Oh man, I am surely relieved that Alara did not choose to get into an affair with Theon. The scene with Helia showed to me that she likely wouldn't have been save so close to him. At the same time, seeing that he is not afraid of scarring his own queen in a fit of rage, I am more than just a bit afraid of the repercussions Alara might have to face for rejecting him. Still, we made the better decision, because I surely wouldn't want her to actually even fall for Theon before finding out what he truly is like, because that would have undoubtedly ruined her emotionally. Then again, there is the chance he had genuine feelings for her, as unlikely as that is.
It definitely is a good thing that Alara steered away from Theon with this information, however whether he would have treated her the same or different is undetermined. I think it's quite clear that Theon has trouble letting things go easily, hence the title of this chapter, but Alara won't be someone he gives up on so easily.
One thing I am a bit confused by though is Helia spelling out the relationship between Edrick and Emma. If she is the bastard daughter of King Dustin and if Edrick is her half-brother, doesn't that mean that he is the trueborn son of the king? Or do they simply have the same mother?
Edrick is also a bastard, but of a different mother. The two share King Dustin as their father, and Edrick doesn't carry the surname Snow because he and his sister (which was Harmond's lover before she died) were unacknowledged. There are heaps of acknowledged bastards in the North to King Dustin, and just as many unacknowledged.
Oh man, I am surely relieved that Alara did not choose to get into an affair with Theon. The scene with Helia showed to me that she likely w… moreouldn't have been save so close to him. At the same time, seeing that he is not afraid of scarring his own queen in a fit of rage, I am more than just a bit afraid of the repercussions Alara might have to face for rejecting him. Still, we made the better decision, because I surely wouldn't want her to actually even fall for Theon before finding out what he truly is like, because that would have undoubtedly ruined her emotionally. Then again, there is the chance he had genuine feelings for her, as unlikely as that is.
[Ride for the Rills]
Hm... This is a bit of a gamble. The thing is, Emma, as a bastard, has little chance of ever actually holding the crown for long. Maybe she can win it, but she sure as hell won't be able to keep it forever, being a woman and a bastard. She has men who support her, m… [view original content]
Ah well, it's been my pleasure, and has stemmed from my enjoyment of the great characters that have truly made this story what it is. I hope I managed to represent your Yronwood's accurately
I'll answer both your comments here I think, as they pan into each other
Ah, this is a part where I would have loved to comment on it before reading the next part. As much as I love the introduction of Hector and Torrhen, it obviously pales before the next part Let me be clear though, that is not a bad thing. I found this to be a wonderful introduction to my newest creations, one that made me super excited to see how you are going to use them in the future. It was especially nice to see the friendship between Jaycen and Hector, as odd as it is, given their backgrounds and surroundings. One thing I found particularly memorable is seeing a more light-hearted side in Jaycen. We naturally don't get to see this while he is around the dysfunctional mess that is his family, where he is more often than not the guy in the wrong. But here, he was far less stern and serious than usual, showing to me that there is another side to him. With how few friends he has, I don't really expect it to come up again anytime soon or ever again, but I found it to be a scene that adds some big depths to him as a character and made me only more happy with the way you write him
You're completely right, and the same could be said for Hector, we won't see him in such a jovial mood often. So this reunion was really something special, and certainly a great coincidence for their passing (which I've been planning for a while, does that still count? ). This definitely was mainly focused on Jaycen though, which you picked up on.
You know, there was one moment many months ago which has burned itself into my mind as my favourite Invasion moment of them all and it is a bit of a surprising one, because it is not actually a story moment. It's the moment I saw the first Bethany part and the absolute, nearly speechless surprise I felt there. I never even suspected her to become a PoV in the slightest. This moment here, while not exactly as powerful, due to me knowing that there would be a Torrhen PoV eventually, comes really damn close to that feeling, because the last thing I would have expected is to see his first part right here, immediately after Jaycen's part. Needless to say, this is a surprise I love greatly
Haha, you make me regret spilling the beans to you I'm happy to know that Bethany's introduction was something you approved of though, speaking of which, her part is next
Now, as much as I enjoyed the previous part, I consider this to be the true introduction to Torrhen as a character, given how closely these two parts were written after each other. Seriously, three parts while I was asleep and here I am struggling to write one part every three days. You are, without any doubt, the fastest writer in the forums who still manages to give them such wonderful quality. Kudos. And Torrhen, well, seeing him here makes me proud to see how far he has come from a mere concept that was thought of while writing an H&L (and those who don't know it might remember him from Gwendis' H&L in Nymeria's War), who literally was mentioned in one sentence, only to have him expanded and developed here into a full character. That is a first time for me (well, unless you count the entirety of House Caron from Alara's backstory), so certainly a very special moment. Thank you for providing it, thank you for writing and this was an awesome part. An awesome set of parts, to be honest, because I loved all three of them
Ah you flatter me, I find hype in some of the most awkward times when I don't have the time to write, and then lose it when I do. Fortunately I found it before the second term starts up again Whether they're of great quality or not though, well it's debatable, but I find people can never truly be 100% proud of what they do, there's always somewhere we can improve. I need to find a word which replaces 'stated' Anyway, you're correct here, these two parts have really been a build up for Torrhen's introduction, and hopefully setting some hype for him. I find it so damn cool that we sparked this complex and fantastic character from such a simple thrown in idea from another great character's H&L. Torrhen has really grown a lot in character since then, and while the Caron's had a similar experience, I think there was some more thought put into them, being primary sources to a great character you submitted. Torrhen Blackmont, in terms of Gwendis, who the hell is that?? The real thanks goes to you and the others for bothering to read this material, which is what inspires me to keep writing. So thank you
You know, there was one moment many months ago which has burned itself into my mind as my favourite Invasion moment of them all and it is a … morebit of a surprising one, because it is not actually a story moment. It's the moment I saw the first Bethany part and the absolute, nearly speechless surprise I felt there. I never even suspected her to become a PoV in the slightest. This moment here, while not exactly as powerful, due to me knowing that there would be a Torrhen PoV eventually, comes really damn close to that feeling, because the last thing I would have expected is to see his first part right here, immediately after Jaycen's part. Needless to say, this is a surprise I love greatly
Now, as much as I enjoyed the previous part, I consider this to be the true introduction to Torrhen as a character, given how closely these two parts were written after each other. Seriously, three parts while I was asleep and here I am struggling to write on… [view original content]
So I have the next part ready. Only one today and it's Bethany's The last we saw her, she had promised her mother that she would keep her escape from Blackhaven a secret. She had then had to suffer watching her father leave with an army for Storm's End, and now her time takes place shortly after then.
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do not fret, Beth. We’ll find her, we’ll find Meghan.” He promised, a sympathetic look coating his expression, yet his words barely reached her ears as she stared at her plate. He sighed, turning his gaze to Gareth. “You must be eager to return home.” He stated, attending to his food. Gareth nodded dutifully, but Bethany could see that there was something troubling him.
“Of course.” He uttered with a mellow tone, yet there was a hint of something sullen there too. Gendel nodded, turning his eyes to his father. “I recall the times I had to take responsibility for Blackhaven when father was out. They were difficult times, but important.” He assured him, smiling to his blank father, who stared aimlessly across the table. “Right father?” He asked, grabbing his attention.
“Hm?” His old eyes shifted towards his son, who repeated what he said, causing Edric to nod. Gendel gave a weak smile, looking down to his food. “It would be best to start planning our defences for Nightsong. It won’t be long until the Dornish hear of Qarlton’s conquest, they’ll grow cocky.” He expressed with opinion, which Gareth nodded to uncomfortably. Maddelyn spoke up.
“Perhaps this talk would be best saved for another time.” She suggested, her gaze still lowered. She was brave, an outspoken bastard was not a well-mannered one, and she was fortunate that her father was not like Bethany’s. He simply nodded, turning back to his meal. Bethany’s thoughts drifted to Nightsong, she never knew how much she could miss her home until she had spent more than a few days away. I could have been living in Blackmont now. She thought consequently, a sense of remorse flooding her as she thought back to the poor Tarly boy. Or Hornhill. She inhaled a deep breath, trying to relax herself.
“We’ll take good care of your sister.” Maddelyn assured Gareth as she picked his sullen look. Bethany raised an eyebrow, but kept her mouth shut. Maddelyn cleared her throat, placing down her cutlery. “Perhaps we could go for a stroll tonight?” She suggested, but before he could consider answering, Bethany stood up with haste. All eyes turned on her with different looks. Pity, confusion, regret. Edric’s eyes were aimless. Bethany shook her head, storming out the hall.
The air was significantly cooler once she was free. The black corridors of Blackhaven were grossly quiet, watching with hidden eyes. She felt unsafe, staring down the long and narrow walkways which were dimly lit, expecting eyes to reveal themselves as they stared back. They didn’t. Instead, she felt a lump build up in her throat, which wouldn’t clear no matter how much she tried. A cold sweat rushed over her, and she fell short for breath. She stumbled her way down the hallway, before collapsing by a window.
The moonlight spotted her, watching her as she suffered. Tears began to form, flowing freely from her twitching eyes. Why? She wanted to scream. She clenched her hands tight, bashing them at the cold stone floor. “Why!” She muttered, submitting to the horrors as she crumbled to the ground.
“Bethany?!” A voice frantically called, the voice of her brother. She didn’t reply, her voice wouldn’t let her. The lump grew larger, and all she could managed was a wailing moan, followed with more tears. “Bethy.” He mumbled, kneeling down and pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tears staining his coat. “What’s wrong, little bird?” He asked with a soft, comforting voice. He had learnt how to sweet talk women during his years, yet it had never really rubbed off on Bethany. She just shook her head, clenching onto his shoulders. This isn’t goodbye, little bird. The voice of her father sounded, yet he was gone, and now so was her mother.
“Don’t leave me.” She bawled, pulling him close. His chest beat quick, rising and lowering with each breath, something she found comforting. She knew he was alive. “Don’t go.” She begged him, lifting her gaze to his. His soft green eyes were so apologetic, so melancholic. They suffered, just as she did.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.” The two held each other in a close embracement, neither willing to let each other go, despite the inevitability that they would soon be separated… and Bethany would be alone.
-
The sun had already reached its peak point when Bethany’s eyes forced themselves open. She and Gareth had been awake for the majority of the night, crying and talking, and crying some more. When Bethany had become so emotionally exhausted, he had carried her to her quarters, and tucked her into her bed. It came as a sudden realisation that Gareth was to head for Nightsong at sunrise. Her eyes widened.
She pulled she light sheets off her, climbing out of bed quickly and running to the window. She looked out the window, her eyes scouring over the courtyard. There was nothing. No horses, no people, no Gareth. He left, she realised, gripping tightly onto the window frame. He didn’t say goodbye. She thought with lament as tears started to gather under her eyes. She was now truly alone. The last Caron.
A few minutes passed in silence before the air thudded to a knock on the door. Bethany sighed, standing herself upright. She quickly wiped away the tears, then turning to the door. When she opened it, her eyes met a sorry sight. Ben Tarth stood before her with his gaze lowered, his greasy straw blonde hair was slicked back, and were it not for the meal tray in his hand, Bethany would have slammed the door on him.
“May I come in?” He mumbled, and Bethany eyed him with a reluctant gaze, before stepping out of his way. He entered and placed the tray on her bedside table, then standing idle for a moment. He was silent, and Bethany thought she was going to have to kick him out before he spoke up.
“I understand how you’re feeling.” He stated in an attempt to reconcile. Bethany rolled her eyes. “Is that so?” She mocked him, to which he turned his gaze to her with weak eyes. “It is.” He muttered. “I lost my home, I was forced away and I never saw my father or brother again. I’ve been here ever since.” He revealed to her, and while part of Bethany wished she could be sympathetic, she just couldn’t feel it.
“Why the hell should I care?” She growled, crossing her arms. Ben raised an eyebrow. “What’s your problem, princess?” He jeered, tilting his head at her. Bethany sneered, shifting her gaze away from him. “You know exactly what my problem is, you perverted little shit.” She muttered, and she spotted a painful look on his sapphire eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He finally murmured, lowering his gaze, but Bethany shook her head. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t pale down to anything, Ben. Now get the hell out of my room before I call the guard!” She shrieked, and the teen instantly made it for the door, stopping briefly before leaving. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, before taking off. Bethany threw the door shut behind him, crumbling down to the floor.
Time passed slowly as she wallowed in her misery, she couldn’t last like this. She was haunted with self-pity, and regret. She had snapped at him, out of her own pain and suffering, she had unleashed at him. She regretted it, but perhaps he deserved it. Regardless, she felt it wasn’t something she should let pass in idle. I should go find him. Apologise. She thought to herself, pulling herself off the ground. Or go do… something. She decided, but she felt her options were limited. Edric seemed to have little recollection of any of their conversations last night, perhaps she could seek Maddelyn’s company. Yet with her brother’s departure, she wasn’t sure she could bare to listen to Maddelyn’s wailing over her lost love fantasy.
Aww, Bethy She really breaks my heart here. I knew this would be hard on her, but this is worse than I thought, as is her entire situation. She is left with her demented grandfather, her lovesick cousin and a sick fuck in a strange castle away from home and family and her reaction is appropriately crushing. That scene with Gareth was so damn sad. It gave me bad Stark vibes. The Caron's are spread thin and all of them are in danger. I actually wouldn't be surprised if Bethy is in more danger than it seems.
Now, Ben, to put it mildly, Ben can go and fuck himself. Seriously, that utter piece of shit can be grateful that Bethany kept this incident in the bath a secret, because Jaycen and Gareth both would have more than likely beaten the everloving shit out of him for it, just like he deserves. I'm still a bit sad they didn't, because that would have been a well-deserved lesson, but that is Bethany, she's too nice to screw that two-faced prick over like that. She kept quiet and this is the absolute best he can hope for for the time being. On top of that, I am not buying it. I remember he gave me bad vibes when he first met with Jaycen, he gave me even worse vibes with Bethany and this sudden remorse, I am not buying it. Maybe he really is sorry, just a troubled, awkward guy who tried to flirt with the girl he met in the bath and came off as a monumental creep, but she described him perfectly, he is a perverted little shit. He wants to apologize? Well, good for him, he can certainly try. Time will tell if Bethany decides that he has earned forgiveness. If he wants it, he gotta work for it. But Bethany did nothing wrong. She has nothing to apologize for. Sure, she snapped at him, but not without reason. He surely did enough to feel terrible about it and himself, if he even feels genuinely about it at all. The only reason that prevents me from choosing Maddelyn without a second thought is that talking to Ben, as thoroughly unpleasant as he is, could actually get Bethany onto different thoughts. I don't want her to apologize to that greasy, perverted creep and I cannot believe I am genuinely considering him as an option, but if anything, he'd snap her out of her grief. Maddelyn is the more pleasant person by light years, but she'd surely only share the grief with Bethany. So, I am not sure what to pick. I'll have to think about this for more and will edit my thoughts in later on. Currently, as much as I hate hin, I lean to Ben, even if he is a thoroughly unlikable swine, simply because a conversation with him might be better for Bethy than to sink deeper into this depressed state. Then again, it would mean apologizing to him, right? This is something I don't want because if there is anyone that has to apologize here, it's Ben.
