Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. The hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provoked by Lord Jaycen himself. A flash of his youngest daughter, Briala, popped into his head. The girl who died as an infant, barely even a year old. These were the thoughts that haunted Jaycen’s memories the most. The next memory that occurred was slightly different, it was one of his children yet not exactly a bad memory. The bastard daughter that had ran away from home, once again provoked entirely by Jaycen, and achieved many great feats.* Alara.* At first, Jaycen felt a sense of regret for how he treated her. Soon he felt proud of girl that was not his daughter, coming to realise the stubbornness that he had was showing in her aswell. He deeply wished to apologise to Alara, though he knew that the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal. It was because of Alara and Ryman that Jaycen’s relationships with the rest of his family were stretched. The pointless death and cruelty had made his children lose a lot of respect for their father, to which he deeply regretted.
The sound of his chamber doors opening pulled him away from his focussed trance, he turned to see his wife standing at the door. Lady Meghan, the woman he loved dearly yet let her break his heart. It was because of his stubbornness and lack of emotion to her, that she got the impression that Jaycen no longer loved her. Therefore, she cheated with King Qarlton, Alara’s father. Jaycen shook the thought away, already feeling the sadness trying to lay another burden on him. He stared at the beautiful woman who stood in front of him. She had aged well in the years, her hair was still light brown but grey strands could be identified. Fine wrinkles have begun to appear on her pretty face, though she is better off compared to Jaycen, or at least in his own opinion. He stared into her amber eyes, which were almost similar to those of a cat, but found that she instantly broke eye contact with him. Jaycen lowered his eyes to the floor, guilt and mild frustration crawled over him.
“Can I help you with something, my lady?” A weak smiled appeared on Meghan’s face, but she shook her head.
“A rider, from Griffin’s Roost, awaits you in the courtyard. He has word from King Qarlton…” Anger and remorse filled Jaycen’s thoughts as he heard the man’s name. Though curiosity replaced it when he replayed her sentence in his head.
“Griffin’s Roost? Strange that the Connington’s would be playing messenger for Qarlton…” His wife nodded awkwardly, to which he stood up. “Right, thank you. I’ll head there immediately.” He quickly turned and closed the shutters to his window.
As he made way to his chamber’s doors, he glanced at his lady wife. She looked as if she wanted to say something, though the words were not coming out. He wanted to sit down and talk to her, perhaps it would be a start to repairing the damage between them, but right now there was no time. He left her standing in the doorway as he walked passed her and down the corridor.
-
The courtyard was dry and mostly empty, except for the rider that was patiently waiting. Lord Jaycen’s second born son and heir, Gareth, stood talking to the messenger, though it appeared that their conversation was limited. Jaycen stopped in front of the two young men, trying to seem cheery though it did not work. Jaycen’s face instead appeared stern and cold as always, the two men went quiet. The messenger dismounted his horse and knelt in front of Jaycen.
“My lord, I am Keat Musgood, squire to Lord Gryff Connington. I come here from Griffin’s Roost with word of the king.” The boy had brown hair and wore bronze shoulder armour with the Connington griffin on his tabard.
“Rise, Keat of House Musgood. Please, come into my halls and dine with us. Then you may tell us of why you have come here.” The man graciously nodded, Jaycen turned to Gareth. “Have him taken to one of the guest rooms so he may have a moment to relax, we will be serving meals within the hour.” Gareth glared at Jaycen in return, but followed his order.
Once the courtyard was empty, Jaycen let out a loud sigh and sat himself down on the sandy ground. Warm transcended from the sand into his hands, making him feel a sense of comfort. A part of him wished he would never have to get up, but he knew that would not be the case. A gentle hand touched Jaycen’s shoulder, half startling him and half comforting him. He looked up to see his eldest daughter, Bethany. He gave her a weak smile, to which she smiled back. Out of all of his family, Bethany was probably the only member that showed some kindness to him.
“You okay dad?” She lifted her skirt and sat down next to him, her features replicated that of her mother when she was young. Though there were some dissimilarities, her eyes were green like his and she wore her auburn hair in locks.
“Yes little bird, I just have a lot on my mind.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled.
“How many times must I tell you to stop calling me that? It’s only been for the past decade…” For once, Jaycen found himself laughing. Though it was a short laughter, it was still an improvement.
“You’ll always be my little bird, there’s no getting away from that.” Bethany frowned and helped herself up.
“Come on father, I believe we have to inform the cook that a feast needs to be prepared.” Jaycen lightly nodded and stood himself up. The two headed back to the main doors of the Tweeting Hall.
-
Jaycen reclined in his cushioned chair feeling bloated from the main course. It had consisted of honey glazed pork, marinated aurochs and roasted horned lizard. Jaycen washed it down with a mouthful of imported northern mead. He felt the urge to belch, but manners kept it from coming up. After Jaycen was sure that everyone had finished their meals, he called in the servants to clear the tables. He was happy to see that Keat looked somewhat cheery.
“That was delightful my lord, you will have to remind me to come down more often.” He said as he downed his fourth cup of ale. Jaycen wanted to chuckle, but the feeling was not there. Instead, he decided to question him about his mission.
“So, what is this important news you come all the way down to the Marches with?” Keat gently placed his cup down and straightened himself, as if entering a work mode.
“His grace is rallying the bannermen to conquer Massey’s Hook. He calls on you, and the other houses of the Stormlands, to rally with him to war.” Jaycen quietly cursed. And what of the Dornish Raiders, your grace? He could hear himself asking, he stowed it.
“How many men does he need?” Keat shook his head sadly.
“My apologies, lord. I am unaware of the exact details, I am only a messenger.” Jaycen nodded irritably, though he did his best to keep a calm expression.
“Young Musgood, you have been a delightful guest in my home. Perhaps you could stay the night and rest until morning?” Keat’s eyes widened, seeming somewhat shocked but gracious.
“My lord, that is… Very kind of you to offer. If that is of no issue to you?” Jaycen shook his head.
“It is of no issue at all, it has been an absolute pleasure to have you here. Please, allow me to have one of my servants escort you to your room.” The young man laughed.
“Thank you, my lord. You are very kind.” A servant quickly approached Musgood, helped him from his chair and escorted him out of the room. Jaycen looked around, the table was cleared.
“Everyone but my family may now leave us.” Servants and guards quickly exited the hall, until it was only the four of them left.
Jaycen clenched his hands, trying to conceal his anger. To his left sat his wife, and next to her was Bethany. To his right sat Gareth, in the seat that once belonged to Ryman. Jaycen let out a loud sigh.
“Typical Qarlton trying to screw me over when something of great importance is approaching my life. The damned raiders-” Jaycen was interrupted by the slamming of a fist on the table. It was Gareth’s.
“Forget the damn raiders, it’s all in your head father. The last time you thought they were going to attack you led a skirmish which got your eldest son killed. Would you have our house fall because you worry about things that will not ever occur?” The young man’s face was red with anger, or fear of opposing his father.
“Gareth please.” Meghan quietly said in an attempt to calm her son, though Gareth was to have none of it.
“Please nothing. You can find me in my quarters if you want me.” Gareth violently stood up and exited the room, Bethany quickly chased after him.
Jaycen and Meghan were the only ones left in the room. Silence filled the hall, making Jaycen feel uneasy. He wanted to storm out as well, hit something in the training yards, though he was no longer a young man with little ambitions. He now had responsibilities, and he could not complete them if he had so many issues with his family.
[Try and talk to Meghan] [Apologise to Gareth and Bethany]
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
Awesome part! It was great reading about the Carons. Jaycen was especially great, but I loved all of them
As for this choice, while some time with his kids can never be bad for him or for them, Jaycen and Meghan really need to talk and now's an opportunity.
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. T… morehe hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provo… [view original content]
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the flooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the few fortunate knights to be offered the luxurious chambers that King Qyle had at his disposal. The only other knights that had chambers were his two sons, Jaime and Marvion.
Darren rested his head back and found his eyes shutting themselves, he was deprived of his sleep from the amount of work he had recently been doing for the king. Darren felt relaxed and calm, something he did not feel as much as he used to. A part of him truly missed not being bounded by rules and duty, but he knew that this was a new step in life which would be for the best. Darren grabbed for his sword as he felt the shaking of his arm. The moment of relaxation had now replaced itself with the alertness and stress which he had tried to get rid of. Darren looked up to his accuser of rest, to which he quickly lowered his blade once he identified who it was. Jaime Corbray, speak of the Seven. The young knight stood over him wearing his steel shoulder pads and braces, he was always one to travel light. His hair was wavy and fell down to the mid of his neck, it was messy though not out of place. His face was cleanly shaven and there was not a dimple in sight. He was the typical sweetheart of the kingdom. The second born lifted his hands and backed away grinning, Darren noticed the guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords. Darren shook his head and laughed.
“My bad, there’s only so much stress one knight can handle before he goes over the edge.” Jaime laughed and slowly the guards rested their hands and backed away. They still don’t trust me.
“I understand, it’s not all that easy being the son of the king either…” Jaime said as he sat himself next to Darren.
“Huh, tell that to the smallfolk.” Darren watched as Jaime frowned. He began to start removing his bits of armour, though he still struggled.
“Seven Hells!” The irritated young man cursed as he attempted for the fifth time to undo the leather strap. He looked to Darren with gleaming eyes. “Could you give me a hand?” Darren laughed.
“You chose not to have a squire young man, if you want your armour removed than you’ll get a squire.” The young knight rolled his eyes and continued at his straps.
“You don’t have a squire, why should I?” Darren observed as Jaime tugged on the leather strapping, tightening it around his arm. He sighed and undid the steel buckle, releasing the strap.
“You need help to undo your armour, like most knights. Does that not say enough?” Jaime ignored him and pulled off his shoulder piece, he then moved onto his bracers. “Why are you wearing your gear anyway?” Jaime slipped off the bracer and placed it down.
“I just returned from the Vale. The Winged Knight, Artys Arryn, has been building an army to fight against the First Men. I informed him that the Corbray’s will be at his side in battle.” Darren raised his eyebrows. It seems some knight’s can become greater than others.
Silence filled the hall for a long moment, though it was concluded when the large birchwood doors began to open. Two guards exited with a man walking behind them. His hair was a light brown and he had a light stubble. His eyes were gray and had a certain look about them. He wore a purple tunic, though the next thing that Darren noticed made him grab for his sword. Bronze. Jaime quickly and discreetly grabbed Darren’s arm and shook his head. Darren glared at the free First Man as he left the Hall.
-
King Qyle sat in his heart shaped throne as he talked to his two sons. Darren had sat himself on a marble pillar, close enough to hear the conversation but too far to be included in it. The man was tired and worried that he could say anything now without control, so he sat and listened. Qyle consulted with his sons what seemed like a basic war plan, though he had not mentioned anything about why they had brought the First Men into their kingdom.
“I do not plan to let them take our castle as they took Gulltown. We will meet them with force, and that force will be led by myself. Marvion, you will be in charge of the defense, it is of no doubt to me that some will avoid the battle and target Heart’s Home. You will turn every home into a battle station, armor every man with a weapon and protect our home. Jaime, you will lead the women and children to the Vale, where they will be in the safe hands of the Falcon Knight.” Darren could see the frustration and disappointment build on Jaime’s face.
“Father, I was just at the Vale! I want to fight by your side!” Qyle shook his head.
“I will not argue with you over this, you will take them to the Vale. Both of you are dismissed, I have other matters to attend to.” Marvion bowed and turned towards the door, Jaime reluctantly bowed.
Darren watched the two young men leave the room. When the doors made a thud as they shut, Darren could hear Qyle sigh. He reclined and rested his hands on the arms of the throne. He closed his eye and took in a deep breath, Darren could understand where his tiredness had come from.
“Oh Darren, what am I going to do?” He said miserably in a tired voice. Darren shook his head.
“Be more specific Qyle, I am without rest as well.” Qyle quietly chuckled, opening his eyes.
“Apologies my friend, I will not keep you long. No doubt you were listening to that conversation, what are your thoughts?” The question struck Darren back a little, his mind was not exactly in the game right now. He took a little while to respond, trying to think of the right words to say.
