Aerys' Ascension < The 18th Targaryen - Saga I IC >

[Mewsland]

< OoC: Please do not post here unless you were accepted in the OoC thread. >

KING'S LANDING, Crownlands - 283 AL
THE RED KEEP

"The traitors want my city... but I'll give them naught but ashes."

The simple, matter of fact command to his Hand, Wisdom Rossart, would change the Seven Kingdoms forever. Few had believed Aerys II would actually carry out his great plot.

"Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat."

The wildfire plot was Aerys' final solution - if he were to lose the war against the rebels, he would have King's Landing and its half a million inhabitants burned to the ground.

The Mad King then turned to the only Kingsguard in the room - Jaime Lannister. "I want him dead... the traitor. I want his head... you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest! All the traitors! BURN THEM ALL!"

With that, Aerys II turned his back on Jaime Lannister and walked back toward the Iron Throne. As Aerys' pyromancer turned to leave, Lannister turned and stabbed him through before walking up behind his oblivious king and stabbing him in the back.

Even as Aerys II Targaryen drowned in his own blood, his final words were the same.

"Burn them all..."

KING'S LANDING, Crownlands - Day 1, 351 AL
THE BLACK KEEP

... and burn them Aerys had. The Red Keep had burned to the ground in the battle of King's Landing not three years ago, but in its place stood a far more grandiose castle - the Black Keep of Aerys III. The great castle had been completed in barely two years due to a massive influx of support for the returning Targaryens over the crushing reign of the Lannister kings, and therefore a massive influx of manpower and resources as well. Aerys III Targaryen's ascension was nearly complete.

It was this time that the true nature of Queen Aerys III emerged. She had won the realm with her own dragons. Sure, Matarys and Daeron were two of their mounts, but Aerys was the one that bonded with the dragons in a way nobody had expected. The queen's long platinum-and-gold hair draped well below her shoulders and flowed over the side of the Iron Throne as she took the seat of her kingdom. The High Septon, who had once crowned Joffrey II Lannister before her, powerfully delivered the naming:

"In the name of the now-Eight Kingdoms, and in the sight of gods and men, I present to you - Her Grace Aerys of House Targaryen, the Third of Her Name, Queen of Meereen, the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Eight Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!"

A great cry of hailing came from the crowd, only dying down as Aerys III rose to deliver her first words as Queen of Westeros. "350 years ago to this day, Aegon I took the thrones of Westeros, and, with the blades of his enemies, forged them all together as one Iron Throne. This throne has withstood 78 years of usurper rule. It withstood the burning of the castle which had been polluted by those who sought to take the realm from its rightful rulers. Today, the Iron Throne returns to the bloodline which cared for it for nearly three hundred years, and with it, the Eight Kingdoms shall see a new prosperity unmatched by any since the end of Aerys II."

"Aegon I once said that kings should never sit easy. Many kings have cut themselves upon this throne when they tried to sit easy. It is even said that kings have died by this throne's hand. I stand before you today to say that kings - and queens - must not only never sit easy, but they must be willing to give their blood and their lives for the strengthening of the Kingdoms."

With that, Aerys III Targaryen carefully grasped one of the blades of the Iron Throne, and sliced open the palm of her hand. She carefully shook eight drops of her own blood - one for each kingdom - onto the steps of the Iron Throne as a symbol to those who would dare attempt to take the throne from her now...

[Sovreignry]

Matarys Targaryen

---

I looked on as my sister revealed herself for who she truly was for the first time since our invasions started. From Mereen in the east all the way back to King's Landing I was shown as the next Targaryen king. In all honesty that had never been something I had wanted so I'm relieved that she took the throne. I may be the elder sibling, but she's the one the dragons listen to, so she's the queen. She was better suited to being a queen anyway. She had the regal look about her, while I had more of a warrior's build. It was decided that I was going to be her Hand, speaking with her voice when she needed me to, and ultimately responsible only to her. It was my job to bring any rebellious houses in line, the Greyjoys had always been a thorn in any king's side.

I winced when I saw her purposefully cut her hand on the throne. Always a flair for the dramatic her. I appreciated the symbolism, but I just felt that it was a bit unnecessary.

[Meryuma]

YGON

Ygon Greyjoy awoke wearily in the early hours of dawn, a chill salt wind blowing through the damp walls of Pyke. He rose at once, his wife still in bed, trembling and convulsing in her sleep. He would not allow himself to pity her. She is ironborn, he thought. She will stay strong. He slipped on a simple grey tunic, wearing no adornments but his driftwood crown and a silver necklace he had taken by iron, years ago in the North. Ygon grabbed his favorite axe before descending the worn stone steps of the Sea Tower. I will likely have no need for it today, but a weapon in my hand always aids my confidence.

Ygon hurried across the creaking, swaying bridges of Pyke to the Great Keep, walking assuredly down the main hall to the Seastone Chair. His lords gathered around him, hardened men and women clad in leather, mail and stolen riches. His maester scurried into the room, bringing a letter from King's Landing. He skimmed over it a couple times before tossing it to the ground.

"It says the war is ended. It seems the lords of the green lands have united for this dragon queen. She says that if we do not bend the knee, her brother's men will bring us to heel. I say we bend..."

His audience began to scowl and mutter among themselves until Ygon slammed the haft of his axe on the floor.

"For now", he continued. "Let the milkdrinkers believe their shores to be safe. We will have our way soon enough."

[Mewsland]

KING'S LANDING, Crownlands - Day 1, 351 AL (night)
THE BLACK KEEP

Aerys III paced the throne hall anxiously on a stormy evening in King's Landing. The uprisings had been minor, but frequent, and the Queen of Dragons had been frustrated time and again by the fact that when one was quelled, two more seemed to take its place. In the intervening time, Aerys had started to keep her Kingsguard close, in case of an attempt at an assassination, and had even wrote out that Matarys was to succeed her should such an attempt succeed.

The queen turned around as one of her Kingsguard returned from quelling a minor riot in lower King's Landing. "I presume the violence has ended?"

"Yes, Your Grace. The riot has ceased. It was not hard to placate them."

"Thank you." The queen turned around, only to feel a sword stabbed into her chest...

... as she woke up abruptly in her bedchambers. She slowly rested her head in her hand with a soft sigh. Ever since the day she had found out how Aerys II was truly killed - stabbed in the back by his own Kingsguard - she had been having nightmares of the event, but with herself in the place of Aerys II. Now, they seemed all the more threatening.

She found solace in one of the baby dragons she had been raising - an egg of Viserion's which had hatched shortly after the conclusion of the Second Conquest. "Melerys," she calmly and quietly greeted the dragon, "kessa." She smiled softly as the dragon screeched at her, and she carefully held her dragon child close. "Anyone who raises against us now will know our wrath. Fire and blood will rain from the heavens upon them... you and your kin will see to that."