EDIT: After a lot of consideration and with a heavy heart, I decide for [Seek out Ben], as much as I dislike that perverted shit. But well, if he prevents Bethany from fully sinking into a depression and gives her something else to think about, even if it's just being angry at him, then he can be useful for something for once. Still, it irks me that she is going to apologize to him, where it actually should be the other way 'round a thousand times.
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls… more. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do … [view original content]
It definitely is a good thing that Alara steered away from Theon with this information, however whether he would have treated her the same or different is undetermined. I think it's quite clear that Theon has trouble letting things go easily, hence the title of this chapter, but Alara won't be someone he gives up on so easily.
Hm, I am willing to believe that a domestic abuser would not exactly treat Alara any kinder. Then again, there might have been genuine feelings from his side and the abuse he puts his queen through could be frustration from being trapped in a marriage he never wanted, but it says a lot about his temper and the things he is capable of. I am concerned about him not giving up on Alara though. This could mean him trying to win her affection in a sweet way, but I have the feeling it is much, much more sinister.
Edrick is also a bastard, but of a different mother. The two share King Dustin as their father, and Edrick doesn't carry the surname Snow because he and his sister (which was Harmond's lover before she died) were unacknowledged. There are heaps of acknowledged bastards in the North to King Dustin, and just as many unacknowledged.
Ah, I understand it better now! Very interesting. It appears the late King Dustin had a very peculiar hobby then Though wouldn't this give Edrick a better claim? He's male after all and though unacknowledged, it seems his parentage is an open secret.
Oh man, I am surely relieved that Alara did not choose to get into an affair with Theon. The scene with Helia showed to me that she likely w… moreouldn't have been save so close to him. At the same time, seeing that he is not afraid of scarring his own queen in a fit of rage, I am more than just a bit afraid of the repercussions Alara might have to face for rejecting him. Still, we made the better decision, because I surely wouldn't want her to actually even fall for Theon before finding out what he truly is like, because that would have undoubtedly ruined her emotionally. Then again, there is the chance he had genuine feelings for her, as unlikely as that is.
It definitely is a good thing that Alara steered away from Theon with this information, however whether he would have treated her the same or different is undetermined. I think it's quite clear that Theon has trouble letting things go easily, hence the title of this chapter, but Alara… [view original content]
Liquid is right, seeking out Maddelyn will only make her feel worse. At least, with Ben, she won't have a constant reminder of her brother. She needs someone to take her mind off the situation, even if it is Ben. Plus, I doubt he will try to hurt Bethany. Especially in the location they are at, he wouldn't really have a chance to even if he wanted too.
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls… more. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do … [view original content]
Hm, I am willing to believe that a domestic abuser would not exactly treat Alara any kinder. Then again, there might have been genuine feelings from his side and the abuse he puts his queen through could be frustration from being trapped in a marriage he never wanted, but it says a lot about his temper and the things he is capable of. I am concerned about him not giving up on Alara though. This could mean him trying to win her affection in a sweet way, but I have the feeling it is much, much more sinister.
Well it's good to hope. I won't reveal how Theon feels for Alara, but I will admit that those feelings are strong, and they've been growing through their interactions. His ways of trying to interact with her have been sweetly based, he did practically give her the same offer as Dromon, all be it that Dromon gave it to her first. I can't blame you for having some doubts however, and I can only imagine that will increase when they travel to Andalos.
Ah, I understand it better now! Very interesting. It appears the late King Dustin had a very peculiar hobby then Though wouldn't this give Edrick a better claim? He's male after all and though unacknowledged, it seems his parentage is an open secret.
In theory it would, being a male heir he would stand a better claim than Emma, we're also disregarding all the other male bastards that Dustin had but sure. In this situation though, it's very much like Theon/Asha. Emma has been there, she's lived for her father and gained the trust of her people, while Edrick as been Harmond's second since he was a boy. So when looking at a preferable leader, Emma is the best choice, the people actually know her, unlike the hundreds of male bastards which are scattered over Westeros.
It definitely is a good thing that Alara steered away from Theon with this information, however whether he would have treated her the same o… morer different is undetermined. I think it's quite clear that Theon has trouble letting things go easily, hence the title of this chapter, but Alara won't be someone he gives up on so easily.
Hm, I am willing to believe that a domestic abuser would not exactly treat Alara any kinder. Then again, there might have been genuine feelings from his side and the abuse he puts his queen through could be frustration from being trapped in a marriage he never wanted, but it says a lot about his temper and the things he is capable of. I am concerned about him not giving up on Alara though. This could mean him trying to win her affection in a sweet way, but I have the feeling it is much, much more sinister.
Edrick is also a bastard, but of a different mother. The two share King Dustin as their father, and E… [view original content]
The thing is, we don't this Emma Snow. Steffon however knows the Amber's. The Queen's family will surely contribute what they can to help her. Even if it is not a lot. I doubt Emma would willingly give away any of her soldiers to help this cause when she needs them for hers. Plus, unless it was mentioned earlier in the story and I just forgot, we do not even know if Edrick is there to help us convince her. Him being there was just a guess, on the Queen's part. It would be bad if we arrived, but Edrick isn't anywhere near there.
Steffon
The door to Tristram’s room swung open as Martena guided the weary boy into his bed. Steffon watched with envious and tired eyes.… more He wondered how much longer he could last without sleep. I suppose someone out there just wishes to see me suffer. He thought bitterly to himself, before the face of his daughter and brother flashed in the darkness of the room. He fought hard not to crumble down, not in front of the boy, and not in front of that bastard hand maiden, who was now exiting the room. When the door was closed, she let out a sigh.
“You didn’t have to escort us, although I appreciate your silent company.” She mocked, starting to walk down the hall. Steffon rolled his eyes, walking after her. She possessed beautiful long and wavy red hair, with polar opposite eyes that were a cold icy blue. She was tall, and had a slim build, overall Steffon found her quite attractive for her age.
“So tell me, what is a Riverlands bastard d… [view original content]
Torrhen
The sun had started its descent by the time they reached the gates of Yronwood. It hadn’t been long until they were escorted to t… morehe great hall of the castle, which proved to be a larger hall than the one at Blackmont. It consisted of a mix of stone and sandstone, held up with stone pillars and consisting of three levels. The hall had been built around a natural rock pool, which Torrhen found himself staring into.
He wore a black leather vest, as thick as gambeson, which he tucked his hands into. His grey shirt was loose but long sleeved, and his trousers an ash grey. Yet these minor details he paid little attention to. He stared into his eyes, a dark blue which was piercing to look at. His braid hung over his shoulder. Another figure joined his side by the pools. He was older, with skin like dried leather, and black hair which fell to his shoulders. His matching dark blue eyes had a stern look in them, which glared at Torrhen’s … [view original content]
So I'm not pumping out parts as quickly, given that the votes aren't coming in all that quickly, so I take it that some people are still catching up. Once those votes come in I'll start closing some parts, but until then I will give the mad pace a little break Besides, I'll be back to school by next week unfortunately, so the mad dash is likely over for a while Good news is, this chapter has about 4-5 parts remaining for each PoV before we're on to Chapter 4. It's been a long run, but it's starting to come to a close! Anyway, I have the next part ready, and it's a Jaremy part.
The last we saw Jaremy was in his introductory part, where he was on board the Sea Dragon with a Tyroshi he firmly scared the shit out of. He then arrived at Old Wreck, the seat of the extinct House Hull, now occupied by House Shell, and met a northern girl known as Klare Varne. He managed to persuade her to give him a ride to Brownhill, and during their journey she got him drunk enough to tell his story. The two separated when arriving at Brownton, the small town outside of Brownhill, and Jaremy was pretty drunk. You decided to have him rest before going to meet his family. This part takes place maybe a few hours after that choice.
The Thirsty Dornishman was a small tavern based at the edge of Brownton, and it collected the most attention from weary travellers and pass-through merchants. Jaremy sat at the counter, an ale before him. Might as well finish the job if I have another night to wait, he reasoned, staring into his golden reflection. The man staring back at him had grown into the stranger that Jaremy had accepted himself to be. He lifted the cup to his lips, downing the cup.
The sun had fallen, and with the cold rising over the vast desert, the tavern popularity had increased over the past hour. The atmosphere was booming with laughter and chatter, as well as the sizzling sounds of boiling pots and stewing meals in the kitchens. It was giving him a headache. He gave the bartender a nod, signalling the same drink. He frowned, pouring the drink obediently.
“I’d advise this be your last one, son. No man should drink this much on an empty stomach.” He advised, a heavy look on his eyes. Jaremy rolled his eyes, taking his drink. “Fuck your advisements, just focus on keeping me drunk until dawn.” He muttered, causing the old man to scowl at him. “That’s your last one, unless I can persuade you to eat.” He stated with a wavering confidence, causing Jaremy to groan as he turned his gaze to the man.
“Then fucking feed me.” He ordered irritably, and the bartender crossed his arms. “You know what? I don’t need this. Get out of my tavern.” He retaliated, moving the ale away from Jaremy’s thirsty eyes, which turned to something of his usual look. He raised his menacing gaze to the old man, his heart rate quickening.
“You have a family?” Jaremy asked with a drunken stupor, to which the Bartender sighed. “That’s none of your business.” He stated calmly, dropping his arms to his side. “Now, I won’t-” He started, but Jaremy cut him off. “If you want to see them again, I’d advise that you don’t fuck with me, old man.” He warned, causing the bartender to raise an eyebrow.
“Are you threatening me?” He asked with a dubious tone, but Jaremy’s patience had dried up. He slammed his fists on the counter, rising from his stool. “Give me my fucking beer!” He shouted, taking the man by the scruff of his shirt. Fear flooded into his weak eyes, his thin arms trying to free himself from Jaremy’s strong grip. Silence seemed to flood the air, which Jaremy barely seemed to notice.
“Last chance.” Jaremy muttered, tilting his gaze on the man. His shaking eyes looked like they were about to respond, but eventually it was not his unconfident voice which sounded, but something much stronger, and from behind him. “Let him go.” It ordered, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow, turning around to meet the furious eyes of a large old man and his teenager second.
“Fuck off.” Jaremy warned them, eying both of them with murderous eyes. The older man looked to be in his sixties, yet his age did not determine his strength, though it did show on him partly. While his head was cleanly shaven, his beard was grey and there were some wrinkles on his face. His amber eyes held some resemblance of his past youth however. His younger counterpart showed just as much promise for the national beauty contests of Dorne.
He was skinny, and had boring short brown hair with matching coloured and expressionless eyes. While he maintained the delicacies of his youth, his fine clothes and unmarked sword gave Jaremy a sour impression. There was a dutiful and energetic look on his eyes, while his old man’s held something resembling repugnance and infuriation.
“Let him go.” He repeated with a stern tone, unsheathing a large great sword from its scabbard. His second did the same with his short sword. Jaremy smirked, releasing the man. So be it. He thought, turning his attention to his new foes as he unsheathed his Valryain steel short sword. He turned his gaze to the larger of the two, and without hesitation he lunged himself forward at the man.
His dodge put Jaremy to shame as he crashed into the tables behind him, his drunk stupidity bringing him to the ground. Infuriated, he spun himself over, meeting the sharp edge of the old man’s blade. “Stay down.” He ordered, but Jaremy was relentless. He swiped the blade away from his face with a reckless slash, giving him enough time to rise. “Fuck you.” Jaremy spat, readjusting his grip on his weapon. He watched as the young foe joined his master in the duel, before being push away.
“No Tywin, stay back.” The old man commanded, nudging the boy back, who showed his disappointment with the man’s decision, yet all eyes were on Jaremy now. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, as the two began to circle with locked eyes. Jaremy shrugged, spinning his light blade in his hands. “Should I care?” He muttered, slashing at the old man’s chest. He deflected the attempt with a defying blade, throwing a counter which Jaremy merely dodged.
“You should.” He stated, backing up a moment. “I am Tor Thunderstorm.” He announced proudly, a grin widening on his old lips. “The One Born of Lightning, and Bastard of the Storm.” He recited, and received a gasp of awe from the watching crowd. Jaremy eyed the man momentarily before smirking.
“What, is that some call sign for the naive children?” Jaremy mocked, lunging himself against Tor’s blade. The two were locked against each other, strength and will determining who would prevail. Jaremy stared into the struggling eyes of his foe, who was gaining an advantage over him. Jaremy spat in his eyes, startling him for a moment. A moment long enough to gain an advantage.
Without hesitation, Jaremy threw himself at the man with an aggressive attack. Bashing his blade against his bronze great sword. The Valryian steel had a cutting edge, and bit deep into the blade after a final strike. Tor’s eyes widened with shock as he stared at the cut in his blade, which Jaremy quickly used to disarm him. The old man’s widened eyes now stared at Jaremy, and then the Valyrian steel, as the point reached his throat. Let’s end this. Jaremy decided, ready to push the blade through the old man’s throat, before a sudden high pitch shriek started charging for him.
Jaremy managed only to turn just in time to parry the blow from Tor’s second, Tywin. Before Jaremy could send a counter, however, a thick brawn arm secured around Jaremy’s neck, pulling him off the ground. Jaremy’s grip weakened on his weapon, which slipped from his fingers as he tried to scratch at the forearm that strangled him. The lack of air began to take its toll on him, his vision starting to fade. He tried to say something, Tor’s strength alone forbid him to speak.
He lifted Jaremy in the air again as he frantically scratched at his arms, briefly releasing the tension enough for Jaremy to thrust his head back into his foe’s face. This caused Tor to release him, stumbling back. Jaremy turned to see blood pouring from his nose, and also a crowd of men coming to back him, all while Jaremy was still on the ground, gasping for air. He reached for his sword, which was quickly kicked away from him by the young Tywin. The crowd surrounded him, pulling up their sleeves and meeting him with closed fists. Before they could meet him, a thundering voice sounded from the doorway.
“What is the meaning of this?” The voice yelled, and suddenly the crowd dispersed from around him. “This gentleman is causing a commotion here.” Tor stated, wiping the blood away from his face. The Brownhill banners came clear to Jaremy as his eyes drifted across the room. The guard turned his gaze to the defeated Jaremy briefly, a hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “You’re coming with us, for questioning.” The guard decided, then turning his gaze back to Jaremy. “Both of you.”
-
The sun had started to rise as Jaremy’s eyes struggled to open. He found himself on a bed of straw, his wrists bound with rope that was knotted outside the stone room he was in. It didn’t take long for Jaremy to realise that he was in a cell. In Brownhill. Across from him sat a familiar face, also bound to a rope that left the cell.
