Bethany
The basalt black walls were a depressing sight in their own light, however the dim candle light made everything feel darker than … moreit already was. Bethany felt like she was confined in a cell, rather than in the room she would be accommodated in.
She sat on the soft queen-sized bed, which had silken sheets and stuffed goose feather pillows. The candle flame oozed wax, which quickly dried on the bronze holder. Bethany leaned close to the flame and blew it out, immediately being surrounded by darkness.
She stood up, feeling her way around her new room. It was cold and damp, dark and formidable. She finally found the acacia wooden window shutters, to which she freed the clasps and pushed open. The clear warm air breezed into the suffocating dark cell she was in, freeing her of the darkness.
She found and opened the other shutters in the room, until she was satisfied with the amount of light that they had granted her. She walked… [view original content]
Alright, well this vote was completely one sided. Bethany will bathe before seeing Lord Edric. Well, I suppose it will be good to have some one-on-one cousinly bonding, right?
At any rate, I've written the next part (which is a Davios part), and I won't keep you waiting too long. The last time we saw Davios, he was given the title of Warlord from King Noriphos of the Seven, and was tasked with the mission to return back to Westeros and take the North for their kingdom. Davios thought it would be a wise idea to speak with Hughie Arryn, out of hopes that they may gain an alliance with the Arryn's of the Vale when they sail back to Westeros. However, he also thought it would be best to check up on the Valyrian girl, Vysela. Anyway, you lot chose for him to check on Vysela.
I'd also like to announce that a new H&L is coming very soon, and I think you guys will really like it So stay tuned for that, and also don't be shy if you have ideas of your own for a H&L Anyway, onto the new part!
Bethany
The basalt black walls were a depressing sight in their own light, however the dim candle light made everything feel darker than … moreit already was. Bethany felt like she was confined in a cell, rather than in the room she would be accommodated in.
She sat on the soft queen-sized bed, which had silken sheets and stuffed goose feather pillows. The candle flame oozed wax, which quickly dried on the bronze holder. Bethany leaned close to the flame and blew it out, immediately being surrounded by darkness.
She stood up, feeling her way around her new room. It was cold and damp, dark and formidable. She finally found the acacia wooden window shutters, to which she freed the clasps and pushed open. The clear warm air breezed into the suffocating dark cell she was in, freeing her of the darkness.
She found and opened the other shutters in the room, until she was satisfied with the amount of light that they had granted her. She walked… [view original content]
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on the pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more distinctive. Davios found himself outside a wooden door that led into the kitchens. “Promised gold… When will I… When?!” The voice was muffled, yet Davios could identify the thick Braavosi accent.
Without hesitation, Davios pushed through the door to find the angry Braavosi with an iron pot raised in his hand. His quickly turned to Davios, his body locked still. In front of him was the familiar fat face of Piggy, and between them both was Jorio silently reading his book. Davios looked around the kitchen, it was a mess. Pottery smashed, cutlery scattered across the floor, two pots held like batons in the Braavosi’s hands. Davios turned his eyes to the captain, clenching his fist.
“What is this meaning of this, Harlan?” Davios demanded, his tone strong and confident despite being extremely tired. Harlan lowered the pots, yet his angered eyes still remained.
“I’ve been working for you damned Andal’s for years now, I was promised gold, land and castle of my own once I took you to Westeros!” Harlan threw the pots away, the loud clang against the stone floor echoed through the hall. “Yet here I am, with no gold or land or castle. Where is my reward?!” Harlan’s breathing was rampant, his fury was burning inside him. Piggy sighed, shaking his head.
“I told you, Captain. I’m not the man to complain to, I have no gold to offer you, and if I did then it would go to saving the lives of those who were wounded in the fighting.” Piggy rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Which are likely all disturbed from their rest thanks to your tantrums.” Harlan’s menacing eyes turned to Piggy in a haste which Davios had never seen, his fists clenched and teeth gritted.
“I was promised!” He yelled, still outraged. “Argos Sevenstar assured me I’d have a castle, gold and land for my grandchildren. He was a warlord, he promised!” Harlan growled, rubbing his fists together. Davios stepped forward, gaining Harlan’s attention.
“Argos is dead.” Davios stated coldly, crossing his arms. “And now I am a warlord. So you’ll treat those under my command with the respect they have earned.” Davios spotted Piggy’s eyes widening by the statement, and even Jorio had lifted his eyes from the pages of his book. Harlan scowled at him, taking a step closer.
“I will treat them how I like, until I get what I was promised.” He took a step closer, standing now right before Davios. “I already took one hand from you, Tallman.” Harlan challenged, mocking Davios with a smirk.
Davios stared the short Braavosi in his chubby brown eyes, before lowering his eyes to the elevated stump-ended arm in the bloody sling. The day of the amputation was vivid to Davios’ mind, the only memory he had was pain, and that was already something he endured enough with other memories. He turned his eyes back to Harlan.
“Then it’s a good thing for you, otherwise I’d beat your arse to the ground.” Davios and Harlan’s eyes locked into a furious battle, which was only postponed to by Jorio clearing his throat. Harlan turned his eyes to the skinny man, who twisted an iron dagger in his hands. Harlan smirked, shaking his head.
“You can’t hurt me boy, there’s more to me than what you-” Davios’ fist had heard enough, and as a result Harlan had fallen to the floor. The punch had caught him in his fat snub nose, and it had caught him hard, a trickle of blood flowed down his upper lip. Davios stood over him, staring down at the shocked Braavosi.
“Go back to your ship, Harlan. You leave with your life, or not at all.” Davios observed a grin from Jorio in the side of his vision, and a worried look from Piggy. Harlan held his hand to his bloody nose, while the other arm hoisted him upright.
“I’ll return for you, Tallman. Consider my price raised.” He muttered, standing himself up. He exited the kitchens in defeat, though Davios was certain it would not be the last he had seen of the Braavosi.
Silence haunted the kitchen for a brief moment. All that remained were three speechless men, broken pottery and shame. Shame on them, the men who had failed, the men that returned. Piggy was the first to lift his eyes, rubbing his hands gently.
“Thanks Davios.” He said warmly, and Davios gestured a nod in return. Jorio, meanwhile, had sheathed his dagger and leant against the wall, his arms crossed.
“So, was all that true? You really the new Warlord?” There was no surprise in Jorio’s tone, and Davios could have sworn he heard near disappointment instead. Regardless, he nodded.
“Noriphos promoted me in the Great Sept.” Davios admitted, still unsure of how to feel on his new position. “I am to take us back across the Narrow Sea, and this time we will take the North.” Jorio rolled his eyes, smirking.
“We tried that once, it didn’t work out so well.” Jorio stated, returning back to his book. He placed the bookmark between the pages, shutting the cover. “We failed.” He muttered, and Davios nodded in agreement.
“We did.” He remarked, thinking back on the battle. “The battle was poorly planned, and as a consequence we lost many brothers and sisters before we could even land. Though that won’t happen again, I won’t let it happen.” Davios could see the boredom in Jorio’s eyes, and the tiredness. He nodded, picking up his book, he turned his eyes back to Davios.
“I’ll support you either way, Davios. I’ve fought beside you, I’ve seen you lead, and I won’t stay behind knowing you’re risking your life for our benefit. Though I need to know that we won’t be sailing to our deaths again, as we only so briefly escaped our last attempt.” Davios agreed with every word Jorio said, the man was right. Though Davios had to do this, whether he agreed to it or not, for good of their kingdom.
“I’ll speak more with you about it later.” Davios suggested, and received a brief short nod from Jorio, who lowered his tired eyes. Without another word, Jorio’s tiredly exited the kitchens, now leaving only Davios and Piggy remaining. Davios sighed, looking around at the mess. “Would you like a hand cleaning this up?” He asked, though Davios could already feel himself starting to weaken. Piggy shook his head.
“I need several, though I’ll be fine. You should get some rest.” He suggested as he knelt down, starting to pick up the broken plates. Davios shook his head in reply.
“I wanted to speak with Vysela before anything else. Do you know where I could find her?” Piggy raised his head, staring off to the wall in clear thought. He nodded after a brief moment.
“She’d likely be in her room, she rarely leaves it. I’ve barely seen her say a word unless she’s around that Arryn boy, and even then it’s minimal.” Piggy sighed, shaking his head. “I just haven’t had time for her, the injured have had my attention lately.” Davios walked towards him, placing his remaining hand on the big man’s shoulder.
“You’re doing well, for all of us. I’ll go speak with her.” Piggy nodded, and Davios made his way to the door, his tired legs pushing on despite his weakness.
“Davios.” Piggy hollered, and Davios turned back to the man, his eyes showed grief and disappointment. “I can’t go with you.” Davios raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment.
“Why not?” Davios asked curiously, and Piggy simply frowned, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I couldn’t kill a man. In the battle, I cowered, I froze.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Here I’m at least of some use, I’m helping people.” Davios remained silent for a moment, wanting to argue otherwise. In the end, he silently nodded, respecting the man’s decision.
“This may be the last time I see you.” Davios acknowledged, and Piggy nodded sadly. “I know.” He quietly said. “I hope you prevail.” Davios smiled, a rare accustom for his usual serious behaviour.
“The Warrior will give us strength, but thank you, Piggy.” Davios turned and pulling at the door. “It’s Malloc.” Piggy finally revealed. “Just thought you might want to know.” Davios turned back to Piggy, smiling at him.
“Farewell, Malloc.”
-
The door finally opened after Davios went to knock on it for a third time. The beautiful Valyrian woman grasped onto the doors, staring at Davios with wet eyes. She stood aside and allowed him into her small room, closing the door behind him.
Davios sat himself down on a stool beside a desk, unsure about how to start with the beautiful woman, who was in tears consequently. “Why do you cry, my lady?” Davios began, and Vysela shrugged off the question. Her golden hair with silver highlights covered most of her face, though her bright blue eyes were like lavenders, and were easy to spot.
“I cry for many reasons, Andal. What do you want?” Her terminology caught Davios off by surprise, though he had never heard her speak his name. Does she not know it? It did not matter, he was not here to exchange names.
“Your lover’s last words were a plead for me to look over you. I promised him that much, so what is wrong?” Davios felt like he was being blunt with his words, though he had never been much a man for sweet talking women. Vysela sat opposite him, on her single bed, her face stern yet radiating in beauty.
“The Cobra was not my lover, but my protector.” Vysela admitted, and Davios raised an eyebrow. “What did he protect you from?” Vysela sighed, grasping her arms.
“Let me tell you a story, Andal. A story of a girl who escaped her home with a cobra to seek a better life, to escape a doomed land.” Vysela stared at Davios, as if waiting for recognition, to which he nodded. “This snake was like no other, and he took the girl away. He abandoned his cult, to live a life with a destined girl. The cult wanted her dead, yet the cobra threw away everything he had to protect her. Now the snake is dead, and the girl is no longer safe. The girl must leave.” Davios stared at the girl with intent.
“Leave?” Almost as if a cue, the door swung open and Hughie Arryn entered, a sheathed sword in his hand. He spoke as he walked in.
“The horses are prepped, just waiting on…” Hughie quietened as he noticed Davios staring at him curiously. “Oh… Davios, I… Congratulations on your promotion.” Hughie stuttered on his words, leaning against the wall. His face reddened, blushing. Davios stood and nodded.
“You have my thanks, though what is this speak of horses?” Davios asked, taking a step closer to Hughie, which clearly made him more nervous. Vysela stood up, her sigh was somewhat melodic and beautiful.
“Hughie offered to help me, we’re leaving.” Davios’ eyes widened, surprised and certainly finding this as unexpected.
“Leaving?” Davios nearly blurted, only just managing to remain calm. Though it felt as if everyone he was close with were abandoning him or opposing him. “Where will you go?” Davios asked, hoping to convince them to stay. Vysela sighed, shaking her head as if she was not fully appealed by the idea.
“To the Valyrian Freehold, back to my family. That’s the only place I will be safe.” Davios shook his head, confused and frustrated. “Safe from what?” Vysela buried her head in her hands. Hughie stepped in.
“I’m sorry Davios, if we could explain then we would. The Cobra never told her, and I know that I have to help her.” Hughie could see that Davios was not convinced, though he persisted. “Please, Davios, you have to trust me.” Davios took a step back, finding the stool he was sitting on earlier. He sat himself down, running his fingers across his stubble beard.
It was all surreal to him, like a horrible dream. The failure of the battle, the shame of returning to Andalos. Losing his hand to a greedy Braavosi, who later demanded more rewards. Learning of Piggy’s name, and that he would not be accompanying him back to Westeros. Now this, Davios felt like the only person he had left was Jorio, and even that felt off at the best of times.
Davios lifted his eyes, Hughie stared at Davios, desperately filled with the hope that he would accept their decision. Vysela avoided eye contact, though Davios could see this was affecting her in her own way. He sighed, shaking his head. There are no friends in leadership, only loyalty and respect to those who follow you. The words repeated in his head over and over, they were the words of his father.
[Accept their decision - let them go] [Interrogate them further on the topic]
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
I have debated about this for a bit. It is not an easy choice, but in the end, I don't think asking for further information is going to be that bad. The worst that can happen is that they will leave and that Davios is never going to see them again. The other choice will result in the same, since they already have made clear plans to leave. And I am interested in hearing more about this stuff. It sounds intriguing yet dangerous and at worst it might even be dangerous for Davios. In such a case, he seriously needs to know more.
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Alright, well this vote was completely one sided. Bethany will bathe before seeing Lord Edric. Well, I suppose it will be good to have some … moreone-on-one cousinly bonding, right?
At any rate, I've written the next part (which is a Davios part), and I won't keep you waiting too long. The last time we saw Davios, he was given the title of Warlord from King Noriphos of the Seven, and was tasked with the mission to return back to Westeros and take the North for their kingdom. Davios thought it would be a wise idea to speak with Hughie Arryn, out of hopes that they may gain an alliance with the Arryn's of the Vale when they sail back to Westeros. However, he also thought it would be best to check up on the Valyrian girl, Vysela. Anyway, you lot chose for him to check on Vysela.
I'd also like to announce that a new H&L is coming very soon, and I think you guys will really like it So stay tuned for that, and also don't be shy if you have ideas of your own for a H&L Anyway, onto the new part!
Alright, well this vote was completely one sided. Bethany will bathe before seeing Lord Edric. Well, I suppose it will be good to have some … moreone-on-one cousinly bonding, right?
At any rate, I've written the next part (which is a Davios part), and I won't keep you waiting too long. The last time we saw Davios, he was given the title of Warlord from King Noriphos of the Seven, and was tasked with the mission to return back to Westeros and take the North for their kingdom. Davios thought it would be a wise idea to speak with Hughie Arryn, out of hopes that they may gain an alliance with the Arryn's of the Vale when they sail back to Westeros. However, he also thought it would be best to check up on the Valyrian girl, Vysela. Anyway, you lot chose for him to check on Vysela.
I'd also like to announce that a new H&L is coming very soon, and I think you guys will really like it So stay tuned for that, and also don't be shy if you have ideas of your own for a H&L Anyway, onto the new part!
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
Alright, well it appears this vote has come to a close. Davios will interrogate them further on the topic. Probably not the best choice, but I'll leave it at that. I will also announce that the next Davios part will be the last time we see Hughie Arryn and Vysela, so this part was key to how they remembered Davios.