[Of the Quendi]

The Reach
Highgarden, On the River Mander
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros

---

Lord Boremund Tyrell

---

The statue was fearsome yet magnificent to behold. Crafted mostly in black marble it towered above Boremund standing in a pose like a predator ripe to jump its prey. Covered by a robe and with its face concealed by a hooded mantle the features of the statue could scarcely be made out but the light of the candles did reflect in the two blood red ruby's inlaid as eyes of the statue, casting twisted shadows on a face that appeared neither male nor female, not even entirely mannish, for there was something sinister, base animalistic about the glimpses that could be caught of the obscured features of the statue. Its hands too where not entirely human, jarred and crooked and clawed they held a skull crafted so magnificently in Volantene ivory that it appeared almost real. Standing under this terrible figure that seemed poised to jump upon him Boremund felt both frightened and strangely at peace, just as one ought feel in the presence of the Stranger.

The young Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshall of the Reach and Warden of the South bowed his head solemnly and whispered his prayer before the terrifying aspect of the Stranger. "Stranger, you who

As he finished his solemn prayer Boremund realized he was not alone in the Sept of Highgarden. Turning away from the niche of the Stranger the young lord saw his maester, a young studious man from the Arbor by name of Wyman in whom Boremund had found a trusted friend of a scholarly disposition similar to Boremund's own. The maester was however clearly not in the sept to discuss the latest development in alchemy or debate philosophy. The man appeared agitated and held what appeared to be a letter in his hand. Boremund sighed. "Dark wings, dark words." He mumbled, expecting the worst. "What news Wyman?" He greeted his maester with a shout.

Maester Wyman, casting only one disturbed gaze at the statue before which his lord had been praying, extended his hand with the letter towards Boremund. "Troubling news from the capital My Lord." Wyman formally replied as the maester not the friend. "It seems King Aerys is not who he appears to be." The maester added as Boremund took the letter and began reading.

The content of the letter stunned Boremund. For a moment he, having braced himself for every conceivable eventuality, was dumbstruck. Then he composed himself, his shock giving way to resigned apathy towards the new regime. "Seven save us." He just said, handing back the letter shaking his head. He paused for a moment finding no word to describe his thoughts about this the latest revelation from the capital. "Well she is a Targaryen alright." He then jested. "The madness is clearly there." He said with a smile, shaking his head in disbelief at the absurdity. "So our dear sweet cross dressing king Aerys's claim to the iron throne just became even more dodgy, what a surprise."

Wyman shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "My Lord?" He asked. "Don't be coy, maester." Boremund barked at his friend. "You know as well as I do that there are peons on Dragonstone with a better claim than this woman with a man's name." Boremund said. "Once Daenerys died the heir to the Targaryens became the descendants of Aegon V's daughter Rhaella, either Shireen and her descendants or the Lannisters depending on whether or not one consider Tommen Baratheon a Baratheon or a Lannister. This man woman claim descent from Aemond Targaryen, a man who died childless during the Dance of the Dragons a hundred years before Aegon V's reign. Even if Aemond Targaryen had fathered true born children they would have no claim to anything while descendants of Rhaenyra still lives." Boremund declared.

Frustrated at the chaos that the self-proclaimed pretender queen seemed determined to sow in a country that she knew nothing of, foreigner raised far from Westeros as she was, Boremund turned from his maester with a sigh. "My Lord …" Wyman began hesitantly. "House Tyrell fought for the claim of Aegon II over Rhaenyra. The ascendancy of Aegon III was only legal because no living male offspring of Viserys I existed. But if Aemond lived and had sons …" The maester gently suggested. "Perhaps." He ventured. "Your antipathy towards the Ki… Queen stems not from concerns about the legitimacy of her claim, but out of understandable grief for your Lord Father?"

For a while Boremund was silent, not responding to the perhaps not entirely untrue question. "If Aemond had children with stronger claims than the descendants of Rhaenyra." He finally conceded. "Then sons would take precedence over daughters. That after all was what that bloody Dance of the Dragons was fought over. I name this Aerys pretender. If not over the rightful claims of Rhaenyra's descendants through the line of Rhaella then over her own brother, Mantarys or Daeron, whichever is the elder. As long as they live this hermaphrodite Queen is a usurper no matter how one look at it." He coldly declared. "She either kill her brothers or she must not rule."

[Mewsland]

KING'S LANDING, Crownlands - Day 2, 351 AL
THE BLACK KEEP

Early in the morning, the day after her coronation, Aerys strode calmly through the castle, looking over the new halls to make sure they were everything she had asked. As she stepped into the throne hall, Melerys on her shoulder, she smiled at the tapestries of the previous Targaryen kings as they were hung along the walls.

Aerys II's tapestry was the largest and grandest of the hall, and sat directly behind the Iron Throne. The tapestry did not portray Aerys' descent into madness - rather, it attempted to highlight the good that came out of the early years of the seventeenth Targaryen's reign. Only the last part of the tapestry even referred to the rebellion against Aerys II, and Aerys III had woven it herself - it showed the defenseless old man Aerys had become being slain by his own trusted Kingsguard. "Melerys... you shall be my guard. You and your siblings. Even swords cannot stand up to dragonfire."

Turning to one of the servants flitting in and out of the throne hall, she sharply yelled "Bring me Matarys! I desire to speak with him about our future arrangements."

[Sovreignry]

Matarys

---

I walked into the throne room shortly after my sister had called me. "Hello Your Majesty." I said as I bowed. "What is it that you wish to discuss?"

[Lunas Legion]

Winterfell

Lyella knelt in Winterfell's godswood, silently praying. Praying for what, she did not know, but pray she did anyway. It brought her comfort. Not the prayer itself, but the quiet. The solitude. It gave her time to think on matters.

Such as the revelation that Aerys was actually a woman. To say it had blindsided Lyella was the understatement of the decade. She doubted anyone had expected that. Bar Aerys herself, of course, and her brothers.

Yet it had made the situation more... Interesting. Perhaps it was time to go south once more, and play their game of thrones? Yet she remembered what had happened the last time a Lord of the North had gone south. Robb had been betrayed by the Freys in defiance of all laws, those of both gods and men. Ned had been betrayed and executed by a abomination of incest. Richard and Brandon had been murdered in cold blood by Aerys II, and now Aerys III sat the throne.

But she would not make the same mistakes. The Starks of old had been constrained by their honour, or walked right into the dragon's den unaware. She knew what she was doing, Father had made sure of that.

She stood, smoothing her skirts, before walking out of the godswood back towards her solar. She had a letter to write informing the Queen she would be journeying southwards to court; and then the rather long journey southwards itself.

[Mewsland]

KING'S LANDING, Crownlands - Day 2, 351 AL
THE BLACK KEEP

The queen had been waiting, deep in thought upon the Iron Throne about her next strategy. "My brother, we must make a show of force, united as one family. I want you to start by writing a letter as my hand to each of the Great Houses of Westeros, each sent seven days apart. Seven days after each letter, the three of us shall arrive on dragonback at each of the seats of the houses."

"Start with the Tyrells. I must know where their allegiance lies."