“I think you have made the right choice with Marvion, though perhaps not with Jaime. He may not be all experienced, but you did make him a knight. Really he should be squire to this Arryn knight, as I hear he is doing so well. Though I do have one question with your plan.” Qyle sat himself up and raised an eyebrow.
“And what’s that?” Darren stood himself up and walked closer to the throne so he could talk with ease.
“Before entering your great throne room I saw a sorry sight. Why have you brought one of the First Men into your palace? Where does he fit into your great plan?” Qyle smiled, seeming somewhat pleased that Darren asked.
“His name is Wyllam Belmore, and if you have not figured it out by the name then I will say that I am trying to get the Belmore navy on our side for this war. With such an ally we could become the ruling kingdom of the east, I feel that they may be what turns the tide of this war.” Darren nodded, feeling gracious that he had received a decent answer. Now he was curious why he was here.
“I presume you had some other reason for me to be here, rather than for my counsel?” Qyle laughed.
“Forgive me Darren, I growing old and my memory is not as it was in my prime. I wish to request something of you. As you know I have sent Jaime back to the Arryn, but I wonder if you might go with him. What you advised before hand was good, but unfortunately now is no longer logical. Everyone presumes that a knight knows the basics when it comes to… Well, knighthood. I have not had the time to teach Jaime as I have been so focused on Marvion, and I can only wonder if you could teach him. Of course, I do not want to place such a burden on you if you do not wish it. Your help will be needed on the battlefield, don’t think that I have forgotten when we first met. You saved me from nearly a dozen of the First Men with your bare hands!” Darren laughed.
“Your memory has failed you old man! I had my sword.” The two men laughed and went silent for a little while.
“So what is your decision? Will you train my son, or fight with me in the battlefield?”
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale] [Stay and fight in the war to come]
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
This sounds like an interesting idea. I greatly enjoyed the talk between Darren and Jaime. They have an interesting relationship and I'd like to see more of it.
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
Davios lay in his bunk, the pain that thrusted through his body was now minimal compared to his throbbing broken hand. Every minute was agony, there was no rest and at moments he wished someone would kill him. It had been two days of uncertainty of whether Davios should have the hand removed. Davios had already decided to have the damned thing removed, though he knew it was the pain that was driving him to do so. Hughie had been highly against having the hand removed, though Jorio had sided with Piggy in the ideal that the infection would kill Davios. Either way, Davios just wanted to pain to go. With all the mayhem and other catastrophes happening aboard the ship, Davios had not yet been able to talk to Vysela about The Cobra - not that he was in his rightful self to do so. Davios rolled himself over, carefully trying to avoid moving his hand in a bad position. To his surprise he saw Hughie and Vysela sitting next to him. The two whispered to each other, not realising they now had Davios as an audience. Davios decided he did not have the energy to intervene, so he shut his eyes and listened to the beautiful Valyrian whispers.
“Young falcon, perhaps it would be wise to side with the fat man on this. Your friend will not survive much longer, we have sat by his side for many hours and seen no improvement.” Vysela’s voice sounded sullen and without hope. Hughie sighed.
“Perhaps, but I couldn’t live with myself if he lost his hand for nothing. We are bound to arrive at Andalos any day now. Then we could quickly rush him to a doctor and all can be well.” Vysela replied with a light giggle.
“If only the rest of us could live in your perfect world, my falcon. Perhaps we could sneak back to the storage room again?” Davios’ eyes were closed, though his eyebrow raised instinctively.
He opened his eyes and found the two in each other's arms leaning in for a kiss. Davios cleared his throat, making the two instantly pull away from each other. Vysela quickly stood up and hurried out of the hull and topside, Hughie was still frozen still. Davios sighed and rested his head, again being careful of moving his injured hand. After a short moment Hughie calmed down again. He looked Davios in the eye with curiosity and some sadness.
“How’re you feeling bud?” Davios grunted and shook his head.
“I’ve been better, my falcon.” Davios chuckled at his joke, though the humour quickly left him as his hand lightly touched the bed frame. Hughie quickly rushed to his side and elevated Davios’ hand back into the makeshift sling that had been made earlier.
“Easy now, I see it is not getting any better. I really didn’t want it to come to this but it’s either your hand or your life. I’ll get Piggy.” Hughie stood himself and began to walk away, though Davios tried to stall him.
“Hughie, wait.” Hughie stopped and turned, looking Davios in the eye. “I need to know some things, about Vysela…” Hughie nodded and sat himself on the bunk opposite Davios.’
“What do you need to know?” Davios looked at the young man in his one good eye. He hesitated, then quietly spoke.
“Have you talked to her about who may have possibly done this to you? It was Cobra’s dagger after all.” Hughie’s expression looked sad and angry, though his voice was calm.
“I seldom talked to her about her previous lover. Whenever I bring him up she is quick to sadden. I do not think it was either of them who did this to me. I understand a lot of the original crew hold a grudge against me because I thought I was higher than them, to which now I realise how stupid I was, but I can’t place a finger on who would have done this. Now, you won’t stall me any further. I will go inform Piggy.” Davios sighed and cursed under his breath as he watched the stubborn Arryn walk away and ascend the stairs to the deck.
Davios felt the blood in his arm rushing down to his shoulder blades, and a spiky feeling beginning to attack his hand. It made him want to smash his hand against the wall, though he knew that would do him little good. Davios could do nothing now but think, and the sleepless nights had introduced many thoughts that he had not pondered on for many years. His father, Simon Tallman, had raised Davios as a single parent. Jenifire, Davios’ mother, had died while giving birth to Davios - leaving Simon to raise the young baby boy. Simon was a zealous man, and Davios could see that trait had been passed down to him through nurture. The whole reason Davios had come to Westeros was to avenge his father, who had been taken from him by a lord of the First Men. That lord now had his father’s sword, and now Davios felt regret for he may never be able to get it back.
Davios’ thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a springy bed being sat on. Davios turned to his right to see the young skinny man, Jorio, sitting on the same bed that Hughie just was. Davios realised it was the first time since the battle that he had seen the man without his book. He hands gently felt around the bed in a circular motion. He then pulled his left leg up and crossed it over his right. Davios noticed there was something off with him, though he pushed the feeling away.
“Where’s your book?” Jorio smiled and clasped his hands together.
“Oh I finished that monstrosity, I think it may have inspired me to travel to Braavos when all of this is over.” Davios sighed, those were the last words he wished to hear.
“Can I help you with anything, Jorio?” Jorio raised an eyebrow, then laughed.
“No no big boy, you’re in no position to do anything right now. No, I though it was time to confess.” Davios’ heart started to beat faster, listening to the tone in Jorio’s voice was making him feel nervous - even more so since he was defenseless. Davios took in a deep breath and looked at the gaunt man.
“Confess what?” Davios sighed and gently smiled.
“Well, let’s start from the beginning shall we? When I first met you, I knew there was something about you which I had never found in any man before. You were strong and capable, serious and zealous. A true man with true passion. I like that. When you saved me from the three misfits, I knew you were the one. Seven hells, it was as if the Seven had chosen you. Anyway, I had been trying to build up the courage to ask you, but I was always so shy. So to think when I saw you spending more of your time with goody two shoes, I felt confident you were like me. Though you were not with me.” Davios stared at the man intently.
“What are you trying to say Jorio?” Jorio shook his head angrily.
“You will not interrupt me!” He took in a breath, trying to calm himself down, and continued his story. “As I was saying, you had chosen the royal bird over myself. I tried to pull you away from him, tell you he was only trouble, but you didn’t listen. So then I realised I was left with no other choice, he had to go. When the night was at its darkest, and the sea was at its calmest, I took the opportunity to take the snake’s dagger and lunge it into your little friend’s eye. Seven hells I hoped it would kill him, I had never killed a man before. Though of course, the fucker lives on and tries to steal you from me.” Davios raised his eyebrows, none of this made sense.
“Jorio, you were not even suspected. You could have kept your mouth shut and no one would have ever known. Why did you do it? I gave Hughie a chance because the man needed a friend, an ally.” Jorio shook his head frustratedly.
“What would be the point of keeping this to myself? I did this all because I love you! Though you do not love me, instead some royal blooded fuck who now has only one eye. Though do not worry, my love, for you will not remember any of this when you wake up. Here, drink.” Jorio forced Davios mouth open a poured liquid down his throat. Davios tried to not swallow it, but Jorio had blocked his nose and forced him to swallow if he wanted to breathe. Davios’ head instantly began to feel dizzy, the gaunt man now spun around his vision, making him question his senses. Darkness began to eat away at his vision, until all was black.
-
Brightness. Everywhere light shone and attacked Davios’ weary eyes. He blinked many-a-time, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. The light dulled down, Davios noticed that the sky and sea were misty, it was the darkness in the hulls which had confused his vision. In front of him was a low wooden block, Harlan stood behind it with a large butcher’s knife in his hand. Davios noticed he was being dragged to this block by Piggy and Hughie. Davios murmured and grunted, making Hughie jump.
“Shit! He’s awake. We can’t do this if he’s awake!” Hughie’s voice was in panic and distress. Harlan’s thick accent pierced through the young man’s fear.
“Like hell we can’t, hold him down. This will be over before you know it.” Davios’ senses began to come back to him, he started to realise what was going on. He did not like it. Panic began to overwhelm him, making him a struggle to control.
“Davios please! This will be over quickly!” Piggy said, trying to reassure him. Davios looked up at the fat bald man and hesitated. He calmed himself down and nodded. I agreed to this.
Piggy placed Davios’ left arm on the wooden block. Hughie ripped off a bit of his shirt, knelt down and placed it in Davios’ mouth.
“Bite on this. Hard.” Davios did so. He looked around for something he could rest his thoughts on, though he found nothing.
Davios looked up to Harlan, whose face was sick with cruelty. He was enjoying this far too much. Davios shook his head and focussed his attention to the bow of the Friendship, he felt a gentle fat pair of hands grip Davios’ left arm to keep it still. Davios’ breathing grew heavier, anxiety began to build up in him. Davios recognised a familiar face at the bow of the ship, he was gaunt and skinny. He spun his knife into the air, caught it, then repeated the process. He wore a wide grin on his face but Davios could not figure out why. In fact, he could not remember much of the past day. The next thing he heard scared him.
“Harlan, do it.” Piggy’s voice was shaking and unsure.
“With pleasure.” Harlan said, a certain sense of evil hidden in his voice.
The pain in Davios’ arm seemed non-existent for a split second, then the pain that had once lived in his wrist now existed in his wrist. He felt the blood gushing out, and a bandage quickly wrapping around it to try and cut off the blood. Davios could not help but to scream, which was mostly blocked by Hughie’s shirt in his mouth. The pain was extreme, making him ‘jump through the roof’ numerous times. During all this he still stared into Jorio’s eyes with discomfort. Then his vision began to fail him, going red then black and it felt like the veins in his head were about to burst. The last thing he heard was a crew member from the distance. Land Ahoy!
No decision this time.
Hey guys, sorry there is no decision with this one. I am kind of hoping I can get more votes for the Darren part, to which I will be giving another three days until closing point. Why three days you may ask? Well because I am going camping for three days. As for not writing much recently, I have been getting sucked into Fallout 4 and have barely been motivated to write. Though I think I found the motivation tonight... Anyway, next part I think will be a Steffon part.
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
Davios
Davios lay in his bunk, the pain that thrusted through his body was now minimal compared to his throbbing broken hand. Every minut… moree was agony, there was no rest and at moments he wished someone would kill him. It had been two days of uncertainty of whether Davios should have the hand removed. Davios had already decided to have the damned thing removed, though he knew it was the pain that was driving him to do so. Hughie had been highly against having the hand removed, though Jorio had sided with Piggy in the ideal that the infection would kill Davios. Either way, Davios just wanted to pain to go. With all the mayhem and other catastrophes happening aboard the ship, Davios had not yet been able to talk to Vysela about The Cobra - not that he was in his rightful self to do so. Davios rolled himself over, carefully trying to avoid moving his hand in a bad position. To his surprise he saw Hughie and Vysela sitting next to him. The two w… [view original content]
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the … moreflooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the… [view original content]
Hey guys! This post hasn't much to say, but more to ask. As of now I am writing the Steffon part (my apologies for the long wait) and will continue with the Invasion until the end of the Chapter. Now, the next part. Would you lot like me to start up The Northern Chill now? Or once the Invasion's chapter is over? Right now I do not have an exact estimate of how much there is left in this chapter, as it is still growing (and will likely be larger than the previous chapter).