“He’s awake.” He announced with a sullen tone, rolling his eye. His other eye was blackened, and blood had dried from his nose down to his chin. It took a moment for Jaremy to recognise who the man was. His head thudded with a heavy pain, though whether that was from the hangover or the fight, he was unsure. Jaremy remained silent, staring at the bounds. “Cat got your tongue?” Tor jested, to which Jaremy lifted his gaze momentarily.
“Shut your mouth, fuck face.” Jaremy muttered, and Tor smirked. “Thanks to you.” He chuckled, lifting his old hands to his face, running his rough fingers over the dried blood. “For an arsehole, you fight well.” He admitted with a hint of admiration, though his thoughts mattered little to Jaremy. What did matter was that he was in a Brownhill cage. What if Elise finds me like this? He groaned, pulling at the rope.
“There’s no use. We’re not getting out of here until those guards come back.” Tor stated with some defeat, but Jaremy shook his head. “I’m not waiting for a death sentence.” Jaremy stated, looking for something sharp to cut his founds. Tor chuckled. “A death sentence aye? Sounds like a tough upbringing, from wherever you’re from.” He chirped, with a touch of mockery in his words. Jaremy rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t imagine.” Jaremy muttered to himself, and Tor made an example not to follow it.
“Well, perhaps while we wait we should get to know each other. Knowing your enemy, that’s what I teach the boy.” He stated with some sort of pride, which Jaremy had little interest in. He found the edge of the stone brick to be sharp enough, he started rubbing the bindings against it. “Fine, I’ll start.” Tor submitted, resting his head back.
“I am the One Born of Lightning.” He stated with some boredom. “Meaning, I am the son of the man who was struck by lightning. I’m an unacknowledged bastard of Edric Dondarrion, the Thunderlord.” He revealed with a bitter tone. “A man which didn’t care to father me.” He added sullenly. Jaremy nodded.
“Nor do I.” Jaremy stated with some annoyance, causing Tor to sigh. “Fine. I’ll just wait on the boy to come free me then, while you rot alone with your thoughts.” Tor muttered, trying to inflict some guilt on him, but Jaremy barely cared. Finding his cutting tedious, he groaned as he stumbled back onto his side.
“Who’s the boy?” Jaremy finally asked, and Tor lifted his eye to him. “Tywin?” He asked, and Jaremy shrugged his shoulders. “Who the fuck else.” He muttered, causing the old man to frown. “He’s the son of Gyles Yronwood, the second son to the heir of Yronwood: Eddin.” He stated, getting a brief surprise from Jaremy before he turned back to his bindings.
“So you’re relying on a boy to save you.” Jaremy mocked, to which Tor shook his head. “I’m relying on King Edgar’s common sense. You’re stubbornness got me here.” He argued, but Jaremy’s attention did not go to the old man’s wellbeing, instead to the title. “King Egar?” Jaremy asked, doubting what he heard. Tor eyed him curiously before nodding. Jaremy felt something in chest crumble with Tor’s confirmation. His father was dead. His gaze lowered, a lump forming in his throat. Tor’s eye looked at him with suspicion, until it widened in some sort of realisation.
“You’re Jaremy Sand.” Tor realised with some fascination, which swinged quickly to pity. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel.” He stated dryly, but Jaremy shook his head. “You know nothing of my pain.” He grunted, his anger seething inside him, and bound by the ropes around his wrists.
The lock on the door fumbled after a moment, then swinging open. In entered two guards, Tywin Yronwood, and a man with a familiar face. He stood tall, with a lean build and a good posture. While his facial features were plain, he maintained an expression of neutrality, with a calm look on his green eyes. Atop his short black hair was a bland silver crown. Edgar. Jaremy realised, but the man paid him no attention. Instead he looked to Tor.
“Free this man.” He ordered the guards, which they did with obedience. When the old man’s bounds were loosened, they helped him onto his feet. “Tor Thunderstorm. I apologise for the inconvenience.” Edgar stated politely, and Tor nodded with acceptance. “You’re men were only following protocol, I understand.” He forgave, and the two shook hands before Tor made his way out the cell, yet something pulled him back a moment. He cleared his throat.
“You should give this man a fair trial.” He suggested, flickering his gaze to Jaremy. “You may find you have more in common than you think.” He stated, nodding to Jaremy before taking his leave with Tywin. “Unlikely.” One of the guards muttered. “Shall we return to the hall?” The other suggested, but Edgar stared at Jaremy with curious eyes. “No, not yet.” He answered, approaching Jaremy with caution.
He knelt down, observing Jaremy’s rough features. Jaremy concealed his face, he wasn’t ready to look at the man, yet his half-brother persisted. “Part your hair.” He ordered, but Jaremy remained idle. “Show me your face.” He begged. Jaremy could see the desperate look on his eyes, and reluctantly, he obeyed. Edgar observed his features for a moment, before his eyes widened.
Unfortunately I have fallen quite heavily behind, thanks to my absence from Monday to Wednesday, but I'll start catching up soon. However, I had to read this part first, and it was a great one! It was nice to see some action from Jaremy, and Tor and Tywin seem like an interesting pair of characters, but most of all I'm hyped about the very ending of the part. Jaremy has finally been reunited with his family, and I'm eagerly looking forward to how things will turn out from here
Jaremy
The Thirsty Dornishman was a small tavern based at the edge of Brownton, and it collected the most attention from weary travellers… more and pass-through merchants. Jaremy sat at the counter, an ale before him. Might as well finish the job if I have another night to wait, he reasoned, staring into his golden reflection. The man staring back at him had grown into the stranger that Jaremy had accepted himself to be. He lifted the cup to his lips, downing the cup.
The sun had fallen, and with the cold rising over the vast desert, the tavern popularity had increased over the past hour. The atmosphere was booming with laughter and chatter, as well as the sizzling sounds of boiling pots and stewing meals in the kitchens. It was giving him a headache. He gave the bartender a nod, signalling the same drink. He frowned, pouring the drink obediently.
“I’d advise this be your last one, son. No man should drink this much on an empty stomach.” H… [view original content]
Welcome back! Yeah I noticed your absence, and I hope everything is good Jaremy's actions weren't exactly living up to his potential in this part, but that can be expected under his influences. I am glad that you liked this part, and the introduction of Tor & Tywin More importantly though, the ending will make for a great next part, which I'm super keen to write!
Unfortunately I have fallen quite heavily behind, thanks to my absence from Monday to Wednesday, but I'll start catching up soon. However, I… more had to read this part first, and it was a great one! It was nice to see some action from Jaremy, and Tor and Tywin seem like an interesting pair of characters, but most of all I'm hyped about the very ending of the part. Jaremy has finally been reunited with his family, and I'm eagerly looking forward to how things will turn out from here
Yeah, it was just a field trip, in relation to one of my uni courses, so everything is good. Especially now that my semester is more or less done, only one assignment left to do Anyway, I'll start catching up later today, as well as get back on my work with the Dayne's!
Welcome back! Yeah I noticed your absence, and I hope everything is good Jaremy's actions weren't exactly living up to his potential in thi… mores part, but that can be expected under his influences. I am glad that you liked this part, and the introduction of Tor & Tywin More importantly though, the ending will make for a great next part, which I'm super keen to write!
Samira
The cellar was damp and dimly lit, but Samira could hardly complain. I’ve lived through worse, she reminded herself, tucking her l… moreegs close to her chest. She jittered her teeth in the cool air, rubbing her arms frantically. At least I had heat. Her gaze flickered around the dark room, it was located under the storage room, and mostly homed empty crates and containers, and another guest.
Samira stared at the unconscious woman by the crate, sleeping soundly on a bed mat with layered blankets. She had not awoken when Samira arrived a few days ago, and she still hadn’t moved still then. Perhaps she’s dead. Samira thought hopefully, feeling the cold bite at her skin. Those blankets would be nice.
She pulled herself off the freezing stone floor, making her way towards the still girl. If she was sleeping, she was hiding it well. Samira studied her body for breathing movement, but it was of little use, she was heavily covered in thick… [view original content]
Hm, give me a recap there, how much time has passed since Jaremy has last been home? Because I get the feeling that a serious lot has changed for him, not only his father's death. Anyways, I liked this part a lot! Tor is surely a very interesting character, it's nice to see this bastard of Edric. That makes him a not-so-distant relative of the Caron's, as I see, which is nice And well, a pretty great part for Jaremy in general, that makes me all excited for his next one, which I could see holding some important moments there.
Jaremy
The Thirsty Dornishman was a small tavern based at the edge of Brownton, and it collected the most attention from weary travellers… more and pass-through merchants. Jaremy sat at the counter, an ale before him. Might as well finish the job if I have another night to wait, he reasoned, staring into his golden reflection. The man staring back at him had grown into the stranger that Jaremy had accepted himself to be. He lifted the cup to his lips, downing the cup.
The sun had fallen, and with the cold rising over the vast desert, the tavern popularity had increased over the past hour. The atmosphere was booming with laughter and chatter, as well as the sizzling sounds of boiling pots and stewing meals in the kitchens. It was giving him a headache. He gave the bartender a nod, signalling the same drink. He frowned, pouring the drink obediently.
“I’d advise this be your last one, son. No man should drink this much on an empty stomach.” H… [view original content]
Jaremy left Brownhill during his eighteenth year, and he's now 34 so, around 16 years? Yes, a serious amount has changed over that time, as we'll see in his next part, and for a lot of his parts
Hm, give me a recap there, how much time has passed since Jaremy has last been home? Because I get the feeling that a serious lot has change… mored for him, not only his father's death. Anyways, I liked this part a lot! Tor is surely a very interesting character, it's nice to see this bastard of Edric. That makes him a not-so-distant relative of the Caron's, as I see, which is nice And well, a pretty great part for Jaremy in general, that makes me all excited for his next one, which I could see holding some important moments there.
Samira
The cellar was damp and dimly lit, but Samira could hardly complain. I’ve lived through worse, she reminded herself, tucking her l… moreegs close to her chest. She jittered her teeth in the cool air, rubbing her arms frantically. At least I had heat. Her gaze flickered around the dark room, it was located under the storage room, and mostly homed empty crates and containers, and another guest.
Samira stared at the unconscious woman by the crate, sleeping soundly on a bed mat with layered blankets. She had not awoken when Samira arrived a few days ago, and she still hadn’t moved still then. Perhaps she’s dead. Samira thought hopefully, feeling the cold bite at her skin. Those blankets would be nice.
She pulled herself off the freezing stone floor, making her way towards the still girl. If she was sleeping, she was hiding it well. Samira studied her body for breathing movement, but it was of little use, she was heavily covered in thick… [view original content]
Steffon
The door to Tristram’s room swung open as Martena guided the weary boy into his bed. Steffon watched with envious and tired eyes.… more He wondered how much longer he could last without sleep. I suppose someone out there just wishes to see me suffer. He thought bitterly to himself, before the face of his daughter and brother flashed in the darkness of the room. He fought hard not to crumble down, not in front of the boy, and not in front of that bastard hand maiden, who was now exiting the room. When the door was closed, she let out a sigh.
“You didn’t have to escort us, although I appreciate your silent company.” She mocked, starting to walk down the hall. Steffon rolled his eyes, walking after her. She possessed beautiful long and wavy red hair, with polar opposite eyes that were a cold icy blue. She was tall, and had a slim build, overall Steffon found her quite attractive for her age.
“So tell me, what is a Riverlands bastard d… [view original content]
Alright, well now that all the voters have commented on this part, I'll close the voting. Steffon will ride for the Rills. A risky choice, but it could potentially be fruitful if Steffon succeeds with negotiations.
Steffon
The door to Tristram’s room swung open as Martena guided the weary boy into his bed. Steffon watched with envious and tired eyes.… more He wondered how much longer he could last without sleep. I suppose someone out there just wishes to see me suffer. He thought bitterly to himself, before the face of his daughter and brother flashed in the darkness of the room. He fought hard not to crumble down, not in front of the boy, and not in front of that bastard hand maiden, who was now exiting the room. When the door was closed, she let out a sigh.
“You didn’t have to escort us, although I appreciate your silent company.” She mocked, starting to walk down the hall. Steffon rolled his eyes, walking after her. She possessed beautiful long and wavy red hair, with polar opposite eyes that were a cold icy blue. She was tall, and had a slim build, overall Steffon found her quite attractive for her age.
“So tell me, what is a Riverlands bastard d… [view original content]
i really enjoyed this part. As Liquid mentioned, it brought out a side of Jaycen rarely seen and of course, it is very exciting to see more of this Dornish storyline since it is probably one of the biggest things I am hyped for in the entire story.
“Almost.” He muttered, placing his hand on the neck of his horse and stroking her mane. Jaycen eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t trust the Fowler’s?” He asked, to which Hector shook his head as if it was the dumbest question posed. “Not since Rickard’s passing. Now his son, Derrick, has taken his place. I’ve only met the boy on a few occasions, but it’s enough to steer clear of.” Hector stated. “Hence why you rode for Nightsong.” Jaycen added, and Hector nodded.
Well safe to say that this has me really excited for what is to come and I need to finish the rest of these Fowler's very soon
Jaycen
The fork of the Wyl River was drawing near as the Dondarrion and Caron host marched onward. Their armies would need to cross the S… moretone Bridge in order to continue through the Stone Way, a road which Jaycen was highly hesitant of using. However due to time restriction and distance, they had been left with little other choice.
Jaycen rode with the Dondarrion vanguard, beside General Gladys and Keat Musgood. Gladys’ expression seemed to match Jaycen’s thoughts pretty clearly. She had never held much love for the Wyl’s, with her father in the past, however when she lost her lover to them, it only stretched the already stretched relationship between Blackhaven and Wyl. The track they followed was treacherous, and quarrelsome to say the least. The only member of the van who seemed to have their wits about them was Keat Musgood, who held a solemn expression.
“We will need to move with haste once we’re over the Stone Bridge. The Stone… [view original content]
Torrhen
The sun had started its descent by the time they reached the gates of Yronwood. It hadn’t been long until they were escorted to t… morehe great hall of the castle, which proved to be a larger hall than the one at Blackmont. It consisted of a mix of stone and sandstone, held up with stone pillars and consisting of three levels. The hall had been built around a natural rock pool, which Torrhen found himself staring into.
He wore a black leather vest, as thick as gambeson, which he tucked his hands into. His grey shirt was loose but long sleeved, and his trousers an ash grey. Yet these minor details he paid little attention to. He stared into his eyes, a dark blue which was piercing to look at. His braid hung over his shoulder. Another figure joined his side by the pools. He was older, with skin like dried leather, and black hair which fell to his shoulders. His matching dark blue eyes had a stern look in them, which glared at Torrhen’s … [view original content]
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls… more. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do … [view original content]
Torrhen
The sun had started its descent by the time they reached the gates of Yronwood. It hadn’t been long until they were escorted to t… morehe great hall of the castle, which proved to be a larger hall than the one at Blackmont. It consisted of a mix of stone and sandstone, held up with stone pillars and consisting of three levels. The hall had been built around a natural rock pool, which Torrhen found himself staring into.