[Arana]

Aerion Darkfyre

Council Room, Runestone Castle, Runestone
Day 1, 351 AC

Aerion sat at the head of the table, a large number of papers laid out in front of him. There was information on taxes, the state of the castle, the state of the army, trade, letters, etc. Further down the table sat his three older sisters: Elia, who was thirty, Rhaenys, who was twenty-four, and Elaena, who was his twin, born a few minutes before he was. The three of them were his three closest advisers, and the only ones he knew he could really trust. The three of them also held places on his council. Elia, who had inherited their maternal grandfather's skill with money, was the Master of Coin. Rhaenys, the smartest of the four of them, was the Master of Whispers. Finally, Elaena, who had inherited her paternal grandfather's skill at combat, was the Master of Laws, as well as the Master-at-Arms of Runestone Castle. Together, the four of them had been running the lands their father left Aerion with some degree of success. They were discussing taxes when a messenger came and handed Aerion a letter, one which he wasn't sure how to react to.

"You won't believe this... 'King' Aerys III is actually a woman. It was her brother that been doing everything, in her name."

His sisters all looked at each other silently for a moment, before Rhaenys spoke up.

"This could be very beneficial to us. When it was thought that she was a man, her claim was already far weaker than yours is. After all, if she truly is a descendant of Aemond Targaryen, then any descendant of Rhaenyra would have a stronger claim, especially the great grandson of the last Targaryen king before Robert's Rebellion. But now that she has revealed her true gender, her claim is even weaker than it was before. With enough support, we could easily name her a pretender, and attempt to assert your claim to the throne."

Aerion nodded in agreement, but frowned.

"Therein lies the problem. Aerys has the allegiance of all the lords of Westeros, at least to some extent. She has an army, a navy, a much more fortified castle, and most importantly, she has dragons."

Aerion's two oldest sisters looked at each other, before glancing down at the papers in front of them. After a moment, Elia took one and read it over quickly.

"We're taking in quite a bit of money from trade in Gulltown, and even more from taxes on all of our holdings. At the moment, we have more than enough money to support our armies, although to expand to a size large enough to confront Aerys, we'll need considerably more. I suggest we write to Grandfather in Pentos. He has plenty of money to spare, and plenty of soldiers and sellswords just sitting around guarding his spare money. I'm sure he'd come to our aid... at least, if there was something in it for him."

Rhaenys nodded in agreement and started writing on a spare piece of paper.

"I agree. In addition, we're going to need support from some of the major houses. The Starks and Greyjoys have a history of being more independent, and we might be able to use that to our advantage. A few promises of land and more independence from the crown, along with possibly a marriage to one of them, and we should be successful. After all Brother, you do need an heir. In the meantime, however, we need to appear loyal to Queen Aerys. Perhaps promise not to press our claim, in exchange for the ability to expand further into the Vale of Arryn. Now, send off this letter and get ready to travel."

Aerion took the letter and read it over briefly, "Travel where?"

Rheanys smiled and looked down at her papers.

"To court of course. You're going to King's Landing."

[Of the Quendi]

The Reach
Highgarden, On the River Mander
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros

---

Lord Boremund Tyrell

---

The eerie feeling of resigned antipathy that had gripped Boremund when news reached him of the latest atrocious act of the new regime in King's Landing had begun to recede and when the young lord had risen from his bed in the early morn he had dismissed such nihilism from his troubled mind and went to the library tower. Sitting down in his favorite chair before the fireplace with his favorite books lying on a small table next to a window Boremund sighed. Once he had thought a life of bookish knowledge and learning to be his blissful fate, yet now he ruled the Reach and had responsibilities he had never dreamed of or wanted.

Yet now he ruled, and he was determined to rule well. The pretenders could squander away the Seven Kingdoms from their Black Keep but Boremund would diligently preserve his domain. The untimely tragic death of his father had thrust upon Boremund a cumbersome task of preserving the strength of the Reach built by Willas Tyrell through meticulous and cautious policies. "Growing strong." Boremund ponderously mumbled. He liked the words, let others boast of bloody and forceful words, the Tyrells would build no empires on charred and broken bones, no on the love of the people, the wealth of the Reach and the law of the land the Tyrells would soar. A peaceful and just rule it was and had he any dreams of conquest, honor and glory, Boremund did not allow them to steer him from his path. House Tyrell would be growing strong.

And in order to grow, Boremund sighed at the prospect, house Tyrell needed heirs. At twenty three it was about time for Boremund to wed, and he had siblings in equal need of spouses. Lysa's period of mourning for her husband was nearing completion, her two sons needed a father and she was yet young enough to bear more fruit to mend her wounded heart and bring honor to House Tyrell. At twenty six Annara was already at risk of becoming a spinster and had mother not been so fertile and the name Tyrell so revered it would no doubt have been difficult to find for her a husband. Same went for Mhaegan and Janna. Less urgently Jon and Lyonel was in need of noble born brides. Same with Eleanor and Margaery. The younger children was the least of Boremund's concerns.

First was he himself. Even if he needed not, like Lysa and Annara, to fear spinsterhood, his status as the Lord of Highgarden made his nuptials the most important for his family. That was the paramount tool at his disposal for the making of alliances and for ensuring the continuation of his dynasty in trying times of turmoil. The young lord rose from his seat walking to the window gazing ponderously through it, contemplating the decisions he needed to make. For a while he stood quietly at the window, his eyes eventually drawn by a number of Tyrell men-at-arms rigging a new ballista in the court with many a curse or swear word escaping them as eventually the huge three-talent heavy weapon was positioned its bolt like a lance wielded by a knight proudly held high as if in challenge of the sky itself.

The sight made Boremund sad. For years Lord Willas had been building bridges and barns, mills and marketplaces, septs and ships enriching and strengthening the Reach. Now Boremund built ballistas. He shook his head with a sigh, turning away from the window. He needed a wife. He thought of Lyella Stark, his first cousin once removed. A greater match did not exist, except maybe the Queen but Boremund had no intentions of courting her. But maybe it was chewing over too much. Uniting the North and the Reach would be difficult to say the least. Perhaps proposing Jon or Lyonel for the Stark lady would be better.

After a moments pause Boremund decided to start elsewhere. Grabing quail and ink and parchment he began penning a series of letters. To great uncle Garlan Tyrell, Lord of Brightwater Keep, the most admired and experienced commander of his house. To Lord Gerold Hightower, the formidable ruler of a fourth of the Reach, the commander of tens of thousands of men and owner of millions of gold dragons. To Thaddeus Rowan, Marshall of the Northmarch, staunch ally of the Tyrell's. To Lords Redwyne, Tarly, Ashford, the lords of the Shield Islands, the Lords of the Dornish Marches, the Lords of the Mander and all other lords and dignitaries of the Reach. Calling them for a touney at Highgarden, calling them to counsel with their overlord.

[Lunas Legion]

Gulltown

Lyella sighed with relief as she spied Gulltown in the distance. The journey had been rather offputting, and she'd been seasick at least twice. It seemed that the sea did not agree with her, but she would have to suffer through it anyways during the final stretch to King's Landing.

The ship itself was part of the Manderley's fleet; they'd let her borrow it to carry her household to King's Landing in an effort to have Lyella favour them over her other vassals; it wouldn't work, of course; Lyella knew how to play the balancing game with her vassals just as well as any other Lord, but it yielded small benefits like this occasionally.

"Remind me to travel back by land, Yorrick." Lyella noted offhandedly as she walked out of her cabin into the ship's deck, slowly watching Gulltown approach.

