returned to the septry of Highgarden with renewed fervor, ordering the commissioning of a new statue in appeal for his beloved wife's health. Though it would be many weeks, the Stranger passed over the Targaryen princess, and she recovered to her vigorous health before long. Alas that she would not be the only one to suffer so.

IllnessValaena.png
But a few weeks after her mother, young Cassandra seemed to have caught the influenza that had seized Princess Valaena. In the young heiress to the Reach, the illness seemed to have taken a strong hold, the young girl coughing up blood from her condition. Committed to doing what he could to aid his ailing family, Lord Tyrell soon entrusted more and more to the members of his closest council, something that Lord Rowan took full advantage of. As master-at-arms and captain of the guard, Lord Moryn Rowan was in charge of training the soldiers directly within Lord Tyrell's service. Whereas Lord Owen was a gallant and amiable fellow, Lord Moryn would show no mercy to his recruits in their training, drilling them relentlessly. Several soldiers came to Lord Tyrell, begging that he would intervene on their behalf, but sapped of his strength over the many years of ordeals, Owen refused to intervene against Lord Rowan's actions, leading many to doubt if Lord Tyrell was not a broken man. Such rumours only grew when young Cassandra passed away, the Stranger taking Lord Owen's child and heir for a third time.

CassDeath.png
The rumours were not without due evidence. Within a matter of days after burying his third child, Lord Tyrell soon developed the same symptoms that had plagued his wife and seized his child, soon committed to bed. Strained over the increasing burden of governance, Lord Banfred Hightower soon called upon Ser Quenton, a talented knight and commander in service to Lord Tarly, taking him directly into Lord Tyrell's employ, all while working closely with Lord Rowan and Lord Fossoway to govern over the Reach on Lord Tyrell's behalf. Confined to his sickbed, Lord Owen soon gave in to his sorrows once again, and all the great vigour that had characterized his youth seemed to be entirely spent.

Quenton.png
In hopes of rekindling the flame within his young liege's heart, Lord Hightower called for a falcon to be obtained from the Eyrie, vowing to Lord Tyrell that the sport would do him well once he recovered from his illness. In the end, the idea proved to be of ill fortune, for the bird would not cooperate with the hounds, attacking them with its talons before soaring high into the skies before the kennel master could strike it. Seeing that the Seven had returned to conspiring so strongly against him and his household, Lord Tyrell soon gave into despair, sleeping away much of the day as he languished through his illness, Princess Valaena at his bedside every day to try to soothe her husband's plighted soul.

As days passed, Owen's fever rose alarmingly. He dreamt of the fields of golden roses outside of Highgarden, where he had adventured as a youth, then dreamt of himself, a man aged and wizened, surrounded by a countless progeny and their own children, his beloved Valyrian wife held close by his side. He dreamt of those days when he had squired for Aegon the Conqueror, and dreamt of serving in the deserts of Dorne at his side as he united Westeros, something they had long desired. He dreamt of his sisters, both wed to lords paramount, aiding in the rule of two of the seven kingdoms, and how both had been so close to him when they were young. He dreamt, then, of a fierce dragon, grander than even Balerion the Black Dread. It roared but once, and then Owen, Lord of Highgarden, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South dreamt no more.

OwenDeath.jpg
 
Last edited:

Dayni

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....

Dayum! (Couldn't help myself)

Sucks to see one house dead already, this early on and in such a sickly way. No grand battle, no tangled webs, just illness taking the Tyrells out of the game.

So what happens now?
 

Saxon125

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Well damn, rest in peace Owen, who rules the reach now and what happens after this.