He wore a black leather vest, as thick as gambeson, which he tucked his hands into. His grey shirt was loose but long sleeved, and his trousers an ash grey. Yet these minor details he paid little attention to. He stared into his eyes, a dark blue which was piercing to look at. His braid hung over his shoulder. Another figure joined his side by the pools. He was older, with skin like dried leather, and black hair which fell to his shoulders. His matching dark blue eyes had a stern look in them, which glared at Torrhen’s … [view original content]
Well I'll bring this vote to a close. Torrhen will state that it is vengeance that Olyvar wants. This one may have some merit, as the chapter name is also sharing the name of this choice
Aha, see, I haven't even thought about that connection Don't know if we chose correctly, but it seems likely now that this is indeed what Olyvar wants.
Well I'll bring this vote to a close. Torrhen will state that it is vengeance that Olyvar wants. This one may have some merit, as the chapter name is also sharing the name of this choice
Hey guys! So I'm briefly back to post a new part, but with being back to school I'm pretty strapped for time when it comes to writing I'm afraid. However I am happy to announce that there will be a new H&L being released very soon, so look forward to that Onto the new part, it goes to Morgan Martell, and it's his second part!
Last time we saw the founder of House Martell, he had arrived at the estate of the Golden Spear just in time to attend the funeral of his father (the Golden Spear). He was then reunited with Septon Militar, who was a father-like figure to Morgan as a child, and now a strong supporter of King Qarlon's uprising. The two talked about Morgan's time during his pilgrimage, and then Morgan informed him of his plans to settle land in Westeros. He later requested that Militar spread word of his plans in the Pearled Kingdom, King Qarlon's sworn nemesis. Militar reluctantly agreed to this, before taking off. This part takes place a few days after that, with Morgan's arrival at the Pearled Kingdom.
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, made of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route, men flooded the alleyways and blocked off the way he had come. What in Seven hells?
“Lord Morgan Martell! Dismount and surrender your arms!” A man barked from behind the barricade, and Morgan felt his hand gravitating towards the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the faces of the men stopping him, there was something in most of them which surprised him. Fear. What were they afraid of? “I won’t ask again, Martell!” The voice sounded, and Morgan frowned, shifting his hand back to the reins.
“What is the meaning of this?” Morgan asked as he cautiously dismounted his steed, yet he was hesitant to quickly throw his blade away. Two of the guards broke from formation, one taking the reins of the horse while the other covered him, leading the steed away. Morgan’s gaze flickered around him. He was surrounded. “Now the sword.” The voice ordered, but Morgan’s focus remained on the iron spear tips.
After a short moment of dormant silence, the guards shifted from formation, creating a narrow breach in their wall. Morgan’s hand remained by the hilt of his weapon as he studied the blockade with caution, watching the walkway. Before long, a man entered the scene, walking past the blockade and meeting Morgan in the silent haunting space.
He was a tall man, with a stocky but muscular build. His blond hair was cut short, and the same could be said for his well-trimmed beard, and among those were some piercing blue eyes. In his hand he held a rolled piece of paper. “The sword.” He ordered with a stern tone, and reluctantly Morgan obeyed. He wasn’t here to start a fight. He unsheathed the blade and tossed it to the ground, receiving a thin smirk from the man.
“Good.” He smiled, kneeling down and taking the weapon, only to pass it on to his guarded escort. Morgan shook his head with confusion, and mostly irritation. “Now, what is this?” Morgan asked again with a heavy touch of impatience, gaining the attention of his perpetrator. The man let out a sigh, before unrolling the note and studying the contents.
“A few days ago, a septon passed through the city spreading word that you were looking for forge an army. I am making sure that doesn’t happen.” The man cockily assured him, scrunching up the piece of paper, before shouting another order without hesitation. “Guards, arrest this man!” He barked, and Morgan’s eyes widened.
“Under what charges?” Morgan questioned him as his arms were grabbed by two men and he was dragged off. “Under what charges?!” Morgan shouted, fighting at the grip and holding his ground. The man ordered them to stop, walking over with lazy steps. “You’re charged with treason and attempted murder on the King. Your father was an inspiration to King Qarlon’s regime, and your presence is more than suggestive of his intentions.” He turned his attention to the guards. “Take him away.” He commanded, and obediently they did. Morgan pulled and fought, until he was knocked unconscious.
-
The cell was black and dimly lit by the hallway. Morgan awoke from the wooden bench with a painful thud at the back of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious. He lifted his hand to the bump on his head, it was tender, agonising on impact. He gritted his teeth, groaning has he removed his hand.
“Look who’s finally awake.” An old sturdy voice grumbled from across the hallway. Morgan squinted, his eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting, but opposing his cell he identified a familiar face. Militar. Morgan’s eyes widened as the old man stared at him with a spiteful gaze, Morgan had never seen such anger in those calm brown eyes. He pulled himself from the bench, dragging himself to the iron bars that separated them.
“I did what you asked.” The old man muttered, his back resting against the wall. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, his eyes streaming over his cell with a bored look. “And this is how I am repaid.” He added coldly, shifting his gaze back to Morgan. The old man had grown a thick grey beard since they last met, and his hair was a mess. Morgan shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I never intended for this to happen.” Morgan pleaded, but the old man shook his head. “Yet it did.” He grunted, rolling his eyes. “I swore an oath to serve your father, I never fucking swore one to be locked away.” He muttered, looking at the chains on the wall. Morgan frowned, sinking further to the ground.
“Why is this happening?” He mumbled with a hush tone, and Militar scoffed with some amusement. “These fools do not approve of servants of the true King entering their city. They think we’re spies, or in this case, trying to build an army inside their walls.” He muttered with a bitter tone, and Morgan sighed, resting his head against the grotty stone floor. He stared at the cranky old man, studying his face. It swapped from grumpy and bitter to fearful and worried in a near instant. “I’m to be executed.” He revealed, and Morgan widened his eyes.
“No.” Morgan shook his head, in part disbelief and part denial. “I won’t allow it.” Morgan stated with some weak confidence, but Militar shook his head grimly. “There’s nothing you can do, boy. I only hope that my death was worth it.” He grunted, and Morgan shook his head with defiance. “You will not die!” He yelled, taking hold of the iron bars. This man had been like a father to him, and while he had shown much to him, Militar meant a lot to him. The old man let out a chuckle.
“Please, Morgan. Save your strength. There will be time for it later.” He assured him, but Morgan was unconvinced. Tears started to form in his eyes. It had been years since Morgan shed a year, and not even his own father’s death evoked this dreaded feeling. This feeling of inevitability. The doors to the cell room creaked open, and footsteps echoed down the hall.
Before long, they stopped at Militar’s cell. Two guards, followed by a man which Morgan recognised. The man who arrested him. He wore a white silken shirt, with a leather vest over the top. Attached to this was a brown cape, and he wore pants and boots of a similar colour. “Your time is up, old man.” A guard announced as his partner’s keys rattled the cage door open. They entered the cell and lifted him from the floor, dragging him out of the cell.
Militar flashed one last remorse-struck glare to Morgan, whose eyes were welled up with tears. Please. He tried to utter, but nothing came when he opened his mouth. He watched them until they fell out of sight, and then he stared blankly at the hall until his capturer grabbed his attention. “Morgan.” He said with an uncomfortably calm and soothing tone. Morgan turned his wet angry gaze at him.
“What?” Morgan hissed, and the man frowned as he crossed his arms. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, but Morgan shrugged off his apologies. “What do you want?” Morgan growled, wiping the tears from his eyes as his expression grew stern. The man sighed, leaning against the cell wall.
“My name is Ruban Maeson.” He introduced boldly, and Morgan shrugged. “Why should I care?” He muttered, causing Ruban to frown. “Because right now, I’m the only thing stopping you from joining that septon at the blocks.” He stated confidently, causing Morgan to glare at him. “So you’ll answer some questions.” He declared, leaving Morgan without many options. He remained silent, and Ruban started with his interrogation.
“Why have you come to the Pearled Kingdom?” He started, and Morgan rolled his eyes. “To build an army.” He stated nonchalantly, sitting against the wall and tucking his knees into his chest. “What for?” Ruban further questioned, and Morgan sighed. “To settle land in Westeros.” Morgan revealed, causing Ruban to frown.
“Just as the septon said.” He muttered before letting out a heavy sigh. Morgan gulped, his gaze pleading at Ruban. “Please, let him go. He’s innocent.” Morgan near begged, he was defeated. Ruban’s gaze showed signs of lament and sorrow, yet they were heavily coated with pity and remorse.
“To settle land in Westeros, you would need ships. Where are they?” Ruban interrogated, his sympathies running dry in his now stern eyes. Morgan shook his head. “I have no ships.” He mumbled, causing Ruban to raise an eyebrow, before a look of realisation settle on his face. “You plan to tear us apart from the inside, then steal our fleet. Is that it?” Ruban accused, provoking him. Morgan bashed his fist against the wall in anger.
“I’M NOT YOUR ENEMY!” Morgan exploded, a frenzy of tears and ire seeping from his cursing eyes, while Ruban’s widened with a sudden startle. Ruban then frowned, standing himself straight and brushing the muck off from his shoulder. “That will be for Noriphos to decide.” He decided nonchalantly, before walking way. Morgan remained crumbled on the grimy stone floor, defeat.
-
The Gem Palace was a work of art, with magnificent architecture showing explicit detail in time and effort. The walls were made from marble and quartz, refined and smoothed, and engraved with the stories of the Andal kings of the past. Morgan was escorted through them in irons, yet his attire was presentable.
The Royal Guard wore shining steel plated armour, embroidered with a variety of gems, while wielded steel shields and spears. They walked in an orderly fashioned, and remained dead silent, their only sounds being the clinking of their steel boots on the stone floor. Ahead of their escort was Ruban Maeson, who accompanied another man suited in a rich attire.
He stood tall, with a muscular build evident under his light blue silk shirt. He possessed neck-length blonde hair, which gleamed in the natural light, and wore a small golden crown atop of his luscious hair. From his stature and his apparent royalty, Morgan guessed the man to be the crown prince.
They turned down a hall, walking another fifteen metres or so until they were met by large oaken arched doors, framed with silver. By them stood two Royal guards, who forced the heavy doors open when their convoy neared them. Morgan was escorted into the large hall on the other end, held up with white stone columns. The walls held banners displayed a golden seven-pointed star on a plain white field. Then Morgan spotted the throne, and the crowned man sitting upon it.
He was a narrow man, with a lean posture and soft hands which fingers the arms of his throne. His brown eyes studied Morgan from afar with curiosity and a hint of fear. He lifted a hand when they drew nearer, ordering the guards to leave, which they did with such obedience. Noriphos then arose from his throne, descending the steps.
“Morgan Martell.” He spoke, it was less of a greeting and more like he was sounding the words to himself. “The son of the Golden Spear, a legend among our people.” He added, clasping his hands and smiling, yet Morgan saw through his fake smiles. His eyes were piercing, and it was easier to focus on his elegantly slicked back hair, a coal black with silver sides. His beard represented similar shades.
“Lord Morgan wishes to sail to Westeros, your Majesty.” Ruban informed him, bowing as he did. Noriphos raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze momentarily to his faithful minion before returning them back to Morgan. “Is that so?” He asked rhetorically, his tone fantasising. It quickly faded as he turned his gaze to his son. “Jarod, did the man come with an army?” He asked with a fascinated curiosity, and his son shook his head.
“No, father.” Noriphos smiled, his gleaming brown eyes focusing on Morgan’s chains. “Then why is he cuffed?” He blatantly asked, yet it was Ruban who answered in Jarod’s place. “He is a threat, your Grace.” Ruban stated strongly, causing a thin smirk to build on Noriphos’ lips. “Not here, he isn’t. Ruban, uncuff him and bring me Lords Roxton and Varner.” He ordered, and reluctantly Ruban did so.
Morgan felt the weight of his wrists relieve as the chains fell to the floor. His hands massaged his wrists as Ruban took off with the irons out of the throne room. Noriphos smiled, turning his gaze to his son. “Jarod, I’m sure you have more pressing duties than being here. Go.” He ordered him, but the crown prince was less obedient than Noriphos’ lackeys. “Father, he’s a threat.” Jarod argued, looking at Morgan with uneasy eyes. Noriphos shook his head.
“I have my guards if he tries anything. Besides, I wish to be alone with him.” He stated calmly, and reluctantly Jarod nodded, taking his leave. When the doors to the throne room slammed shut, Noriphos let out a sigh of relief.
“Heavy lies the crown.” He mumbled to himself, while Morgan glared at him with menacing eyes. Noriphos frowned, rubbing his hands. “I understand your anger. Please, will you join me for a drink?” He asked, beckoning for Morgan to follow him to the long table off to the side of the throne room. Morgan remained silent, hesitantly following him.
The table was crafted from myrtle, and was truly a work of excellence from the woodworker. Atop of it were silver platters of grapes and other fruits from the east, as well as a flagon of wine, which Noriphos poured into a goblet, passing it to Morgan. He accepted it, staring into the pool of red. “If you’re going to kill me, why waste Arbor red on me?” Morgan asked, taking a sip of the beverage, his estimate was correct. A thin smile formed on Noriphos’ lips.
“You know your wines.” He complimented, pouring a cup for himself. “And who said I was going to kill you?” He questioned, leaning against the table. Morgan shrugged, taking another sip. “Seemed kind of obvious, given my warm introduction to the city.” Morgan muttered, and the king heavily frowned.
“I apologise for our actions, truly, but you must understand the unease around the city with King Qarlon. Having one of his loyalists spreading word that the son of the Golden Spear was forming an army was something we would not take lightly behind our walls.” Noriphos informed him, and Morgan shrugged. “My loyalties do not lie with Qarlon.” Morgan assured him, which Noriphos showed his appreciation to.
“Your father did. It was a disgrace for us all to learn that the Golden Spear was planning to overthrow me.” Noriphos sighed, and Morgan near choked on his wine as he scoffed. “Forgive me.” Morgan said as he recovered. “Though your rule is a disgrace.” Morgan stated blatantly, causing Noriphos to raise an eyebrow. “You think?” He asked, seemingly honest.
Morgan’s eyes widened in disbelief. How can a man have so much neglect for his subjects? Morgan thought bitterly, placing down his cup and looking at all the food on the table, before he flipped it over. Wine spilled everywhere, and the fruits smashed as they were thrown to the stone floor. The silver and steel clang on impact, and the steel of swords unsheathing from scabbards sounded as the guards closed in. Noriphos raised a hand, halting them, but Morgan persisted.