"Duly noted, m'lady." Yorrick nodded. Yorrick was a capable steward and advisor; he was a man of no discernible nature, and could blend into the background rather easily. "Shall we disembark while the good captain is loading?"

"No." Lyella shook her head. "I just came up to get some air whilst we're in calm waters. Hopefully Blackwater Bay is just as calm as the Narrow Sea is here."

Yorrick nodded in agreement. "As you say, m'lady."

[Arana]

Gulltown

Lyella sighed with relief as she spied Gulltown in the distance. The journey had been rather offputting, and she'd been seasick at least twice. It seemed that the sea did not agree with her, but she would have to suffer through it anyways during the final stretch to King's Landing.

The ship itself was part of the Manderley's fleet; they'd let her borrow it to carry her household to King's Landing in an effort to have Lyella favour them over her other vassals; it wouldn't work, of course; Lyella knew how to play the balancing game with her vassals just as well as any other Lord, but it yielded small benefits like this occasionally.

"Remind me to travel back by land, Yorrick." Lyella noted offhandedly as she walked out of her cabin into the ship's deck, slowly watching Gulltown approach.

"Duly noted, m'lady." Yorrick nodded. Yorrick was a capable steward and advisor; he was a man of no discernible nature, and could blend into the background rather easily. "Shall we disembark while the good captain is loading?"

"No." Lyella shook her head. "I just came up to get some air whilst we're in calm waters. Hopefully Blackwater Bay is just as calm as the Narrow Sea is here."

Yorrick nodded in agreement. "As you say, m'lady."

Aerion Darkfyre
Gulltown Harbor, Gulltown, Runestone

Aerion rode slowly through the streets of Gulltown, accompanied by his sister Elaena, twenty-five guards, and several other members of his household. Rhaenys has arranged for a ship to take them to King's Landing, and it had arrived at the port city a short while ago. Unfortunately, she had been unable to find one that would carry just them, so they had to share it with another group headed that way as well. He only hoped it was a group of merchants, or nobles, or something. After getting on board, he soon found that it was much better than he had hoped. Approaching his fellow traveler with his sister at his side, he smiled.

"Greetings, Lady Stark. Lord Aerion Darkfyre of Runestone, at your service."

[Lunas Legion]

Gulltown

Lyella sighed with relief as she spied Gulltown in the distance. The journey had been rather offputting, and she'd been seasick at least twice. It seemed that the sea did not agree with her, but she would have to suffer through it anyways during the final stretch to King's Landing.

The ship itself was part of the Manderley's fleet; they'd let her borrow it to carry her household to King's Landing in an effort to have Lyella favour them over her other vassals; it wouldn't work, of course; Lyella knew how to play the balancing game with her vassals just as well as any other Lord, but it yielded small benefits like this occasionally.

"Remind me to travel back by land, Yorrick." Lyella noted offhandedly as she walked out of her cabin into the ship's deck, slowly watching Gulltown approach.

"Duly noted, m'lady." Yorrick nodded. Yorrick was a capable steward and advisor; he was a man of no discernible nature, and could blend into the background rather easily. "Shall we disembark while the good captain is loading?"

"No." Lyella shook her head. "I just came up to get some air whilst we're in calm waters. Hopefully Blackwater Bay is just as calm as the Narrow Sea is here."

Yorrick nodded in agreement. "As you say, m'lady."

Aerion Darkfyre
Gulltown Harbor, Gulltown, Runestone

Aerion rode slowly through the streets of Gulltown, accompanied by his sister Elaena, twenty-five guards, and several other members of his household. Rhaenys has arranged for a ship to take them to King's Landing, and it had arrived at the port city a short while ago. Unfortunately, she had been unable to find one that would carry just them, so they had to share it with another group headed that way as well. He only hoped it was a group of merchants, or nobles, or something. After getting on board, he soon found that it was much better than he had hoped. Approaching his fellow traveler with his sister at his side, he smiled.

"Greetings, Lady Stark. Lord Aerion Darkfyre of Runestone, at your service."

Lyella smiled slightly, nodding in polite acknowledgement. "Likewise, Lord Aerion." She had never met Lord Aerion in person; but one couldn't not know of the main who was the son of the claimed-to-be Aegon VI. However, hopefully now that she had some properly educated company the journey would be more tolerable. Yorrick, although a good servant, wasn't a master of conversation. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

[Arana]

Aerion Darkfyre
Gulltown Harbor, Gulltown, Runestone

Aerion rode slowly through the streets of Gulltown, accompanied by his sister Elaena, twenty-five guards, and several other members of his household. Rhaenys has arranged for a ship to take them to King's Landing, and it had arrived at the port city a short while ago. Unfortunately, she had been unable to find one that would carry just them, so they had to share it with another group headed that way as well. He only hoped it was a group of merchants, or nobles, or something. After getting on board, he soon found that it was much better than he had hoped. Approaching his fellow traveler with his sister at his side, he smiled.

"Greetings, Lady Stark. Lord Aerion Darkfyre of Runestone, at your service."

Lyella smiled slightly, nodding in polite acknowledgement. "Likewise, Lord Aerion." She had never met Lord Aerion in person; but one couldn't not know of the main who was the son of the claimed-to-be Aegon VI. However, hopefully now that she had some properly educated company the journey would be more tolerable. Yorrick, although a good servant, wasn't a master of conversation. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Aerion Darkfyre

Aerion grinned, and sent his sister off to make sure their rooms were ready.

"Nice to know you've heard of me, Lady Stark. I've read and heard much about your family, and I must say, I'm impressed, especially with your uncle Robb, the Young Wolf. A great leader and a great man. I'd like to think I'm somewhat like him... unless that makes me sound arrogant."

Chuckling, he looked out over the rail in front of them, where Gulltown was slowly disappearing into the distance.

"So, I assume you're heading to King's Landing as well? Any reason?"

[Lunas Legion]

Lyella smiled slightly, nodding in polite acknowledgement. "Likewise, Lord Aerion." She had never met Lord Aerion in person; but one couldn't not know of the main who was the son of the claimed-to-be Aegon VI. However, hopefully now that she had some properly educated company the journey would be more tolerable. Yorrick, although a good servant, wasn't a master of conversation. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Aerion Darkfyre

Aerion grinned, and sent his sister off to make sure their rooms were ready.

"Nice to know you've heard of me, Lady Stark. I've read and heard much about your family, and I must say, I'm impressed, especially with your uncle Robb, the Young Wolf. A great leader and a great man. I'd like to think I'm somewhat like him... unless that makes me sound arrogant."

Chuckling, he looked out over the rail in front of them, where Gulltown was slowly disappearing into the distance.

"So, I assume you're heading to King's Landing as well? Any reason?"

Lyella chuckled. "Beyond that our king Aerys has suddenly revealed that he possesses breasts and is female? I think that's reason enough. Anyone of sound mind would wish to see if any opportunities are presented by such a drastic revelation."

"However, I would not call my uncle a great man, much less a great leader. A great leader would not have betrayed a promise he made for some girl he met on campaign. A great leader wouldn't have executed one of his main supporters for murdering prisoners. A great leader would have seen the North and Riverlands independent. But that matters not. Robb is long dead, and his legacy is little but ashes and notes in a history tome."