Anyway, I've written the next part and it goes to yet another new PoV: Wyatt Manderly. Now, if you haven't yet picked up on the storyline yet, House Manderly are currently at their highest in terms of strength. They hold the Kingdom of the Seas, the Mander and Sunset Bay. They are allies with the Hightower's, and overcame the Gardener's a few years back, though left them with their kingdom and proclaimed their own rise.
Wyatt is the Lord of the Merling Isles, which consists of Merling Stone and Obsidian Island. These two islands are located north of Massey's Hook, and are known in ASOIAF as Driftmark and Dragonstone. Wyatt himself is Lord of Merling Stone, and his seat is at Castle Driftmark. He holds strong trade routes with most of the Free Cities of Essos, as well as a lot of eastern Westeros. So allow me to present to you, his very first part!
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on … morethe pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more d… [view original content]
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out the sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous night was sketchy to say the least, though Wyatt did not need good memory to know that he had likely drank himself to sleep. Wyatt put the pieces of evidence together, spotting a spilled goblet of ale on his bedside table. He had slept well in, and his wife has risen before him, and not by that long from the looks of the sheets.
Wyatt pulled himself out of his bed, thrusting himself onto the cold wet stone floor. His feet screamed at him to return the warmth of the woolen rugs, though Wyatt had taken his share of sleep for one night. He groaned, still weary eyed and searching for a cloak to wrap himself in.
“Colt!” He grumbled loudly, his voice deep and tired from his rude awakening. He waited a short moment, though there was no reply. Damn that boy. He thought, finally finding the cloak on the ground, in the midst of a puddle and saturated. He sighed, shaking his head. “COLT!” He yelled, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the wet walls.
After a short moment, he heard the soft padded footsteps quickly running down the hall, following the origins of Wyatt’s voice. It was enough time for Wyatt to pull on some leather trousers, and start searching for a shirt.
The young boy of thirteen years entered Wyatt’s room with haste, bending down and catch his breath, yet acting it as a bow. “My lord?” He asked, still deprived of air but rising. Wyatt had found himself a sea green cloth shirt, which he clumsily pulled over his head. He turned his attention to the boy, his wavy black hair and brown eyes staring at him intently.
Colt Hightower was one of Wyatt’s younger cousins from House Hightower, related only from his deceased mother’s side. Wyatt’s father, King Waldemar, had requested that Wyatt took the boy on as a steward, hoping that one day he would teach him the ways of finance and trade so that they may strengthen the alliance. Wyatt had taken on the boy, though mostly just for company for his younger twin sons, though Colt had proven to be useless with interactions due to his introvert behaviour. His behaviour had also affected his learning, and as a consequence he was little more but a cup-bearer.
Wyatt sighed, grabbing the chiselled sapphire earring and putting it through his left ear. He made his way to his bench mirror, which revealed a horrible sight. On average, Wyatt was a handsome man with short black hair which he slicked back, and a dyed dark green beard which he had picked up from Tyroshi custom. However, this morning his beard was stained with ale and his hair was a mess. He groaned, turning back to his empty bed, and then to Colt.
“My wife?” Wyatt asked, turning his attention back to the mirror in an attempt to tidy his hair. He cupped his hands in the basin of water, washing out his beard with a variety of Essosi ointments he had received from traders.
“Lady Vera is in the chapel, my lord.” Wyatt nodded, thoroughly washing out his beard. Ever since Vera had converted to the Faith of the Seas, she had attended the dark chapel of Castle Driftmark to pray or worship. Part of Wyatt considered that she only did it to gain his family’s affection, or his own, though Wyatt had never been overly zealous with his family’s faith.
“What of my sons?” Wyatt asked, yet Colt did not reply. Wyatt lifted his head, his soaked beard dripping onto his shirt. Colt shook his head, staring at nothing, his hands trembling. Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Colt. My sons?” Colt’s eyes shifted from the weeping walls to Wyatt.
“Sparring in the courtyard, I think.” There was uncertainty in his tone, and he stared down at the ground as he spoke. “You think?” Wyatt remarked, and Colt shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t seen them this morning, my lord. That was what the Water Maiden said.” Wyatt turned his full attention to Colt now, looking up at the boy.
“Shyla?” Wyatt asked, and the boy responded with a nod. Wyatt sighed and shook his head. “That old crone wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a rat and a seahorse. You’d best go find them.” Colt nodded, his lip quivering.
“Yes my lord.” His voice was shaky in reply, and he turned to leave the room. Wyatt quickly stopped the boy, grabbing his arm.
“Clean this mess before you go.” Wyatt muttered, turning his attention to the spilt ale and dirty clothes. The boy nodded, looking down at Wyatt before he turned and went to fetch a bucket.
Colt had reached his growth spurt in the past few months, and he finally stood a few inches taller than Wyatt. Not a notable achievement, every man towered Wyatt. He was generally just a short man, though not a dwarf, as there was no imperfections to his body. His height gained him the nickname of the ‘Short Merman,’ which was a title he was well known by. Once it had bothered him tremendously, though after years of teasing it slowly started to fade into the background, and Wyatt saw there was more to him than just his lack in height.
Wyatt returned back to his mirror, reaching into the wooden cupboard for the green dye that he used to style his beard, as well as oils to slick back his hair. He may have slept until later hours of the morning, though he knew very well that this day would be longer than the usual.
-
Wyatt sat upon the highly mounted Driftwood Throne, which had been claimed to been past down by the Merling King himself. Wyatt had paid little attention to the mythical tales of the past, and focused more on how he could aid the King of Seas, the Mander and Sunset Bay, the kingdom of his father. Though now he sat in the Divine Hall of Castle Driftmark, consulting with vassals and fisherman and traders as they were permitted entry.
Before him stood a rugged man, covered in furs and pelts with a large bronze battle axe on his back. His head was bald, and his eyes as black as the obsidian that coated Wyatt’s flag ship. He wore a bloodthirsty grin, which was enough to keep the guards alert and ready to react. Wyatt sat in his seat with boredom, staring down at the giant of a man.
“Who are you?” Wyatt asked plainly, and without interest. The savage stood with a barbaric posture, and Wyatt was genuinely surprised that the men allowed him to enter with his weapon. Likely because they couldn’t get it off of him. The barbarian bowed.
“I am Syvvek.” He announced with pride, bashing his fist against his chest. “I come from Skagos.” Wyatt spotted a few of the nobles attending the court raising their eyebrows in shock. Wyatt remained uninterested.
“And what brings you to the Merling Isles, Syvvek of Skagos.” Wyatt asked with boredom, resting his head on fist. The Skagosson turned to the men and women of the court, lifting his arms and widening his grin.
“I have come here by order of my lord. The Rockflesh, the Stoneskin, the Lord of Pebbles!” The Skagosi pronounced, and received little reaction from the crowd. He turned his black eyes back to Wyatt, who stared at him with a bored expression.
“What does your ‘Lord of Pebbles’ want, exactly?” Wyatt asked, and the Skagg smirked. He knelt down, pulling his axe from his back and resting it front of him. Wyatt noticed the guards securing a grip around the hilts of their blades, he waved them off.
“An alliance.” Syvvek stated, glancing back at Wyatt. “Once my lord becomes king, he will conquer the Narrow Sea, destroying all the cities along both sides and claiming them for his own. He will spare those who are his allies, though you must make an offer.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, studying the man.
“You’re telling me, that this king of yours plans to destroy all my trade routes, and for the sake of my own skin I must buy into an alliance?” Wyatt asked with a hint of mockery, yet not noticeable for the Skagosi to pick up on. He shook his head.
“He will be generous.” Syvvek assured him, grinning. “My king wishes not to destroy trade, but to claim it. You will resume your trade routes, while paying tax to my king. Otherwise, you will be destroyed.” Wyatt heard the soft murmurs among the crowd of nobles, the looks of panic on their faces. All the while, the Skagosi grinned. Wyatt stared at the man curiously, trying to figure his ambitions. He smiled.
“Your offer is generous, Syvvek of Skagos.” The Skagosson nodded in agreeance. “Though I must speak with my own king before making such a decision, to which I’m sure you can understand.” Wyatt applied emphasis to his final words, and the Skagosi nodded in reply.
“Do not keep us waiting too long, Short Merman. My king has little patience.” The Skagg picked up his axe, turning and leaving the hall. The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, and Wyatt sunk further into his seat. I need a drink, he thought, licking his lips.
The next man who entered put a hush to the crowd, and to Wyatt’s surprise it was a familiar face. His bushy grey beard was dripping wet, and his wet leather cap was glistening. Wyatt turned his eyes to the windows, and surely enough the weather had turned for the worse. The man bowed before Wyatt, and Wyatt returned a warm nodding gesture.
“Lord Wyatt.” He began, and Wyatt concluded. “Lord Karlack, what brings you here?” Karlack smiled, scratching his itchy head through the leather cap. Clearly his lice problem still remains.
Karlack was the named lord of the small fishing village on Obsidian Isle, known as Merman’s Cove. Obsidian Isle was the neighbouring island of Merling Stone, the home of Castle Driftmark. Lord Karlack of Merman’s Cove was a key essential to Wyatt’s trading fleet, offering fish and obsidian in return for protection.
“The Andal’s, my lord.” Wyatt cringed at the word, it was a problem he had not wished to hear of. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, before looking back at Karlack.
“What’s the problem?” Wyatt asked, and Karlack shook his head bitterly. “The Andal house that you determined a Stormlands issue, House Bar Emmon, my lord.” Karlack started, thinking carefully on his words. “Well, their ships have started interfering with our trade routes to House Darklyn.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow.
“Interfering how?” Wyatt asked curiously, and Karlack buried his head in his hands. The soft weeps echoed through the silent hall.
“My only son was on that ship, like he always was.” Karlack stated, his voice trembling. “They sunk the vessel, and all the merchandise with it. They took captives, and returned their heads with carved seven-pointed stars on their foreheads.” An outroar sparked in the crowd, catching Wyatt by surprise.
“By the Faith!” A woman yelled terrified. “Barbarians!” Another stated angrily. Wyatt raised his hand, pleading for silence. It slowly followed, yet the angry and petrified glares lingered for a while. Wyatt turned his eyes to the ground, thinking of the issues that had aroused, before turning his gaze back to Karlack.
“I will personally speak with Togarion Bar Emmon.” Wyatt announced, and a gasp ran over the crowd. “I will deliver our terms, and if they dare stand against us again then I will show them what our words are worth. Our Flood Devours!” Wyatt saw the glimmer of hope in Karlack’s old wet blue eyes. He nodded.
“Our Flood Devours.” He repeated, and the crowd of nobles remarked his words. Wyatt turned his attention to one of the guards, notioning to clear the hall. The man nodded, turning his attention to the gathering of lords and ladies. “Everybody out!” He sounded, and slowly the masses exited out of the main doors.
Wyatt stood from his old wooden seat, descending down the steps to where Karlack stood. The man stood a couple of feet taller than him, though in his current state it was clear that Wyatt was the bigger man. If he were taller, he could have placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, though he was not taller and instead he simply stared at the man sympathetically.
“I cannot bring your son back, but I will make sure that these savages will bring no more harm to your people.” Wyatt tried to reassure the man, but he simply shook his head.
“The Darklyn’s are demanding their merchandise, and we simply cannot risk sending out another ship. We need protection, an escort. The Andal’s have an entire fleet which you allowed into Blackwater Bay. They would not dare attack you, though we are vulnerable when making deliverances.” Karlack sighed and wiped his eyes clumsily. “The Darklyn’s are running us dry, our supplies are running low and we barely have enough for us to live off.” Karlack admitted, shaking his head. “Maybe you could speak with them, arrange some sort of deal. We can still make a few more deliverances, though it won’t last.” Wyatt stared at the man, thinking of the best way to go around this.
The Andal’s posed a threat on his closest trading partners, which were under his watch. If they continued to launch attacks on the local trade and fishing vessels, there was the possibility that Wyatt would lose the Darklyn alliance all together. However, perhaps the deal was running Merman’s Cove dry. With the Skagosi demanding pay tributes, Darklyn’s growing bitter and the Andal’s growing more confident, the problems were rising for the Merling Isles.
Wyatt was unsure what would be the best plan of action. He could lend part of the Eastern Fleet to Obsidian Isle, which would assure protection to their neighbours yet lay risk on their own protection. Then there was the matter of the Darklyn’s and Bar Emmon’s. The Andal’s needed to be dealt with, and the best cause of action would be to consult with the Massey’s. Though rearranging a deal with the Darklyn’s could potentially assist them in working against the Andal’s as well.
Choice 1: [Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] [Don’t lend any of the Eastern Fleet]
Choice 2: [Consult with House Massey] [Consult with House Darklyn]
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] Obsidian Island is important and can't be lost to any invader or raider. Lord Wyatt still has the aid of the Ocean Priests and Water Maidens, and if necessary, that of his honored guest.
[Consult with House Darklyn] The Darklyns seem to be a closer ally, and the Masseys might gain both of them as allies if things work out with House Darklyn, though House Massey is closer to the foreign barbarian forces. Also, commerce is priority here and as such my choice is to make our partners at Duskendale know they weren't betrayed and discuss the situation, the trade must flow
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Hm... I'm half jumping with the bandwagon here. I think jorian knows what is best in this situation. This Obsidian Isle sounds like a strategically important position at least, so I don't think they can afford losing it towards their enemies. Losing such a position right next to their lands sounds foolish, so sending aid now might be of benefit later.
[Consult with House Massey]
Here I think the Andals have to be dealt with first. Gaining the direct aid of House Massey should be more of service than hoping for a potentially beneficial outcome about negotiations with the Darklyns. And the Andals have to be dealt with now, not later.
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
House Manderly: Our Flood Devours Forgotten Lore: History of House Manderly of the Merling Isles & The Eastern Fleet
Lord Wyatt Manderly "The Short Merman" of the Merling Isles
Wyatt is the 32 year old son of King Waldemar and the deceased Queen Hightower, the first son born of this second marriage. He is 150 cm 'tall', which makes him one of the shortest among those with Hightower blood, while he isn't a dwarf (no disfiguration) considering his heritage and the height of his half-brother Wyman, Lory Wyatt truly deserves the "Short Merman" nickname. The fellow is strong, stout and brave for his size, fights with a shield and axe made of iron, and is known for love of ale. He can drink anyone under the table. He inherited his mother's dark brown eyes and the black hair. Wyatt is known as amiable and has a loud, booming laugh. Wyatt is the best merchant in the family, while he isn't doing the trade negotiations himself House Manderly's current wealth is in great part in thanks to his new trade routes, one could say after King Waldemar he is the second most important man of the kingdom if it comes to finances.
Background Music (Character Theme): The Short, The Rich, the Shrewd
Lord Wyatt sports a sapphire earring in his left ear ( a simple sapphire ring chiseled from sapphire, no metal parts), has a decently long beard with mustache which he colors dark green as the Merman on the family crest. He got into the habit of coloring it from Essosi traders from Tyrosh visiting the Merling Isles where this is a fanciful part of their culture. Tyroshi pear brandy and iron armors get to Westeros via Wyatt's domain. Wyatt is greedy and envious of his half-brother Wyman but he wouldn't betray his family because of it, he does however keep a good amount of wealth to himself, either investing it into further trade routes or stashing it away in the barely known Iron Bank of the recently established town of Braavos. Lord Wyatt's own armor is a rare iron chainmail, as each iron link must be riveted it's not cheap. He wears bronze gloves, greaves, and breastplate atop of this for ideal defense. His shield is a round iron shield from Essos which he extra layered with bronze and the embossed Manderly coat of arms is decorating it. While his brother Wyman is taller and stronger with more experience in combat, Wyatt is more 'durable' and well armored.