I'm on holiday's now so it shouldn't be as much of an issue to start up TNC now, but I'll leave it to demand. Thanks for taking the time to read this guys
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or perhaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked the mercenary in the eyes, he saw fear and unease.
Steffon looked around him, the crowd’s behaviour was mixed with negative and positive gestures. The majority were cheering for him, encouraging him to beat the mercenary to the ground. He turned his eyes back to the boy, who he was sure was now soiling himself. The fight had been challenging, and his opponent was worthy, though there was something off about beating the man senseless. What have I become. Steffon noticed his hands beginning to shake, pulling them apart from each other. He let his arms fall downwards, hitting his ripped trousers. His torso was bloody and bruised, pain had only now began to occur. Steffon sighed and thought of his liege’s words, as his own were barely fitting for the situation. Winter is Coming. And we will need to unite if we are to survive. The thought completely extinguished the angry flame that burnt inside of him. He offered his hand to the bloody boy and helped him up. The young man seemed gracious and thankful.
“None shall know.” Steffon said, the respect he gave was instinctive.
“Death whispers.” The young mercenary replied, instantly notifying Steffon of the house the man belongs to. Blackwoods.
The two nodded and exchanged bows then exited the ring. Steffon clumsily did so, fortunately not falling into the wet mud beneath him. The mass crowd cleared a path for Steffon to exit, to which he was somewhat grateful - if only in his head. Ahead of him were two horses drinking at a water trough. Steffon quickly dunked his head into the freezing water, though he found himself not wanting to leave immediately. He felt the cold elements starting to freeze his rough and bruised face. He stared down at the wooden bottom, a tint of red began to fill the once clear water. The seemingly calm transcendence quickly faded away as a strong tug pulled the depressed man out of the trough. Anger and frustration filled Steffon’s mind, he turned around to see his disturber. A young man with a sad face stood over him, his hair and beard were messy and a dark orange. He still wore his leather padded armour, though he only carried his daggers.
“General.” Steffon miserably said, falling to his arse and resting his back against the trough.
“General.” Daniel replied, a weak smile showing on his face. Steffon looked at the man with confusion, but had little energy to interrogate him about it.
“Can I help you with something?” Steffon’s voice lacked positive emotion, leaving him sounding tired and miserable. Daniel shook his head.
“I saw your fight.” Steffon started to feel embarrassed, he had beaten the kid pretty hard. “You were ruthless.” Steffon sighed.
“The ring usually is.” Steffon was growing tired of the conversation, and was eager to retreat to his bed. “Well if there’s nothing you need then I might head back to my tent, safe travels Arrow.” Steffon slowly helped himself up, though when beginning to walk away Daniel grabbed his arm. Steffon turned and looked the young man deeply in his eyes, a haunting sadness had cursed them.
“Steffon… If I could go back and not make that order I-” Steffon silently nodded.
“I know, Daniel.” Steffon gently broke his arm away and started back to his tent, leaving the ruined archer behind.
-
Auroch Squadron’s pavilion stood alone, the surrounding tents had been taken down. It was the final day that the Stark army would sleep on Bolton soil, and Steffon was glad they were going. Steffon took a moment before entering the pavilion, thoughts of his brother began to appear in his mind. The thoughts were painful, it had been only a few days since he had talked to his brother - and now he would never speak to him again. He tried to shake the thought out of his head, but it did not work. He sighed and entered the pavilion, which was warm and gloomy - oddly. He had not been to the pavilion since before the battle, and he had suspected it would have been the same for Athena and Alara Caron. He shrugged and made way to his bed, to which he was surprised when he saw a beautiful young woman sitting on it, reading a rune that belonged to Steffon.
“My shooting star, you will always rest in my heart. Natalie.” She moved her eyes from the rune to Steffon. “I was unaware that you were married, Steffon of House Cale.” Steffon stared at the woman with his hazel eyes.
“Who are you?” Her hair was worn in a bun and blonde like straw, her eyes an icy blue. She wore lightly coloured clothing with a hooded cape. She stood and bowed.
“Elena Rivers, handmaiden to Catlina Glover - future betrothal to the heir of Rogar Bolton. Or at least we hope.” Her voice was beautiful, melodic and soothing, making Steffon feel almost calm.
“Good to know, why are you in my tent?” Elena’s face went a bright red, her eyes searching all around the pavilion but not reaching Steffon’s gaze.
“I… Well.” Steffon sighed.
“Sure, whatever. Just get out, I’m tired enough as is.” The handmaiden nodded, placing the rune down on the bed and quickly leaving the pavilion.
Steffon sat down on the bed and picked up the rune, running his rough thumb over the engravings. It was here that he could mourn in peace, for his wife, his brother and most of all his daughter. The death of his wife had hit him hard, though it was Nalia that had got Steffon through it. Nalia, the girl who replicated the beauty of her mother. The beautiful girl who suffered a stabbing wound to her body, a girl who was raped by her accusers as she bled out - as could be seen from their seed dripping out of her once Stark soldiers found her and her friend, which had suffered the same. Steffon clenched the rune hard in his fist, causing the veins in his hand to bulge. I will get my vengeance. For her and my brother. The tent flap opening was quick to move Steffon’s attention, to which he thought it was the handmaiden bothering him again.
“What part of leave do you not understand!” Steffon stood up and walked to the doorway, though to his surprise it was not Elena at all - it was Theon.
“Well, if that’s how it’s going to be…” Theon said smiling as he entered alone. Steffon shook his head, feeling embarrassed and frustrated.
“Apologies king, a woman sat in my bed before you entered. I thought it was her coming back again.” Theon raised an eyebrow, then chuckled to himself.
“Well Steffon, you’re the first man I know that would rather send a woman out into the rain than take advantage of the fact that she was in your bed to begin with.” Theon made his way to the stool standing next to the cooking pot, to which he sat himself down on it. Steffon sighed and walked over to the wooden cabinet which homed a few small casks of ale and mead.
“Can I help you to a mug of your choosing?” Steffon asked, trying to sound as positive as he could. Theon shook his head.
“Kind of you, but no. I have other matters to speak with you about.” Steffon nodded, grabbing himself a mug of ale. He walked back to the king and sat himself opposite of him.
“What matters are these that you speak of?” Theon took in a breath, as if he were to start a long sentence.
“Where to start. The Andals are invading from the east, the wildings from the north and the Ironborn from the west. Fortunately we have the Andals under control, and the Night’s Watch can hold the Wall, though these Ironborn have proven to be an issue. Bear Island has been conquered by Ravos the Raper, son of Harrag Hoare - the current king of the Ironborn. Men of the west claim that Ravos has murdered all of the male members of House Woodfoot, and has impregnated the women with his seed. I am assembling the Third Infantry Battalion, consisting of the last formidable warriors which are not needed in Winterfell. I want you to lead this battalion.” Steffon stared his king in the eyes, trying to tell if there was some joke hidden behind all of this - there was none.
“My king, that is a... Large responsibility to put on a man of my age.” Theon laughed and shook his head.
“You refer to yourself as an old man yet you are still very much young compared to some. Despite all of that, you are war hardened and well experienced in leadership. You will forgive me for rushing your decision, but I cannot waste much more time. Will you accept this offer?” Steffon nodded without realising.
“I will do as you wish, my king.” Theon nodded graciously.
“Thank you Steffon, I knew I could count on you to get the job done. You will ride for Winterfell as soon as possible and meet with Teran Woodmill. It is to my understanding that he wishes to arrange terms with the men of the Barrowlands to help fight this war.” Steffon nodded again.
“As you wish.” Theon smiled and stood up. He walked over to Steffon and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I know what you’re going through is difficult. Brodin was a good man, loyal to his friends and myself. As for Nalia, what happened to her will not be tolerated. Once this war is over, I will personally have Rogar answer for this - but for now I still need him. Get some rest my friend, you will need it.” Before Steffon knew it, Theon had already left him to stare into the fire that flickered under the cooking pot.
He stood up and downed his entire mug of ale which he had not touched since he poured it. He sighed and tossed the mug aside, then made his way to his bed. He was still shirtless, bruised and bloody, but all he cared about right now was sleep. He sat himself down and lay his head back on the straw pillow, pulling the leather blanket over him. He instantly felt warmer, but there was something missing in his life that he may never get back. Love. He rolled onto his side and grabbed his rune, which he had left on his bedside table. He read the engraving once again, then placed it back and blew out the candle next to it. He rested his head down and fell into a deep slumber, which he did not intend to leave for a few hours.
-
Their wooden cottage was small, but it was cosy. Brodin lived adjacent to them, in his store where he sold his work. Steffon entered his cottage after a long day of work, his wife: Natalie: sat behind the stone hearth stirring something in her cooking pot. He smiled, seeing his beautiful wife always seemed to brighten his day. Her hair was a dark shade of red, her eyes a pastel green. She was a head shorter than Steffon, but that did not deter her beauty at all. Steffon silent approached her and grabbed her from behind, causing her to laugh. Her laugh always cheered Steffon up. She turned her head and met Steffon’s lips with her own, the two embraced - holding each other tight. Steffon noticed Nalia exiting her room with her new shortbow. She carried mostly her mother’s looks, though evidence of her father was there too.
“Look who it is, the goddess of love with her bow and arrows.” Nalia’s face looked ill, unwell. Steffon pulled himself away from his wife and walked over to Nalia. She held her hand over her stomach. “Little bird, what’s wrong?” He looked down to the ground, noticing a yellow puddle growing below her.
She pulled her hand away from her stomach, showing a bloody hole. Steffon fell back, looking at his young daughter slowly bleed out.
“Honey!” He turned to Natalie, though when he turned to look at her he noticed the once beautiful woman was now covered in grayscale.
Terror and shock coursed through him, he got up and started running. He knocked down the front door, noticing first that his brother’s store was alight. He quickly charged into the building, searching desperately for Brodin. Steffon found him standing in the doorway to his workshop, completely still.
“Brodin?” The man standing in front of him fell to the ground, a sword lodged into his heart.
The opposer was a shadow, which started to walk towards Steffon. Steffon began to back away, bumping into a chair behind him and falling to the ground. The shadow stood over him, lift it’s clenched fists over it’s head. The darkness haunting the figure dissipated, showing King Rogar hovering above him. The Bolton slammed his fists down, creating an explosion of white light.
Steffon felt someone shaking his arm, he opened his eyes to see the handmaiden. She now wore a light silk gown, and her hair was down as well. Her soft hand exchanged warmth into Steffon’s cold arm. He looked into her icy piercing eyes, to which stared directly into his.
“Steffon, I have a preposition to make.” Steffon was tired and barely thinking straight, he tried his best to sound respectful.
“And what might that be?” The tone in his voice was tired and grumpy, though Elena took no notice of it.
“I think I may know who murdered your daughter, though such information has a price. Prove to me that you are as good as they say you are, spend the night with me and let me taste your seed - then I will give you the information you seek.” Anger and confusion clouded Steffon’s mind, though he knew this may be the only chance to find out the killer of his daughter - yet he felt there was something he did not know about this Elena Rivers, something formidable.
Hey guys! This post hasn't much to say, but more to ask. As of now I am writing the Steffon part (my apologies for the long wait) and will c… moreontinue with the Invasion until the end of the Chapter. Now, the next part. Would you lot like me to start up The Northern Chill now? Or once the Invasion's chapter is over? Right now I do not have an exact estimate of how much there is left in this chapter, as it is still growing (and will likely be larger than the previous chapter).