[Arana]

Aerion Darkfyre

Aerion grinned, and sent his sister off to make sure their rooms were ready.

"Nice to know you've heard of me, Lady Stark. I've read and heard much about your family, and I must say, I'm impressed, especially with your uncle Robb, the Young Wolf. A great leader and a great man. I'd like to think I'm somewhat like him... unless that makes me sound arrogant."

Chuckling, he looked out over the rail in front of them, where Gulltown was slowly disappearing into the distance.

"So, I assume you're heading to King's Landing as well? Any reason?"

Lyella chuckled. "Beyond that our king Aerys has suddenly revealed that he possesses breasts and is female? I think that's reason enough. Anyone of sound mind would wish to see if any opportunities are presented by such a drastic revelation."

"However, I would not call my uncle a great man, much less a great leader. A great leader would not have betrayed a promise he made for some girl he met on campaign. A great leader wouldn't have executed one of his main supporters for murdering prisoners. A great leader would have seen the North and Riverlands independent. But that matters not. Robb is long dead, and his legacy is little but ashes and notes in a history tome."

"Even great men make mistakes, Lady Stark. In fact, that can be said about much of my family. My father changing our name, my grandfather running off with your great-aunt, my great-grandfather doing... well, everything other than having children. And now look where it's left our family... all four of us unmarried, father dead, mother dying, and any other family members across the Narrow Sea in Pentos."

Aerion seemed to get a little grim while talking about his family, but quickly moved onto another subject.

"King Aerys being actually Queen Aerys certainly presents many opportunities... although I'm curious to know what opportunities it presents for House Stark. And if it might be for the best of both houses that we tried to take advantage of those opportunities together..."

[Caltarania]

House Maverik

The Sealord's Palace, Braavos

Arthyr sat upon the his throne, that once owned by the Sealord. His mind wandered around Braavos; seeing the Titan that stood guarding the city, then the Purple Harbour which generated the city's main source of income, and then to the palace where he sat. His mind refocused itself, and he looked up to see his sister hanging from one of the room's chandeliers. She removed her mask.

"Morning, brother." she said in her mysterious yet calming voice. "Sleep well?"

Arthyr sighed and then replied. "Morning. I slept decently, what of you?"

Lexandrya dropped from the chandelier and gracefully collided with the ground, righting herself with perfection. She approached Arthyr in an oddly sultry fashion, before placing herself on the left arm of his throne.

"I slept well. I fear that Ywen did not, though. I heard her screaming from her room again, damn girl woke me up thrice." Lexandrya said surprisingly angrily.

Arthyr sat up from his crouched position and seemed to leap from his chair as he began to walk towards Ywen's room. There were no needs for words, and Lexandrya followed Arthyr to their youngest sister's room. The throne room was open and brightly coloured, it's purple and maroon walls and marble flooring reflecting unto the people within it. The hallway which lead out of it, however, was slightly more eerie. While it still held the marble floor, the walls of the room were a dark, ebony black and the hallway had few windows; in stark comparison to the throne room which had large, crystal-like ones. Eventually, Arthyr and Lexandrya arrived at Ywen's room, and slowly opened the door.

"Ywen, are you okay? Little flower?" said Arthyr in his deep yet inviting voice.

Rather suddenly, a figure appeared in the room - approaching from where the bed was - clutching some sort of stuffed animal toy. Arthyr and Lexandrya sighed; it was Ywen. Ywen also seemed relieved, as she ran into Arthyr's arms and she lifted her up. They hugged and shared warmth for but a moment, before Arthyr hold her slightly outwards from himself.

"Are you okay little flower? Lex said she heard you screaming last night." Arthyr inquired to Ywen.

Ywen clenched harder to Arthyr and replied. "I had a nightmare... there were dragons and giants and men on horseback and they came to hurt us!" Ywen was clearly distraught by the dreams, and was close to crying.

Arthyr pulled her closer and hugged her. Sad, it was, that a girl of barely seven years would have such wretched nightmares.

"It's okay." Arthyr said, pulling her closer. "They're over now. Why don't you go and play with Kevin and Ennabelle?"

Ywen nodded, and Atrhyr put her down as she ran to Ennabelle's room. Arthyr noticed that Lexandrya looked slightly more uneasy after the revelation of Ywen's dreams, and she yearned to put this forward to Arthyr. She waited for Ywen to be far away, before consulting her brother.

"What if they're not dreams Arthyr? What if they're premonitions?" she asked.

Arthyr nodded. "Well, for now we can't be sure either way. It sounded like she was talking about a huge variety of enemies, though. Dragons? Like that of the Targaryans? I hear that they're all dead, and even if they're not; what use would Westeros have for Braavos? As for the Giants, I heard tales as a kid that they lived beyond the Wall; how can they be a threat to us when we are separated by sea? As for the horsemen... I don't know. I heard from some of the townsfolk that there are raiders by the name of the 'Dothraki' that raid Essos, but I have yet to see them." Arthyr said, challenging Lexandrya's statement.

Lexandrya replied. "But how could we fend off dragons? The walls barely keep the wildlife out, how are they meant to stop dragons?"

Arthyr shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just hope they never have to." he said. Lexandrya nodded, and they both returned to the throne room.

[Lunas Legion]

Lyella chuckled. "Beyond that our king Aerys has suddenly revealed that he possesses breasts and is female? I think that's reason enough. Anyone of sound mind would wish to see if any opportunities are presented by such a drastic revelation."

"However, I would not call my uncle a great man, much less a great leader. A great leader would not have betrayed a promise he made for some girl he met on campaign. A great leader wouldn't have executed one of his main supporters for murdering prisoners. A great leader would have seen the North and Riverlands independent. But that matters not. Robb is long dead, and his legacy is little but ashes and notes in a history tome."

"Even great men make mistakes, Lady Stark. In fact, that can be said about much of my family. My father changing our name, my grandfather running off with your great-aunt, my great-grandfather doing... well, everything other than having children. And now look where it's left our family... all four of us unmarried, father dead, mother dying, and any other family members across the Narrow Sea in Pentos."

Aerion seemed to get a little grim while talking about his family, but quickly moved onto another subject.

"King Aerys being actually Queen Aerys certainly presents many opportunities... although I'm curious to know what opportunities it presents for House Stark. And if it might be for the best of both houses that we tried to take advantage of those opportunities together..."

"That would entirely depend on what you meant by 'together', Lord Aerion. The previous times a Lord of the North, or even a Lady, have gone south have never ended well. The Tourney at Harrenhal and the resulting situation with Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna, Lord Rickard and Brandon's murders by Mad Aerys, Lord Eddard's execution by Joffery, the Red Wedding..."

Lyella sighed, turning away. "History has shown that the south is not kind to the Starks, and neither are the promises of southerners. Furthermore, I have no actual reason to trust you beyond your word. Your own motives are as unclear to me as mine must be to you, so I suppose you have no reason to trust me either. So, my lord, I must ask you a simple question; why seek the support of a young lady in a court she is unfamiliar with? I may be Lady of the North, but that counts for little in the south."