Domain of Lord Wyatt
Wyatt married into a distant, small Valyrian family, with the height of 164cm his wife Vera Velaryon is also larger than him even though still being relatively small. Today the islands known as the Merling Isles are what in future will be known as Driftmark and Dragonstone. Castle Driftmark is Lord Wyatt's seat and the island of Dragonstone is currently known as Obsidian Island. Due to Driftmark castle the island itself is also known by this name and the old name Merling Stone is all but forgotten. Merman's Cove is the small fishing village on Obsidian Island with the largest population currently. House Manderly holds the islands now for five centuries, before that it was owned by no one but the Children of the Forest until they abandoned them. The islands aren't much developed but their importance lies in being an important harbor and spot on most major trade routes between Westeros and Essos. The ownership of them are thus important for House Manderly and the islands have great strategic value even if one doesn't consider the trade routes, and Lord Wyatt rules the coastal territory almost as a king in his own right, and with the equal force & wealth to hold the domain this far from the other territories of the Kingdom of the Seas, Mander and Sunset Bay in the Reach.
Lord Wyatt commands the smaller Eastern Fleet of House Manderly (military), and the larger Eastern Trade Fleet (compared to the smaller Western Trade Fleet on the western side of Westeros). Wyatt and Vera have two children, twin sons. Wystan and Wymer. Both have silver hair and fair skin inherited from their mother, but for some reason while one has dark brown eyes the other shows the Manderly heritage of turquoise eyes instead of the Valyrian violet or purple eyes. Both of the boys are 11 year old and already taller than their father.
Vera herself is known as a cunning foreign beauty, Wyatt just wanted to find trade partners when he went to the East at the age of 18, but while he visited the coastal estate of House Velaryon he and violet eyed Vera fell in love. Thus the trade negotiations were sealed with an additional marriage oath. While Wyatt wasn't allowed deep into powerful Valyria he understood how rare such marriages are, and local silverheaded folks found his (then uncolored) hair strange and exotic. Not to mention the expansionist conquest of the fledgling Valyrian Freehold made such ventures risky to begin with.
Background Music (Eastern Fleet Theme): The Narrow Sea Fleet
If the smaller Eastern Fleet's combined numbers of military and merchant vessels are considered then the size of it is larger than the combined fleet of 2 or 3 Essosi city states. They are well maintained and manned by mixed crews of men loyal to House Manderly, paid sailors, and those loyal to the Faith of the Seas. Three Sistermen captains are renowned by name just as their own flagships are known by name, and are sailing under the Manderly banner. Captain Terrance Torrent of House Torrent is a good navigator and decent merchant, his ship is the Merling Boy. Captain Laura Longthrope is a follower of the Lady of the Waves, the Goddess Wife to the Merling King. She's a military navy officer and Water Maiden, her ship is the Mermaid's Rage. Captain Samson Sisters is a bastard son to Lord Sunderland. He's a marksman and coastal raider, experienced alchemist sailing his ship the Merman's Spear.
Lord Wyatt Manderly also has his own personal warship the Merling Warrior as flagship, it rarely sails out of harbor, but is an immense war galley with four banks of rows built in Essosi design, manned by a trained crew large and able enough to count as a smaller army of its own. Obsidian from Obsidian Island decorates it, the majestic hull black from it, and its sails decorated with large dark green tridents painted on. All ships in the fleet are required to have at least one Ocean Priest or Water Maiden in the crew. The Merling Boy has five, the Mermaid's Rage has seven (plus the captain), the Merman's Spear has 10, and the Merling Warrior has twenty. Only a few ships of the Western Fleet have more water clerics than this and no Essosi navy is known to have a similar fleet filled with R'hllor's fire priests.
Inspiration: Classic fantasy dwarven warriors, Gimli from Lord of the Rings, Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince, Venetian traders and fleet
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
Right, well that looks like all the votes I'm gonna get on this one, so the vote is closed. Wyatt will choose to lend half of the Eastern Fleet to their allies at Obsidian Isle. He will also choose to consult with House Massey, who are intermarried with the Andal house, Bar Emmon.
This choice was one of the key choices for Wyatt's story direction, and I gotta say that you chose to make things interesting. Anyway, I'm undecided which part will come next, but I'm thinking it will be a Jarden part, though we'll see. At any rate, it likely won't be until later on this week or this weekend, plainly because I'm stacked up a lot with work currently.
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out … morethe sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous n… [view original content]
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, almost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained on his face.
“Very well.” Ethon nodded, wiping his sweaty wrinkled forehead. “My daughter will go with you, to ensure that the deal is held, and one of your men will remain here as assurance.” Jarden was clearly taken back by this, and an urge ran through him which begged to differ. However, breaking negotiations this early would not help with their alliance, and Jarden had no intentions to disappoint Robar with his return. He simply nodded, turning his gaze to Lexia.
“Yes, my lord.” He replied sternly, and Lexia clearly approved with her wink. The two stared at each other for a while, before Ethon cleared his throat. Jarden turned his gaze back to the old man, who now stared out the window into darkness.
“That will be all.” He announced, and Jarden nodded in reply. He exited the room unsure on how to feel. Regret, accomplishment, stupidity. He had arranged a deal destined to fail, what mattered now was how long that deal would last.
-
The sky was blotched with black ink, and had been blackened for a while by the time Jarden exited the Melodic Tower. He had arranged to meet with his companions, Cedrick Redfort and Paytan Hunter, before sundown, though plans had changed. Now, he only worried that they were not searching for him.
Jarden exited the gates surrounding the Melodic Tower with Lexia by his side, the Captain sending Jarden a doubtful glare as he passed out the gates. Jarden paid him no mind, their journey had been long and tiring, and now without rest they would embark on their return to the Redfort. The thought of it disturbed Jarden, and certainly did not aid his sore legs.
The two passed through the empty abandoned markets and quiet streets in complete silence. Occasionally, Jarden felt the heavy stares of uncertainty prickling against his neck, yet the courage to pursue them further had been lost. Jarden felt uncertain about himself, uncomfortable in the beautiful girl’s presence, and guilty as hell for lying to her father.
A few more metres came before Lexia yet again took control, grabbing onto Jarden’s skinny arms. The two locked eyes, Jarden staring into her attracting silver alloys which she had been blessed with. Admittedly, Jarden had found some beauty in his own eyes, though that was the only part of him which he saw as decent. However, this time Jarden saw something else in her perfect eyes, like frustration or irritation.
“What aren’t you telling us?” She growled, demanding an answer. Jarden stared back at her, shaking his head in acted confusion. She released him, though there was clear disappointment and disbelief in her eyes.
“Do you even know Wyllam?” She asked, a touch of uncertainty in her voice. Jarden stared at her for a moment, carefully picking his words. She needs to know, he thought, though the courage to tell her the truth had left him. He nodded slightly.
“I fought beside him in the siege of Gulltown.” Jarden admitted, thinking back to the battle. “He fought well, and it was a honour to…” Lexia shook her head, her eyes welling up.
“Is he dead? Is that what you’re saying?” The strain in her voice showed the difficulty of the topic for her, and Jarden immediately shook his head. “No!” Jarden blurted, though it was too late.
Tears began streaming down her cheeks, and Jarden felt hopeless in her presence. He longed to hold her, though his arms remained locked by his side. For a moment, he just stood their watching, wondering how an angel could weep. Alone and distressed, Lexia eventually looked up and shook her head.
“We ride at dawn, be rested.” Her voice was strong, though her courage sounded shattered behind her confident words. She turned and left him alone in the dark street, leaving him feeling bewildered and guilty as hell.
-
By the time Jarden returned the rendezvous, the full moon was well into the sky and the clearly distressed two men sat in silence. Cedrick and Paytan rose as Jarden neared, clearly recognising his figure despite being covered from the darkness. Cedrick crossed his arms.
“We didn’t have any luck, but I’m guessing you did.” The monotone in Cedrick’s voice gave off a sense of lost hope. Jarden sighed and shook his head.
“I’ve got good and bad news.” Jarden bluntly revealed, and Paytan raised his eyebrows. “Well, out with the good news then.” Paytan pleaded, and received a disapproving glare from Cedrick. Jarden sighed, crossing his arms.
“I’ve secured an alliance with the Belmore’s. Lord Ethon agreed to the deal, and his daughter will accompany us back to the Redfort, to make assurance that Lord Ethon’s terms are met.” Jarden revealed, and Paytan nodded with smile.
“Good! About time we get back to Robar. We’ve been away too long.” Paytan announced, and Cedrick surprisingly nodded in agreeance. “So what’s the bad news?” Cedrick asked blatantly, getting to the point. Jarden frowned, not knowing where to begin.
“Lord Ethon’s terms were that he wishes to see his son before he simply offers his fleet to our cause. His daughter is accompanying us to make sure Wyllam is with Robar, but Wyllam is still at Gulltown.” Jarden could already see the calamity beginning to show in Cedrick’s brown eyes. Paytan simply shrugged it off.
“So, one of us rides to Gulltown to get Wyllam. No issue?” Jarden shook his head, now about to reveal the most crucial part. “He also wants one of us to remain here, in accordance to his deal.” Paytan’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. Cedrick sighed and shook his head.
“He wants to have a hostage?” Cedrick bluntly pointed out, and Jarden nodded. “Great, so who will stay?” Cedrick asked, and the three men exchanged glances. “You’re the one running this show, you should call the shots.” Paytan finally said, his tone sounding somewhat defeated. Jarden sighed, the choice was difficult, and being put in charge certainly did not help.
Jarden glanced at the two men, determining which should return. Robar was still stationed at the Redfort, and returning without Lord Barrock’s son would likely cause issues between the Royce army and House Redfort. The same applied with Paytan, except that he was a part of the personal kingsguard. What about me? The thought was outrageous, though Jarden considered himself as a candidate of choice among the other two. He wondered if Lord Ethon would accept him, being a north man with nothing to offer if the deal went sour. Jarden shook his head, taking a last look at the men and making his decision.
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Well, I don't want to choose Jarden himself. There's the thing that I don't really think that Ethon is going to accept him, considering that he is an entirely worthless hostage. I'd also like for him to remain with Lexia, because I somewhat ship these two. They are hella awkward, I mean, Jarden's the awkward one here, but they are kind of adorable at the same time. That leaves me with Paytan and Cedrick and here I think that Paytan will cause far less trouble. Cedrick is the son of Lord Redfort after all and leaving him there is bound to anger his father. Paytan meanwhile is 'only' a member of the kingsguard, so he sounds like the safer choice to avoid severe diplomatic repercussions.
Also, shit. Shit, I have totally forgotten the connection between this subplot and Wyllam and I have just now realized just how much trouble all of this is going to cause, especially considering Wyllam's current location and status. I mean, he's probably not dead yet, but Ethon is going to be livid when he sees the state his son is in at the moment. That is another reason not to choose Jarden as the hostage and not to choose Cedrick either, because I'm pretty sure whoever gets chosen as the hostage has a huge chance of dying. And in that case, sacrificing a kingsguard is still better than sacrificing a PoV or the son of Lord Redfort.
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
With bitter tears pouring down her face, Alara was lying on her bed. Her cheek was still thumping with pain, though unlike the grief she felt, it slowly faded. Today could have been different. It should have been different! Why was she so clumsy? So stupid, so worthless? She had disappointed him once again, had ruined the entire day, it had been her fault and hers alone...
“Ryman, get over here”, the raspy voice of Jaycen sounded. Alara looked up as her eldest brother walked next to their father. Or, his father, as Jaycen was always quick to point out. She wasn't his daughter, yet he was the only father she knew.
“Gareth, you're going to stand next to him”, Jaycen barked and her second brother sluggishly walked up towards Ryman. He was half a head shorter and his lack of training showed itself, especially compared to Nightsong's heir. Ryman was their pride, the best of them, a warrior, a true knight, as she had heard the smallfolk saying. They both had the red hair of their father, a stark contrast to her own jet black. But what truly mattered was that both of them were her brothers.
“And Bethany, stand next to Gareth!”, Jaycen ordered. Bethany gave Father a gentle smile, which was sweet enough to soften even Jaycen's stern face. “Of course, Father”, she said and walked up to Gareth. An age gap of five years made her the shortest Caron in the line, though Alara thought of her as the most radiant. Between the obviously bored Gareth, the stern and serious Ryman and Jaycen, who was nervous up to the point of anger, she was a calming presence.
Finally, Jaycen only threw a glance at her mother. Meghan tensed up as they looked at each other, before she wordlessly, but with a small sigh, walked up next to Bethany. “And put your bastard next to you, away from my children”, Jaycen growled and Alara frowned. Just once had she hoped that he would be different. She spotted Ryman throwing a stern glare towards his father, while her mother gave her a soft look. Meghan reached down to grab her hand and reluctantly, Alara accepted the gesture.
The sound of horns from the walls announced their guest, as the sturdy gate to the inner courtyard of Nightsong was opened. Half a dozen riders approached slowly, their tabards black, with a purple lightning bolt on it. Alara's heart was beating furiously in her chest and she only had eyes for one of them. Edric Dondarrion, the Thunderlord, her grandfather.
She gasped as she got a good look at him. He was a tall man, but unlike Father or Ryman, he was skinny, gaunt even. His hair was shaved, but even if he would let it grow, it wouldn't be able to cover the gruesome burn scars that covered part of his head, face and neck. The only similarity he had with his beautiful daughter were the eyes, though his shade of amber was more matted than Meghan's. Alara tensed up as he looked into her direction, though just in that moment, a kind, fatherly smile formed on his face, not fitting to his intimidating appearance.
“Meghan!”, he said loudly, as he approached them. Alara's mother spread her arms, to hug Lord Edric. For a moment, they just held each other. “It's been far too long, daughter”, he said and she smiled. “A lot can happen in ten years”, she answered softly and Alara felt how Jaycen glared at her. “Where are Gendel and Gladys?”
“Gladys is not feeling well. She's heartbroken about it, but had to remain home”, Edric explained. “Gendel meanwhile was forced to stay. Someone has to rule over Blackhaven in my absence” They separated from each other and the Thunderlord looked at Jaycen. The two men did not exchange hugs, only a thin, distant nod. “Jaycen”, Edric said. “Edric”, Jaycen answered. “You haven't changed a bit”
“Ten years and still the same ugly mug, eh?”, Edric chuckled sardonically. “You've stayed handsome, compared to me” He looked at Ryman and his eyes widened. “Is that... dear Gods, you are Ryman!” With a smile on his face, he enthusiastically shook his eldest grandsons hand, before pulling him into a brief hug. “Hello, grandfather”, Ryman said politely, a thin smile on his face.