I'm on holiday's now so it shouldn't be as much of an issue to start up TNC now, but I'll leave it to demand. Thanks for taking the time to read this guys
I'd say yes, because Northern Chill ended with cruel cliffhanger, but that should be up to you. If you have time and think you can handle both at the same time, well, go on
I think I'm going to be in the minority here, but I'd actually prefer if you'd finish Invasion's current chapter first. Not that I don't enjoy the Northern Chill, it's just that this approach would give me more time to finish my characters Seriously though, it's totally up to you. I'm very hyped for the Invasion currently and would prefer more parts for it first, but I also like the Northern Chill a lot. If you want to start the next chapter for it now, then I'm just going to hurry
Hey guys! This post hasn't much to say, but more to ask. As of now I am writing the Steffon part (my apologies for the long wait) and will c… moreontinue with the Invasion until the end of the Chapter. Now, the next part. Would you lot like me to start up The Northern Chill now? Or once the Invasion's chapter is over? Right now I do not have an exact estimate of how much there is left in this chapter, as it is still growing (and will likely be larger than the previous chapter).
I'm on holiday's now so it shouldn't be as much of an issue to start up TNC now, but I'll leave it to demand. Thanks for taking the time to read this guys
Well... that escalated quickly. I seriously don't trust this Elena. She's clearly either planning something, or she's an insane nympho. Quite probably, she's both. In any way, despite my suspicions, I am willing to accept her offer. Of course, something is not right here and Steffon is clearly used for something. In the worst case, he is going to be used for something that causes his downfall later. Elena mentioned that the lady she is working for is betrothed to Tobas Bolton. That means she is close to the Boltons. This is not entirely negative though, because it gives her claim that she knows who the killer is some sort of credibility. Even though she clearly has ulterior motives, maybe Steffon will indeed learn about Rechar's involvement in his daughters death and that might be worth the consequences. Besides, Rechar is clearly an impulsive sadist who murdered two Stark soldiers for little reason, so I don't think the Bolton's have any reason to protect him. His actions are going to cause problems for them as well. But nonetheless, I'm a bit undecided here, as there are good reasons to refuse her offer as well.
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
Well, pretty wicked situation we have there, I like it ^^ My vote is going for [Refuse her offer] though, because we can't tell much about Elena (well, it's my character so I may, but still), and King Theon promised to find Nalia murderer, so maybe we shouldn't go in such a rush about it (as Steffon is going to war). Anyway, I loved the introduction of my character, very well you've played it. Whole part was amazing in summary, so what to say else? Keep on going! ^^
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
With that rationale, and the other current demand. Do you think you would be able to do that in a week worth of time? I'll postpone until after then if you like
Also I do not know what I will be doing for Christmas, but that might just be a couple days away.
I think I'm going to be in the minority here, but I'd actually prefer if you'd finish Invasion's current chapter first. Not that I don't enj… moreoy the Northern Chill, it's just that this approach would give me more time to finish my characters Seriously though, it's totally up to you. I'm very hyped for the Invasion currently and would prefer more parts for it first, but I also like the Northern Chill a lot. If you want to start the next chapter for it now, then I'm just going to hurry
Aye, you have pointed out a lot of correct points with Elena. She is indeed now close with the Bolton's, and truly does have hidden motives (if asking to taste a man's erectile does not say enough). I perhaps can say, her motives will do something good but maybe make it bad. Anyway, I will reveal her motives at the end of this chapter, which probably won't be anytime soon :P
[Accept her offer]
Well... that escalated quickly. I seriously don't trust this Elena. She's clearly either planning something, or she's … morean insane nympho. Quite probably, she's both. In any way, despite my suspicions, I am willing to accept her offer. Of course, something is not right here and Steffon is clearly used for something. In the worst case, he is going to be used for something that causes his downfall later. Elena mentioned that the lady she is working for is betrothed to Tobas Bolton. That means she is close to the Boltons. This is not entirely negative though, because it gives her claim that she knows who the killer is some sort of credibility. Even though she clearly has ulterior motives, maybe Steffon will indeed learn about Rechar's involvement in his daughters death and that might be worth the consequences. Besides, Rechar is clearly an impulsive sadist who murdered two Stark soldiers for little reason, so I don't think the… [view original content]
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
Alright, vote closed! Steffon will refuse Elena's offer.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it just means it may take a little longer for him to get vengeance. In a way, this is probably a good thing as he now has something to drive through war (whether that is a good or bad thing).
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or per… morehaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked … [view original content]
Alright, vote closed! Steffon will refuse Elena's offer.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it just means it may take a little longe… morer for him to get vengeance. In a way, this is probably a good thing as he now has something to drive through war (whether that is a good or bad thing).
Next part will focus... Ted!
Haha not an issue, I guess I can reveal a little bit of information. So what she said about being the current handmaiden of Catlina Glover was true, though before Miss Glover she was still at the Dreadfort working for King Rogar. Currently the two are working on a... What should I call it? "Special Project." In which case Elena needed Steffon's ejaculation to help with the process. We will see that Steffon refusing will help Steffon in the long run, whereas accepting will have helped in this project. I think that is all I can tell you without going into major spoilers... I will reveal this project in the very last part of this chapter, I still have to fit in the battle at Heart's Home, alliance of the Belmore's, a little bit of fighting with the ironborn and the bloody vengeance at Andalos. So this should hopefully be an action packed chapter.
Oh and Elena failing this task has in no way whatsoever put her in any danger, just in case you were wondering
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to make it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was there every time. Ted tried to shake it out of his head. I left that life behind, I’m safe now. He sighed and pulled the sheets off of his head, the light quickly dazzled him as his vision tried to adjust. Ted pulled his arm to his eyes, in an attempt to block the light. He observed the scars that were riddled on his arms from the constant injuries he had gained in sparring. There was no doubt that Ted was not the best among the fighters, if he was then he would not be at Griffin’s Roost right now - but instead freezing his ass off beyond the Wall. He pulled his arm away, and to his surprise found Lord Gryff sitting opposite him. Ted felt shock and fear begin to rush through him, though he took a few deep breaths and found it to help. Now curiosity and worry replaced it.
“How long have you been sitting there?” The bearded old man shook his head, his expression seemed concerned and stressed.
“Since you tried to muffle yourself with those sheets. You need to leave.” Ted raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused and still horribly worried.
“Have I done something wrong?” Ted started pulling on his tunic as he spoke. Gryff shook his head.
“I don’t have time to explain it. Robart is waiting outside, he will escort you to the boats. From there you will tell the captain that you are to go back to Storm’s End. Got it?” The man was half out the door when he had asked his question, presumably not expecting an answer back.
Ted quickly got out of his bed and reached for his dark boiled leather wrist bracers, which matched his leather trousers. He then quickly put on his bronze shoulder armour and grabbed his bronze longsword. The rest will have to wait. He exited the room and there stood Robart Connington, wearing full bronze armour with his House’s tabard. He nodded to Ted, to which Ted gave a weak smile in return.
“Let’s move.” Robart set a quick pace down the hall which Ted quickly followed.
“Rob, what in the name of the gods is going on?” Robart continued to walk, making Ted feel uneasy. It was only after they had cleared a few more halls that Robart started to talk.
“Rangers from the Night’s Watch are here, along with an entire army of Reach soldiers. They say that if we don’t hand you over to the Watch, then they will burn down the Roost until they find you. Father is trying to reason with them, that’s why he couldn’t speak with you. Once I get you to the boat I will go and support him.” Ted was without words, his family were trying to protect him - even if it meant death.
Robart led Ted down a long set of stairs, to which there were windows every few metres down. Out these windows you could see the Great Hall, which was mostly open to display the image of a ‘nest.’ Ted could see the soldiers through one of the large openings, and a couple of black brothers too. How in all the hells did they find me? The two reached the bottom of the stairs, leading them into a small storage room full of merchandise. Robart quickly ushered Ted outside, into the howling wind. The once calm ocean and clear sunny day had now turned to rough seas and dark clouds. A young man stood in a small rowing boat, clinging onto the side of the jetty. Robart pointed out the man.
“That’s your man, he will row you out to the Swimming Bird-” A loud chant interrupted Robart’s sentence, instantly putting fear into Ted’s chest.
The two looked up to the Great Hall, the chant grew louder and louder - seemingly blocking out the howling wind. The men of the Roost began to scream, A griffin! A griffin! The next that was to be heard was metal clashing against metal, and men screaming in agony. Robart unsheathed his longsword, anger showing on his face. Ted grabbed his forearm and looked him in the eyes.
“The both of us have to go, you’re in danger if you stay.” Robart broke his arm free. He looked Ted back in the eyes and frowned.
“I must stay with my father, I’m sorry Teddy.” A loud banging at the door they had just exited began to emerge. “Go Ted! I’ll cover your escape.” Robart quickly ushered Ted into the rowing boat, gave the man a bag of coins and sent them off.
Ted looked at the man, his hair was short and curly - and as red as blood. He had grown a light red stubble since their last encounter, now Ted feared that this was their final encounter. He tried to call out to him, but the wind caught his words and flung them away. The rowman was already battling the swell on his great journey to the Swimming Bird. Ted stared at the soldier and bronze armour, prepping himself for battle. The door to the storage room had been busted open, and three black brothers exited only to meet Robart. They had not seen Ted yet. Robart held his sword high and began to yell a phrase, Ted felt as if men could hear him from across the Narrow Sea. He started running towards the men of the Watch with his sword in hand.
“Griffin! Griffin!” Ted could not tell whether the rangers were afraid or not, but only one drew his sword.
“For the Watch!” He was quick to encourage his brothers, to which they charged into a bloody battle. The rowman hid them in a cloudy mist, obscuring their vision of the battle.
-
The Swimming Bird was an excellent vessel, made entirely from birch wood and bronze railings - for the exception of the twin masts, which were made from spruce wood. Ted and the rowman climbed aboard, quickly to be met by the crew and captain. The man stood tall with straight blond hair and a smooth well kept beard. He wore a fine tunic, checkered in pink and dark blue. By his right side was a bronze scimitar, and his left a telescope.
“So you are the gracious Lord Estermont I have heard so much about? It is a pleasure to be acquainted with one of your status… I am Marten of House Tarth, brother to the past Evening Star. You will forgive me, but I have not been introduced to your name. I only ever met your late father back when I was only a boy.” The man seemed to take his words seriously, not hinting any sarcasm.
Ted looked at the man with confusion. I am not the lord of Estermont, nor was my father… It only then dawned on him that his complexion must have been similar to that of the current lord, his dreading cousin. Ted quickly decided to take advantage of his newly misguided role.
“Jules Estermont, lord of Greenstone.” Marten was quick to bow, as were the rest of his crew.
“I presume we will be taking you back to Estermont then? My lord.” The man politely asked as he stood himself up straight.
The question almost caught Ted off guard. He had not considered going back to Estermont in many years, but he had once dreamt of it. The dream to take back what seemed rightfully is, though not truly his he still knew he was the fitter ruler. Though he had not been to Estermont for the greater part of ten years, and Robart had told him to go straight to Storm’s End to consult with the king. Sure, Ted would be safe there, but the king had also mentioned he would be leaving for war. Will I be too late if I go to Storm’s End? Either way, Ted had to make a choice.
[Go to Storm's End] Let's stick to the plan, going back to Estermont after such a long time, not to mention that we called ourselves a lord, well, it doesn't seem to much of a good idea to me.
Ted
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to ma… moreke it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was th… [view original content]
Ted
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to ma… moreke it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was th… [view original content]
Ted
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to ma… moreke it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was th… [view original content]
Ted
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to ma… moreke it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was th… [view original content]
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Vote closed! Alara will turn down Theon's offer and join him in the war against the Andal's.
This was a major decision, though whether it was right or not we will soon find out. Next part focusses on a new PoV, his name is Jaycen Caron.