[Arana]

"Even great men make mistakes, Lady Stark. In fact, that can be said about much of my family. My father changing our name, my grandfather running off with your great-aunt, my great-grandfather doing... well, everything other than having children. And now look where it's left our family... all four of us unmarried, father dead, mother dying, and any other family members across the Narrow Sea in Pentos."

Aerion seemed to get a little grim while talking about his family, but quickly moved onto another subject.

"King Aerys being actually Queen Aerys certainly presents many opportunities... although I'm curious to know what opportunities it presents for House Stark. And if it might be for the best of both houses that we tried to take advantage of those opportunities together..."

"That would entirely depend on what you meant by 'together', Lord Aerion. The previous times a Lord of the North, or even a Lady, have gone south have never ended well. The Tourney at Harrenhal and the resulting situation with Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna, Lord Rickard and Brandon's murders by Mad Aerys, Lord Eddard's execution by Joffery, the Red Wedding..."

Lyella sighed, turning away. "History has shown that the south is not kind to the Starks, and neither are the promises of southerners. Furthermore, I have no actual reason to trust you beyond your word. Your own motives are as unclear to me as mine must be to you, so I suppose you have no reason to trust me either. So, my lord, I must ask you a simple question; why seek the support of a young lady in a court she is unfamiliar with? I may be Lady of the North, but that counts for little in the south."

Aerion chuckled, but only because he didn't want to reveal what he was thinking. In reality, he needed the support of anyone he could get it from, and the Starks were one of the great houses of Westeros, and rulers of the North. The Lady of the North would be a powerful ally, regardless of how much influence she may or may not have in the south. At the moment, it was just Runestone and Pentos... but hopefully that would soon change.

"I suppose you are correct Lady Stark. And yet you are going south anyways, to King's Landing of all places. You must have some reason to make such a long trip. As for the promises of southerners, I am not sure as to whether you could even call my family southerners, having spent much of our lives in Essos. Further, the southern lords have caused my family trouble as well... the Baratheons killed my grandfather, the Lannisters betrayed us and killed my aunt, grandmother, and great-grandfather... as far as I've been told, the only ones who stood by us until the end were the Reach and Dorne, and the Reach didn't wait long before allying with the Lannisters."

Sighing, Aerion looked out to sea again.

"It is true that we have no reason to trust each other, but we do share common enemies, do we not? The Lannisters may try to reassert their power, and the Tyrells may still honor their old alliance and come to their aid. Combined, the two of them are a threat to the rest of Westeros. It very well could end up being that our goals coincide with each other, and that it would be beneficial for the North and Runestone to pursue them together... if we were to form an alliance of some kind, it might benefit both of our houses."

He wished Rhaenys was here. Out of all of his sisters, she was the best at this kind of thing, much better than he was.

[Lunas Legion]

"That would entirely depend on what you meant by 'together', Lord Aerion. The previous times a Lord of the North, or even a Lady, have gone south have never ended well. The Tourney at Harrenhal and the resulting situation with Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna, Lord Rickard and Brandon's murders by Mad Aerys, Lord Eddard's execution by Joffery, the Red Wedding..."

Lyella sighed, turning away. "History has shown that the south is not kind to the Starks, and neither are the promises of southerners. Furthermore, I have no actual reason to trust you beyond your word. Your own motives are as unclear to me as mine must be to you, so I suppose you have no reason to trust me either. So, my lord, I must ask you a simple question; why seek the support of a young lady in a court she is unfamiliar with? I may be Lady of the North, but that counts for little in the south."

Aerion chuckled, but only because he didn't want to reveal what he was thinking. In reality, he needed the support of anyone he could get it from, and the Starks were one of the great houses of Westeros, and rulers of the North. The Lady of the North would be a powerful ally, regardless of how much influence she may or may not have in the south. At the moment, it was just Runestone and Pentos... but hopefully that would soon change.

"I suppose you are correct Lady Stark. And yet you are going south anyways, to King's Landing of all places. You must have some reason to make such a long trip. As for the promises of southerners, I am not sure as to whether you could even call my family southerners, having spent much of our lives in Essos. Further, the southern lords have caused my family trouble as well... the Baratheons killed my grandfather, the Lannisters betrayed us and killed my aunt, grandmother, and great-grandfather... as far as I've been told, the only ones who stood by us until the end were the Reach and Dorne, and the Reach didn't wait long before allying with the Lannisters."

Sighing, Aerion looked out to sea again.

"It is true that we have no reason to trust each other, but we do share common enemies, do we not? The Lannisters may try to reassert their power, and the Tyrells may still honor their old alliance and come to their aid. Combined, the two of them are a threat to the rest of Westeros. It very well could end up being that our goals coincide with each other, and that it would be beneficial for the North and Runestone to pursue them together... if we were to form an alliance of some kind, it might benefit both of our houses."

He wished Rhaenys was here. Out of all of his sisters, she was the best at this kind of thing, much better than he was.

"You could say that. Both our houses have their strengths; you are far more familiar with the life at court than I am, but you lack the resources to use that skill effectively. I, being Lady Paramount, have the resources, but I do not have the skill and experience that comes from being educated in court, whether it be here in Westeros or an Essosi court across the Narrow Sea."

Lyella coughed slightly. "And may I remind you that Essos is still south of the Neck? For those of us in the North, that still makes you a southerner, no matter if you were born across the Narrow Sea or not. It just means you're an Essosi first, southerner second, and whatever city or kingdom you came from third. However, an alliance may be beneficial, but I cannot have an alliance based solely on a foundation of words. After all, words are wind, and the wind can be most fickle."

[Arana]

Aerion chuckled, but only because he didn't want to reveal what he was thinking. In reality, he needed the support of anyone he could get it from, and the Starks were one of the great houses of Westeros, and rulers of the North. The Lady of the North would be a powerful ally, regardless of how much influence she may or may not have in the south. At the moment, it was just Runestone and Pentos... but hopefully that would soon change.

"I suppose you are correct Lady Stark. And yet you are going south anyways, to King's Landing of all places. You must have some reason to make such a long trip. As for the promises of southerners, I am not sure as to whether you could even call my family southerners, having spent much of our lives in Essos. Further, the southern lords have caused my family trouble as well... the Baratheons killed my grandfather, the Lannisters betrayed us and killed my aunt, grandmother, and great-grandfather... as far as I've been told, the only ones who stood by us until the end were the Reach and Dorne, and the Reach didn't wait long before allying with the Lannisters."

Sighing, Aerion looked out to sea again.

"It is true that we have no reason to trust each other, but we do share common enemies, do we not? The Lannisters may try to reassert their power, and the Tyrells may still honor their old alliance and come to their aid. Combined, the two of them are a threat to the rest of Westeros. It very well could end up being that our goals coincide with each other, and that it would be beneficial for the North and Runestone to pursue them together... if we were to form an alliance of some kind, it might benefit both of our houses."

He wished Rhaenys was here. Out of all of his sisters, she was the best at this kind of thing, much better than he was.

"You could say that. Both our houses have their strengths; you are far more familiar with the life at court than I am, but you lack the resources to use that skill effectively. I, being Lady Paramount, have the resources, but I do not have the skill and experience that comes from being educated in court, whether it be here in Westeros or an Essosi court across the Narrow Sea."