Resting his hands on Ryman's shoulders, Edric looked at him in awe. “You have grown into a formidable man”, he said affectionately, before he shifted his attention at Gareth, who stood slightly behind Ryman. “And here we got Gareth! Always in your brother's shadow, take a step closer, I have to get a good look at you”
Reluctantly, Gareth complied. Alara knew that this was a slightly uncomfortable situation for him. He hadn't seen Edric Dondarrion in ten years. The same applied to the rest. Only Alara had never seen him. “Even more handsome than your brother!”, Edric complimented him. Gareth smirked at the compliment. “Thank you, Ed... grandfather”, he answered and the old lord was pleased by this answer.
Now, he spotted Bethany, who stood proudly next to her older brothers. His smile got a streak of disbelief as he glanced at her. “Meghan?”, he asked, before he slightly shook his head. “No... can it be? Bethany!” She gave him a nod and an eager smile, as she almost jumped into his arms. “I've missed you, grandfather”, she greeted him and gave him a peck on the cheek, to which he blushed. “You've grown beautiful”, he said.
And finally, there was Alara. She had a lump in her throat as she watched this man greeting her siblings and she stood behind Mother, as if she tried to hide. Maybe she did. She wasn't even too sure about it herself. Unlike her siblings, Edric Dondarrion was a complete stranger to her. Having Father so close, glaring at her, as if he silently tried to forbid her from approaching their guest, it did not make things any easier.
“And who do we have here?”, Edric asked as he looked past Bethany. Alara tensed up under his look and she gulped. “I... I am... Al...”, she stuttered and Jaycen sighed. “Alara”, he growled. “Meghan's bastard”
Alara looked to the ground, staring at it, while biting her lower lip. She noticed the shadow looming over her and reluctantly, she looked up again, right into the face of her grandfather, who smiled kindly. “Alara”, he said warmly and crouched down, so that he was able to to look her in the eyes. “I've been eager to meet my youngest granddaughter. Why do you frown?”
Now, up close, he wasn't scary at all. Instead, he looked at her kindly, in a way Father never did. Even though she still felt uncomfortable so close to Jaycen, she smiled at her grandfather. Edric put a huge hand onto her shoulder. “That's more like it”, he whispered. “You're not looking like them, is that the problem?”
After a moment of hesitation, she gave him a nod. Ryman and Gareth, they looked like Father, while Bethany was gifted with the beauty of Mother. Only Alara looked like neither. Edric chuckled. “Doesn't matter that much”, he assured her and the scars on his face shivered gruesomely. “I don't look like them either, yet they still swear they are my family. There's more important things than having Jaycen's red hair, don't you agree?”
He looked over his shoulder and at her father. “It's been a long ride, Jaycen!”, he growled. “Something to warm myself would be welcome” Jaycen nodded affirmatively, before he pointed towards the Tweeting Hall. “Of course. We have prepared dinner. Ryman has been hunting a stag for this occasion”
“What fine Durrandon bannermen we are”, Edric joked, as he got back to his feet. He smiled down at Alara, who shyly smiled back at him. When he extended his hand, she grabbed it, as the entire family started to approach the Great Hall at the other end of the courtyard. “What happened to your face?”, Alara asked out of curiosity. Edric grinned. “Oh, that has been decades ago”, he said. “Believe it or not, I got struck by lightning”
“And that's when I raised my spear, pointing it right at him”, the Thunderlord boasted. “I growled 'You sure you want me to put it there?'” He started to laugh loudly, while Gareth and Ryman chimed in. “Should have seen how pale he got”
Alara watched this scene in confusion, but what surprised her even more was how Bethany and Mother were blushing. The story hadn't been that bad. Compared to what the soldiers used to tell, in the rare occasions when Alara dared to speak to them, it has even comparably tame.
“Father!”, Meghan said sharply and Edric raised an eyebrow. “There are children at the table” Edric gave her a nod. “Two children”, he clarified. “Alara is too young to understand it and Bethany doesn't really mind, ain't that true”
The whole table glanced at Bethany, whose cheeks were slightly rosy. The embarrassed look on her face quickly faded, replaced by a sly smile. She slightly wiggled her eyebrows, as she took a deep sip from her wine. Meghan inhaled sharply. “Bethy!”, she hissed, though she smiled. They all smiled. Even Alara felt happy in the presence of her family, even if her father was still frowning.
Father had been tensed up for the whole day and even though she was young, she understood why. She knew how bad things were between him and Mother, how little they talked to each other. Because of her... Alara's smile got a bit weaker. But she knew, it was hard for Jaycen to even look Meghan's father in the eye. The only thing that helped him to get through this particular day were lots of alcohol. Right now, he was at his sixth cup, she had counted. And she noticed how his cup had gotten almost empty. Her smile got a bit wider again. Maybe she could do something good for him this time. Maybe he'd look at her differently.
“Another story!”, Bethany demanded with an excited voice. The wine had obviously gotten to her head. The same applied for Gareth, who was grinning like a fool. “You've led an assault on Wyl when you were younger, haven't you?”, he asked and Edric gave him a nod. “Far younger”, he answered. “Back then I was quite a handsome man, as I've been told”
Slowly, Alara reached for the large jar containing the wine. It had a sweet scent to it and while Mother had forbidden her from drinking it, claiming that she was too young for that, she could already see why everyone liked it so much. Her entire family felt more light-hearted than usual and it warmed her heart to see them all like this.
“Anyways, Lord Wyl started the fight”, Edric explained. “He delivered a message to Blackhaven, threatened to destroy the whole castle...” As he spoke, Alara grabbed the wine and rose from her chair. Meghan looked at her and raised an eyebrow, though Alara only looked at her father, who narrowed his eyes as she approached.
“A bit of wine, father?”, Alara asked with a smile. Jaycen sighed, before he gave her a nod. It was a simple, quick nod, though it meant the world for Alara, who grinned vividly at his gesture of appreciation, as she started to pour wine into his empty cup. This was good. A first step. Maybe next he could...
“Such a sweet girl”, Edric commented and Alara looked. up. “Child, when you're done, I could need more wine as...” He got cut off by Jaycen, who sighed sharply. “Watch out!”, he barked loudly and angrily and as Alara looked down again, she noticed what she had just done. When she had looked up towards her grandfather, she had stopped paying attention to the cup and had accidentally poured a bit onto Jaycen's vest...
Her eyes widened as she put the cup onto the table. “Oh... I... I...”, she stuttered, while Jaycen glared at her. “My vest”, he growled. “You ruined my vest!” Alara took a step away from him. “I'm sorry”, she mumbled. “I... I did not mean to! Please, father, I'm...”
The back of his hand hit her in the face, heavily and way faster than she was able to jump back. The force was enough to send her to her knees and immediately, tears welled up in her eyes, as she looked up into Jaycen Caron's single, hateful eye. “Watch your tongue”, he growled. “You're no daughter of mine, bastard”
The entire table had fallen silent by now. They were all looking at them. Edric was speechless and the same applied for Bethany, whose mouth stood slightly open. Gareth had his fists clenched and Mother... Mother was only sitting there, sorrow in her eyes, as she focussed onto the table in front of her. It was Ryman who attempted to stand up, only for Jaycen to glare at him. “Sit down”, he hissed sharply, before he looked back at Alara. By now, she saw everything through a veil of tears. “Get out!”
When she did not make any attempts to leave, he almost jumped up from his chair, causing her to recoil. “I said get out of my sight, bastard!”, he yelled and she crawled back in terror. A few feet away from him, she got back onto her shaky hands, a look of horror on her face, while Jaycen, breathing heavily, sank back onto his chair, his lips pressed together, his glare not directed at anyone in particular. Then, she turned around and ran.
Alara finally looked up from her pillow, as the door to her room opened with a creak. “Hey, little sister”, Ryman said kindly and sat down next to her. She slightly moved and put her head onto his upper leg, as he gently put a hand onto her cheek, starting to stroke her black hair. “Does it still hurt?”
Alara bit her lower lip, before she shook her head. The spot where Father had hit her, it wasn't hurting anymore. No, what truly ached was the knowledge that she had fucked everything up just again. No physical pain could ever come close to this.
“I'm sorry”, she mumbled and Ryman frowned. “For what?”, he asked and she gulped, her eyes wandering to the small window of her room. “For ruining the evening”, she answered and Ryman smiled kindly. “It hasn't been you that ruined the evening”, he stated firmly. Alara waited for a moment. “For being born...”, she whispered.
This time, Ryman stopped moving his hand through her hair. She felt how he tensed up underneath her. “Oh Alara...”, he said and his voice shivered momentarily. “It's the truth”, she mumbled. “That only happened because I wasn't born as his daughter. Because I'm just a bastard”
“You're not a bastard, you're a Caron”, Ryman reminded her. “He gave you his name. That must mean something, right?” Alara shook her head. “Doesn't mean anything”, she insisted. Ryman raised an eyebrow. “You know, your real father would never acknowledge you. Maybe he'd like to, but he couldn't do that to his wife, to his other children, to his kingdom”, he reminded her. “Without a father to acknowledge you, you wouldn't even be a Storm. Royal blood flows through your veins, but no one would ever give you a chance in life. Father acknowledged you as his daughter, he gave you his name and a future”
“And what kind of future did he give to me?”, Alara asked and she was scared by the bitterness in her own voice. She shouldn't sound so bitter and she didn't want to. “A future of getting yelled at? A future spent near a man who hates me for being born?”
“He doesn't hate you”, Ryman argued. “He... I think it's himself whom he hates the most. For failing as a husband. And it's mother whom he hates, but he loves her too much at the same time. Just looking at you reminds him of this pain and this hate and this anger” He paused. “I think I pity him”, he said after a short moment. “I pity him for being too stubborn to even consider what a wonderful person his youngest daughter has grown into” Before she could say anything, he raised his index finger. “And you are his daughter”, he told her sternly. “You may not have his blood, but you have more of him than Gareth or Bethy. You're stubborn as well, isn't that true, my little Nightingale?”
She smiled and noticed that she had stopped crying. Instead of utter sorrow, she felt a tiny ray of hope again. “And most importantly, you are my sister. Alara Caron, my little sister”, Ryman said. “I can only pity him for missing out on such a wonderful young lady”
Alara sighed. “I really didn't mean to ruin the evening”, she said glumly and Ryman shook his head. “I've already told you, that hasn't been you”, he said. “But if father wants to be an asshole, no one can stop him”
“What's with the others?”, Alara asked. Ryman smirked. “Father won't enjoy the evening either, that much is for sure”, he told her. “After you have left, Grandfather has announced that he had grown tired”
“I like him”, Alara interjected and her brother gave her a nod. “He's been through a lot and it made him a better man. It's just... something about him is different than usual”, Ryman explained. “He and mother are in his room, talking. I don't think he's going to stay long here at Nightsong” The mention of her mother sent a sting of pain through Alara's chest. “Mother...”, she mumbled. “She just sat there...” She felt tears welling up in her eyes again, though Ryman was there to comfort her.
“This is mother's problem”, he said. “She just can't decide. You are her youngest daughter and believe me when I say that she loves you fiercely, with all her heart.. You are a reminder of the most happy time in her life” His smile got a bit smaller. “At the same time, she loves Father just as well. She has hurt him so much and she knows it. Not only being with Qarlton Durrandon for such a long time, but also giving birth to his daughter...” He shook his head. “It pains her to see both of you like this, but she can't pick a side”, he spoke. “But that does not matter. Don't reduce yourself to be someone's daughter, someone's bastard. You're so much more than that” Sternly, he put a hand onto her shoulder. “One day, you'll have to decide what kind of a person you want to be. And I have no doubt you'll be wonderful at that”
Alara smiled and felt the sadness slowly creeping away. Ryman reciprocated the gesture. “And you'll always have your brother. Both of your brothers, to be precise. And your sister”, he added. “Gareth and Bethy... What are they doing now?”, Alara mumbled. “Gareth left shortly afterwards, silent and full of rage”, Ryman explained. “He's out in the courtyard, shooting arrows at straw men. He's furious at Father. Bethy meanwhile is still in the Great Hall, the last one aside from Father, keeping him company in his sorrow”
“The dutiful daughter”, Alara mumbled and Ryman chuckled. “At least that's what she wants us to think”, he answered and smiled reassuringly. “Do you feel better now?” Alara gave him a short nod and Ryman gave her a hug, holding her tightly in his arms. “I don't know if father is ever going to see you for the person you are instead of the bastard he thinks you to be”, he whispered into her ears. “But he's not going to be around forever. One day, I'll be lord and you'll be free of him”
“Free..”, Alara sighed longingly and glanced at her window. Was that what she wanted? She wanted her family, all of them. Ryman and Gareth and Bethany. Mother and even father. She didn't want to be free of him, she wanted to be his daughter, she wanted to be at home here in Nightsong. At the same time, she feared she would never be either.
“I have something for you”, Ryman revealed and she looked up. “Perhaps that'll raise your mood a little bit” He stood up from the bed and walked towards the window. Alara followed him and they looked out into the nightly landscape of the dornish marches below. “Isn't it beautiful?”, Ryman sighed and glanced at her with a smile. “Would you like to ride across our lands in the middle of the night, just moon and stars above you and the wind in your hair?”
Alara's eyes widened. “You mean... right now?”, she asked and Ryman gave her a nod. She jumped into his arms, with a wide grin on her face. “Oh yes!”, she said loudly. “Oh yes, oh yes!” Ryman laughed shortly. “Now that's how I like you”, he answered and approached the door. Alara threw a last look onto her pillow, wet from her tears. Then, a small, hopeful smile formed on her face, as she left the room.
This was a fantastic H&L, which no matter how many times I read it, there's always something that manages to prick at my chest Excellent history of Alara, and certainly a beautiful piece of writing! Great work!
Histories & Lore of the Invasion
Alara Caron – Bastardy
With bitter tears pouring down her face, Alara was lying on her bed. Her c… moreheek was still thumping with pain, though unlike the grief she felt, it slowly faded. Today could have been different. It should have been different! Why was she so clumsy? So stupid, so worthless? She had disappointed him once again, had ruined the entire day, it had been her fault and hers alone...
“Ryman, get over here”, the raspy voice of Jaycen sounded. Alara looked up as her eldest brother walked next to their father. Or, his father, as Jaycen was always quick to point out. She wasn't his daughter, yet he was the only father she knew.
“Gareth, you're going to stand next to him”, Jaycen barked and her second brother sluggishly walked up towards Ryman. He was half a head shorter and his lack of training showed itself, especially compared to Nightsong's heir. Ryman was their pride, the best of … [view original content]
Histories & Lore of the Invasion
Alara Caron – Bastardy
With bitter tears pouring down her face, Alara was lying on her bed. Her c… moreheek was still thumping with pain, though unlike the grief she felt, it slowly faded. Today could have been different. It should have been different! Why was she so clumsy? So stupid, so worthless? She had disappointed him once again, had ruined the entire day, it had been her fault and hers alone...
“Ryman, get over here”, the raspy voice of Jaycen sounded. Alara looked up as her eldest brother walked next to their father. Or, his father, as Jaycen was always quick to point out. She wasn't his daughter, yet he was the only father she knew.