“You sit in this palace, living such a carefree life with your exotic fruits and imported wine, while your people starve and cause riots on the streets. Do you seriously wonder why my father took up arms against you? Why Qarlon does the same?” Morgan asked in disgust, the naivety of this man was revolting. Noriphos simply frowned, crossing his arms.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He murmured, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I have failed my people here.” He admitted, staring at the mess around him. “Caused needless bloodshed and starvation, but now I am not only trying to redeem myself, but save my people from an inevitable fate if we stay in Andalos.” Noriphos exclaimed, and Morgan sighed.
“The Freehold.” He mumbled, and Noriphos nodded. “They have forcefully ‘colonised’ the coastal cities, and only Andalos and Braavos currently remain free of their torment, but for how long?” Noriphos begged the question, and Morgan honestly had no answer for him. “I cannot save them here, but by giving them a new life in Westeros, I can.” Noriphos stated, and Morgan started to chuckle.
“How’s that going for you?” He mocked, word has spread far and wide of the repelling of Argos Sevenstar in the North. Noriphos sighed, approaching Morgan, he pulled a leather map from his breast pocket and unrolled it. Morgan instantly recognised it. “Ruban brought this to me on your arrest.” Noriphos informed him, looking at the map of Westeros. He knelt down, placing it on the driest part of the floor. Morgan joined him.
“The Arryn’s and Corbray’s have settled in the Fingers.” Noriphos pointed, tapping his finger on the location. “Armistead Vance and Vorian Vypren plan to take the Riverlands, while the Lydden’s wish to continue further west, and others further south. Where else is there to go?” Noriphos questioned, sounding defeated, but Morgan shook his head, pointing a finger to the southmost point of the map.
“Dorne.” Morgan stated, and Noriphos raised an eyebrow. “Dorne is a desert.” Noriphos observed boldly, and Morgan nodded. “As is Sarnor, and the Ghiscari Empire.” Morgan added, and Noriphos frowned. “Partly.” He mumbled, letting out a sigh. “Do you think it would be survivable?” He asked, and Morgan shrugged.
“That’s what I want to find out.” Morgan stated, and Noriphos seemed to pause for a moment, before nodding. “When your septon came through, he inspired a couple of my remaining warlords to join you: Lorias Roxton and Anderon Varner.” Noriphos informed him, rising from the floor. Morgan joined him, grabbing the map.
“Morgan, I am willing to help you if you’re willing to help me. I will give you the ships and men to sail to Dorne and inspect Dorne, and if it looks hopeful, I will turn my remaining forces to Dorne.” Noriphos stated, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What do you want from me?” Morgan asked in turn, and Noriphos exhaled a deep breath.
“I need to know you’re not going to betray me. Bend the knee, swear fealty to me. Prove to me that my investment is worth it.” Noriphos proposed, causing Morgan to frown. “What about Militar?” Morgan asked, and Noriphos eyed him strangely before they widened in realisation. “The septon?” He asked, and Morgan nodded. “I will allow him to go with you if he too will swear fealty to me, otherwise he must die.” Noriphos regretfully informed him. Morgan sighed.
“If I refuse?” He finally asked, and Noriphos shrugged. “Then you will be without any ships or men.” He stated obviously, and Morgan felt a sunken feeling inside him. He looked down to the map, to Dorne. This may be his only chance to get there, but he would be betraying his father’s legacy to side with a man who had neglected his own people to death. Could he really side with that?
Yes he can, and he has too. He really doesn't have another choice when it comes to this. Plus, if he swears fealty, he may be able to save the life of his friend Militar. That option will be off the table if he refuses. The only other way he may get ships and men is if he appealed to Qarlon, but if he did that it would cause him to be considered a traitor and he will be a fugitive for the rest of his life.
Morgan
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, mad… moree of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route,… [view original content]
This really is the only choice I see for Morgan. He might swear fealty to a man his father considered an enemy, but what he makes with this is up to him to decide. Noriphos can always take another man to lead an expedition to Dorne, leaving Morgan stranded in Andalos without any supporters. With Morgan leading this expedition, he can make sure that the Andals are taken care of, that they find a new home in Dorne. Morgan obviously cares for the people and he can make sure that this will be the main goal of the Dorne expedition, whereas Noriphos on his own might focus on other things, such as the riches of the dornish kingdoms. Just because he swore fealty to Noriphos doesn't mean he betrays his father's legacy, as long as he makes sure that he stays true to the ideals he fought for. Plus, as Tales said, this might give him a chance to save Militar's life, which would give him a trustworthy ally and friend on his expedition.
Morgan
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, mad… moree of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route,… [view original content]
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls… more. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do … [view original content]
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls… more. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do … [view original content]
Ah, this was a very interesting part, and got me even more hyped for Morgan's storyline, and Dorne in general. It was nice to hear the thougths of King Noriphos to all this, and while he is definitely a jerkass, he is a jerkass who seems to at least be planning to save his people from the threat of the Freehold.
[Swear fealty to Noriphos] Fuck it, if this saves Militar, as well as gives Morgan more troops and ships, it's worth it.
Morgan
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, mad… moree of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route,… [view original content]
Hmmm, I really hope we haven't made a mistake in seeking out that jerk Though it is surprising how this one part managed to change my opinion about him from a potential rapist to 'merely' a creepy pervert. I guess there might still be some hope for him to grow on me, if only slightly.
Morgan
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, mad… moree of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route,… [view original content]
Hello, it's Wildling! Here to dump you some character illustrations. To be precise, we have Dormund Bolton, Jaycen Caron, Meghan Caron, Warmond Manderly and Nathan (in that order):
Oh man, I love them! Your drawings are always amazing, no matter which style and these five are incredibly well-done and detailed. Now, I must admit I have actually gotten a look at Warmond and Dormund before, so I already knew about them and I was aware that there are Jaycen and Meghan illustrations on the way, though I haven't seen them before. And well, it is always a special treat to see two of my characters drawn there, given how perfectly you capture them, from their general appearance, to details such as their facial expression and posture. With Dormund, first of all, that guy seriously looks like someone who has been brought back from death. I guess, given that he literally died, he has been through the most compared to the other characters. No matter what, at least no other currently living character actually died. This is shown pretty clearly in your drawing. With Warmond... I was surprised by the golden eyebrows. I know the Manderly's have a favour for turqoise, so the hair colour is great, but I have forgotten about the eyebrows. They make for a great contrast there! Nathan was one of the characters where I didn't have a clear visual in my head so far, one of the few whom I couldn't really picture. That is another thing these drawings are so great for, I will never again have any problem with imagening him. Not that I want to, because that guy looks terrifying Terrifying, but still great, that must be said And finally, my dear Jaycen and Meghan. Ah, they are so dysfunctional as a couple, they barely deserve being called a couple at all, yet at the same time, it is the only word that fits for them. Naturally, you nailed it! As I said, there are these details, such as expression and posture, that turn them from great drawings to truly perfect ones. That right there are the Caron's as I thought them to look when I first wrote their appearances down. I love that look on Jaycen's face and how Meghan's milder expression gives a contrast there. In general, they contrast so nicely and I think that is why these illustrations work so particularly well. Thank you very much for this set
Hello, it's Wildling! Here to dump you some character illustrations. To be precise, we have Dormund Bolton, Jaycen Caron, Meghan Caron, Warmond Manderly and Nathan (in that order):
Hope you like 'em!
Usually when you have forewarning and 'spoilers' for certain important things, they tend to lose their value. Yet I've never lost my excitement for your amazing drawings, despite being the first to see them when they've been related to my story. Liquid has summed up about every great thing I've thought of these magnificent specimens in graphic form, and I really can't thank you enough for doing these. They are truly amazing, and that rightly compliments you further
Hello, it's Wildling! Here to dump you some character illustrations. To be precise, we have Dormund Bolton, Jaycen Caron, Meghan Caron, Warmond Manderly and Nathan (in that order):
Hope you like 'em!
Comments
It definitely is a good thing that Alara steered away from Theon with this information, however whether he would have treated her the same or different is undetermined. I think it's quite clear that Theon has trouble letting things go easily, hence the title of this chapter, but Alara won't be someone he gives up on so easily.
Edrick is also a bastard, but of a different mother. The two share King Dustin as their father, and Edrick doesn't carry the surname Snow because he and his sister (which was Harmond's lover before she died) were unacknowledged. There are heaps of acknowledged bastards in the North to King Dustin, and just as many unacknowledged.
Ah well, it's been my pleasure, and has stemmed from my enjoyment of the great characters that have truly made this story what it is. I hope I managed to represent your Yronwood's accurately
I'll answer both your comments here I think, as they pan into each other
You're completely right, and the same could be said for Hector, we won't see him in such a jovial mood often. So this reunion was really something special, and certainly a great coincidence for their passing (which I've been planning for a while, does that still count?
). This definitely was mainly focused on Jaycen though, which you picked up on.
Haha, you make me regret spilling the beans to you
I'm happy to know that Bethany's introduction was something you approved of though, speaking of which, her part is next 
Ah you flatter me, I find hype in some of the most awkward times when I don't have the time to write, and then lose it when I do. Fortunately I found it before the second term starts up again
Whether they're of great quality or not though, well it's debatable, but I find people can never truly be 100% proud of what they do, there's always somewhere we can improve. I need to find a word which replaces 'stated' 
Anyway, you're correct here, these two parts have really been a build up for Torrhen's introduction, and hopefully setting some hype for him. I find it so damn cool that we sparked this complex and fantastic character from such a simple thrown in idea from another great character's H&L. Torrhen has really grown a lot in character since then, and while the Caron's had a similar experience, I think there was some more thought put into them, being primary sources to a great character you submitted. Torrhen Blackmont, in terms of Gwendis, who the hell is that?? 
The real thanks goes to you and the others for bothering to read this material, which is what inspires me to keep writing. So thank you 
So I have the next part ready. Only one today
and it's Bethany's 
The last we saw her, she had promised her mother that she would keep her escape from Blackhaven a secret. She had then had to suffer watching her father leave with an army for Storm's End, and now her time takes place shortly after then.
Bethany
Night had fallen over the Marches, but the warmth had yet to reside, and it left a comfortable atmosphere outside the slate walls. Within the Great Hall, however, the same could not be said. Bethany shook her collar in an attempt to draft some cool air onto her body. She was wearing one of her formal dresses this evening, and sweat was only going to stain it unnecessarily, but was it truly the heat? Or the fact that this was her brother’s last day at Blackhaven. Bethany settled with the latter as her gaze flickered across the cheery conversing faces at the dining table.
She sat by her brother’s side, who wore a formal tunic in the colours of their house. Across from them sat Gendel and his daughter, Maddelyn. Edric sat at the head of the table, slowly nibbling at his food. Bethany took quick and short breaths, she felt light headed, her world was spinning. Gendel gulped as he watched her, putting down his knife and fork.
“Do not fret, Beth. We’ll find her, we’ll find Meghan.” He promised, a sympathetic look coating his expression, yet his words barely reached her ears as she stared at her plate. He sighed, turning his gaze to Gareth. “You must be eager to return home.” He stated, attending to his food. Gareth nodded dutifully, but Bethany could see that there was something troubling him.
“Of course.” He uttered with a mellow tone, yet there was a hint of something sullen there too. Gendel nodded, turning his eyes to his father. “I recall the times I had to take responsibility for Blackhaven when father was out. They were difficult times, but important.” He assured him, smiling to his blank father, who stared aimlessly across the table. “Right father?” He asked, grabbing his attention.
“Hm?” His old eyes shifted towards his son, who repeated what he said, causing Edric to nod. Gendel gave a weak smile, looking down to his food. “It would be best to start planning our defences for Nightsong. It won’t be long until the Dornish hear of Qarlton’s conquest, they’ll grow cocky.” He expressed with opinion, which Gareth nodded to uncomfortably. Maddelyn spoke up.
“Perhaps this talk would be best saved for another time.” She suggested, her gaze still lowered. She was brave, an outspoken bastard was not a well-mannered one, and she was fortunate that her father was not like Bethany’s. He simply nodded, turning back to his meal. Bethany’s thoughts drifted to Nightsong, she never knew how much she could miss her home until she had spent more than a few days away. I could have been living in Blackmont now. She thought consequently, a sense of remorse flooding her as she thought back to the poor Tarly boy. Or Hornhill. She inhaled a deep breath, trying to relax herself.
“We’ll take good care of your sister.” Maddelyn assured Gareth as she picked his sullen look. Bethany raised an eyebrow, but kept her mouth shut. Maddelyn cleared her throat, placing down her cutlery. “Perhaps we could go for a stroll tonight?” She suggested, but before he could consider answering, Bethany stood up with haste. All eyes turned on her with different looks. Pity, confusion, regret. Edric’s eyes were aimless. Bethany shook her head, storming out the hall.
The air was significantly cooler once she was free. The black corridors of Blackhaven were grossly quiet, watching with hidden eyes. She felt unsafe, staring down the long and narrow walkways which were dimly lit, expecting eyes to reveal themselves as they stared back. They didn’t. Instead, she felt a lump build up in her throat, which wouldn’t clear no matter how much she tried. A cold sweat rushed over her, and she fell short for breath. She stumbled her way down the hallway, before collapsing by a window.
The moonlight spotted her, watching her as she suffered. Tears began to form, flowing freely from her twitching eyes. Why? She wanted to scream. She clenched her hands tight, bashing them at the cold stone floor. “Why!” She muttered, submitting to the horrors as she crumbled to the ground.
“Bethany?!” A voice frantically called, the voice of her brother. She didn’t reply, her voice wouldn’t let her. The lump grew larger, and all she could managed was a wailing moan, followed with more tears. “Bethy.” He mumbled, kneeling down and pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tears staining his coat. “What’s wrong, little bird?” He asked with a soft, comforting voice. He had learnt how to sweet talk women during his years, yet it had never really rubbed off on Bethany. She just shook her head, clenching onto his shoulders. This isn’t goodbye, little bird. The voice of her father sounded, yet he was gone, and now so was her mother.
“Don’t leave me.” She bawled, pulling him close. His chest beat quick, rising and lowering with each breath, something she found comforting. She knew he was alive. “Don’t go.” She begged him, lifting her gaze to his. His soft green eyes were so apologetic, so melancholic. They suffered, just as she did.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.” The two held each other in a close embracement, neither willing to let each other go, despite the inevitability that they would soon be separated… and Bethany would be alone.
-
The sun had already reached its peak point when Bethany’s eyes forced themselves open. She and Gareth had been awake for the majority of the night, crying and talking, and crying some more. When Bethany had become so emotionally exhausted, he had carried her to her quarters, and tucked her into her bed. It came as a sudden realisation that Gareth was to head for Nightsong at sunrise. Her eyes widened.