Lyella coughed slightly. "And may I remind you that Essos is still south of the Neck? For those of us in the North, that still makes you a southerner, no matter if you were born across the Narrow Sea or not. It just means you're an Essosi first, southerner second, and whatever city or kingdom you came from third. However, an alliance may be beneficial, but I cannot have an alliance based solely on a foundation of words. After all, words are wind, and the wind can be most fickle."

Aerion grinned slightly.

"A more permanent alliance then. Perhaps a marriage pact... none of my sisters are married, do you have any male family members?

[Of the Quendi]

The Reach
Highgarden, On the River Mander
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros

---

Lord Boremund Tyrell

---

The mythical persona of the Lady of Rivers, Minisa Tully, was so notorious and infamous throughout the Reach, and even the Seven Kingdom, that it oft seemed to overshadow the person herself. Conceived as she had been on a fateful summer's day in the Twins when a thousand men of Stark and Tully fell, and with them their king, she had been brought forth and nourished by the blood and tears of North and Riverlands, peasants whispered, weaned on treachery and death. Small wonder then that she was a wicked witch who prayed in the Godswood to strange and cruel gods of the children of the forest rather than in the sept where surely the Seven would have struck her down like a sot where she to defile such a holy place with her witchcraft. For their could be no doubt, the daughter of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey was a demonspawn witch defiled by the treachery of her mother and corrupted by her black magic, the like of which the Seven Kingdoms had not known since the Red Woman seduced Stannis Baratheon to treason like the Lady of Rivers had Lord Willard to his end at the battle against the Targaryens.

Boremund believed not a word of the nonsense and was merciless to bards and demagogues who slandered his mother. Yet standing in the presence of the person he could not help but feel the presence of the legend. Minisa was a tall and proud woman who had a regal bearing. Despite her nearly fifty years of age Minisa was fair still fair to behold. Few wrinkles had marred a beautiful face with a youthful complexion, pale as that of her mother. Her long Tully auburn hair had lost some colors and tiny strands of grey had appeared in it but it did little to diminish her beauty. Yet it was not the beauty, though it in her age was striking enough to elicit new rumors of bathing in maiden's blood to preserve youth, that one first remarked upon when meeting Minisa Tully. It was her indomitable will, her wit and her wisdom.

Even now as Lord of Highgarden Boremund felt like a little child talking to his mother. "Lyella is an interesting choice." Minisa conceded pouring a goblet of Arbor wine for her son, stressing the word "is" in such a manner as it to Boremund sounded like she meant the opposite. The Lady of Rivers looked contemplative for a moment, her deep ice blue eyes lost in thoughts while her long slender fingers formed a ponderous triangle. "But unless you plan on growing wings I think you may find bedding the Lady of Winterfell from Highgarden a tad difficult, no?" The Dowager Lady of Highgarden quipped.

That obstacle had not occurred to Boremund. With a furrowed brow he shrugged. "I assume she will come live with me here in Highgarden, mother." He suggested. Lady Minisa smirked warmly at her progeny. "Yes. Men usually assumes that of their brides. But you forget that she is not the innocent maiden daughter of a Lord. She is as much a ruler as you are, and of finer birth at that. Her uncle was king, however briefly and foolishly, and her ancestors ruled the North as Kings while House Tyrells was nought but stewards. No, I agree a Stark match is desirable but Jon and Lyonel are the better candidates. They are not bound to Highgarden and can go north and live with her in Winterfell as she will no doubt desire it." Minisa decreed.

For a moment Boremund quietly pondered the words of his mother. It was true he had taken it for given that his spouse would come live with him, something that probably could not be expected from someone in Lyella Stark's position. He gave his mother a quizzical look, trying to read her thoughts. No doubt she expected resistance but Boremund knew better than to argue. "Jon or Lyonel?" He asked, delighting in seeing his mother for a moment surprised at his words. But only for a moment. "Jon." She declared.

At that Boremund nodded. The eldest of his younger brothers was no doubt the one best suited for what the North had to offer. Lyonel, religious and, like Boremund, devoted to scholarly studies but unlike Boremund at the expense of martial ones, was not likely to be a welcome consort to the Lady of Winterfell. "Jon then." Boremund spoke. "I will pen a letter to Lady Lyella and send it to Winterfell asking her to receive Jon as a guest in her hall." The young lord said rising from his seat, giving his mother a courteous nod.

Another smirk appeared on the lips of the Lady of Rivers. "I think that wise dear son. But do not so quickly depart. I wish to hear more of this Woman King of ours and what steps you have taken in regards to her strange revelation. How else may I counsel you wisely to deal with these self-proclaimed Targaryens and see to it that you do not make mistakes?" She said.

To My Lady,
The revered and most excellent Lyella of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Boremund of House Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshall of the Reach and Warden of the South sends his greetings and best of wishes in the Light of the Seven and before the Weirwood faces of the Old Gods,

Bereft at a tender age of paternal authority and counsel and thus thrust to power and rank by cruel whims of fate I am inclined to think that between us, worthy lady, exist bonds transcending those familial ties forged by mine revered grandfather's marriage to thine aunt, whose well wishes and love I shall here forward, and by mine own father to thine cousin. For though such dual bonds of kinship are strong and ought always be revered and respected the grief that is shared by all orphans binds no less tightly and the cumbersome burden of being called to rule from a tender age, lacking in the wisdom and sagacity that age and experience brings, bind closer still.

Having myself found the weight of the mantle of Lordship of Highgarden and the responsibility for the whole of the Reach overwhelming I have since my accession found myself daunted in admiration of Your Ladyship's capacity to, in trying times of chaos and dissidence, keep thine vast and unruly domain united and strong. A most admirable feat, one that I can only pray the Seven will bestow me to match now as I govern in mine own land, leading them to peace and prosperity.

Yet in an iniquitous age I fear the future holds little peace and less prosperity for any man or woman who stands alone against the tidal wave of chaos called by those who do not dread it and aspire to power and greatness at the expense of others the Game of Thrones. In such times it behooves me that one ought keep fate with close friend and kin to weather the storm in unity and concord. And throughout the Seven Kingdoms I count none dearer kin than Your Ladyship, whose friendship I desire above that of all other Lords great and small beyond the borders of mine own land. Verily I should hope, if not for the kinship that binds us then for the shared destiny to accede to great power upon the premature death of a loved parent, Your Ladyship should feel likewise and hence look kindly upon my request for my right beloved brother and heir Jon of House Tyrell, and with him those lords and knights, dignitaries and magnates calling him friend, to visit your mighty seat of Winterfell as my envoy to confirm and renew ties between our houses shaken by the fall of one king and the rise of another that Stark and Tyrell may together stand in times to come.