Jaycen
Outside the window of the lord’s chambers, one could see the Red Mountains to the east, and the Dornish Marches everywhere else. The hundred leagued marches consisted mainly of grassland, moors and plains, with small boulders scattered among the land. It was here, by his window, that Lord Jaycen stared out to the endless plains. Out there, the Dornish Raiders ran through the land and plotted to invade north, Jaycen was sure of it. Jaycen’s mind was full of negative thoughts, and overall he felt stressed. The constant threat of war between the Dornish and the Marcher Lords made Jaycen endure many sleepless nights. Now, Jaycen thought of his children, more so the ones he had lost. As he stared out to the grasslands, he thought of his eldest son: Ryman. It had been only a year since Ryman’s death. The thought of it made Jaycen fall apart inside. Ryman was killed by Dornish Raiders during an unnecessary skirmish which was entirely provoked by Lord Jaycen himself. A flash of his youngest daughter, Briala, popped into his head. The girl who died as an infant, barely even a year old. These were the thoughts that haunted Jaycen’s memories the most. The next memory that occurred was slightly different, it was one of his children yet not exactly a bad memory. The bastard daughter that had ran away from home, once again provoked entirely by Jaycen, and achieved many great feats.* Alara.* At first, Jaycen felt a sense of regret for how he treated her. Soon he felt proud of girl that was not his daughter, coming to realise the stubbornness that he had was showing in her aswell. He deeply wished to apologise to Alara, though he knew that the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal. It was because of Alara and Ryman that Jaycen’s relationships with the rest of his family were stretched. The pointless death and cruelty had made his children lose a lot of respect for their father, to which he deeply regretted.
The sound of his chamber doors opening pulled him away from his focussed trance, he turned to see his wife standing at the door. Lady Meghan, the woman he loved dearly yet let her break his heart. It was because of his stubbornness and lack of emotion to her, that she got the impression that Jaycen no longer loved her. Therefore, she cheated with King Qarlton, Alara’s father. Jaycen shook the thought away, already feeling the sadness trying to lay another burden on him. He stared at the beautiful woman who stood in front of him. She had aged well in the years, her hair was still light brown but grey strands could be identified. Fine wrinkles have begun to appear on her pretty face, though she is better off compared to Jaycen, or at least in his own opinion. He stared into her amber eyes, which were almost similar to those of a cat, but found that she instantly broke eye contact with him. Jaycen lowered his eyes to the floor, guilt and mild frustration crawled over him.
“Can I help you with something, my lady?” A weak smiled appeared on Meghan’s face, but she shook her head.
“A rider, from Griffin’s Roost, awaits you in the courtyard. He has word from King Qarlton…” Anger and remorse filled Jaycen’s thoughts as he heard the man’s name. Though curiosity replaced it when he replayed her sentence in his head.
“Griffin’s Roost? Strange that the Connington’s would be playing messenger for Qarlton…” His wife nodded awkwardly, to which he stood up. “Right, thank you. I’ll head there immediately.” He quickly turned and closed the shutters to his window.
As he made way to his chamber’s doors, he glanced at his lady wife. She looked as if she wanted to say something, though the words were not coming out. He wanted to sit down and talk to her, perhaps it would be a start to repairing the damage between them, but right now there was no time. He left her standing in the doorway as he walked passed her and down the corridor.
-
The courtyard was dry and mostly empty, except for the rider that was patiently waiting. Lord Jaycen’s second born son and heir, Gareth, stood talking to the messenger, though it appeared that their conversation was limited. Jaycen stopped in front of the two young men, trying to seem cheery though it did not work. Jaycen’s face instead appeared stern and cold as always, the two men went quiet. The messenger dismounted his horse and knelt in front of Jaycen.
“My lord, I am Keat Musgood, squire to Lord Gryff Connington. I come here from Griffin’s Roost with word of the king.” The boy had brown hair and wore bronze shoulder armour with the Connington griffin on his tabard.
“Rise, Keat of House Musgood. Please, come into my halls and dine with us. Then you may tell us of why you have come here.” The man graciously nodded, Jaycen turned to Gareth. “Have him taken to one of the guest rooms so he may have a moment to relax, we will be serving meals within the hour.” Gareth glared at Jaycen in return, but followed his order.
Once the courtyard was empty, Jaycen let out a loud sigh and sat himself down on the sandy ground. Warm transcended from the sand into his hands, making him feel a sense of comfort. A part of him wished he would never have to get up, but he knew that would not be the case. A gentle hand touched Jaycen’s shoulder, half startling him and half comforting him. He looked up to see his eldest daughter, Bethany. He gave her a weak smile, to which she smiled back. Out of all of his family, Bethany was probably the only member that showed some kindness to him.
“You okay dad?” She lifted her skirt and sat down next to him, her features replicated that of her mother when she was young. Though there were some dissimilarities, her eyes were green like his and she wore her auburn hair in locks.
“Yes little bird, I just have a lot on my mind.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled.
“How many times must I tell you to stop calling me that? It’s only been for the past decade…” For once, Jaycen found himself laughing. Though it was a short laughter, it was still an improvement.
“You’ll always be my little bird, there’s no getting away from that.” Bethany frowned and helped herself up.
“Come on father, I believe we have to inform the cook that a feast needs to be prepared.” Jaycen lightly nodded and stood himself up. The two headed back to the main doors of the Tweeting Hall.
-
Jaycen reclined in his cushioned chair feeling bloated from the main course. It had consisted of honey glazed pork, marinated aurochs and roasted horned lizard. Jaycen washed it down with a mouthful of imported northern mead. He felt the urge to belch, but manners kept it from coming up. After Jaycen was sure that everyone had finished their meals, he called in the servants to clear the tables. He was happy to see that Keat looked somewhat cheery.
“That was delightful my lord, you will have to remind me to come down more often.” He said as he downed his fourth cup of ale. Jaycen wanted to chuckle, but the feeling was not there. Instead, he decided to question him about his mission.
“So, what is this important news you come all the way down to the Marches with?” Keat gently placed his cup down and straightened himself, as if entering a work mode.
“His grace is rallying the bannermen to conquer Massey’s Hook. He calls on you, and the other houses of the Stormlands, to rally with him to war.” Jaycen quietly cursed. And what of the Dornish Raiders, your grace? He could hear himself asking, he stowed it.
“How many men does he need?” Keat shook his head sadly.
“My apologies, lord. I am unaware of the exact details, I am only a messenger.” Jaycen nodded irritably, though he did his best to keep a calm expression.
“Young Musgood, you have been a delightful guest in my home. Perhaps you could stay the night and rest until morning?” Keat’s eyes widened, seeming somewhat shocked but gracious.
“My lord, that is… Very kind of you to offer. If that is of no issue to you?” Jaycen shook his head.
“It is of no issue at all, it has been an absolute pleasure to have you here. Please, allow me to have one of my servants escort you to your room.” The young man laughed.
“Thank you, my lord. You are very kind.” A servant quickly approached Musgood, helped him from his chair and escorted him out of the room. Jaycen looked around, the table was cleared.
“Everyone but my family may now leave us.” Servants and guards quickly exited the hall, until it was only the four of them left.
Jaycen clenched his hands, trying to conceal his anger. To his left sat his wife, and next to her was Bethany. To his right sat Gareth, in the seat that once belonged to Ryman. Jaycen let out a loud sigh.
“Typical Qarlton trying to screw me over when something of great importance is approaching my life. The damned raiders-” Jaycen was interrupted by the slamming of a fist on the table. It was Gareth’s.
“Forget the damn raiders, it’s all in your head father. The last time you thought they were going to attack you led a skirmish which got your eldest son killed. Would you have our house fall because you worry about things that will not ever occur?” The young man’s face was red with anger, or fear of opposing his father.
“Gareth please.” Meghan quietly said in an attempt to calm her son, though Gareth was to have none of it.
“Please nothing. You can find me in my quarters if you want me.” Gareth violently stood up and exited the room, Bethany quickly chased after him.
Jaycen and Meghan were the only ones left in the room. Silence filled the hall, making Jaycen feel uneasy. He wanted to storm out as well, hit something in the training yards, though he was no longer a young man with little ambitions. He now had responsibilities, and he could not complete them if he had so many issues with his family.
[Try and talk to Meghan] [Apologise to Gareth and Bethany]
[Try and talk to Meghan]
[Try and talk to Meghan]
[Try and talk to Meghan]
Awesome part! It was great reading about the Carons. Jaycen was especially great, but I loved all of them
As for this choice, while some time with his kids can never be bad for him or for them, Jaycen and Meghan really need to talk and now's an opportunity.
[Try and talk to Meghan]
[Try and talk to Meghan] Great part!
[Try and talk to Meghan]
[Try and talk to Meghan]
Alright, well this vote was clear. Jaycen will attempt to talk with Meghan.
Yikes, Liquid this must be heaven for you... Next part will be focusing Darren and his time with the king
Darren
The inside of Heart’s Home was shining with candlelight, which bounced of the smoothly polished marble walls. The majority of the flooring was timber planking, though walkways were outlined with red carpet. Darren sat in the wide corridor which connected the common room to the throne room, this was known as Heart’s Hall. Darren wore his fine tunic which was plain white, displaying House Corbray’s sigil on his chest. The large birchwood doors that separated Heart’s Hall from the throne room was guarded by two guards who wore fine steel plated armor and held pikes which stood nearly three metres tall. Darren quietly polished his steel longsword as he waited for an audience with the king. Must be something important if he’s keeping me out. He did want to see me. Darren sighed and reclined in the magnificently architectured chair. His thoughts drifted off to Kara’s letter, which now sat on his desk in his chambers. Darren was one of the few fortunate knights to be offered the luxurious chambers that King Qyle had at his disposal. The only other knights that had chambers were his two sons, Jaime and Marvion.
Darren rested his head back and found his eyes shutting themselves, he was deprived of his sleep from the amount of work he had recently been doing for the king. Darren felt relaxed and calm, something he did not feel as much as he used to. A part of him truly missed not being bounded by rules and duty, but he knew that this was a new step in life which would be for the best. Darren grabbed for his sword as he felt the shaking of his arm. The moment of relaxation had now replaced itself with the alertness and stress which he had tried to get rid of. Darren looked up to his accuser of rest, to which he quickly lowered his blade once he identified who it was. Jaime Corbray, speak of the Seven. The young knight stood over him wearing his steel shoulder pads and braces, he was always one to travel light. His hair was wavy and fell down to the mid of his neck, it was messy though not out of place. His face was cleanly shaven and there was not a dimple in sight. He was the typical sweetheart of the kingdom. The second born lifted his hands and backed away grinning, Darren noticed the guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords. Darren shook his head and laughed.
“My bad, there’s only so much stress one knight can handle before he goes over the edge.” Jaime laughed and slowly the guards rested their hands and backed away. They still don’t trust me.
“I understand, it’s not all that easy being the son of the king either…” Jaime said as he sat himself next to Darren.
“Huh, tell that to the smallfolk.” Darren watched as Jaime frowned. He began to start removing his bits of armour, though he still struggled.
“Seven Hells!” The irritated young man cursed as he attempted for the fifth time to undo the leather strap. He looked to Darren with gleaming eyes. “Could you give me a hand?” Darren laughed.
“You chose not to have a squire young man, if you want your armour removed than you’ll get a squire.” The young knight rolled his eyes and continued at his straps.
“You don’t have a squire, why should I?” Darren observed as Jaime tugged on the leather strapping, tightening it around his arm. He sighed and undid the steel buckle, releasing the strap.
“You need help to undo your armour, like most knights. Does that not say enough?” Jaime ignored him and pulled off his shoulder piece, he then moved onto his bracers. “Why are you wearing your gear anyway?” Jaime slipped off the bracer and placed it down.
“I just returned from the Vale. The Winged Knight, Artys Arryn, has been building an army to fight against the First Men. I informed him that the Corbray’s will be at his side in battle.” Darren raised his eyebrows. It seems some knight’s can become greater than others.
Silence filled the hall for a long moment, though it was concluded when the large birchwood doors began to open. Two guards exited with a man walking behind them. His hair was a light brown and he had a light stubble. His eyes were gray and had a certain look about them. He wore a purple tunic, though the next thing that Darren noticed made him grab for his sword. Bronze. Jaime quickly and discreetly grabbed Darren’s arm and shook his head. Darren glared at the free First Man as he left the Hall.