“Gareth, you're going to stand next to him”, Jaycen barked and her second brother sluggishly walked up towards Ryman. He was half a head shorter and his lack of training showed itself, especially compared to Nightsong's heir. Ryman was their pride, the best of … [view original content]
Histories & Lore of the Invasion
Alara Caron – Bastardy
With bitter tears pouring down her face, Alara was lying on her bed. Her c… moreheek was still thumping with pain, though unlike the grief she felt, it slowly faded. Today could have been different. It should have been different! Why was she so clumsy? So stupid, so worthless? She had disappointed him once again, had ruined the entire day, it had been her fault and hers alone...
“Ryman, get over here”, the raspy voice of Jaycen sounded. Alara looked up as her eldest brother walked next to their father. Or, his father, as Jaycen was always quick to point out. She wasn't his daughter, yet he was the only father she knew.
“Gareth, you're going to stand next to him”, Jaycen barked and her second brother sluggishly walked up towards Ryman. He was half a head shorter and his lack of training showed itself, especially compared to Nightsong's heir. Ryman was their pride, the best of … [view original content]
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, … morealmost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained… [view original content]
Comments
[Bathe before seeing Lord Edric]
Nice spoiler
Oops!
Haha that is what happens when I try to do things on my phone. How do you change it?
Haven't a clue
Ah well, just leave it 
I think this vote is pretty clear anyway 
Alright, well this vote was completely one sided. Bethany will bathe before seeing Lord Edric. Well, I suppose it will be good to have some one-on-one cousinly bonding, right?
At any rate, I've written the next part (which is a Davios part), and I won't keep you waiting too long. The last time we saw Davios, he was given the title of Warlord from King Noriphos of the Seven, and was tasked with the mission to return back to Westeros and take the North for their kingdom. Davios thought it would be a wise idea to speak with Hughie Arryn, out of hopes that they may gain an alliance with the Arryn's of the Vale when they sail back to Westeros. However, he also thought it would be best to check up on the Valyrian girl, Vysela. Anyway, you lot chose for him to check on Vysela.
I'd also like to announce that a new H&L is coming very soon, and I think you guys will really like it
So stay tuned for that, and also don't be shy if you have ideas of your own for a H&L 
Anyway, onto the new part!
Davios
The suffocating heat of the hospital filled Davios’ lungs as he entered the main doors. He had battled through the mass crowds on the pathway between the Great Sept and the hospital, and it had left him exhausted. Fortunately the hospital was quieter than the activity outside the complex, which Davios was thankful for.
He silently passed the resting men and women on their stretchers, making his way to the refuge section of the hospital. Those who had healed or had nowhere else to go were permitted a room for however long they needed there, and Davios was certain that Vysela would be there. Where else could she go?
As Davios drew nearer to the refuge department, he heard the sound of angered shouts down the hall. Though quiet from Davios’ position, he could identify that the argument was between a foreigner and someone else. Curious, Davios made his way down the hall to investigate.
The voices grew louder, angrier and more distinctive. Davios found himself outside a wooden door that led into the kitchens. “Promised gold… When will I… When?!” The voice was muffled, yet Davios could identify the thick Braavosi accent.
Without hesitation, Davios pushed through the door to find the angry Braavosi with an iron pot raised in his hand. His quickly turned to Davios, his body locked still. In front of him was the familiar fat face of Piggy, and between them both was Jorio silently reading his book. Davios looked around the kitchen, it was a mess. Pottery smashed, cutlery scattered across the floor, two pots held like batons in the Braavosi’s hands. Davios turned his eyes to the captain, clenching his fist.
“What is this meaning of this, Harlan?” Davios demanded, his tone strong and confident despite being extremely tired. Harlan lowered the pots, yet his angered eyes still remained.
“I’ve been working for you damned Andal’s for years now, I was promised gold, land and castle of my own once I took you to Westeros!” Harlan threw the pots away, the loud clang against the stone floor echoed through the hall. “Yet here I am, with no gold or land or castle. Where is my reward?!” Harlan’s breathing was rampant, his fury was burning inside him. Piggy sighed, shaking his head.
“I told you, Captain. I’m not the man to complain to, I have no gold to offer you, and if I did then it would go to saving the lives of those who were wounded in the fighting.” Piggy rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Which are likely all disturbed from their rest thanks to your tantrums.” Harlan’s menacing eyes turned to Piggy in a haste which Davios had never seen, his fists clenched and teeth gritted.
“I was promised!” He yelled, still outraged. “Argos Sevenstar assured me I’d have a castle, gold and land for my grandchildren. He was a warlord, he promised!” Harlan growled, rubbing his fists together. Davios stepped forward, gaining Harlan’s attention.
“Argos is dead.” Davios stated coldly, crossing his arms. “And now I am a warlord. So you’ll treat those under my command with the respect they have earned.” Davios spotted Piggy’s eyes widening by the statement, and even Jorio had lifted his eyes from the pages of his book. Harlan scowled at him, taking a step closer.
“I will treat them how I like, until I get what I was promised.” He took a step closer, standing now right before Davios. “I already took one hand from you, Tallman.” Harlan challenged, mocking Davios with a smirk.
Davios stared the short Braavosi in his chubby brown eyes, before lowering his eyes to the elevated stump-ended arm in the bloody sling. The day of the amputation was vivid to Davios’ mind, the only memory he had was pain, and that was already something he endured enough with other memories. He turned his eyes back to Harlan.
“Then it’s a good thing for you, otherwise I’d beat your arse to the ground.” Davios and Harlan’s eyes locked into a furious battle, which was only postponed to by Jorio clearing his throat. Harlan turned his eyes to the skinny man, who twisted an iron dagger in his hands. Harlan smirked, shaking his head.
“You can’t hurt me boy, there’s more to me than what you-” Davios’ fist had heard enough, and as a result Harlan had fallen to the floor. The punch had caught him in his fat snub nose, and it had caught him hard, a trickle of blood flowed down his upper lip. Davios stood over him, staring down at the shocked Braavosi.
“Go back to your ship, Harlan. You leave with your life, or not at all.” Davios observed a grin from Jorio in the side of his vision, and a worried look from Piggy. Harlan held his hand to his bloody nose, while the other arm hoisted him upright.
“I’ll return for you, Tallman. Consider my price raised.” He muttered, standing himself up. He exited the kitchens in defeat, though Davios was certain it would not be the last he had seen of the Braavosi.
Silence haunted the kitchen for a brief moment. All that remained were three speechless men, broken pottery and shame. Shame on them, the men who had failed, the men that returned. Piggy was the first to lift his eyes, rubbing his hands gently.
“Thanks Davios.” He said warmly, and Davios gestured a nod in return. Jorio, meanwhile, had sheathed his dagger and leant against the wall, his arms crossed.
“So, was all that true? You really the new Warlord?” There was no surprise in Jorio’s tone, and Davios could have sworn he heard near disappointment instead. Regardless, he nodded.
“Noriphos promoted me in the Great Sept.” Davios admitted, still unsure of how to feel on his new position. “I am to take us back across the Narrow Sea, and this time we will take the North.” Jorio rolled his eyes, smirking.
“We tried that once, it didn’t work out so well.” Jorio stated, returning back to his book. He placed the bookmark between the pages, shutting the cover. “We failed.” He muttered, and Davios nodded in agreement.
“We did.” He remarked, thinking back on the battle. “The battle was poorly planned, and as a consequence we lost many brothers and sisters before we could even land. Though that won’t happen again, I won’t let it happen.” Davios could see the boredom in Jorio’s eyes, and the tiredness. He nodded, picking up his book, he turned his eyes back to Davios.
“I’ll support you either way, Davios. I’ve fought beside you, I’ve seen you lead, and I won’t stay behind knowing you’re risking your life for our benefit. Though I need to know that we won’t be sailing to our deaths again, as we only so briefly escaped our last attempt.” Davios agreed with every word Jorio said, the man was right. Though Davios had to do this, whether he agreed to it or not, for good of their kingdom.
“I’ll speak more with you about it later.” Davios suggested, and received a brief short nod from Jorio, who lowered his tired eyes. Without another word, Jorio’s tiredly exited the kitchens, now leaving only Davios and Piggy remaining. Davios sighed, looking around at the mess. “Would you like a hand cleaning this up?” He asked, though Davios could already feel himself starting to weaken. Piggy shook his head.
“I need several, though I’ll be fine. You should get some rest.” He suggested as he knelt down, starting to pick up the broken plates. Davios shook his head in reply.
“I wanted to speak with Vysela before anything else. Do you know where I could find her?” Piggy raised his head, staring off to the wall in clear thought. He nodded after a brief moment.
“She’d likely be in her room, she rarely leaves it. I’ve barely seen her say a word unless she’s around that Arryn boy, and even then it’s minimal.” Piggy sighed, shaking his head. “I just haven’t had time for her, the injured have had my attention lately.” Davios walked towards him, placing his remaining hand on the big man’s shoulder.
“You’re doing well, for all of us. I’ll go speak with her.” Piggy nodded, and Davios made his way to the door, his tired legs pushing on despite his weakness.
“Davios.” Piggy hollered, and Davios turned back to the man, his eyes showed grief and disappointment. “I can’t go with you.” Davios raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment.
“Why not?” Davios asked curiously, and Piggy simply frowned, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I couldn’t kill a man. In the battle, I cowered, I froze.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Here I’m at least of some use, I’m helping people.” Davios remained silent for a moment, wanting to argue otherwise. In the end, he silently nodded, respecting the man’s decision.
“This may be the last time I see you.” Davios acknowledged, and Piggy nodded sadly. “I know.” He quietly said. “I hope you prevail.” Davios smiled, a rare accustom for his usual serious behaviour.
“The Warrior will give us strength, but thank you, Piggy.” Davios turned and pulling at the door. “It’s Malloc.” Piggy finally revealed. “Just thought you might want to know.” Davios turned back to Piggy, smiling at him.
“Farewell, Malloc.”
-
The door finally opened after Davios went to knock on it for a third time. The beautiful Valyrian woman grasped onto the doors, staring at Davios with wet eyes. She stood aside and allowed him into her small room, closing the door behind him.
Davios sat himself down on a stool beside a desk, unsure about how to start with the beautiful woman, who was in tears consequently. “Why do you cry, my lady?” Davios began, and Vysela shrugged off the question. Her golden hair with silver highlights covered most of her face, though her bright blue eyes were like lavenders, and were easy to spot.
“I cry for many reasons, Andal. What do you want?” Her terminology caught Davios off by surprise, though he had never heard her speak his name. Does she not know it? It did not matter, he was not here to exchange names.
“Your lover’s last words were a plead for me to look over you. I promised him that much, so what is wrong?” Davios felt like he was being blunt with his words, though he had never been much a man for sweet talking women. Vysela sat opposite him, on her single bed, her face stern yet radiating in beauty.
“The Cobra was not my lover, but my protector.” Vysela admitted, and Davios raised an eyebrow. “What did he protect you from?” Vysela sighed, grasping her arms.
“Let me tell you a story, Andal. A story of a girl who escaped her home with a cobra to seek a better life, to escape a doomed land.” Vysela stared at Davios, as if waiting for recognition, to which he nodded. “This snake was like no other, and he took the girl away. He abandoned his cult, to live a life with a destined girl. The cult wanted her dead, yet the cobra threw away everything he had to protect her. Now the snake is dead, and the girl is no longer safe. The girl must leave.” Davios stared at the girl with intent.
“Leave?” Almost as if a cue, the door swung open and Hughie Arryn entered, a sheathed sword in his hand. He spoke as he walked in.
“The horses are prepped, just waiting on…” Hughie quietened as he noticed Davios staring at him curiously. “Oh… Davios, I… Congratulations on your promotion.” Hughie stuttered on his words, leaning against the wall. His face reddened, blushing. Davios stood and nodded.
“You have my thanks, though what is this speak of horses?” Davios asked, taking a step closer to Hughie, which clearly made him more nervous. Vysela stood up, her sigh was somewhat melodic and beautiful.
“Hughie offered to help me, we’re leaving.” Davios’ eyes widened, surprised and certainly finding this as unexpected.
“Leaving?” Davios nearly blurted, only just managing to remain calm. Though it felt as if everyone he was close with were abandoning him or opposing him. “Where will you go?” Davios asked, hoping to convince them to stay. Vysela sighed, shaking her head as if she was not fully appealed by the idea.
“To the Valyrian Freehold, back to my family. That’s the only place I will be safe.” Davios shook his head, confused and frustrated. “Safe from what?” Vysela buried her head in her hands. Hughie stepped in.
“I’m sorry Davios, if we could explain then we would. The Cobra never told her, and I know that I have to help her.” Hughie could see that Davios was not convinced, though he persisted. “Please, Davios, you have to trust me.” Davios took a step back, finding the stool he was sitting on earlier. He sat himself down, running his fingers across his stubble beard.
It was all surreal to him, like a horrible dream. The failure of the battle, the shame of returning to Andalos. Losing his hand to a greedy Braavosi, who later demanded more rewards. Learning of Piggy’s name, and that he would not be accompanying him back to Westeros. Now this, Davios felt like the only person he had left was Jorio, and even that felt off at the best of times.
Davios lifted his eyes, Hughie stared at Davios, desperately filled with the hope that he would accept their decision. Vysela avoided eye contact, though Davios could see this was affecting her in her own way. He sighed, shaking his head. There are no friends in leadership, only loyalty and respect to those who follow you. The words repeated in his head over and over, they were the words of his father.
[Accept their decision - let them go] [Interrogate them further on the topic]
[Interrogate them further on the topic]
I want to listen more of the story... I hope she won't get angry because of pushing her.
[Interrogate them further on the topic]
I have debated about this for a bit. It is not an easy choice, but in the end, I don't think asking for further information is going to be that bad. The worst that can happen is that they will leave and that Davios is never going to see them again. The other choice will result in the same, since they already have made clear plans to leave. And I am interested in hearing more about this stuff. It sounds intriguing yet dangerous and at worst it might even be dangerous for Davios. In such a case, he seriously needs to know more.
very good, one day is worse than the other for me recently, so the more new parts the better
I wonder if Vysela knows a certain dragonrider
[Interrogate them further on the topic]
oh why not, they may get a bit angry but we might get more info
[Interrogate them further on the topic] I'd like to accept and respect their decision, but I also want to know more
Anyway, great part! 
[Interrogate them further on the topic]
She knows several
[Accept their decision - let them go]
I think we've heard enough , nothing good is gonna come out of it .
[Accept their decision - let them go]
Alright, well it appears this vote has come to a close. Davios will interrogate them further on the topic. Probably not the best choice, but I'll leave it at that. I will also announce that the next Davios part will be the last time we see Hughie Arryn and Vysela, so this part was key to how they remembered Davios.
Anyway, I've written the next part and it goes to yet another new PoV: Wyatt Manderly. Now, if you haven't yet picked up on the storyline yet, House Manderly are currently at their highest in terms of strength. They hold the Kingdom of the Seas, the Mander and Sunset Bay. They are allies with the Hightower's, and overcame the Gardener's a few years back, though left them with their kingdom and proclaimed their own rise.
Wyatt is the Lord of the Merling Isles, which consists of Merling Stone and Obsidian Island. These two islands are located north of Massey's Hook, and are known in ASOIAF as Driftmark and Dragonstone. Wyatt himself is Lord of Merling Stone, and his seat is at Castle Driftmark. He holds strong trade routes with most of the Free Cities of Essos, as well as a lot of eastern Westeros. So allow me to present to you, his very first part!