She pulled she light sheets off her, climbing out of bed quickly and running to the window. She looked out the window, her eyes scouring over the courtyard. There was nothing. No horses, no people, no Gareth. He left, she realised, gripping tightly onto the window frame. He didn’t say goodbye. She thought with lament as tears started to gather under her eyes. She was now truly alone. The last Caron.
A few minutes passed in silence before the air thudded to a knock on the door. Bethany sighed, standing herself upright. She quickly wiped away the tears, then turning to the door. When she opened it, her eyes met a sorry sight. Ben Tarth stood before her with his gaze lowered, his greasy straw blonde hair was slicked back, and were it not for the meal tray in his hand, Bethany would have slammed the door on him.
“May I come in?” He mumbled, and Bethany eyed him with a reluctant gaze, before stepping out of his way. He entered and placed the tray on her bedside table, then standing idle for a moment. He was silent, and Bethany thought she was going to have to kick him out before he spoke up.
“I understand how you’re feeling.” He stated in an attempt to reconcile. Bethany rolled her eyes. “Is that so?” She mocked him, to which he turned his gaze to her with weak eyes. “It is.” He muttered. “I lost my home, I was forced away and I never saw my father or brother again. I’ve been here ever since.” He revealed to her, and while part of Bethany wished she could be sympathetic, she just couldn’t feel it.
“Why the hell should I care?” She growled, crossing her arms. Ben raised an eyebrow. “What’s your problem, princess?” He jeered, tilting his head at her. Bethany sneered, shifting her gaze away from him. “You know exactly what my problem is, you perverted little shit.” She muttered, and she spotted a painful look on his sapphire eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He finally murmured, lowering his gaze, but Bethany shook her head. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t pale down to anything, Ben. Now get the hell out of my room before I call the guard!” She shrieked, and the teen instantly made it for the door, stopping briefly before leaving. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, before taking off. Bethany threw the door shut behind him, crumbling down to the floor.
Time passed slowly as she wallowed in her misery, she couldn’t last like this. She was haunted with self-pity, and regret. She had snapped at him, out of her own pain and suffering, she had unleashed at him. She regretted it, but perhaps he deserved it. Regardless, she felt it wasn’t something she should let pass in idle. I should go find him. Apologise. She thought to herself, pulling herself off the ground. Or go do… something. She decided, but she felt her options were limited. Edric seemed to have little recollection of any of their conversations last night, perhaps she could seek Maddelyn’s company. Yet with her brother’s departure, she wasn’t sure she could bare to listen to Maddelyn’s wailing over her lost love fantasy.
[Seek out Ben] [Seek out Maddelyn]
Aww, Bethy
She really breaks my heart here. I knew this would be hard on her, but this is worse than I thought, as is her entire situation. She is left with her demented grandfather, her lovesick cousin and a sick fuck in a strange castle away from home and family and her reaction is appropriately crushing. That scene with Gareth was so damn sad. It gave me bad Stark vibes. The Caron's are spread thin and all of them are in danger. I actually wouldn't be surprised if Bethy is in more danger than it seems.
Now, Ben, to put it mildly, Ben can go and fuck himself. Seriously, that utter piece of shit can be grateful that Bethany kept this incident in the bath a secret, because Jaycen and Gareth both would have more than likely beaten the everloving shit out of him for it, just like he deserves. I'm still a bit sad they didn't, because that would have been a well-deserved lesson, but that is Bethany, she's too nice to screw that two-faced prick over like that. She kept quiet and this is the absolute best he can hope for for the time being. On top of that, I am not buying it. I remember he gave me bad vibes when he first met with Jaycen, he gave me even worse vibes with Bethany and this sudden remorse, I am not buying it. Maybe he really is sorry, just a troubled, awkward guy who tried to flirt with the girl he met in the bath and came off as a monumental creep, but she described him perfectly, he is a perverted little shit. He wants to apologize? Well, good for him, he can certainly try. Time will tell if Bethany decides that he has earned forgiveness. If he wants it, he gotta work for it. But Bethany did nothing wrong. She has nothing to apologize for. Sure, she snapped at him, but not without reason. He surely did enough to feel terrible about it and himself, if he even feels genuinely about it at all. The only reason that prevents me from choosing Maddelyn without a second thought is that talking to Ben, as thoroughly unpleasant as he is, could actually get Bethany onto different thoughts. I don't want her to apologize to that greasy, perverted creep and I cannot believe I am genuinely considering him as an option, but if anything, he'd snap her out of her grief. Maddelyn is the more pleasant person by light years, but she'd surely only share the grief with Bethany. So, I am not sure what to pick. I'll have to think about this for more and will edit my thoughts in later on. Currently, as much as I hate hin, I lean to Ben, even if he is a thoroughly unlikable swine, simply because a conversation with him might be better for Bethy than to sink deeper into this depressed state. Then again, it would mean apologizing to him, right? This is something I don't want because if there is anyone that has to apologize here, it's Ben.
EDIT: After a lot of consideration and with a heavy heart, I decide for [Seek out Ben], as much as I dislike that perverted shit. But well, if he prevents Bethany from fully sinking into a depression and gives her something else to think about, even if it's just being angry at him, then he can be useful for something for once. Still, it irks me that she is going to apologize to him, where it actually should be the other way 'round a thousand times.
Hm, I am willing to believe that a domestic abuser would not exactly treat Alara any kinder. Then again, there might have been genuine feelings from his side and the abuse he puts his queen through could be frustration from being trapped in a marriage he never wanted, but it says a lot about his temper and the things he is capable of. I am concerned about him not giving up on Alara though. This could mean him trying to win her affection in a sweet way, but I have the feeling it is much, much more sinister.
Ah, I understand it better now! Very interesting. It appears the late King Dustin had a very peculiar hobby then
Though wouldn't this give Edrick a better claim? He's male after all and though unacknowledged, it seems his parentage is an open secret.
[Seek out Ben]
Liquid is right, seeking out Maddelyn will only make her feel worse. At least, with Ben, she won't have a constant reminder of her brother. She needs someone to take her mind off the situation, even if it is Ben. Plus, I doubt he will try to hurt Bethany. Especially in the location they are at, he wouldn't really have a chance to even if he wanted too.
Well it's good to hope. I won't reveal how Theon feels for Alara, but I will admit that those feelings are strong, and they've been growing through their interactions. His ways of trying to interact with her have been sweetly based, he did practically give her the same offer as Dromon, all be it that Dromon gave it to her first. I can't blame you for having some doubts however, and I can only imagine that will increase when they travel to Andalos.
In theory it would, being a male heir he would stand a better claim than Emma, we're also disregarding all the other male bastards that Dustin had but sure. In this situation though, it's very much like Theon/Asha. Emma has been there, she's lived for her father and gained the trust of her people, while Edrick as been Harmond's second since he was a boy. So when looking at a preferable leader, Emma is the best choice, the people actually know her, unlike the hundreds of male bastards which are scattered over Westeros.
[Ride for Barrowton]
The thing is, we don't this Emma Snow. Steffon however knows the Amber's. The Queen's family will surely contribute what they can to help her. Even if it is not a lot. I doubt Emma would willingly give away any of her soldiers to help this cause when she needs them for hers. Plus, unless it was mentioned earlier in the story and I just forgot, we do not even know if Edrick is there to help us convince her. Him being there was just a guess, on the Queen's part. It would be bad if we arrived, but Edrick isn't anywhere near there.
[Power]
I'm just guessing on this one, but I think Olyvar wants to regain the power he lost.
So I'm not pumping out parts as quickly, given that the votes aren't coming in all that quickly, so I take it that some people are still catching up. Once those votes come in I'll start closing some parts, but until then I will give the mad pace a little break
Besides, I'll be back to school by next week unfortunately, so the mad dash is likely over for a while 
Good news is, this chapter has about 4-5 parts remaining for each PoV before we're on to Chapter 4. It's been a long run, but it's starting to come to a close! Anyway, I have the next part ready, and it's a Jaremy part.
The last we saw Jaremy was in his introductory part, where he was on board the Sea Dragon with a Tyroshi he firmly scared the shit out of. He then arrived at Old Wreck, the seat of the extinct House Hull, now occupied by House Shell, and met a northern girl known as Klare Varne. He managed to persuade her to give him a ride to Brownhill, and during their journey she got him drunk enough to tell his story. The two separated when arriving at Brownton, the small town outside of Brownhill, and Jaremy was pretty drunk. You decided to have him rest before going to meet his family. This part takes place maybe a few hours after that choice.
Jaremy
The Thirsty Dornishman was a small tavern based at the edge of Brownton, and it collected the most attention from weary travellers and pass-through merchants. Jaremy sat at the counter, an ale before him. Might as well finish the job if I have another night to wait, he reasoned, staring into his golden reflection. The man staring back at him had grown into the stranger that Jaremy had accepted himself to be. He lifted the cup to his lips, downing the cup.
The sun had fallen, and with the cold rising over the vast desert, the tavern popularity had increased over the past hour. The atmosphere was booming with laughter and chatter, as well as the sizzling sounds of boiling pots and stewing meals in the kitchens. It was giving him a headache. He gave the bartender a nod, signalling the same drink. He frowned, pouring the drink obediently.
“I’d advise this be your last one, son. No man should drink this much on an empty stomach.” He advised, a heavy look on his eyes. Jaremy rolled his eyes, taking his drink. “Fuck your advisements, just focus on keeping me drunk until dawn.” He muttered, causing the old man to scowl at him. “That’s your last one, unless I can persuade you to eat.” He stated with a wavering confidence, causing Jaremy to groan as he turned his gaze to the man.
“Then fucking feed me.” He ordered irritably, and the bartender crossed his arms. “You know what? I don’t need this. Get out of my tavern.” He retaliated, moving the ale away from Jaremy’s thirsty eyes, which turned to something of his usual look. He raised his menacing gaze to the old man, his heart rate quickening.
“You have a family?” Jaremy asked with a drunken stupor, to which the Bartender sighed. “That’s none of your business.” He stated calmly, dropping his arms to his side. “Now, I won’t-” He started, but Jaremy cut him off. “If you want to see them again, I’d advise that you don’t fuck with me, old man.” He warned, causing the bartender to raise an eyebrow.
“Are you threatening me?” He asked with a dubious tone, but Jaremy’s patience had dried up. He slammed his fists on the counter, rising from his stool. “Give me my fucking beer!” He shouted, taking the man by the scruff of his shirt. Fear flooded into his weak eyes, his thin arms trying to free himself from Jaremy’s strong grip. Silence seemed to flood the air, which Jaremy barely seemed to notice.
“Last chance.” Jaremy muttered, tilting his gaze on the man. His shaking eyes looked like they were about to respond, but eventually it was not his unconfident voice which sounded, but something much stronger, and from behind him. “Let him go.” It ordered, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow, turning around to meet the furious eyes of a large old man and his teenager second.
“Fuck off.” Jaremy warned them, eying both of them with murderous eyes. The older man looked to be in his sixties, yet his age did not determine his strength, though it did show on him partly. While his head was cleanly shaven, his beard was grey and there were some wrinkles on his face. His amber eyes held some resemblance of his past youth however. His younger counterpart showed just as much promise for the national beauty contests of Dorne.
He was skinny, and had boring short brown hair with matching coloured and expressionless eyes. While he maintained the delicacies of his youth, his fine clothes and unmarked sword gave Jaremy a sour impression. There was a dutiful and energetic look on his eyes, while his old man’s held something resembling repugnance and infuriation.
“Let him go.” He repeated with a stern tone, unsheathing a large great sword from its scabbard. His second did the same with his short sword. Jaremy smirked, releasing the man. So be it. He thought, turning his attention to his new foes as he unsheathed his Valryain steel short sword. He turned his gaze to the larger of the two, and without hesitation he lunged himself forward at the man.
His dodge put Jaremy to shame as he crashed into the tables behind him, his drunk stupidity bringing him to the ground. Infuriated, he spun himself over, meeting the sharp edge of the old man’s blade. “Stay down.” He ordered, but Jaremy was relentless. He swiped the blade away from his face with a reckless slash, giving him enough time to rise. “Fuck you.” Jaremy spat, readjusting his grip on his weapon. He watched as the young foe joined his master in the duel, before being push away.
“No Tywin, stay back.” The old man commanded, nudging the boy back, who showed his disappointment with the man’s decision, yet all eyes were on Jaremy now. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, as the two began to circle with locked eyes. Jaremy shrugged, spinning his light blade in his hands. “Should I care?” He muttered, slashing at the old man’s chest. He deflected the attempt with a defying blade, throwing a counter which Jaremy merely dodged.
“You should.” He stated, backing up a moment. “I am Tor Thunderstorm.” He announced proudly, a grin widening on his old lips. “The One Born of Lightning, and Bastard of the Storm.” He recited, and received a gasp of awe from the watching crowd. Jaremy eyed the man momentarily before smirking.
“What, is that some call sign for the naive children?” Jaremy mocked, lunging himself against Tor’s blade. The two were locked against each other, strength and will determining who would prevail. Jaremy stared into the struggling eyes of his foe, who was gaining an advantage over him. Jaremy spat in his eyes, startling him for a moment. A moment long enough to gain an advantage.
Without hesitation, Jaremy threw himself at the man with an aggressive attack. Bashing his blade against his bronze great sword. The Valryian steel had a cutting edge, and bit deep into the blade after a final strike. Tor’s eyes widened with shock as he stared at the cut in his blade, which Jaremy quickly used to disarm him. The old man’s widened eyes now stared at Jaremy, and then the Valyrian steel, as the point reached his throat. Let’s end this. Jaremy decided, ready to push the blade through the old man’s throat, before a sudden high pitch shriek started charging for him.
Jaremy managed only to turn just in time to parry the blow from Tor’s second, Tywin. Before Jaremy could send a counter, however, a thick brawn arm secured around Jaremy’s neck, pulling him off the ground. Jaremy’s grip weakened on his weapon, which slipped from his fingers as he tried to scratch at the forearm that strangled him. The lack of air began to take its toll on him, his vision starting to fade. He tried to say something, Tor’s strength alone forbid him to speak.
He lifted Jaremy in the air again as he frantically scratched at his arms, briefly releasing the tension enough for Jaremy to thrust his head back into his foe’s face. This caused Tor to release him, stumbling back. Jaremy turned to see blood pouring from his nose, and also a crowd of men coming to back him, all while Jaremy was still on the ground, gasping for air. He reached for his sword, which was quickly kicked away from him by the young Tywin. The crowd surrounded him, pulling up their sleeves and meeting him with closed fists. Before they could meet him, a thundering voice sounded from the doorway.
“What is the meaning of this?” The voice yelled, and suddenly the crowd dispersed from around him. “This gentleman is causing a commotion here.” Tor stated, wiping the blood away from his face. The Brownhill banners came clear to Jaremy as his eyes drifted across the room. The guard turned his gaze to the defeated Jaremy briefly, a hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “You’re coming with us, for questioning.” The guard decided, then turning his gaze back to Jaremy. “Both of you.”