-
King Qyle sat in his heart shaped throne as he talked to his two sons. Darren had sat himself on a marble pillar, close enough to hear the conversation but too far to be included in it. The man was tired and worried that he could say anything now without control, so he sat and listened. Qyle consulted with his sons what seemed like a basic war plan, though he had not mentioned anything about why they had brought the First Men into their kingdom.
“I do not plan to let them take our castle as they took Gulltown. We will meet them with force, and that force will be led by myself. Marvion, you will be in charge of the defense, it is of no doubt to me that some will avoid the battle and target Heart’s Home. You will turn every home into a battle station, armor every man with a weapon and protect our home. Jaime, you will lead the women and children to the Vale, where they will be in the safe hands of the Falcon Knight.” Darren could see the frustration and disappointment build on Jaime’s face.
“Father, I was just at the Vale! I want to fight by your side!” Qyle shook his head.
“I will not argue with you over this, you will take them to the Vale. Both of you are dismissed, I have other matters to attend to.” Marvion bowed and turned towards the door, Jaime reluctantly bowed.
Darren watched the two young men leave the room. When the doors made a thud as they shut, Darren could hear Qyle sigh. He reclined and rested his hands on the arms of the throne. He closed his eye and took in a deep breath, Darren could understand where his tiredness had come from.
“Oh Darren, what am I going to do?” He said miserably in a tired voice. Darren shook his head.
“Be more specific Qyle, I am without rest as well.” Qyle quietly chuckled, opening his eyes.
“Apologies my friend, I will not keep you long. No doubt you were listening to that conversation, what are your thoughts?” The question struck Darren back a little, his mind was not exactly in the game right now. He took a little while to respond, trying to think of the right words to say.
“I think you have made the right choice with Marvion, though perhaps not with Jaime. He may not be all experienced, but you did make him a knight. Really he should be squire to this Arryn knight, as I hear he is doing so well. Though I do have one question with your plan.” Qyle sat himself up and raised an eyebrow.
“And what’s that?” Darren stood himself up and walked closer to the throne so he could talk with ease.
“Before entering your great throne room I saw a sorry sight. Why have you brought one of the First Men into your palace? Where does he fit into your great plan?” Qyle smiled, seeming somewhat pleased that Darren asked.
“His name is Wyllam Belmore, and if you have not figured it out by the name then I will say that I am trying to get the Belmore navy on our side for this war. With such an ally we could become the ruling kingdom of the east, I feel that they may be what turns the tide of this war.” Darren nodded, feeling gracious that he had received a decent answer. Now he was curious why he was here.
“I presume you had some other reason for me to be here, rather than for my counsel?” Qyle laughed.
“Forgive me Darren, I growing old and my memory is not as it was in my prime. I wish to request something of you. As you know I have sent Jaime back to the Arryn, but I wonder if you might go with him. What you advised before hand was good, but unfortunately now is no longer logical. Everyone presumes that a knight knows the basics when it comes to… Well, knighthood. I have not had the time to teach Jaime as I have been so focused on Marvion, and I can only wonder if you could teach him. Of course, I do not want to place such a burden on you if you do not wish it. Your help will be needed on the battlefield, don’t think that I have forgotten when we first met. You saved me from nearly a dozen of the First Men with your bare hands!” Darren laughed.
“Your memory has failed you old man! I had my sword.” The two men laughed and went silent for a little while.
“So what is your decision? Will you train my son, or fight with me in the battlefield?”
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale] [Stay and fight in the war to come]
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale]
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale]
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale]
This sounds like an interesting idea. I greatly enjoyed the talk between Darren and Jaime. They have an interesting relationship and I'd like to see more of it.
Davios
Davios lay in his bunk, the pain that thrusted through his body was now minimal compared to his throbbing broken hand. Every minute was agony, there was no rest and at moments he wished someone would kill him. It had been two days of uncertainty of whether Davios should have the hand removed. Davios had already decided to have the damned thing removed, though he knew it was the pain that was driving him to do so. Hughie had been highly against having the hand removed, though Jorio had sided with Piggy in the ideal that the infection would kill Davios. Either way, Davios just wanted to pain to go. With all the mayhem and other catastrophes happening aboard the ship, Davios had not yet been able to talk to Vysela about The Cobra - not that he was in his rightful self to do so. Davios rolled himself over, carefully trying to avoid moving his hand in a bad position. To his surprise he saw Hughie and Vysela sitting next to him. The two whispered to each other, not realising they now had Davios as an audience. Davios decided he did not have the energy to intervene, so he shut his eyes and listened to the beautiful Valyrian whispers.
“Young falcon, perhaps it would be wise to side with the fat man on this. Your friend will not survive much longer, we have sat by his side for many hours and seen no improvement.” Vysela’s voice sounded sullen and without hope. Hughie sighed.
“Perhaps, but I couldn’t live with myself if he lost his hand for nothing. We are bound to arrive at Andalos any day now. Then we could quickly rush him to a doctor and all can be well.” Vysela replied with a light giggle.
“If only the rest of us could live in your perfect world, my falcon. Perhaps we could sneak back to the storage room again?” Davios’ eyes were closed, though his eyebrow raised instinctively.
He opened his eyes and found the two in each other's arms leaning in for a kiss. Davios cleared his throat, making the two instantly pull away from each other. Vysela quickly stood up and hurried out of the hull and topside, Hughie was still frozen still. Davios sighed and rested his head, again being careful of moving his injured hand. After a short moment Hughie calmed down again. He looked Davios in the eye with curiosity and some sadness.
“How’re you feeling bud?” Davios grunted and shook his head.
“I’ve been better, my falcon.” Davios chuckled at his joke, though the humour quickly left him as his hand lightly touched the bed frame. Hughie quickly rushed to his side and elevated Davios’ hand back into the makeshift sling that had been made earlier.
“Easy now, I see it is not getting any better. I really didn’t want it to come to this but it’s either your hand or your life. I’ll get Piggy.” Hughie stood himself and began to walk away, though Davios tried to stall him.
“Hughie, wait.” Hughie stopped and turned, looking Davios in the eye. “I need to know some things, about Vysela…” Hughie nodded and sat himself on the bunk opposite Davios.’
“What do you need to know?” Davios looked at the young man in his one good eye. He hesitated, then quietly spoke.
“Have you talked to her about who may have possibly done this to you? It was Cobra’s dagger after all.” Hughie’s expression looked sad and angry, though his voice was calm.
“I seldom talked to her about her previous lover. Whenever I bring him up she is quick to sadden. I do not think it was either of them who did this to me. I understand a lot of the original crew hold a grudge against me because I thought I was higher than them, to which now I realise how stupid I was, but I can’t place a finger on who would have done this. Now, you won’t stall me any further. I will go inform Piggy.” Davios sighed and cursed under his breath as he watched the stubborn Arryn walk away and ascend the stairs to the deck.
Davios felt the blood in his arm rushing down to his shoulder blades, and a spiky feeling beginning to attack his hand. It made him want to smash his hand against the wall, though he knew that would do him little good. Davios could do nothing now but think, and the sleepless nights had introduced many thoughts that he had not pondered on for many years. His father, Simon Tallman, had raised Davios as a single parent. Jenifire, Davios’ mother, had died while giving birth to Davios - leaving Simon to raise the young baby boy. Simon was a zealous man, and Davios could see that trait had been passed down to him through nurture. The whole reason Davios had come to Westeros was to avenge his father, who had been taken from him by a lord of the First Men. That lord now had his father’s sword, and now Davios felt regret for he may never be able to get it back.
Davios’ thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a springy bed being sat on. Davios turned to his right to see the young skinny man, Jorio, sitting on the same bed that Hughie just was. Davios realised it was the first time since the battle that he had seen the man without his book. He hands gently felt around the bed in a circular motion. He then pulled his left leg up and crossed it over his right. Davios noticed there was something off with him, though he pushed the feeling away.
“Where’s your book?” Jorio smiled and clasped his hands together.
“Oh I finished that monstrosity, I think it may have inspired me to travel to Braavos when all of this is over.” Davios sighed, those were the last words he wished to hear.
“Can I help you with anything, Jorio?” Jorio raised an eyebrow, then laughed.
“No no big boy, you’re in no position to do anything right now. No, I though it was time to confess.” Davios’ heart started to beat faster, listening to the tone in Jorio’s voice was making him feel nervous - even more so since he was defenseless. Davios took in a deep breath and looked at the gaunt man.
“Confess what?” Davios sighed and gently smiled.
“Well, let’s start from the beginning shall we? When I first met you, I knew there was something about you which I had never found in any man before. You were strong and capable, serious and zealous. A true man with true passion. I like that. When you saved me from the three misfits, I knew you were the one. Seven hells, it was as if the Seven had chosen you. Anyway, I had been trying to build up the courage to ask you, but I was always so shy. So to think when I saw you spending more of your time with goody two shoes, I felt confident you were like me. Though you were not with me.” Davios stared at the man intently.
“What are you trying to say Jorio?” Jorio shook his head angrily.
“You will not interrupt me!” He took in a breath, trying to calm himself down, and continued his story. “As I was saying, you had chosen the royal bird over myself. I tried to pull you away from him, tell you he was only trouble, but you didn’t listen. So then I realised I was left with no other choice, he had to go. When the night was at its darkest, and the sea was at its calmest, I took the opportunity to take the snake’s dagger and lunge it into your little friend’s eye. Seven hells I hoped it would kill him, I had never killed a man before. Though of course, the fucker lives on and tries to steal you from me.” Davios raised his eyebrows, none of this made sense.
“Jorio, you were not even suspected. You could have kept your mouth shut and no one would have ever known. Why did you do it? I gave Hughie a chance because the man needed a friend, an ally.” Jorio shook his head frustratedly.
“What would be the point of keeping this to myself? I did this all because I love you! Though you do not love me, instead some royal blooded fuck who now has only one eye. Though do not worry, my love, for you will not remember any of this when you wake up. Here, drink.” Jorio forced Davios mouth open a poured liquid down his throat. Davios tried to not swallow it, but Jorio had blocked his nose and forced him to swallow if he wanted to breathe. Davios’ head instantly began to feel dizzy, the gaunt man now spun around his vision, making him question his senses. Darkness began to eat away at his vision, until all was black.
-
Brightness. Everywhere light shone and attacked Davios’ weary eyes. He blinked many-a-time, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. The light dulled down, Davios noticed that the sky and sea were misty, it was the darkness in the hulls which had confused his vision. In front of him was a low wooden block, Harlan stood behind it with a large butcher’s knife in his hand. Davios noticed he was being dragged to this block by Piggy and Hughie. Davios murmured and grunted, making Hughie jump.
“Shit! He’s awake. We can’t do this if he’s awake!” Hughie’s voice was in panic and distress. Harlan’s thick accent pierced through the young man’s fear.
“Like hell we can’t, hold him down. This will be over before you know it.” Davios’ senses began to come back to him, he started to realise what was going on. He did not like it. Panic began to overwhelm him, making him a struggle to control.
“Davios please! This will be over quickly!” Piggy said, trying to reassure him. Davios looked up at the fat bald man and hesitated. He calmed himself down and nodded. I agreed to this.
Piggy placed Davios’ left arm on the wooden block. Hughie ripped off a bit of his shirt, knelt down and placed it in Davios’ mouth.
“Bite on this. Hard.” Davios did so. He looked around for something he could rest his thoughts on, though he found nothing.
Davios looked up to Harlan, whose face was sick with cruelty. He was enjoying this far too much. Davios shook his head and focussed his attention to the bow of the Friendship, he felt a gentle fat pair of hands grip Davios’ left arm to keep it still. Davios’ breathing grew heavier, anxiety began to build up in him. Davios recognised a familiar face at the bow of the ship, he was gaunt and skinny. He spun his knife into the air, caught it, then repeated the process. He wore a wide grin on his face but Davios could not figure out why. In fact, he could not remember much of the past day. The next thing he heard scared him.