Wyatt
The eastern sunrise peered through the damp narrow winds, piercing Wyatt in his tired waking eyes. He lifted his arm, blocking out the sunlight, and pulled himself up. Stripping the woolen rugs and silk sheets off of him, he instantly felt the damp moisture in the air wet his skin.
Wyatt yawned, stretching out his arms as he awoke. He stared at the dark mossy green walls, made from stone slabs and streaming with condensation. He frowned at the poor design, though he admitted that the castle was built to his size, and that errors like these would occur regardless.
Lowering his arms, it was a surprise to him when he found the other side of the bed empty. Wyatt turned his dark brown eyes to the odd vacancy that he had woken to, his wife had never awoken before him. Wyatt felt the sore thud in his head, and rubbed at his eyes. Unless I was that drunk. He thought to himself, falling back into his pillows.
Memory of the previous night was sketchy to say the least, though Wyatt did not need good memory to know that he had likely drank himself to sleep. Wyatt put the pieces of evidence together, spotting a spilled goblet of ale on his bedside table. He had slept well in, and his wife has risen before him, and not by that long from the looks of the sheets.
Wyatt pulled himself out of his bed, thrusting himself onto the cold wet stone floor. His feet screamed at him to return the warmth of the woolen rugs, though Wyatt had taken his share of sleep for one night. He groaned, still weary eyed and searching for a cloak to wrap himself in.
“Colt!” He grumbled loudly, his voice deep and tired from his rude awakening. He waited a short moment, though there was no reply. Damn that boy. He thought, finally finding the cloak on the ground, in the midst of a puddle and saturated. He sighed, shaking his head. “COLT!” He yelled, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the wet walls.
After a short moment, he heard the soft padded footsteps quickly running down the hall, following the origins of Wyatt’s voice. It was enough time for Wyatt to pull on some leather trousers, and start searching for a shirt.
The young boy of thirteen years entered Wyatt’s room with haste, bending down and catch his breath, yet acting it as a bow. “My lord?” He asked, still deprived of air but rising. Wyatt had found himself a sea green cloth shirt, which he clumsily pulled over his head. He turned his attention to the boy, his wavy black hair and brown eyes staring at him intently.
Colt Hightower was one of Wyatt’s younger cousins from House Hightower, related only from his deceased mother’s side. Wyatt’s father, King Waldemar, had requested that Wyatt took the boy on as a steward, hoping that one day he would teach him the ways of finance and trade so that they may strengthen the alliance. Wyatt had taken on the boy, though mostly just for company for his younger twin sons, though Colt had proven to be useless with interactions due to his introvert behaviour. His behaviour had also affected his learning, and as a consequence he was little more but a cup-bearer.
Wyatt sighed, grabbing the chiselled sapphire earring and putting it through his left ear. He made his way to his bench mirror, which revealed a horrible sight. On average, Wyatt was a handsome man with short black hair which he slicked back, and a dyed dark green beard which he had picked up from Tyroshi custom. However, this morning his beard was stained with ale and his hair was a mess. He groaned, turning back to his empty bed, and then to Colt.
“My wife?” Wyatt asked, turning his attention back to the mirror in an attempt to tidy his hair. He cupped his hands in the basin of water, washing out his beard with a variety of Essosi ointments he had received from traders.
“Lady Vera is in the chapel, my lord.” Wyatt nodded, thoroughly washing out his beard. Ever since Vera had converted to the Faith of the Seas, she had attended the dark chapel of Castle Driftmark to pray or worship. Part of Wyatt considered that she only did it to gain his family’s affection, or his own, though Wyatt had never been overly zealous with his family’s faith.
“What of my sons?” Wyatt asked, yet Colt did not reply. Wyatt lifted his head, his soaked beard dripping onto his shirt. Colt shook his head, staring at nothing, his hands trembling. Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Colt. My sons?” Colt’s eyes shifted from the weeping walls to Wyatt.
“Sparring in the courtyard, I think.” There was uncertainty in his tone, and he stared down at the ground as he spoke. “You think?” Wyatt remarked, and Colt shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t seen them this morning, my lord. That was what the Water Maiden said.” Wyatt turned his full attention to Colt now, looking up at the boy.
“Shyla?” Wyatt asked, and the boy responded with a nod. Wyatt sighed and shook his head. “That old crone wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a rat and a seahorse. You’d best go find them.” Colt nodded, his lip quivering.
“Yes my lord.” His voice was shaky in reply, and he turned to leave the room. Wyatt quickly stopped the boy, grabbing his arm.
“Clean this mess before you go.” Wyatt muttered, turning his attention to the spilt ale and dirty clothes. The boy nodded, looking down at Wyatt before he turned and went to fetch a bucket.
Colt had reached his growth spurt in the past few months, and he finally stood a few inches taller than Wyatt. Not a notable achievement, every man towered Wyatt. He was generally just a short man, though not a dwarf, as there was no imperfections to his body. His height gained him the nickname of the ‘Short Merman,’ which was a title he was well known by. Once it had bothered him tremendously, though after years of teasing it slowly started to fade into the background, and Wyatt saw there was more to him than just his lack in height.
Wyatt returned back to his mirror, reaching into the wooden cupboard for the green dye that he used to style his beard, as well as oils to slick back his hair. He may have slept until later hours of the morning, though he knew very well that this day would be longer than the usual.
-
Wyatt sat upon the highly mounted Driftwood Throne, which had been claimed to been past down by the Merling King himself. Wyatt had paid little attention to the mythical tales of the past, and focused more on how he could aid the King of Seas, the Mander and Sunset Bay, the kingdom of his father. Though now he sat in the Divine Hall of Castle Driftmark, consulting with vassals and fisherman and traders as they were permitted entry.
Before him stood a rugged man, covered in furs and pelts with a large bronze battle axe on his back. His head was bald, and his eyes as black as the obsidian that coated Wyatt’s flag ship. He wore a bloodthirsty grin, which was enough to keep the guards alert and ready to react. Wyatt sat in his seat with boredom, staring down at the giant of a man.
“Who are you?” Wyatt asked plainly, and without interest. The savage stood with a barbaric posture, and Wyatt was genuinely surprised that the men allowed him to enter with his weapon. Likely because they couldn’t get it off of him. The barbarian bowed.
“I am Syvvek.” He announced with pride, bashing his fist against his chest. “I come from Skagos.” Wyatt spotted a few of the nobles attending the court raising their eyebrows in shock. Wyatt remained uninterested.
“And what brings you to the Merling Isles, Syvvek of Skagos.” Wyatt asked with boredom, resting his head on fist. The Skagosson turned to the men and women of the court, lifting his arms and widening his grin.
“I have come here by order of my lord. The Rockflesh, the Stoneskin, the Lord of Pebbles!” The Skagosi pronounced, and received little reaction from the crowd. He turned his black eyes back to Wyatt, who stared at him with a bored expression.
“What does your ‘Lord of Pebbles’ want, exactly?” Wyatt asked, and the Skagg smirked. He knelt down, pulling his axe from his back and resting it front of him. Wyatt noticed the guards securing a grip around the hilts of their blades, he waved them off.
“An alliance.” Syvvek stated, glancing back at Wyatt. “Once my lord becomes king, he will conquer the Narrow Sea, destroying all the cities along both sides and claiming them for his own. He will spare those who are his allies, though you must make an offer.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, studying the man.
“You’re telling me, that this king of yours plans to destroy all my trade routes, and for the sake of my own skin I must buy into an alliance?” Wyatt asked with a hint of mockery, yet not noticeable for the Skagosi to pick up on. He shook his head.
“He will be generous.” Syvvek assured him, grinning. “My king wishes not to destroy trade, but to claim it. You will resume your trade routes, while paying tax to my king. Otherwise, you will be destroyed.” Wyatt heard the soft murmurs among the crowd of nobles, the looks of panic on their faces. All the while, the Skagosi grinned. Wyatt stared at the man curiously, trying to figure his ambitions. He smiled.
“Your offer is generous, Syvvek of Skagos.” The Skagosson nodded in agreeance. “Though I must speak with my own king before making such a decision, to which I’m sure you can understand.” Wyatt applied emphasis to his final words, and the Skagosi nodded in reply.
“Do not keep us waiting too long, Short Merman. My king has little patience.” The Skagg picked up his axe, turning and leaving the hall. The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, and Wyatt sunk further into his seat. I need a drink, he thought, licking his lips.
The next man who entered put a hush to the crowd, and to Wyatt’s surprise it was a familiar face. His bushy grey beard was dripping wet, and his wet leather cap was glistening. Wyatt turned his eyes to the windows, and surely enough the weather had turned for the worse. The man bowed before Wyatt, and Wyatt returned a warm nodding gesture.
“Lord Wyatt.” He began, and Wyatt concluded. “Lord Karlack, what brings you here?” Karlack smiled, scratching his itchy head through the leather cap. Clearly his lice problem still remains.
Karlack was the named lord of the small fishing village on Obsidian Isle, known as Merman’s Cove. Obsidian Isle was the neighbouring island of Merling Stone, the home of Castle Driftmark. Lord Karlack of Merman’s Cove was a key essential to Wyatt’s trading fleet, offering fish and obsidian in return for protection.
“The Andal’s, my lord.” Wyatt cringed at the word, it was a problem he had not wished to hear of. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, before looking back at Karlack.
“What’s the problem?” Wyatt asked, and Karlack shook his head bitterly. “The Andal house that you determined a Stormlands issue, House Bar Emmon, my lord.” Karlack started, thinking carefully on his words. “Well, their ships have started interfering with our trade routes to House Darklyn.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow.
“Interfering how?” Wyatt asked curiously, and Karlack buried his head in his hands. The soft weeps echoed through the silent hall.
“My only son was on that ship, like he always was.” Karlack stated, his voice trembling. “They sunk the vessel, and all the merchandise with it. They took captives, and returned their heads with carved seven-pointed stars on their foreheads.” An outroar sparked in the crowd, catching Wyatt by surprise.
“By the Faith!” A woman yelled terrified. “Barbarians!” Another stated angrily. Wyatt raised his hand, pleading for silence. It slowly followed, yet the angry and petrified glares lingered for a while. Wyatt turned his eyes to the ground, thinking of the issues that had aroused, before turning his gaze back to Karlack.
“I will personally speak with Togarion Bar Emmon.” Wyatt announced, and a gasp ran over the crowd. “I will deliver our terms, and if they dare stand against us again then I will show them what our words are worth. Our Flood Devours!” Wyatt saw the glimmer of hope in Karlack’s old wet blue eyes. He nodded.
“Our Flood Devours.” He repeated, and the crowd of nobles remarked his words. Wyatt turned his attention to one of the guards, notioning to clear the hall. The man nodded, turning his attention to the gathering of lords and ladies. “Everybody out!” He sounded, and slowly the masses exited out of the main doors.
Wyatt stood from his old wooden seat, descending down the steps to where Karlack stood. The man stood a couple of feet taller than him, though in his current state it was clear that Wyatt was the bigger man. If he were taller, he could have placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, though he was not taller and instead he simply stared at the man sympathetically.
“I cannot bring your son back, but I will make sure that these savages will bring no more harm to your people.” Wyatt tried to reassure the man, but he simply shook his head.
“The Darklyn’s are demanding their merchandise, and we simply cannot risk sending out another ship. We need protection, an escort. The Andal’s have an entire fleet which you allowed into Blackwater Bay. They would not dare attack you, though we are vulnerable when making deliverances.” Karlack sighed and wiped his eyes clumsily. “The Darklyn’s are running us dry, our supplies are running low and we barely have enough for us to live off.” Karlack admitted, shaking his head. “Maybe you could speak with them, arrange some sort of deal. We can still make a few more deliverances, though it won’t last.” Wyatt stared at the man, thinking of the best way to go around this.
The Andal’s posed a threat on his closest trading partners, which were under his watch. If they continued to launch attacks on the local trade and fishing vessels, there was the possibility that Wyatt would lose the Darklyn alliance all together. However, perhaps the deal was running Merman’s Cove dry. With the Skagosi demanding pay tributes, Darklyn’s growing bitter and the Andal’s growing more confident, the problems were rising for the Merling Isles.
Wyatt was unsure what would be the best plan of action. He could lend part of the Eastern Fleet to Obsidian Isle, which would assure protection to their neighbours yet lay risk on their own protection. Then there was the matter of the Darklyn’s and Bar Emmon’s. The Andal’s needed to be dealt with, and the best cause of action would be to consult with the Massey’s. Though rearranging a deal with the Darklyn’s could potentially assist them in working against the Andal’s as well.
Choice 1: [Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] [Don’t lend any of the Eastern Fleet]
Choice 2: [Consult with House Massey] [Consult with House Darklyn]
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] Obsidian Island is important and can't be lost to any invader or raider. Lord Wyatt still has the aid of the Ocean Priests and Water Maidens, and if necessary, that of his honored guest.
[Consult with House Darklyn] The Darklyns seem to be a closer ally, and the Masseys might gain both of them as allies if things work out with House Darklyn, though House Massey is closer to the foreign barbarian forces. Also, commerce is priority here and as such my choice is to make our partners at Duskendale know they weren't betrayed and discuss the situation, the trade must flow
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] He still has decent forcce even without those ships
[Consult with House Massey]
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet] & [Consult with House Darklyn]
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet]
[Consult with House Darklyn]
[Lend half of the Eastern Fleet]
Hm... I'm half jumping with the bandwagon here. I think jorian knows what is best in this situation. This Obsidian Isle sounds like a strategically important position at least, so I don't think they can afford losing it towards their enemies. Losing such a position right next to their lands sounds foolish, so sending aid now might be of benefit later.
[Consult with House Massey]
Here I think the Andals have to be dealt with first. Gaining the direct aid of House Massey should be more of service than hoping for a potentially beneficial outcome about negotiations with the Darklyns. And the Andals have to be dealt with now, not later.
1: [Lend half of the Eastern Fleet]
2: [Consult with House Massey]
[Don’t lend any of the Eastern Fleet]
[Consult with House Massey]
House Manderly: Our Flood Devours
Forgotten Lore: History of House Manderly of the Merling Isles & The Eastern Fleet
Lord Wyatt Manderly "The Short Merman" of the Merling Isles
Wyatt is the 32 year old son of King Waldemar and the deceased Queen Hightower, the first son born of this second marriage. He is 150 cm 'tall', which makes him one of the shortest among those with Hightower blood, while he isn't a dwarf (no disfiguration) considering his heritage and the height of his half-brother Wyman, Lory Wyatt truly deserves the "Short Merman" nickname. The fellow is strong, stout and brave for his size, fights with a shield and axe made of iron, and is known for love of ale. He can drink anyone under the table. He inherited his mother's dark brown eyes and the black hair. Wyatt is known as amiable and has a loud, booming laugh. Wyatt is the best merchant in the family, while he isn't doing the trade negotiations himself House Manderly's current wealth is in great part in thanks to his new trade routes, one could say after King Waldemar he is the second most important man of the kingdom if it comes to finances.