-
The sun had started to rise as Jaremy’s eyes struggled to open. He found himself on a bed of straw, his wrists bound with rope that was knotted outside the stone room he was in. It didn’t take long for Jaremy to realise that he was in a cell. In Brownhill. Across from him sat a familiar face, also bound to a rope that left the cell.
“He’s awake.” He announced with a sullen tone, rolling his eye. His other eye was blackened, and blood had dried from his nose down to his chin. It took a moment for Jaremy to recognise who the man was. His head thudded with a heavy pain, though whether that was from the hangover or the fight, he was unsure. Jaremy remained silent, staring at the bounds. “Cat got your tongue?” Tor jested, to which Jaremy lifted his gaze momentarily.
“Shut your mouth, fuck face.” Jaremy muttered, and Tor smirked. “Thanks to you.” He chuckled, lifting his old hands to his face, running his rough fingers over the dried blood. “For an arsehole, you fight well.” He admitted with a hint of admiration, though his thoughts mattered little to Jaremy. What did matter was that he was in a Brownhill cage. What if Elise finds me like this? He groaned, pulling at the rope.
“There’s no use. We’re not getting out of here until those guards come back.” Tor stated with some defeat, but Jaremy shook his head. “I’m not waiting for a death sentence.” Jaremy stated, looking for something sharp to cut his founds. Tor chuckled. “A death sentence aye? Sounds like a tough upbringing, from wherever you’re from.” He chirped, with a touch of mockery in his words. Jaremy rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t imagine.” Jaremy muttered to himself, and Tor made an example not to follow it.
“Well, perhaps while we wait we should get to know each other. Knowing your enemy, that’s what I teach the boy.” He stated with some sort of pride, which Jaremy had little interest in. He found the edge of the stone brick to be sharp enough, he started rubbing the bindings against it. “Fine, I’ll start.” Tor submitted, resting his head back.
“I am the One Born of Lightning.” He stated with some boredom. “Meaning, I am the son of the man who was struck by lightning. I’m an unacknowledged bastard of Edric Dondarrion, the Thunderlord.” He revealed with a bitter tone. “A man which didn’t care to father me.” He added sullenly. Jaremy nodded.
“Nor do I.” Jaremy stated with some annoyance, causing Tor to sigh. “Fine. I’ll just wait on the boy to come free me then, while you rot alone with your thoughts.” Tor muttered, trying to inflict some guilt on him, but Jaremy barely cared. Finding his cutting tedious, he groaned as he stumbled back onto his side.
“Who’s the boy?” Jaremy finally asked, and Tor lifted his eye to him. “Tywin?” He asked, and Jaremy shrugged his shoulders. “Who the fuck else.” He muttered, causing the old man to frown. “He’s the son of Gyles Yronwood, the second son to the heir of Yronwood: Eddin.” He stated, getting a brief surprise from Jaremy before he turned back to his bindings.
“So you’re relying on a boy to save you.” Jaremy mocked, to which Tor shook his head. “I’m relying on King Edgar’s common sense. You’re stubbornness got me here.” He argued, but Jaremy’s attention did not go to the old man’s wellbeing, instead to the title. “King Egar?” Jaremy asked, doubting what he heard. Tor eyed him curiously before nodding. Jaremy felt something in chest crumble with Tor’s confirmation. His father was dead. His gaze lowered, a lump forming in his throat. Tor’s eye looked at him with suspicion, until it widened in some sort of realisation.
“You’re Jaremy Sand.” Tor realised with some fascination, which swinged quickly to pity. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel.” He stated dryly, but Jaremy shook his head. “You know nothing of my pain.” He grunted, his anger seething inside him, and bound by the ropes around his wrists.
The lock on the door fumbled after a moment, then swinging open. In entered two guards, Tywin Yronwood, and a man with a familiar face. He stood tall, with a lean build and a good posture. While his facial features were plain, he maintained an expression of neutrality, with a calm look on his green eyes. Atop his short black hair was a bland silver crown. Edgar. Jaremy realised, but the man paid him no attention. Instead he looked to Tor.
“Free this man.” He ordered the guards, which they did with obedience. When the old man’s bounds were loosened, they helped him onto his feet. “Tor Thunderstorm. I apologise for the inconvenience.” Edgar stated politely, and Tor nodded with acceptance. “You’re men were only following protocol, I understand.” He forgave, and the two shook hands before Tor made his way out the cell, yet something pulled him back a moment. He cleared his throat.
“You should give this man a fair trial.” He suggested, flickering his gaze to Jaremy. “You may find you have more in common than you think.” He stated, nodding to Jaremy before taking his leave with Tywin. “Unlikely.” One of the guards muttered. “Shall we return to the hall?” The other suggested, but Edgar stared at Jaremy with curious eyes. “No, not yet.” He answered, approaching Jaremy with caution.
He knelt down, observing Jaremy’s rough features. Jaremy concealed his face, he wasn’t ready to look at the man, yet his half-brother persisted. “Part your hair.” He ordered, but Jaremy remained idle. “Show me your face.” He begged. Jaremy could see the desperate look on his eyes, and reluctantly, he obeyed. Edgar observed his features for a moment, before his eyes widened.
“… Jaremy?”
No decision.
Unfortunately I have fallen quite heavily behind, thanks to my absence from Monday to Wednesday, but I'll start catching up soon. However, I had to read this part first, and it was a great one! It was nice to see some action from Jaremy, and Tor and Tywin seem like an interesting pair of characters, but most of all I'm hyped about the very ending of the part. Jaremy has finally been reunited with his family, and I'm eagerly looking forward to how things will turn out from here
Welcome back! Yeah I noticed your absence, and I hope everything is good
Jaremy's actions weren't exactly living up to his potential in this part, but that can be expected under his influences. I am glad that you liked this part, and the introduction of Tor & Tywin 
More importantly though, the ending will make for a great next part, which I'm super keen to write!
Yeah, it was just a field trip, in relation to one of my uni courses, so everything is good. Especially now that my semester is more or less done, only one assignment left to do
Anyway, I'll start catching up later today, as well as get back on my work with the Dayne's!
[Lie to her]
Hm, give me a recap there, how much time has passed since Jaremy has last been home? Because I get the feeling that a serious lot has changed for him, not only his father's death. Anyways, I liked this part a lot! Tor is surely a very interesting character, it's nice to see this bastard of Edric. That makes him a not-so-distant relative of the Caron's, as I see, which is nice
And well, a pretty great part for Jaremy in general, that makes me all excited for his next one, which I could see holding some important moments there.
Jaremy left Brownhill during his eighteenth year, and he's now 34 so, around 16 years? Yes, a serious amount has changed over that time, as we'll see in his next part, and for a lot of his parts
Alright, well given everyone has voted her, I can now close it. Samira will lie to her.
[Ride for the Rills]
Alright, well now that all the voters have commented on this part, I'll close the voting. Steffon will ride for the Rills. A risky choice, but it could potentially be fruitful if Steffon succeeds with negotiations.
i really enjoyed this part. As Liquid mentioned, it brought out a side of Jaycen rarely seen and of course, it is very exciting to see more of this Dornish storyline since it is probably one of the biggest things I am hyped for in the entire story.
Well safe to say that this has me really excited for what is to come and I need to finish the rest of these Fowler's very soon
[Vengeance]
[Seek out Ben]
[Vengeance]
edit: I was pondering between power and vengeance, but as I saw that power would put you in a tie, I changed my vote vengeance.
Well I'll bring this vote to a close. Torrhen will state that it is vengeance that Olyvar wants. This one may have some merit, as the chapter name is also sharing the name of this choice
Aha, see, I haven't even thought about that connection
Don't know if we chose correctly, but it seems likely now that this is indeed what Olyvar wants.
Hey guys! So I'm briefly back to post a new part, but with being back to school I'm pretty strapped for time when it comes to writing I'm afraid. However I am happy to announce that there will be a new H&L being released very soon, so look forward to that
Onto the new part, it goes to Morgan Martell, and it's his second part!
Last time we saw the founder of House Martell, he had arrived at the estate of the Golden Spear just in time to attend the funeral of his father (the Golden Spear). He was then reunited with Septon Militar, who was a father-like figure to Morgan as a child, and now a strong supporter of King Qarlon's uprising. The two talked about Morgan's time during his pilgrimage, and then Morgan informed him of his plans to settle land in Westeros. He later requested that Militar spread word of his plans in the Pearled Kingdom, King Qarlon's sworn nemesis. Militar reluctantly agreed to this, before taking off. This part takes place a few days after that, with Morgan's arrival at the Pearled Kingdom.
Morgan
The Pearled City glowed with the morning sky, the rising sun setting high in the east. Morgan cantered through the main gates, made of quartz, steel and marble, embellished with gem stones which must have costed a fortune. Guaranteed, it would have likely fed and housed the paupers that begged by the gates as Morgan passed them.
The Gem Palace was no doubt where Morgan would gain an audience with the infamously King Noriphos. The coward. Morgan thought bitterly as his eyes flickered over the starving citizens that were barely governed by their neglecting rulers. The grand Pearled Kingdom. He thought as he rolled his eyes, steering his steed for the Gem Palace.
Before long he was met by a barricade of soldiers, armed with pikes and shields, successfully blocking off the main road. Morgan’s horse snickered back in panic, and admittedly Morgan was slightly worried for what was happening. Shortly after he turned for another route, men flooded the alleyways and blocked off the way he had come. What in Seven hells?
“Lord Morgan Martell! Dismount and surrender your arms!” A man barked from behind the barricade, and Morgan felt his hand gravitating towards the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the faces of the men stopping him, there was something in most of them which surprised him. Fear. What were they afraid of? “I won’t ask again, Martell!” The voice sounded, and Morgan frowned, shifting his hand back to the reins.
“What is the meaning of this?” Morgan asked as he cautiously dismounted his steed, yet he was hesitant to quickly throw his blade away. Two of the guards broke from formation, one taking the reins of the horse while the other covered him, leading the steed away. Morgan’s gaze flickered around him. He was surrounded. “Now the sword.” The voice ordered, but Morgan’s focus remained on the iron spear tips.
After a short moment of dormant silence, the guards shifted from formation, creating a narrow breach in their wall. Morgan’s hand remained by the hilt of his weapon as he studied the blockade with caution, watching the walkway. Before long, a man entered the scene, walking past the blockade and meeting Morgan in the silent haunting space.
He was a tall man, with a stocky but muscular build. His blond hair was cut short, and the same could be said for his well-trimmed beard, and among those were some piercing blue eyes. In his hand he held a rolled piece of paper. “The sword.” He ordered with a stern tone, and reluctantly Morgan obeyed. He wasn’t here to start a fight. He unsheathed the blade and tossed it to the ground, receiving a thin smirk from the man.
“Good.” He smiled, kneeling down and taking the weapon, only to pass it on to his guarded escort. Morgan shook his head with confusion, and mostly irritation. “Now, what is this?” Morgan asked again with a heavy touch of impatience, gaining the attention of his perpetrator. The man let out a sigh, before unrolling the note and studying the contents.
“A few days ago, a septon passed through the city spreading word that you were looking for forge an army. I am making sure that doesn’t happen.” The man cockily assured him, scrunching up the piece of paper, before shouting another order without hesitation. “Guards, arrest this man!” He barked, and Morgan’s eyes widened.
“Under what charges?” Morgan questioned him as his arms were grabbed by two men and he was dragged off. “Under what charges?!” Morgan shouted, fighting at the grip and holding his ground. The man ordered them to stop, walking over with lazy steps. “You’re charged with treason and attempted murder on the King. Your father was an inspiration to King Qarlon’s regime, and your presence is more than suggestive of his intentions.” He turned his attention to the guards. “Take him away.” He commanded, and obediently they did. Morgan pulled and fought, until he was knocked unconscious.
-
The cell was black and dimly lit by the hallway. Morgan awoke from the wooden bench with a painful thud at the back of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious. He lifted his hand to the bump on his head, it was tender, agonising on impact. He gritted his teeth, groaning has he removed his hand.
“Look who’s finally awake.” An old sturdy voice grumbled from across the hallway. Morgan squinted, his eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting, but opposing his cell he identified a familiar face. Militar. Morgan’s eyes widened as the old man stared at him with a spiteful gaze, Morgan had never seen such anger in those calm brown eyes. He pulled himself from the bench, dragging himself to the iron bars that separated them.
“I did what you asked.” The old man muttered, his back resting against the wall. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, his eyes streaming over his cell with a bored look. “And this is how I am repaid.” He added coldly, shifting his gaze back to Morgan. The old man had grown a thick grey beard since they last met, and his hair was a mess. Morgan shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I never intended for this to happen.” Morgan pleaded, but the old man shook his head. “Yet it did.” He grunted, rolling his eyes. “I swore an oath to serve your father, I never fucking swore one to be locked away.” He muttered, looking at the chains on the wall. Morgan frowned, sinking further to the ground.
“Why is this happening?” He mumbled with a hush tone, and Militar scoffed with some amusement. “These fools do not approve of servants of the true King entering their city. They think we’re spies, or in this case, trying to build an army inside their walls.” He muttered with a bitter tone, and Morgan sighed, resting his head against the grotty stone floor. He stared at the cranky old man, studying his face. It swapped from grumpy and bitter to fearful and worried in a near instant. “I’m to be executed.” He revealed, and Morgan widened his eyes.
“No.” Morgan shook his head, in part disbelief and part denial. “I won’t allow it.” Morgan stated with some weak confidence, but Militar shook his head grimly. “There’s nothing you can do, boy. I only hope that my death was worth it.” He grunted, and Morgan shook his head with defiance. “You will not die!” He yelled, taking hold of the iron bars. This man had been like a father to him, and while he had shown much to him, Militar meant a lot to him. The old man let out a chuckle.
“Please, Morgan. Save your strength. There will be time for it later.” He assured him, but Morgan was unconvinced. Tears started to form in his eyes. It had been years since Morgan shed a year, and not even his own father’s death evoked this dreaded feeling. This feeling of inevitability. The doors to the cell room creaked open, and footsteps echoed down the hall.
Before long, they stopped at Militar’s cell. Two guards, followed by a man which Morgan recognised. The man who arrested him. He wore a white silken shirt, with a leather vest over the top. Attached to this was a brown cape, and he wore pants and boots of a similar colour. “Your time is up, old man.” A guard announced as his partner’s keys rattled the cage door open. They entered the cell and lifted him from the floor, dragging him out of the cell.
Militar flashed one last remorse-struck glare to Morgan, whose eyes were welled up with tears. Please. He tried to utter, but nothing came when he opened his mouth. He watched them until they fell out of sight, and then he stared blankly at the hall until his capturer grabbed his attention. “Morgan.” He said with an uncomfortably calm and soothing tone. Morgan turned his wet angry gaze at him.