“Harlan, do it.” Piggy’s voice was shaking and unsure.
“With pleasure.” Harlan said, a certain sense of evil hidden in his voice.
The pain in Davios’ arm seemed non-existent for a split second, then the pain that had once lived in his wrist now existed in his wrist. He felt the blood gushing out, and a bandage quickly wrapping around it to try and cut off the blood. Davios could not help but to scream, which was mostly blocked by Hughie’s shirt in his mouth. The pain was extreme, making him ‘jump through the roof’ numerous times. During all this he still stared into Jorio’s eyes with discomfort. Then his vision began to fail him, going red then black and it felt like the veins in his head were about to burst. The last thing he heard was a crew member from the distance. Land Ahoy!
No decision this time.
Hey guys, sorry there is no decision with this one. I am kind of hoping I can get more votes for the Darren part, to which I will be giving another three days until closing point. Why three days you may ask? Well because I am going camping for three days. As for not writing much recently, I have been getting sucked into Fallout 4 and have barely been motivated to write. Though I think I found the motivation tonight... Anyway, next part I think will be a Steffon part.
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale]
Wow, a lot going on in this part! Nice one
[Mentor Jaime - Travel to the Vale]
Alright, clear vote. Darren will choose to mentor Jaime and travel to the Vale.
Hey guys! This post hasn't much to say, but more to ask. As of now I am writing the Steffon part (my apologies for the long wait) and will continue with the Invasion until the end of the Chapter. Now, the next part. Would you lot like me to start up The Northern Chill now? Or once the Invasion's chapter is over? Right now I do not have an exact estimate of how much there is left in this chapter, as it is still growing (and will likely be larger than the previous chapter).
I'm on holiday's now so it shouldn't be as much of an issue to start up TNC now, but I'll leave it to demand. Thanks for taking the time to read this guys
Steffon
Pain thrusted through Steffon’s knuckles, which were bloody and bruised. His ears were deafened with cheering and yelling, or perhaps screaming and disappointment. In front of him, barely standing, was a young mercenary. They called him the ‘King of the Ring’ and he had fought for King Theon in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now the Stark soldiers had grown hungry for violence, or at least some of them had. Many soldiers had often put together a fighting ring, where mourning soldiers could blow off some steam. It was here that Steffon stood, bloody and unbound, with his opponent fading in and out of consciousness. The one they had recently called the king, now barely stood in the wrath of Steffon Cale. Steffon lifted his bloody fists, clenching them together for the final slam. The mercenary fell to his knees, bleeding all over. He held his hands up, tears could be seen streaming down his face.
“Please! Mercy!” Steffon looked the mercenary in the eyes, he saw fear and unease.
Steffon looked around him, the crowd’s behaviour was mixed with negative and positive gestures. The majority were cheering for him, encouraging him to beat the mercenary to the ground. He turned his eyes back to the boy, who he was sure was now soiling himself. The fight had been challenging, and his opponent was worthy, though there was something off about beating the man senseless. What have I become. Steffon noticed his hands beginning to shake, pulling them apart from each other. He let his arms fall downwards, hitting his ripped trousers. His torso was bloody and bruised, pain had only now began to occur. Steffon sighed and thought of his liege’s words, as his own were barely fitting for the situation. Winter is Coming. And we will need to unite if we are to survive. The thought completely extinguished the angry flame that burnt inside of him. He offered his hand to the bloody boy and helped him up. The young man seemed gracious and thankful.
“None shall know.” Steffon said, the respect he gave was instinctive.
“Death whispers.” The young mercenary replied, instantly notifying Steffon of the house the man belongs to. Blackwoods.
The two nodded and exchanged bows then exited the ring. Steffon clumsily did so, fortunately not falling into the wet mud beneath him. The mass crowd cleared a path for Steffon to exit, to which he was somewhat grateful - if only in his head. Ahead of him were two horses drinking at a water trough. Steffon quickly dunked his head into the freezing water, though he found himself not wanting to leave immediately. He felt the cold elements starting to freeze his rough and bruised face. He stared down at the wooden bottom, a tint of red began to fill the once clear water. The seemingly calm transcendence quickly faded away as a strong tug pulled the depressed man out of the trough. Anger and frustration filled Steffon’s mind, he turned around to see his disturber. A young man with a sad face stood over him, his hair and beard were messy and a dark orange. He still wore his leather padded armour, though he only carried his daggers.
“General.” Steffon miserably said, falling to his arse and resting his back against the trough.
“General.” Daniel replied, a weak smile showing on his face. Steffon looked at the man with confusion, but had little energy to interrogate him about it.
“Can I help you with something?” Steffon’s voice lacked positive emotion, leaving him sounding tired and miserable. Daniel shook his head.
“I saw your fight.” Steffon started to feel embarrassed, he had beaten the kid pretty hard. “You were ruthless.” Steffon sighed.
“The ring usually is.” Steffon was growing tired of the conversation, and was eager to retreat to his bed. “Well if there’s nothing you need then I might head back to my tent, safe travels Arrow.” Steffon slowly helped himself up, though when beginning to walk away Daniel grabbed his arm. Steffon turned and looked the young man deeply in his eyes, a haunting sadness had cursed them.
“Steffon… If I could go back and not make that order I-” Steffon silently nodded.
“I know, Daniel.” Steffon gently broke his arm away and started back to his tent, leaving the ruined archer behind.
-
Auroch Squadron’s pavilion stood alone, the surrounding tents had been taken down. It was the final day that the Stark army would sleep on Bolton soil, and Steffon was glad they were going. Steffon took a moment before entering the pavilion, thoughts of his brother began to appear in his mind. The thoughts were painful, it had been only a few days since he had talked to his brother - and now he would never speak to him again. He tried to shake the thought out of his head, but it did not work. He sighed and entered the pavilion, which was warm and gloomy - oddly. He had not been to the pavilion since before the battle, and he had suspected it would have been the same for Athena and Alara Caron. He shrugged and made way to his bed, to which he was surprised when he saw a beautiful young woman sitting on it, reading a rune that belonged to Steffon.
“My shooting star, you will always rest in my heart. Natalie.” She moved her eyes from the rune to Steffon. “I was unaware that you were married, Steffon of House Cale.” Steffon stared at the woman with his hazel eyes.
“Who are you?” Her hair was worn in a bun and blonde like straw, her eyes an icy blue. She wore lightly coloured clothing with a hooded cape. She stood and bowed.
“Elena Rivers, handmaiden to Catlina Glover - future betrothal to the heir of Rogar Bolton. Or at least we hope.” Her voice was beautiful, melodic and soothing, making Steffon feel almost calm.
“Good to know, why are you in my tent?” Elena’s face went a bright red, her eyes searching all around the pavilion but not reaching Steffon’s gaze.
“I… Well.” Steffon sighed.
“Sure, whatever. Just get out, I’m tired enough as is.” The handmaiden nodded, placing the rune down on the bed and quickly leaving the pavilion.
Steffon sat down on the bed and picked up the rune, running his rough thumb over the engravings. It was here that he could mourn in peace, for his wife, his brother and most of all his daughter. The death of his wife had hit him hard, though it was Nalia that had got Steffon through it. Nalia, the girl who replicated the beauty of her mother. The beautiful girl who suffered a stabbing wound to her body, a girl who was raped by her accusers as she bled out - as could be seen from their seed dripping out of her once Stark soldiers found her and her friend, which had suffered the same. Steffon clenched the rune hard in his fist, causing the veins in his hand to bulge. I will get my vengeance. For her and my brother. The tent flap opening was quick to move Steffon’s attention, to which he thought it was the handmaiden bothering him again.
“What part of leave do you not understand!” Steffon stood up and walked to the doorway, though to his surprise it was not Elena at all - it was Theon.
“Well, if that’s how it’s going to be…” Theon said smiling as he entered alone. Steffon shook his head, feeling embarrassed and frustrated.
“Apologies king, a woman sat in my bed before you entered. I thought it was her coming back again.” Theon raised an eyebrow, then chuckled to himself.
“Well Steffon, you’re the first man I know that would rather send a woman out into the rain than take advantage of the fact that she was in your bed to begin with.” Theon made his way to the stool standing next to the cooking pot, to which he sat himself down on it. Steffon sighed and walked over to the wooden cabinet which homed a few small casks of ale and mead.
“Can I help you to a mug of your choosing?” Steffon asked, trying to sound as positive as he could. Theon shook his head.
“Kind of you, but no. I have other matters to speak with you about.” Steffon nodded, grabbing himself a mug of ale. He walked back to the king and sat himself opposite of him.
“What matters are these that you speak of?” Theon took in a breath, as if he were to start a long sentence.
“Where to start. The Andals are invading from the east, the wildings from the north and the Ironborn from the west. Fortunately we have the Andals under control, and the Night’s Watch can hold the Wall, though these Ironborn have proven to be an issue. Bear Island has been conquered by Ravos the Raper, son of Harrag Hoare - the current king of the Ironborn. Men of the west claim that Ravos has murdered all of the male members of House Woodfoot, and has impregnated the women with his seed. I am assembling the Third Infantry Battalion, consisting of the last formidable warriors which are not needed in Winterfell. I want you to lead this battalion.” Steffon stared his king in the eyes, trying to tell if there was some joke hidden behind all of this - there was none.
“My king, that is a... Large responsibility to put on a man of my age.” Theon laughed and shook his head.
“You refer to yourself as an old man yet you are still very much young compared to some. Despite all of that, you are war hardened and well experienced in leadership. You will forgive me for rushing your decision, but I cannot waste much more time. Will you accept this offer?” Steffon nodded without realising.
“I will do as you wish, my king.” Theon nodded graciously.
“Thank you Steffon, I knew I could count on you to get the job done. You will ride for Winterfell as soon as possible and meet with Teran Woodmill. It is to my understanding that he wishes to arrange terms with the men of the Barrowlands to help fight this war.” Steffon nodded again.
“As you wish.” Theon smiled and stood up. He walked over to Steffon and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I know what you’re going through is difficult. Brodin was a good man, loyal to his friends and myself. As for Nalia, what happened to her will not be tolerated. Once this war is over, I will personally have Rogar answer for this - but for now I still need him. Get some rest my friend, you will need it.” Before Steffon knew it, Theon had already left him to stare into the fire that flickered under the cooking pot.
He stood up and downed his entire mug of ale which he had not touched since he poured it. He sighed and tossed the mug aside, then made his way to his bed. He was still shirtless, bruised and bloody, but all he cared about right now was sleep. He sat himself down and lay his head back on the straw pillow, pulling the leather blanket over him. He instantly felt warmer, but there was something missing in his life that he may never get back. Love. He rolled onto his side and grabbed his rune, which he had left on his bedside table. He read the engraving once again, then placed it back and blew out the candle next to it. He rested his head down and fell into a deep slumber, which he did not intend to leave for a few hours.
-
Their wooden cottage was small, but it was cosy. Brodin lived adjacent to them, in his store where he sold his work. Steffon entered his cottage after a long day of work, his wife: Natalie: sat behind the stone hearth stirring something in her cooking pot. He smiled, seeing his beautiful wife always seemed to brighten his day. Her hair was a dark shade of red, her eyes a pastel green. She was a head shorter than Steffon, but that did not deter her beauty at all. Steffon silent approached her and grabbed her from behind, causing her to laugh. Her laugh always cheered Steffon up. She turned her head and met Steffon’s lips with her own, the two embraced - holding each other tight. Steffon noticed Nalia exiting her room with her new shortbow. She carried mostly her mother’s looks, though evidence of her father was there too.
“Look who it is, the goddess of love with her bow and arrows.” Nalia’s face looked ill, unwell. Steffon pulled himself away from his wife and walked over to Nalia. She held her hand over her stomach. “Little bird, what’s wrong?” He looked down to the ground, noticing a yellow puddle growing below her.
She pulled her hand away from her stomach, showing a bloody hole. Steffon fell back, looking at his young daughter slowly bleed out.
“Honey!” He turned to Natalie, though when he turned to look at her he noticed the once beautiful woman was now covered in grayscale.