Given at Highgarden, in the Light of the Seven and before the weir wood faces of the Old Gods, in the three hundred and fiftieth year after Aegon's Conquest

[Caltarania]

House Maverik

Purple Harbour, Braavos

The sun rose over the harbour, it's glistening rays reflected from the waters which surrounded and engulfed the docks. Hundreds of ships, it seemed, were docked or in the process of docking, and hundreds more were preparing to hoist their sails in order to begin their journeys. One ship was silent, the only noise radiating from it being the chirping of the birds that had perched themselves atop the mast. The ship was large and well-built; an imposing structure floating upon the seas. The ship had upon the flag, which had since been unfurled, the Coat of Arms of House Maverik, signalling that it not only owed allegiance to the House but in fact belonged to it. While this is odd, and dissimilar to the custom of Westeros, it is an understandable oddity due to Braavos already having it's own symbols and heraldry before the 'Impossible Conquest' by Arthyr Maverik.

The dockworkers soon turned to see an odd sight; it was nothing more than the Sealord himself. He walked towards the ship, his siblings and guards following close behind him. Arthyr wore a dashing suit of armour manufactured in Braavos itself. The chestplate of the armour had sewn upon it the heraldry of House Maverik and of Braavos. Said heraldry was divided into four quarters. In the upper left and lower right was sewn the sigil of House Maverik; the Titan. In the upper right and lower left was sewn the symbol of Braavos; a Braavosi ship upon a purple plain. Trailing behind Arthyr was a relatively long maroon cape which had no heraldry to speak of upon it. Arthyr was suited with no helmet, it seemed, and instead wore a crown which he had ordered forged from the gold of the jewelry of his now-dead enemies. It had been dubbed 'the Peasant's Crown'; a name which Arthyr could not refuse to keep.

Lexandrya and Patryck followed behind him, Lexandrya in her usual light armour with her mask removed and held aside by her arms and Patryck in his long, blue gown which had been sewn in Braavos also. It was a very fetching outfit, perhaps fit for a ruler in and of itself. Edwan, Alisabeth, Ennabelle, Kevin and Ywen followed further behind still, wearing the average clothes of a merchant class family in Westeros. As they approached the ship and it drew closer with every step, a feeling of unknowing and doubt set in upon the younger of the siblings. Arthyr, Lexandrya and Patryck already knew what was to happen, and Edwan and Alisabeth were ambivalent to the whole thing. Ennabelle, Kevin and Ywen, however, seemed concerned; their ignorance harming them somehow. Soon enough, however, the doubt was to be lifted.

The siblings had reached the ship, and Arthyr embraced the captain, a man he knew quite well by the name of Eddard Slimm. Captain Slimm was a fiercely loyal member of Arthyr's army - or rather navy - and had been given command of the largest ship in the fleet given to Arthyr by his former employers before the Impossible Conquest. Eddard had since become the de facto Admiral of the Fleet of the Maverik's navy; though the Braavosi shipmen would dispute this. Eddard was not a tall man by any standards, but neither was he short. His hair was long and cascaded down his neck and back in chestnut strands. Eddard, after embracing Arthyr, enquired as to Arthyr's level of readiness. "M'lord, are you ready to leave port?" he enquired.

Arthyr turned to face his siblings, then to face Eddard, and then spoke. "Almost, Captain Slimm. First I will have to explain myself to these, will I not?" he replied. Eddard smirked, as did Arthyr, before Eddard nodded and Arthyr approached his siblings. Ywen looked slightly troubled, and so Arthyr walked closer to her and knelt beside her. He spoke to her in a light and comforting tone. "Little flower, I am going to need you to be strong, okay?" he asked in his calming voice. Ywen nodded as tears began to slowly shed from her eyes. Arthyr hugged her, before standing once more to address his siblings. He looked to them all, all individually pondering or simply not caring.

"Brothers, sisters." he began, his voice now louder and more inspiring. "The time has come for me to return to Westeros." he continued, his siblings looking towards him in disbelief. "Lexandrya will be coming with me, Patryck will rule in my stead. Now I want you all to remember that I am not leaving indefinitely. Me and Lexi will return before you know it, I promise." Arthyr said, before looking towards the open seas that could be seen through the legs of the titan. "Westeros has much to offer us, and we have much to deliver to it." he said before turning back towards his siblings. "Now, goodbye."

Arthyr leaped upon to the ship, before Lexandrya waved and did the same. Captain Slimm then followed them, and ordered the seamen to prepare for a long journey across the Narrow Sea. Arthyr's most trusted ten guardsmen also followed onto the ship, before the rigging began to move and the sail began to rise. Arthyr waved to his siblings from the ship, who had since begun to make their way back to the castle. He could not see Ywen, however, and simply assumed that she had run back to the castle quickly. He could not be sure, though. Either way, the ship began to sail out of the harbour, and the long journey to Westeros began.

As Slimm and his men continued to work the vital workings of the ship, Lexandrya approached Arthyr and stood beside him. "Arthyr, you never told me. Why are we travelling back to Westeros in the first place?" she questioned inquisitively. Arthyr looked towards the sea and responded. "I went to the Temple of the Moonslingers last night. They said that Ywen's visions were most likely premonitions, not dreams. Just as you had said. They warned of dark times approaching, and that they would be hard to prevent. However, I know that the only dragons in this world reside in Westeros and, one way or another, we're going to prevent them from becoming a threat." he said, as Lexandrya nodded. And so, the ship continued onto it's destination; King's Landing.

[Lunas Legion]

"You could say that. Both our houses have their strengths; you are far more familiar with the life at court than I am, but you lack the resources to use that skill effectively. I, being Lady Paramount, have the resources, but I do not have the skill and experience that comes from being educated in court, whether it be here in Westeros or an Essosi court across the Narrow Sea."

Lyella coughed slightly. "And may I remind you that Essos is still south of the Neck? For those of us in the North, that still makes you a southerner, no matter if you were born across the Narrow Sea or not. It just means you're an Essosi first, southerner second, and whatever city or kingdom you came from third. However, an alliance may be beneficial, but I cannot have an alliance based solely on a foundation of words. After all, words are wind, and the wind can be most fickle."

Aerion grinned slightly.

"A more permanent alliance then. Perhaps a marriage pact... none of my sisters are married, do you have any male family members?

Lyella smiled sadly. "As much as I would like to have had a brother or a cousin, I do not. Father never had any children that I know of, and I couldn't believe he would father a bastard son. No cousins either; the War of the Five Kings ensured that would never happen. Robb died before his son was born, Bran vanished, and only my lord father Rickon was left to carry on the Stark line, and I am his only child."

---

Winterfell

"I hate southerners." Allen growled as he scrunched the message up into a ball and rolled it across the table. He could barely read half of it, and the half he could read mostly seemed like some poetic southerner horse dung. He was Steward of Winterfell, brother to thr current Lord Glover, and regent during Lady Lyella's journey south. "Never blunt and straight to the point. They just have to surround everything they touch with simple poetic babble." However, he couldn't simply ignore it; as distant as Highgarden was from the North, the Tyrells still had power and a long reach.

To Lord Tyrell,

I am afraid that most of the meaning of your letter was lost on me. I am not accustomed to reading letters in such a style of writing, unlike my liege lady. Lady Lyella is currently on her way to King's Landing following our Queen's sudden appearance, and as such I am unable to send a copy of the letter to her as of this moment, and I believe that it is in both our interests if I was to leave this decision to her choice alone.

Ser Allen Glover of the Wolfswood, by authority of Lady Lyella Stark Regent of Winterfell and the North.