“What?” Morgan hissed, and the man frowned as he crossed his arms. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, but Morgan shrugged off his apologies. “What do you want?” Morgan growled, wiping the tears from his eyes as his expression grew stern. The man sighed, leaning against the cell wall.
“My name is Ruban Maeson.” He introduced boldly, and Morgan shrugged. “Why should I care?” He muttered, causing Ruban to frown. “Because right now, I’m the only thing stopping you from joining that septon at the blocks.” He stated confidently, causing Morgan to glare at him. “So you’ll answer some questions.” He declared, leaving Morgan without many options. He remained silent, and Ruban started with his interrogation.
“Why have you come to the Pearled Kingdom?” He started, and Morgan rolled his eyes. “To build an army.” He stated nonchalantly, sitting against the wall and tucking his knees into his chest. “What for?” Ruban further questioned, and Morgan sighed. “To settle land in Westeros.” Morgan revealed, causing Ruban to frown.
“Just as the septon said.” He muttered before letting out a heavy sigh. Morgan gulped, his gaze pleading at Ruban. “Please, let him go. He’s innocent.” Morgan near begged, he was defeated. Ruban’s gaze showed signs of lament and sorrow, yet they were heavily coated with pity and remorse.
“To settle land in Westeros, you would need ships. Where are they?” Ruban interrogated, his sympathies running dry in his now stern eyes. Morgan shook his head. “I have no ships.” He mumbled, causing Ruban to raise an eyebrow, before a look of realisation settle on his face. “You plan to tear us apart from the inside, then steal our fleet. Is that it?” Ruban accused, provoking him. Morgan bashed his fist against the wall in anger.
“I’M NOT YOUR ENEMY!” Morgan exploded, a frenzy of tears and ire seeping from his cursing eyes, while Ruban’s widened with a sudden startle. Ruban then frowned, standing himself straight and brushing the muck off from his shoulder. “That will be for Noriphos to decide.” He decided nonchalantly, before walking way. Morgan remained crumbled on the grimy stone floor, defeat.
-
The Gem Palace was a work of art, with magnificent architecture showing explicit detail in time and effort. The walls were made from marble and quartz, refined and smoothed, and engraved with the stories of the Andal kings of the past. Morgan was escorted through them in irons, yet his attire was presentable.
The Royal Guard wore shining steel plated armour, embroidered with a variety of gems, while wielded steel shields and spears. They walked in an orderly fashioned, and remained dead silent, their only sounds being the clinking of their steel boots on the stone floor. Ahead of their escort was Ruban Maeson, who accompanied another man suited in a rich attire.
He stood tall, with a muscular build evident under his light blue silk shirt. He possessed neck-length blonde hair, which gleamed in the natural light, and wore a small golden crown atop of his luscious hair. From his stature and his apparent royalty, Morgan guessed the man to be the crown prince.
They turned down a hall, walking another fifteen metres or so until they were met by large oaken arched doors, framed with silver. By them stood two Royal guards, who forced the heavy doors open when their convoy neared them. Morgan was escorted into the large hall on the other end, held up with white stone columns. The walls held banners displayed a golden seven-pointed star on a plain white field. Then Morgan spotted the throne, and the crowned man sitting upon it.
He was a narrow man, with a lean posture and soft hands which fingers the arms of his throne. His brown eyes studied Morgan from afar with curiosity and a hint of fear. He lifted a hand when they drew nearer, ordering the guards to leave, which they did with such obedience. Noriphos then arose from his throne, descending the steps.
“Morgan Martell.” He spoke, it was less of a greeting and more like he was sounding the words to himself. “The son of the Golden Spear, a legend among our people.” He added, clasping his hands and smiling, yet Morgan saw through his fake smiles. His eyes were piercing, and it was easier to focus on his elegantly slicked back hair, a coal black with silver sides. His beard represented similar shades.
“Lord Morgan wishes to sail to Westeros, your Majesty.” Ruban informed him, bowing as he did. Noriphos raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze momentarily to his faithful minion before returning them back to Morgan. “Is that so?” He asked rhetorically, his tone fantasising. It quickly faded as he turned his gaze to his son. “Jarod, did the man come with an army?” He asked with a fascinated curiosity, and his son shook his head.
“No, father.” Noriphos smiled, his gleaming brown eyes focusing on Morgan’s chains. “Then why is he cuffed?” He blatantly asked, yet it was Ruban who answered in Jarod’s place. “He is a threat, your Grace.” Ruban stated strongly, causing a thin smirk to build on Noriphos’ lips. “Not here, he isn’t. Ruban, uncuff him and bring me Lords Roxton and Varner.” He ordered, and reluctantly Ruban did so.
Morgan felt the weight of his wrists relieve as the chains fell to the floor. His hands massaged his wrists as Ruban took off with the irons out of the throne room. Noriphos smiled, turning his gaze to his son. “Jarod, I’m sure you have more pressing duties than being here. Go.” He ordered him, but the crown prince was less obedient than Noriphos’ lackeys. “Father, he’s a threat.” Jarod argued, looking at Morgan with uneasy eyes. Noriphos shook his head.
“I have my guards if he tries anything. Besides, I wish to be alone with him.” He stated calmly, and reluctantly Jarod nodded, taking his leave. When the doors to the throne room slammed shut, Noriphos let out a sigh of relief.
“Heavy lies the crown.” He mumbled to himself, while Morgan glared at him with menacing eyes. Noriphos frowned, rubbing his hands. “I understand your anger. Please, will you join me for a drink?” He asked, beckoning for Morgan to follow him to the long table off to the side of the throne room. Morgan remained silent, hesitantly following him.
The table was crafted from myrtle, and was truly a work of excellence from the woodworker. Atop of it were silver platters of grapes and other fruits from the east, as well as a flagon of wine, which Noriphos poured into a goblet, passing it to Morgan. He accepted it, staring into the pool of red. “If you’re going to kill me, why waste Arbor red on me?” Morgan asked, taking a sip of the beverage, his estimate was correct. A thin smile formed on Noriphos’ lips.
“You know your wines.” He complimented, pouring a cup for himself. “And who said I was going to kill you?” He questioned, leaning against the table. Morgan shrugged, taking another sip. “Seemed kind of obvious, given my warm introduction to the city.” Morgan muttered, and the king heavily frowned.
“I apologise for our actions, truly, but you must understand the unease around the city with King Qarlon. Having one of his loyalists spreading word that the son of the Golden Spear was forming an army was something we would not take lightly behind our walls.” Noriphos informed him, and Morgan shrugged. “My loyalties do not lie with Qarlon.” Morgan assured him, which Noriphos showed his appreciation to.
“Your father did. It was a disgrace for us all to learn that the Golden Spear was planning to overthrow me.” Noriphos sighed, and Morgan near choked on his wine as he scoffed. “Forgive me.” Morgan said as he recovered. “Though your rule is a disgrace.” Morgan stated blatantly, causing Noriphos to raise an eyebrow. “You think?” He asked, seemingly honest.
Morgan’s eyes widened in disbelief. How can a man have so much neglect for his subjects? Morgan thought bitterly, placing down his cup and looking at all the food on the table, before he flipped it over. Wine spilled everywhere, and the fruits smashed as they were thrown to the stone floor. The silver and steel clang on impact, and the steel of swords unsheathing from scabbards sounded as the guards closed in. Noriphos raised a hand, halting them, but Morgan persisted.
“You sit in this palace, living such a carefree life with your exotic fruits and imported wine, while your people starve and cause riots on the streets. Do you seriously wonder why my father took up arms against you? Why Qarlon does the same?” Morgan asked in disgust, the naivety of this man was revolting. Noriphos simply frowned, crossing his arms.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He murmured, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I have failed my people here.” He admitted, staring at the mess around him. “Caused needless bloodshed and starvation, but now I am not only trying to redeem myself, but save my people from an inevitable fate if we stay in Andalos.” Noriphos exclaimed, and Morgan sighed.
“The Freehold.” He mumbled, and Noriphos nodded. “They have forcefully ‘colonised’ the coastal cities, and only Andalos and Braavos currently remain free of their torment, but for how long?” Noriphos begged the question, and Morgan honestly had no answer for him. “I cannot save them here, but by giving them a new life in Westeros, I can.” Noriphos stated, and Morgan started to chuckle.
“How’s that going for you?” He mocked, word has spread far and wide of the repelling of Argos Sevenstar in the North. Noriphos sighed, approaching Morgan, he pulled a leather map from his breast pocket and unrolled it. Morgan instantly recognised it. “Ruban brought this to me on your arrest.” Noriphos informed him, looking at the map of Westeros. He knelt down, placing it on the driest part of the floor. Morgan joined him.
“The Arryn’s and Corbray’s have settled in the Fingers.” Noriphos pointed, tapping his finger on the location. “Armistead Vance and Vorian Vypren plan to take the Riverlands, while the Lydden’s wish to continue further west, and others further south. Where else is there to go?” Noriphos questioned, sounding defeated, but Morgan shook his head, pointing a finger to the southmost point of the map.
“Dorne.” Morgan stated, and Noriphos raised an eyebrow. “Dorne is a desert.” Noriphos observed boldly, and Morgan nodded. “As is Sarnor, and the Ghiscari Empire.” Morgan added, and Noriphos frowned. “Partly.” He mumbled, letting out a sigh. “Do you think it would be survivable?” He asked, and Morgan shrugged.
“That’s what I want to find out.” Morgan stated, and Noriphos seemed to pause for a moment, before nodding. “When your septon came through, he inspired a couple of my remaining warlords to join you: Lorias Roxton and Anderon Varner.” Noriphos informed him, rising from the floor. Morgan joined him, grabbing the map.
“Morgan, I am willing to help you if you’re willing to help me. I will give you the ships and men to sail to Dorne and inspect Dorne, and if it looks hopeful, I will turn my remaining forces to Dorne.” Noriphos stated, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What do you want from me?” Morgan asked in turn, and Noriphos exhaled a deep breath.
“I need to know you’re not going to betray me. Bend the knee, swear fealty to me. Prove to me that my investment is worth it.” Noriphos proposed, causing Morgan to frown. “What about Militar?” Morgan asked, and Noriphos eyed him strangely before they widened in realisation. “The septon?” He asked, and Morgan nodded. “I will allow him to go with you if he too will swear fealty to me, otherwise he must die.” Noriphos regretfully informed him. Morgan sighed.
“If I refuse?” He finally asked, and Noriphos shrugged. “Then you will be without any ships or men.” He stated obviously, and Morgan felt a sunken feeling inside him. He looked down to the map, to Dorne. This may be his only chance to get there, but he would be betraying his father’s legacy to side with a man who had neglected his own people to death. Could he really side with that?
[Swear fealty to Noriphos] [Refuse his offer]
[Swear fealty to Noriphos]
Yes he can, and he has too. He really doesn't have another choice when it comes to this. Plus, if he swears fealty, he may be able to save the life of his friend Militar. That option will be off the table if he refuses. The only other way he may get ships and men is if he appealed to Qarlon, but if he did that it would cause him to be considered a traitor and he will be a fugitive for the rest of his life.
[Swear fealty to Noriphos]
This really is the only choice I see for Morgan. He might swear fealty to a man his father considered an enemy, but what he makes with this is up to him to decide. Noriphos can always take another man to lead an expedition to Dorne, leaving Morgan stranded in Andalos without any supporters. With Morgan leading this expedition, he can make sure that the Andals are taken care of, that they find a new home in Dorne. Morgan obviously cares for the people and he can make sure that this will be the main goal of the Dorne expedition, whereas Noriphos on his own might focus on other things, such as the riches of the dornish kingdoms. Just because he swore fealty to Noriphos doesn't mean he betrays his father's legacy, as long as he makes sure that he stays true to the ideals he fought for. Plus, as Tales said, this might give him a chance to save Militar's life, which would give him a trustworthy ally and friend on his expedition.
[Seek out Ben]
Well the voting is closed! Bethany will seek out Ben.
Ah, this was a very interesting part, and got me even more hyped for Morgan's storyline, and Dorne in general. It was nice to hear the thougths of King Noriphos to all this, and while he is definitely a jerkass, he is a jerkass who seems to at least be planning to save his people from the threat of the Freehold.
[Swear fealty to Noriphos] Fuck it, if this saves Militar, as well as gives Morgan more troops and ships, it's worth it.
Hmmm, I really hope we haven't made a mistake in seeking out that jerk
Though it is surprising how this one part managed to change my opinion about him from a potential rapist to 'merely' a creepy pervert. I guess there might still be some hope for him to grow on me, if only slightly.
[Swear fealty to Noriphos]
Hello, it's Wildling! Here to dump you some character illustrations. To be precise, we have Dormund Bolton, Jaycen Caron, Meghan Caron, Warmond Manderly and Nathan (in that order):
Hope you like 'em!
Oh man, I love them! Your drawings are always amazing, no matter which style and these five are incredibly well-done and detailed. Now, I must admit I have actually gotten a look at Warmond and Dormund before, so I already knew about them and I was aware that there are Jaycen and Meghan illustrations on the way, though I haven't seen them before. And well, it is always a special treat to see two of my characters drawn there, given how perfectly you capture them, from their general appearance, to details such as their facial expression and posture. With Dormund, first of all, that guy seriously looks like someone who has been brought back from death. I guess, given that he literally died, he has been through the most compared to the other characters. No matter what, at least no other currently living character actually died. This is shown pretty clearly in your drawing. With Warmond... I was surprised by the golden eyebrows. I know the Manderly's have a favour for turqoise, so the hair colour is great, but I have forgotten about the eyebrows. They make for a great contrast there! Nathan was one of the characters where I didn't have a clear visual in my head so far, one of the few whom I couldn't really picture. That is another thing these drawings are so great for, I will never again have any problem with imagening him. Not that I want to, because that guy looks terrifying
Terrifying, but still great, that must be said 
And finally, my dear Jaycen and Meghan. Ah, they are so dysfunctional as a couple, they barely deserve being called a couple at all, yet at the same time, it is the only word that fits for them. Naturally, you nailed it! As I said, there are these details, such as expression and posture, that turn them from great drawings to truly perfect ones. That right there are the Caron's as I thought them to look when I first wrote their appearances down. I love that look on Jaycen's face and how Meghan's milder expression gives a contrast there. In general, they contrast so nicely and I think that is why these illustrations work so particularly well. Thank you very much for this set 
Usually when you have forewarning and 'spoilers' for certain important things, they tend to lose their value. Yet I've never lost my excitement for your amazing drawings, despite being the first to see them when they've been related to my story. Liquid has summed up about every great thing I've thought of these magnificent specimens in graphic form, and I really can't thank you enough for doing these. They are truly amazing, and that rightly compliments you further