Terror and shock coursed through him, he got up and started running. He knocked down the front door, noticing first that his brother’s store was alight. He quickly charged into the building, searching desperately for Brodin. Steffon found him standing in the doorway to his workshop, completely still.
“Brodin?” The man standing in front of him fell to the ground, a sword lodged into his heart.
The opposer was a shadow, which started to walk towards Steffon. Steffon began to back away, bumping into a chair behind him and falling to the ground. The shadow stood over him, lift it’s clenched fists over it’s head. The darkness haunting the figure dissipated, showing King Rogar hovering above him. The Bolton slammed his fists down, creating an explosion of white light.
Steffon felt someone shaking his arm, he opened his eyes to see the handmaiden. She now wore a light silk gown, and her hair was down as well. Her soft hand exchanged warmth into Steffon’s cold arm. He looked into her icy piercing eyes, to which stared directly into his.
“Steffon, I have a preposition to make.” Steffon was tired and barely thinking straight, he tried his best to sound respectful.
“And what might that be?” The tone in his voice was tired and grumpy, though Elena took no notice of it.
“I think I may know who murdered your daughter, though such information has a price. Prove to me that you are as good as they say you are, spend the night with me and let me taste your seed - then I will give you the information you seek.” Anger and confusion clouded Steffon’s mind, though he knew this may be the only chance to find out the killer of his daughter - yet he felt there was something he did not know about this Elena Rivers, something formidable.
[Accept her offer] [Refuse her offer]
Yeah, if you have the time then go ahead
I'd say yes, because Northern Chill ended with cruel cliffhanger, but that should be up to you. If you have time and think you can handle both at the same time, well, go on
I think I'm going to be in the minority here, but I'd actually prefer if you'd finish Invasion's current chapter first. Not that I don't enjoy the Northern Chill, it's just that this approach would give me more time to finish my characters
Seriously though, it's totally up to you. I'm very hyped for the Invasion currently and would prefer more parts for it first, but I also like the Northern Chill a lot. If you want to start the next chapter for it now, then I'm just going to hurry 
[Accept her offer]
Well... that escalated quickly. I seriously don't trust this Elena. She's clearly either planning something, or she's an insane nympho. Quite probably, she's both. In any way, despite my suspicions, I am willing to accept her offer. Of course, something is not right here and Steffon is clearly used for something. In the worst case, he is going to be used for something that causes his downfall later. Elena mentioned that the lady she is working for is betrothed to Tobas Bolton. That means she is close to the Boltons. This is not entirely negative though, because it gives her claim that she knows who the killer is some sort of credibility. Even though she clearly has ulterior motives, maybe Steffon will indeed learn about Rechar's involvement in his daughters death and that might be worth the consequences. Besides, Rechar is clearly an impulsive sadist who murdered two Stark soldiers for little reason, so I don't think the Bolton's have any reason to protect him. His actions are going to cause problems for them as well. But nonetheless, I'm a bit undecided here, as there are good reasons to refuse her offer as well.
Well, pretty wicked situation we have there, I like it ^^ My vote is going for [Refuse her offer] though, because we can't tell much about Elena (well, it's my character so I may, but still), and King Theon promised to find Nalia murderer, so maybe we shouldn't go in such a rush about it (as Steffon is going to war). Anyway, I loved the introduction of my character, very well you've played it. Whole part was amazing in summary, so what to say else? Keep on going! ^^
[Refuse her offer]\
I don't know, it doesn't seem right.
With that rationale, and the other current demand. Do you think you would be able to do that in a week worth of time? I'll postpone until after then if you like
Also I do not know what I will be doing for Christmas, but that might just be a couple days away.
Aye, you have pointed out a lot of correct points with Elena. She is indeed now close with the Bolton's, and truly does have hidden motives (if asking to taste a man's erectile does not say enough). I perhaps can say, her motives will do something good but maybe make it bad. Anyway, I will reveal her motives at the end of this chapter, which probably won't be anytime soon :P
[Refuse her offer] She seems... crazy
[Accept her offer]
Alright, vote closed! Steffon will refuse Elena's offer.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it just means it may take a little longer for him to get vengeance. In a way, this is probably a good thing as he now has something to drive through war (whether that is a good or bad thing).
Next part will focus... Ted!
And can you give us a little of what will happen with Elena? You've built such a mystery, that I feel like Jon Snow a bit, I literally know nothing ;D
Haha not an issue, I guess I can reveal a little bit of information. So what she said about being the current handmaiden of Catlina Glover was true, though before Miss Glover she was still at the Dreadfort working for King Rogar. Currently the two are working on a... What should I call it? "Special Project." In which case Elena needed Steffon's ejaculation to help with the process. We will see that Steffon refusing will help Steffon in the long run, whereas accepting will have helped in this project. I think that is all I can tell you without going into major spoilers... I will reveal this project in the very last part of this chapter, I still have to fit in the battle at Heart's Home, alliance of the Belmore's, a little bit of fighting with the ironborn and the bloody vengeance at Andalos. So this should hopefully be an action packed chapter.
Oh and Elena failing this task has in no way whatsoever put her in any danger, just in case you were wondering
Ted
Beams of red and white light shone through the paned glass into Ted’s bedroom, it was early morning but the light always seemed to make it’s way through the tinted windows during this time. Ted grunted and pulled the smooth red silk sheets over his face, trying to hide himself from the new day. He was tired, he had been for a long time, and now was one of the few chances that he got to sleep without disruption. Ted yawned and rested his head on the soft - supposedly griffin feathered - pillow. Before his awakening, he was in a dream which had taken him to Estermont. He saw his family, his parents, and all was well. Even his backstabbing cousin was respectable, and his uncle still lived. All was swell, though there was something different. Something still haunted Ted in his dream, a certain darkness - a crow. Whenever something bad would happen to him, a crow would be there. When the dream unfolded to actual life events, the crow was there every time. Ted tried to shake it out of his head. I left that life behind, I’m safe now. He sighed and pulled the sheets off of his head, the light quickly dazzled him as his vision tried to adjust. Ted pulled his arm to his eyes, in an attempt to block the light. He observed the scars that were riddled on his arms from the constant injuries he had gained in sparring. There was no doubt that Ted was not the best among the fighters, if he was then he would not be at Griffin’s Roost right now - but instead freezing his ass off beyond the Wall. He pulled his arm away, and to his surprise found Lord Gryff sitting opposite him. Ted felt shock and fear begin to rush through him, though he took a few deep breaths and found it to help. Now curiosity and worry replaced it.
“How long have you been sitting there?” The bearded old man shook his head, his expression seemed concerned and stressed.
“Since you tried to muffle yourself with those sheets. You need to leave.” Ted raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused and still horribly worried.
“Have I done something wrong?” Ted started pulling on his tunic as he spoke. Gryff shook his head.
“I don’t have time to explain it. Robart is waiting outside, he will escort you to the boats. From there you will tell the captain that you are to go back to Storm’s End. Got it?” The man was half out the door when he had asked his question, presumably not expecting an answer back.
Ted quickly got out of his bed and reached for his dark boiled leather wrist bracers, which matched his leather trousers. He then quickly put on his bronze shoulder armour and grabbed his bronze longsword. The rest will have to wait. He exited the room and there stood Robart Connington, wearing full bronze armour with his House’s tabard. He nodded to Ted, to which Ted gave a weak smile in return.
“Let’s move.” Robart set a quick pace down the hall which Ted quickly followed.
“Rob, what in the name of the gods is going on?” Robart continued to walk, making Ted feel uneasy. It was only after they had cleared a few more halls that Robart started to talk.
“Rangers from the Night’s Watch are here, along with an entire army of Reach soldiers. They say that if we don’t hand you over to the Watch, then they will burn down the Roost until they find you. Father is trying to reason with them, that’s why he couldn’t speak with you. Once I get you to the boat I will go and support him.” Ted was without words, his family were trying to protect him - even if it meant death.
Robart led Ted down a long set of stairs, to which there were windows every few metres down. Out these windows you could see the Great Hall, which was mostly open to display the image of a ‘nest.’ Ted could see the soldiers through one of the large openings, and a couple of black brothers too. How in all the hells did they find me? The two reached the bottom of the stairs, leading them into a small storage room full of merchandise. Robart quickly ushered Ted outside, into the howling wind. The once calm ocean and clear sunny day had now turned to rough seas and dark clouds. A young man stood in a small rowing boat, clinging onto the side of the jetty. Robart pointed out the man.
“That’s your man, he will row you out to the Swimming Bird-” A loud chant interrupted Robart’s sentence, instantly putting fear into Ted’s chest.
The two looked up to the Great Hall, the chant grew louder and louder - seemingly blocking out the howling wind. The men of the Roost began to scream, A griffin! A griffin! The next that was to be heard was metal clashing against metal, and men screaming in agony. Robart unsheathed his longsword, anger showing on his face. Ted grabbed his forearm and looked him in the eyes.
“The both of us have to go, you’re in danger if you stay.” Robart broke his arm free. He looked Ted back in the eyes and frowned.
“I must stay with my father, I’m sorry Teddy.” A loud banging at the door they had just exited began to emerge. “Go Ted! I’ll cover your escape.” Robart quickly ushered Ted into the rowing boat, gave the man a bag of coins and sent them off.
Ted looked at the man, his hair was short and curly - and as red as blood. He had grown a light red stubble since their last encounter, now Ted feared that this was their final encounter. He tried to call out to him, but the wind caught his words and flung them away. The rowman was already battling the swell on his great journey to the Swimming Bird. Ted stared at the soldier and bronze armour, prepping himself for battle. The door to the storage room had been busted open, and three black brothers exited only to meet Robart. They had not seen Ted yet. Robart held his sword high and began to yell a phrase, Ted felt as if men could hear him from across the Narrow Sea. He started running towards the men of the Watch with his sword in hand.
“Griffin! Griffin!” Ted could not tell whether the rangers were afraid or not, but only one drew his sword.
“For the Watch!” He was quick to encourage his brothers, to which they charged into a bloody battle. The rowman hid them in a cloudy mist, obscuring their vision of the battle.
-
The Swimming Bird was an excellent vessel, made entirely from birch wood and bronze railings - for the exception of the twin masts, which were made from spruce wood. Ted and the rowman climbed aboard, quickly to be met by the crew and captain. The man stood tall with straight blond hair and a smooth well kept beard. He wore a fine tunic, checkered in pink and dark blue. By his right side was a bronze scimitar, and his left a telescope.
“So you are the gracious Lord Estermont I have heard so much about? It is a pleasure to be acquainted with one of your status… I am Marten of House Tarth, brother to the past Evening Star. You will forgive me, but I have not been introduced to your name. I only ever met your late father back when I was only a boy.” The man seemed to take his words seriously, not hinting any sarcasm.
Ted looked at the man with confusion. I am not the lord of Estermont, nor was my father… It only then dawned on him that his complexion must have been similar to that of the current lord, his dreading cousin. Ted quickly decided to take advantage of his newly misguided role.
“Jules Estermont, lord of Greenstone.” Marten was quick to bow, as were the rest of his crew.
“I presume we will be taking you back to Estermont then? My lord.” The man politely asked as he stood himself up straight.
The question almost caught Ted off guard. He had not considered going back to Estermont in many years, but he had once dreamt of it. The dream to take back what seemed rightfully is, though not truly his he still knew he was the fitter ruler. Though he had not been to Estermont for the greater part of ten years, and Robart had told him to go straight to Storm’s End to consult with the king. Sure, Ted would be safe there, but the king had also mentioned he would be leaving for war. Will I be too late if I go to Storm’s End? Either way, Ted had to make a choice.
[Go to Storm's End] [Go to Estermont]
[Go to Storm's End] Let's stick to the plan, going back to Estermont after such a long time, not to mention that we called ourselves a lord, well, it doesn't seem to much of a good idea to me.
[Go to Storm's End] Agree with TheAPlegends, we should do our job firstly.
[Go to Storm's End]
[Go to Storm's End]
[Go to Storm's End] Pretty much same reasoning with TheAPlegends. Anyway, nice part!