Background Music (Character Theme): The Short, The Rich, the Shrewd
Lord Wyatt sports a sapphire earring in his left ear ( a simple sapphire ring chiseled from sapphire, no metal parts), has a decently long beard with mustache which he colors dark green as the Merman on the family crest. He got into the habit of coloring it from Essosi traders from Tyrosh visiting the Merling Isles where this is a fanciful part of their culture. Tyroshi pear brandy and iron armors get to Westeros via Wyatt's domain. Wyatt is greedy and envious of his half-brother Wyman but he wouldn't betray his family because of it, he does however keep a good amount of wealth to himself, either investing it into further trade routes or stashing it away in the barely known Iron Bank of the recently established town of Braavos. Lord Wyatt's own armor is a rare iron chainmail, as each iron link must be riveted it's not cheap. He wears bronze gloves, greaves, and breastplate atop of this for ideal defense. His shield is a round iron shield from Essos which he extra layered with bronze and the embossed Manderly coat of arms is decorating it. While his brother Wyman is taller and stronger with more experience in combat, Wyatt is more 'durable' and well armored.
Domain of Lord Wyatt
Wyatt married into a distant, small Valyrian family, with the height of 164cm his wife Vera Velaryon is also larger than him even though still being relatively small. Today the islands known as the Merling Isles are what in future will be known as Driftmark and Dragonstone. Castle Driftmark is Lord Wyatt's seat and the island of Dragonstone is currently known as Obsidian Island. Due to Driftmark castle the island itself is also known by this name and the old name Merling Stone is all but forgotten. Merman's Cove is the small fishing village on Obsidian Island with the largest population currently. House Manderly holds the islands now for five centuries, before that it was owned by no one but the Children of the Forest until they abandoned them. The islands aren't much developed but their importance lies in being an important harbor and spot on most major trade routes between Westeros and Essos. The ownership of them are thus important for House Manderly and the islands have great strategic value even if one doesn't consider the trade routes, and Lord Wyatt rules the coastal territory almost as a king in his own right, and with the equal force & wealth to hold the domain this far from the other territories of the Kingdom of the Seas, Mander and Sunset Bay in the Reach.
Lord Wyatt commands the smaller Eastern Fleet of House Manderly (military), and the larger Eastern Trade Fleet (compared to the smaller Western Trade Fleet on the western side of Westeros). Wyatt and Vera have two children, twin sons. Wystan and Wymer. Both have silver hair and fair skin inherited from their mother, but for some reason while one has dark brown eyes the other shows the Manderly heritage of turquoise eyes instead of the Valyrian violet or purple eyes. Both of the boys are 11 year old and already taller than their father.
Vera herself is known as a cunning foreign beauty, Wyatt just wanted to find trade partners when he went to the East at the age of 18, but while he visited the coastal estate of House Velaryon he and violet eyed Vera fell in love. Thus the trade negotiations were sealed with an additional marriage oath. While Wyatt wasn't allowed deep into powerful Valyria he understood how rare such marriages are, and local silverheaded folks found his (then uncolored) hair strange and exotic. Not to mention the expansionist conquest of the fledgling Valyrian Freehold made such ventures risky to begin with.
Background Music (Eastern Fleet Theme): The Narrow Sea Fleet
If the smaller Eastern Fleet's combined numbers of military and merchant vessels are considered then the size of it is larger than the combined fleet of 2 or 3 Essosi city states. They are well maintained and manned by mixed crews of men loyal to House Manderly, paid sailors, and those loyal to the Faith of the Seas. Three Sistermen captains are renowned by name just as their own flagships are known by name, and are sailing under the Manderly banner. Captain Terrance Torrent of House Torrent is a good navigator and decent merchant, his ship is the Merling Boy. Captain Laura Longthrope is a follower of the Lady of the Waves, the Goddess Wife to the Merling King. She's a military navy officer and Water Maiden, her ship is the Mermaid's Rage. Captain Samson Sisters is a bastard son to Lord Sunderland. He's a marksman and coastal raider, experienced alchemist sailing his ship the Merman's Spear.
Lord Wyatt Manderly also has his own personal warship the Merling Warrior as flagship, it rarely sails out of harbor, but is an immense war galley with four banks of rows built in Essosi design, manned by a trained crew large and able enough to count as a smaller army of its own. Obsidian from Obsidian Island decorates it, the majestic hull black from it, and its sails decorated with large dark green tridents painted on. All ships in the fleet are required to have at least one Ocean Priest or Water Maiden in the crew. The Merling Boy has five, the Mermaid's Rage has seven (plus the captain), the Merman's Spear has 10, and the Merling Warrior has twenty. Only a few ships of the Western Fleet have more water clerics than this and no Essosi navy is known to have a similar fleet filled with R'hllor's fire priests.
Inspiration: Classic fantasy dwarven warriors, Gimli from Lord of the Rings, Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince, Venetian traders and fleet
Damned double posts.
Right, well that looks like all the votes I'm gonna get on this one, so the vote is closed. Wyatt will choose to lend half of the Eastern Fleet to their allies at Obsidian Isle. He will also choose to consult with House Massey, who are intermarried with the Andal house, Bar Emmon.
This choice was one of the key choices for Wyatt's story direction, and I gotta say that you chose to make things interesting. Anyway, I'm undecided which part will come next, but I'm thinking it will be a Jarden part, though we'll see. At any rate, it likely won't be until later on this week or this weekend, plainly because I'm stacked up a lot with work currently.
Jarden
He hovered over the old man for a moment, staring into his dead grey eyes. There was a sadness in them which was pleading to end, almost begging Jarden for something. Jarden simply nodded, extending his hand to the old man. The frail old hand grasped onto Jarden’s skinny hand, and the alliance was sealed with a stern nod.
“It’s settled then.” Ethon revealed, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked to his daughter, Lexia, who smiled at him. “We’ll see Wyllam again.” He reciprocated her smile, and Jarden could tell it was clearly something he did not do often. Regardless, Jarden felt a strong sense of guilt haunting him, he had agreed to a deal which he had already broken. Jarden cleared his throat.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to Robar.” Jarden announced, his voice unsteady and a trickle of sweat running down his brow. “Inform him of the alliance.” Jarden added, rubbing his hands nervously. Ethon nodded, a weak smile remained on his face.
“Very well.” Ethon nodded, wiping his sweaty wrinkled forehead. “My daughter will go with you, to ensure that the deal is held, and one of your men will remain here as assurance.” Jarden was clearly taken back by this, and an urge ran through him which begged to differ. However, breaking negotiations this early would not help with their alliance, and Jarden had no intentions to disappoint Robar with his return. He simply nodded, turning his gaze to Lexia.
“Yes, my lord.” He replied sternly, and Lexia clearly approved with her wink. The two stared at each other for a while, before Ethon cleared his throat. Jarden turned his gaze back to the old man, who now stared out the window into darkness.
“That will be all.” He announced, and Jarden nodded in reply. He exited the room unsure on how to feel. Regret, accomplishment, stupidity. He had arranged a deal destined to fail, what mattered now was how long that deal would last.
-
The sky was blotched with black ink, and had been blackened for a while by the time Jarden exited the Melodic Tower. He had arranged to meet with his companions, Cedrick Redfort and Paytan Hunter, before sundown, though plans had changed. Now, he only worried that they were not searching for him.
Jarden exited the gates surrounding the Melodic Tower with Lexia by his side, the Captain sending Jarden a doubtful glare as he passed out the gates. Jarden paid him no mind, their journey had been long and tiring, and now without rest they would embark on their return to the Redfort. The thought of it disturbed Jarden, and certainly did not aid his sore legs.
The two passed through the empty abandoned markets and quiet streets in complete silence. Occasionally, Jarden felt the heavy stares of uncertainty prickling against his neck, yet the courage to pursue them further had been lost. Jarden felt uncertain about himself, uncomfortable in the beautiful girl’s presence, and guilty as hell for lying to her father.
A few more metres came before Lexia yet again took control, grabbing onto Jarden’s skinny arms. The two locked eyes, Jarden staring into her attracting silver alloys which she had been blessed with. Admittedly, Jarden had found some beauty in his own eyes, though that was the only part of him which he saw as decent. However, this time Jarden saw something else in her perfect eyes, like frustration or irritation.
“What aren’t you telling us?” She growled, demanding an answer. Jarden stared back at her, shaking his head in acted confusion. She released him, though there was clear disappointment and disbelief in her eyes.
“Do you even know Wyllam?” She asked, a touch of uncertainty in her voice. Jarden stared at her for a moment, carefully picking his words. She needs to know, he thought, though the courage to tell her the truth had left him. He nodded slightly.
“I fought beside him in the siege of Gulltown.” Jarden admitted, thinking back to the battle. “He fought well, and it was a honour to…” Lexia shook her head, her eyes welling up.
“Is he dead? Is that what you’re saying?” The strain in her voice showed the difficulty of the topic for her, and Jarden immediately shook his head. “No!” Jarden blurted, though it was too late.
Tears began streaming down her cheeks, and Jarden felt hopeless in her presence. He longed to hold her, though his arms remained locked by his side. For a moment, he just stood their watching, wondering how an angel could weep. Alone and distressed, Lexia eventually looked up and shook her head.
“We ride at dawn, be rested.” Her voice was strong, though her courage sounded shattered behind her confident words. She turned and left him alone in the dark street, leaving him feeling bewildered and guilty as hell.
-
By the time Jarden returned the rendezvous, the full moon was well into the sky and the clearly distressed two men sat in silence. Cedrick and Paytan rose as Jarden neared, clearly recognising his figure despite being covered from the darkness. Cedrick crossed his arms.
“We didn’t have any luck, but I’m guessing you did.” The monotone in Cedrick’s voice gave off a sense of lost hope. Jarden sighed and shook his head.
“I’ve got good and bad news.” Jarden bluntly revealed, and Paytan raised his eyebrows. “Well, out with the good news then.” Paytan pleaded, and received a disapproving glare from Cedrick. Jarden sighed, crossing his arms.
“I’ve secured an alliance with the Belmore’s. Lord Ethon agreed to the deal, and his daughter will accompany us back to the Redfort, to make assurance that Lord Ethon’s terms are met.” Jarden revealed, and Paytan nodded with smile.
“Good! About time we get back to Robar. We’ve been away too long.” Paytan announced, and Cedrick surprisingly nodded in agreeance. “So what’s the bad news?” Cedrick asked blatantly, getting to the point. Jarden frowned, not knowing where to begin.
“Lord Ethon’s terms were that he wishes to see his son before he simply offers his fleet to our cause. His daughter is accompanying us to make sure Wyllam is with Robar, but Wyllam is still at Gulltown.” Jarden could already see the calamity beginning to show in Cedrick’s brown eyes. Paytan simply shrugged it off.
“So, one of us rides to Gulltown to get Wyllam. No issue?” Jarden shook his head, now about to reveal the most crucial part. “He also wants one of us to remain here, in accordance to his deal.” Paytan’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. Cedrick sighed and shook his head.
“He wants to have a hostage?” Cedrick bluntly pointed out, and Jarden nodded. “Great, so who will stay?” Cedrick asked, and the three men exchanged glances. “You’re the one running this show, you should call the shots.” Paytan finally said, his tone sounding somewhat defeated. Jarden sighed, the choice was difficult, and being put in charge certainly did not help.
Jarden glanced at the two men, determining which should return. Robar was still stationed at the Redfort, and returning without Lord Barrock’s son would likely cause issues between the Royce army and House Redfort. The same applied with Paytan, except that he was a part of the personal kingsguard. What about me? The thought was outrageous, though Jarden considered himself as a candidate of choice among the other two. He wondered if Lord Ethon would accept him, being a north man with nothing to offer if the deal went sour. Jarden shook his head, taking a last look at the men and making his decision.
[Nominate yourself] [Choose Paytan] [Choose Cedrick]
[Choose Cedrick]
[Choose Paytan]
[Choose Paytan]
Well, I don't want to choose Jarden himself. There's the thing that I don't really think that Ethon is going to accept him, considering that he is an entirely worthless hostage. I'd also like for him to remain with Lexia, because I somewhat ship these two. They are hella awkward, I mean, Jarden's the awkward one here, but they are kind of adorable at the same time. That leaves me with Paytan and Cedrick and here I think that Paytan will cause far less trouble. Cedrick is the son of Lord Redfort after all and leaving him there is bound to anger his father. Paytan meanwhile is 'only' a member of the kingsguard, so he sounds like the safer choice to avoid severe diplomatic repercussions.
Also, shit. Shit, I have totally forgotten the connection between this subplot and Wyllam and I have just now realized just how much trouble all of this is going to cause, especially considering Wyllam's current location and status. I mean, he's probably not dead yet, but Ethon is going to be livid when he sees the state his son is in at the moment. That is another reason not to choose Jarden as the hostage and not to choose Cedrick either, because I'm pretty sure whoever gets chosen as the hostage has a huge chance of dying. And in that case, sacrificing a kingsguard is still better than sacrificing a PoV or the son of Lord Redfort.
[Choose Paytan] i agree with liquid on this one , the man's just a kingsguard.Best choice on the lot .
[Choose Paytan] Because reasons
Histories & Lore of the Invasion
Alara Caron – Bastardy
With bitter tears pouring down her face, Alara was lying on her bed. Her cheek was still thumping with pain, though unlike the grief she felt, it slowly faded. Today could have been different. It should have been different! Why was she so clumsy? So stupid, so worthless? She had disappointed him once again, had ruined the entire day, it had been her fault and hers alone...
“Ryman, get over here”, the raspy voice of Jaycen sounded. Alara looked up as her eldest brother walked next to their father. Or, his father, as Jaycen was always quick to point out. She wasn't his daughter, yet he was the only father she knew.
“Gareth, you're going to stand next to him”, Jaycen barked and her second brother sluggishly walked up towards Ryman. He was half a head shorter and his lack of training showed itself, especially compared to Nightsong's heir. Ryman was their pride, the best of them, a warrior, a true knight, as she had heard the smallfolk saying. They both had the red hair of their father, a stark contrast to her own jet black. But what truly mattered was that both of them were her brothers.
“And Bethany, stand next to Gareth!”, Jaycen ordered. Bethany gave Father a gentle smile, which was sweet enough to soften even Jaycen's stern face. “Of course, Father”, she said and walked up to Gareth. An age gap of five years made her the shortest Caron in the line, though Alara thought of her as the most radiant. Between the obviously bored Gareth, the stern and serious Ryman and Jaycen, who was nervous up to the point of anger, she was a calming presence.
Finally, Jaycen only threw a glance at her mother. Meghan tensed up as they looked at each other, before she wordlessly, but with a small sigh, walked up next to Bethany. “And put your bastard next to you, away from my children”, Jaycen growled and Alara frowned. Just once had she hoped that he would be different. She spotted Ryman throwing a stern glare towards his father, while her mother gave her a soft look. Meghan reached down to grab her hand and reluctantly, Alara accepted the gesture.
The sound of horns from the walls announced their guest, as the sturdy gate to the inner courtyard of Nightsong was opened. Half a dozen riders approached slowly, their tabards black, with a purple lightning bolt on it. Alara's heart was beating furiously in her chest and she only had eyes for one of them. Edric Dondarrion, the Thunderlord, her grandfather.
She gasped as she got a good look at him. He was a tall man, but unlike Father or Ryman, he was skinny, gaunt even. His hair was shaved, but even if he would let it grow, it wouldn't be able to cover the gruesome burn scars that covered part of his head, face and neck. The only similarity he had with his beautiful daughter were the eyes, though his shade of amber was more matted than Meghan's. Alara tensed up as he looked into her direction, though just in that moment, a kind, fatherly smile formed on his face, not fitting to his intimidating appearance.
“Meghan!”, he said loudly, as he approached them. Alara's mother spread her arms, to hug Lord Edric. For a moment, they just held each other. “It's been far too long, daughter”, he said and she smiled. “A lot can happen in ten years”, she answered softly and Alara felt how Jaycen glared at her. “Where are Gendel and Gladys?”
“Gladys is not feeling well. She's heartbroken about it, but had to remain home”, Edric explained. “Gendel meanwhile was forced to stay. Someone has to rule over Blackhaven in my absence” They separated from each other and the Thunderlord looked at Jaycen. The two men did not exchange hugs, only a thin, distant nod. “Jaycen”, Edric said. “Edric”, Jaycen answered. “You haven't changed a bit”
“Ten years and still the same ugly mug, eh?”, Edric chuckled sardonically. “You've stayed handsome, compared to me” He looked at Ryman and his eyes widened. “Is that... dear Gods, you are Ryman!” With a smile on his face, he enthusiastically shook his eldest grandsons hand, before pulling him into a brief hug. “Hello, grandfather”, Ryman said politely, a thin smile on his face.
Resting his hands on Ryman's shoulders, Edric looked at him in awe. “You have grown into a formidable man”, he said affectionately, before he shifted his attention at Gareth, who stood slightly behind Ryman. “And here we got Gareth! Always in your brother's shadow, take a step closer, I have to get a good look at you”
Reluctantly, Gareth complied. Alara knew that this was a slightly uncomfortable situation for him. He hadn't seen Edric Dondarrion in ten years. The same applied to the rest. Only Alara had never seen him. “Even more handsome than your brother!”, Edric complimented him. Gareth smirked at the compliment. “Thank you, Ed... grandfather”, he answered and the old lord was pleased by this answer.
Now, he spotted Bethany, who stood proudly next to her older brothers. His smile got a streak of disbelief as he glanced at her. “Meghan?”, he asked, before he slightly shook his head. “No... can it be? Bethany!” She gave him a nod and an eager smile, as she almost jumped into his arms. “I've missed you, grandfather”, she greeted him and gave him a peck on the cheek, to which he blushed. “You've grown beautiful”, he said.
And finally, there was Alara. She had a lump in her throat as she watched this man greeting her siblings and she stood behind Mother, as if she tried to hide. Maybe she did. She wasn't even too sure about it herself. Unlike her siblings, Edric Dondarrion was a complete stranger to her. Having Father so close, glaring at her, as if he silently tried to forbid her from approaching their guest, it did not make things any easier.
“And who do we have here?”, Edric asked as he looked past Bethany. Alara tensed up under his look and she gulped. “I... I am... Al...”, she stuttered and Jaycen sighed. “Alara”, he growled. “Meghan's bastard”
Alara looked to the ground, staring at it, while biting her lower lip. She noticed the shadow looming over her and reluctantly, she looked up again, right into the face of her grandfather, who smiled kindly. “Alara”, he said warmly and crouched down, so that he was able to to look her in the eyes. “I've been eager to meet my youngest granddaughter. Why do you frown?”
Now, up close, he wasn't scary at all. Instead, he looked at her kindly, in a way Father never did. Even though she still felt uncomfortable so close to Jaycen, she smiled at her grandfather. Edric put a huge hand onto her shoulder. “That's more like it”, he whispered. “You're not looking like them, is that the problem?”
After a moment of hesitation, she gave him a nod. Ryman and Gareth, they looked like Father, while Bethany was gifted with the beauty of Mother. Only Alara looked like neither. Edric chuckled. “Doesn't matter that much”, he assured her and the scars on his face shivered gruesomely. “I don't look like them either, yet they still swear they are my family. There's more important things than having Jaycen's red hair, don't you agree?”
He looked over his shoulder and at her father. “It's been a long ride, Jaycen!”, he growled. “Something to warm myself would be welcome” Jaycen nodded affirmatively, before he pointed towards the Tweeting Hall. “Of course. We have prepared dinner. Ryman has been hunting a stag for this occasion”
“What fine Durrandon bannermen we are”, Edric joked, as he got back to his feet. He smiled down at Alara, who shyly smiled back at him. When he extended his hand, she grabbed it, as the entire family started to approach the Great Hall at the other end of the courtyard. “What happened to your face?”, Alara asked out of curiosity. Edric grinned. “Oh, that has been decades ago”, he said. “Believe it or not, I got struck by lightning”
“And that's when I raised my spear, pointing it right at him”, the Thunderlord boasted. “I growled 'You sure you want me to put it there?'” He started to laugh loudly, while Gareth and Ryman chimed in. “Should have seen how pale he got”
Alara watched this scene in confusion, but what surprised her even more was how Bethany and Mother were blushing. The story hadn't been that bad. Compared to what the soldiers used to tell, in the rare occasions when Alara dared to speak to them, it has even comparably tame.
“Father!”, Meghan said sharply and Edric raised an eyebrow. “There are children at the table” Edric gave her a nod. “Two children”, he clarified. “Alara is too young to understand it and Bethany doesn't really mind, ain't that true”
The whole table glanced at Bethany, whose cheeks were slightly rosy. The embarrassed look on her face quickly faded, replaced by a sly smile. She slightly wiggled her eyebrows, as she took a deep sip from her wine. Meghan inhaled sharply. “Bethy!”, she hissed, though she smiled. They all smiled. Even Alara felt happy in the presence of her family, even if her father was still frowning.
Father had been tensed up for the whole day and even though she was young, she understood why. She knew how bad things were between him and Mother, how little they talked to each other. Because of her... Alara's smile got a bit weaker. But she knew, it was hard for Jaycen to even look Meghan's father in the eye. The only thing that helped him to get through this particular day were lots of alcohol. Right now, he was at his sixth cup, she had counted. And she noticed how his cup had gotten almost empty. Her smile got a bit wider again. Maybe she could do something good for him this time. Maybe he'd look at her differently.
“Another story!”, Bethany demanded with an excited voice. The wine had obviously gotten to her head. The same applied for Gareth, who was grinning like a fool. “You've led an assault on Wyl when you were younger, haven't you?”, he asked and Edric gave him a nod. “Far younger”, he answered. “Back then I was quite a handsome man, as I've been told”
Slowly, Alara reached for the large jar containing the wine. It had a sweet scent to it and while Mother had forbidden her from drinking it, claiming that she was too young for that, she could already see why everyone liked it so much. Her entire family felt more light-hearted than usual and it warmed her heart to see them all like this.
“Anyways, Lord Wyl started the fight”, Edric explained. “He delivered a message to Blackhaven, threatened to destroy the whole castle...” As he spoke, Alara grabbed the wine and rose from her chair. Meghan looked at her and raised an eyebrow, though Alara only looked at her father, who narrowed his eyes as she approached.
“A bit of wine, father?”, Alara asked with a smile. Jaycen sighed, before he gave her a nod. It was a simple, quick nod, though it meant the world for Alara, who grinned vividly at his gesture of appreciation, as she started to pour wine into his empty cup. This was good. A first step. Maybe next he could...
“Such a sweet girl”, Edric commented and Alara looked. up. “Child, when you're done, I could need more wine as...” He got cut off by Jaycen, who sighed sharply. “Watch out!”, he barked loudly and angrily and as Alara looked down again, she noticed what she had just done. When she had looked up towards her grandfather, she had stopped paying attention to the cup and had accidentally poured a bit onto Jaycen's vest...
Her eyes widened as she put the cup onto the table. “Oh... I... I...”, she stuttered, while Jaycen glared at her. “My vest”, he growled. “You ruined my vest!” Alara took a step away from him. “I'm sorry”, she mumbled. “I... I did not mean to! Please, father, I'm...”
The back of his hand hit her in the face, heavily and way faster than she was able to jump back. The force was enough to send her to her knees and immediately, tears welled up in her eyes, as she looked up into Jaycen Caron's single, hateful eye. “Watch your tongue”, he growled. “You're no daughter of mine, bastard”
The entire table had fallen silent by now. They were all looking at them. Edric was speechless and the same applied for Bethany, whose mouth stood slightly open. Gareth had his fists clenched and Mother... Mother was only sitting there, sorrow in her eyes, as she focussed onto the table in front of her. It was Ryman who attempted to stand up, only for Jaycen to glare at him. “Sit down”, he hissed sharply, before he looked back at Alara. By now, she saw everything through a veil of tears. “Get out!”
When she did not make any attempts to leave, he almost jumped up from his chair, causing her to recoil. “I said get out of my sight, bastard!”, he yelled and she crawled back in terror. A few feet away from him, she got back onto her shaky hands, a look of horror on her face, while Jaycen, breathing heavily, sank back onto his chair, his lips pressed together, his glare not directed at anyone in particular. Then, she turned around and ran.
Alara finally looked up from her pillow, as the door to her room opened with a creak. “Hey, little sister”, Ryman said kindly and sat down next to her. She slightly moved and put her head onto his upper leg, as he gently put a hand onto her cheek, starting to stroke her black hair. “Does it still hurt?”
Alara bit her lower lip, before she shook her head. The spot where Father had hit her, it wasn't hurting anymore. No, what truly ached was the knowledge that she had fucked everything up just again. No physical pain could ever come close to this.
“I'm sorry”, she mumbled and Ryman frowned. “For what?”, he asked and she gulped, her eyes wandering to the small window of her room. “For ruining the evening”, she answered and Ryman smiled kindly. “It hasn't been you that ruined the evening”, he stated firmly. Alara waited for a moment. “For being born...”, she whispered.
This time, Ryman stopped moving his hand through her hair. She felt how he tensed up underneath her. “Oh Alara...”, he said and his voice shivered momentarily. “It's the truth”, she mumbled. “That only happened because I wasn't born as his daughter. Because I'm just a bastard”
“You're not a bastard, you're a Caron”, Ryman reminded her. “He gave you his name. That must mean something, right?” Alara shook her head. “Doesn't mean anything”, she insisted. Ryman raised an eyebrow. “You know, your real father would never acknowledge you. Maybe he'd like to, but he couldn't do that to his wife, to his other children, to his kingdom”, he reminded her. “Without a father to acknowledge you, you wouldn't even be a Storm. Royal blood flows through your veins, but no one would ever give you a chance in life. Father acknowledged you as his daughter, he gave you his name and a future”
“And what kind of future did he give to me?”, Alara asked and she was scared by the bitterness in her own voice. She shouldn't sound so bitter and she didn't want to. “A future of getting yelled at? A future spent near a man who hates me for being born?”
“He doesn't hate you”, Ryman argued. “He... I think it's himself whom he hates the most. For failing as a husband. And it's mother whom he hates, but he loves her too much at the same time. Just looking at you reminds him of this pain and this hate and this anger” He paused. “I think I pity him”, he said after a short moment. “I pity him for being too stubborn to even consider what a wonderful person his youngest daughter has grown into” Before she could say anything, he raised his index finger. “And you are his daughter”, he told her sternly. “You may not have his blood, but you have more of him than Gareth or Bethy. You're stubborn as well, isn't that true, my little Nightingale?”
She smiled and noticed that she had stopped crying. Instead of utter sorrow, she felt a tiny ray of hope again. “And most importantly, you are my sister. Alara Caron, my little sister”, Ryman said. “I can only pity him for missing out on such a wonderful young lady”
Alara sighed. “I really didn't mean to ruin the evening”, she said glumly and Ryman shook his head. “I've already told you, that hasn't been you”, he said. “But if father wants to be an asshole, no one can stop him”
“What's with the others?”, Alara asked. Ryman smirked. “Father won't enjoy the evening either, that much is for sure”, he told her. “After you have left, Grandfather has announced that he had grown tired”
“I like him”, Alara interjected and her brother gave her a nod. “He's been through a lot and it made him a better man. It's just... something about him is different than usual”, Ryman explained. “He and mother are in his room, talking. I don't think he's going to stay long here at Nightsong” The mention of her mother sent a sting of pain through Alara's chest. “Mother...”, she mumbled. “She just sat there...” She felt tears welling up in her eyes again, though Ryman was there to comfort her.
“This is mother's problem”, he said. “She just can't decide. You are her youngest daughter and believe me when I say that she loves you fiercely, with all her heart.. You are a reminder of the most happy time in her life” His smile got a bit smaller. “At the same time, she loves Father just as well. She has hurt him so much and she knows it. Not only being with Qarlton Durrandon for such a long time, but also giving birth to his daughter...” He shook his head. “It pains her to see both of you like this, but she can't pick a side”, he spoke. “But that does not matter. Don't reduce yourself to be someone's daughter, someone's bastard. You're so much more than that” Sternly, he put a hand onto her shoulder. “One day, you'll have to decide what kind of a person you want to be. And I have no doubt you'll be wonderful at that”
Alara smiled and felt the sadness slowly creeping away. Ryman reciprocated the gesture. “And you'll always have your brother. Both of your brothers, to be precise. And your sister”, he added. “Gareth and Bethy... What are they doing now?”, Alara mumbled. “Gareth left shortly afterwards, silent and full of rage”, Ryman explained. “He's out in the courtyard, shooting arrows at straw men. He's furious at Father. Bethy meanwhile is still in the Great Hall, the last one aside from Father, keeping him company in his sorrow”
“The dutiful daughter”, Alara mumbled and Ryman chuckled. “At least that's what she wants us to think”, he answered and smiled reassuringly. “Do you feel better now?” Alara gave him a short nod and Ryman gave her a hug, holding her tightly in his arms. “I don't know if father is ever going to see you for the person you are instead of the bastard he thinks you to be”, he whispered into her ears. “But he's not going to be around forever. One day, I'll be lord and you'll be free of him”
“Free..”, Alara sighed longingly and glanced at her window. Was that what she wanted? She wanted her family, all of them. Ryman and Gareth and Bethany. Mother and even father. She didn't want to be free of him, she wanted to be his daughter, she wanted to be at home here in Nightsong. At the same time, she feared she would never be either.
“I have something for you”, Ryman revealed and she looked up. “Perhaps that'll raise your mood a little bit” He stood up from the bed and walked towards the window. Alara followed him and they looked out into the nightly landscape of the dornish marches below. “Isn't it beautiful?”, Ryman sighed and glanced at her with a smile. “Would you like to ride across our lands in the middle of the night, just moon and stars above you and the wind in your hair?”
Alara's eyes widened. “You mean... right now?”, she asked and Ryman gave her a nod. She jumped into his arms, with a wide grin on her face. “Oh yes!”, she said loudly. “Oh yes, oh yes!” Ryman laughed shortly. “Now that's how I like you”, he answered and approached the door. Alara threw a last look onto her pillow, wet from her tears. Then, a small, hopeful smile formed on her face, as she left the room.
This was a fantastic H&L, which no matter how many times I read it, there's always something that manages to prick at my chest
Excellent history of Alara, and certainly a beautiful piece of writing! Great work! 
Beautiful H&L, thank you for writing it.
This is great, I could never write like this in English
[Choose Paytan]
I can do a whole list of reasons, but Liquid did it first, and well - featured all my points and even more to convince me. That's shall be clear.
[Choose Paytan]