Petty Kings of the Dorne [IC]

[Austria and Bavaria]

The Petty Kings of the Dorne

After the Andal Invasion, The Dorne stands divided among petty kings. House Yronwood claims to hold the High Kingship, but few heed their claim. The Dayne, Drylands and Blackmonts quarrel among themselves. Everywhere is anarchy and strife.

This is a Westeros RP, taking place prior to the Rhoynar Invasion. The Dorne is divided into small petty kingdoms, each fighting for control. Alliances shift as quickly as the sands, and yesterday's friend may be today's enemy.

Factions:

House Yronwood of Yronwood, High Kings of the Dorne - Cuprum

House Dayne of Starfall, Kings of the Torrentine - Caralia

House Fowler of Skyreach, Kings of Stone and Sky - Austria and Bavaria

House Blackmont of Blackmont, The Vulture Kings - Reserved for Nasaira

House Dryland of Hellgate Hall, Kings of the Brimstone - Available

House Manwoody of Kingsgrave, Kings of the Red Mountains - Siniarus

House Allyrion of Godsgrace, Kings of the Greenblood - Mastropiero

House Wyl of Wyl, Lords of the Wyl - Available

Political Situation:

The Yronwoods are the High Kings of the Dorne, but are acknowleged as such by only House Allyrion, who pays them a meager tribute every year. The Dayne have good relations with House Fowler and House Manwoody, but are the bitter enemies of the Blackmonts. The Drylands are distrusted by almost everyone due to their reputation for cruelty. The Wyls of Wyl are nominally vassals of House Manwoody, but in reality are independant.

Map: http://i.imgur.com/eDblvNg.png

OOC: viewtopic.php?ns=1&f=31&t=366665&p=27464221#p27464221

Join our ASOIF RP Group here: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=359977

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

Lord Fowler of Skyreach

I write to you offering the hand of my daughter, Sarella Yronwood, to your son and heir, Gareth Fowler. The Fowler’s have long been strong lords in Dorne, and it would be an honor to bind our two houses together. Sarella is a Lady grown and flowered, and would, in my humble opinion, make an excellent match for your son.

I do hope to hear back from you shortly, my daughter is anxiously awaiting your response.

Regards, Yorick Yronwood, The Bloodroyal, Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, Master of the Green Hills, Lord of the Stone Way and High King of Dorne

Yorick looked over the letter. It was the third such copy he had made. Each time he wrote it, he had used an adjective for House Fowler that just did not fit. His first draft described them as ‘fierce warriors.’ A claim that simply was not true.

His second, referred to King Ulrick II Fowler as a man of great honor. Another claim that Yorick could not abide by. He couldn’t stand that pompous ass, but he was an important pompous ass. One that, if he was ambitious enough, could prove to be a thorn in Yorick’s side for years to come.

Yorick slowly rolled the letter, sealing it with a bit of hot wax. It felt so final when he handed the letter off to a servant for delivery to the Maester. Yorick would have done it himself, but he needed to speak with his Lady Wife.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

King Ulrick looked over the letter from Yorick Yronwood, "High King of the Dorne". Such an arrogant title, that Ulrick mused to himself, handing the letter to his son Gareth, who looked it over. "Seems a fine deal." Gareth said. "Yes, but I don't care for the Yronwoods' pretensions to being "High Kings of the Dorne", as they call themselves.", Urick said as he furrowed his brow. Garin grinned "And? This gives them more reason to let us be. If they invade, we still have all our defenses, plus his daughter as a hostage. Besides, it is high time I took a bride" Urick smiled, a rare sight, "Indeed my son, we shall respond to the Yronwoods at once."

King Yorick Yronwood,

I most gratefully accept your offer of your daughter's hand in marriage to my son. It will be a fine thing for our illustrious houses to be bound together in marriage.

I patiently await you response,

King Ulrick II Fowler, King of Stone and Sky, Lord of the Wide Way, Lord of Skyreach.

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

Lord Fowler of Skyreach

Your letter has being well received by our family. I hope you don't mind, If the wedding ceremony is in our holdings. You shall not be afraid about your family integrity since we'll be family after all. I shall made you another proposal, my son and heir is interested in your beautiful daughter. Would you let him marry her under the gods sight?

My best wishes, Yorick Yronwood, The Bloodroyal, Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, Master of the Green Hills, Lord of the Stone Way and High King of Dorne

Prince Anders threw up greatsword just in time to block the attack attacking arcing towards his chest, his arms wavering as he tried to hold his opponent’s blade back. With a roar, Prince Anders managed to push his attacker back, taking a few steps back himself if only to gain a moment’s respite. Prince Anders’s breath came in ragged bursts and his arms wavered beneath the weight of his sword, his muscles burning from fatigue. Taking his left hand from the leather grip of his blade he dragged his hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat before more of it ran into his already burning eyes. He was winded, fatigued. He knew he couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer. I’ve got to end this before he does. His pale skin was dripping with sweat, and his mop of blonde hair was matted down, he was tired. Between the sun overhead and the rigor of combat, he didn’t know how he was still standing.

He needed no more encouragement, no more reminder of the situation he was in, and charged his opponent. He gripped his sword in both hands as he brought his arms back to prepare for a mighty swing, he’d not get another chance and he determined to make this one count. With a roar he swung the blade at his opponent’s chest, but not sooner than he started swing, the man ducked beneath his blade and with little warning the pommel of the man’s blade found itself buried against his gut, toppling Anders and sending him reeling to the floor as he gasped for air.

The Prince slid against the floor on his side as he tried to collect himself, his breath coming in short desperate bursts he began to crawl towards his blade. No, it can’t end like this. His mind was racing panic, he didn’t know how close his opponent was but Anders could hear the footsteps coming towards him. There was a flash of hope as his fingers brushed against the hilt of his blade, but the pain in his gut from the hit was met with a sinking feeling as a boot hooked under his arm and rolled him onto his back. The Prince raised an arm to shield the sun from his eyes as he looked up at the man standing over him, the glare on the pristine steel blade more blinding even than the sun. The Prince closed his eyes as the blade pressed against his chest softly.

“You’re dead.” The man said as he pulled the blade back. “Just like that, you’re dead. What were you thinking? Charging me like that? A child could’ve seen what you were planning to do, you’re strong but that won’t get you nearly far enough against a man who knows how to hold a sword.” The man offered his hand to The Prince, who took it, pulling himself back up to his feet.

“I know uncle, but I was getting tired and-” He was cut off as his uncle slapped the back of his head.

“No! You think some big bastard will care if you’re tired if you’re at war? He’ll cut you in half with a fuckin’ smile.” Doran Jordayne sighed, patting his nephew on the back. “You just need to focus more boy, think. If you’re tired am I doing any better? Drag it out, play defensive, just don’t play right into their hands.”

“Aye uncle, I’ll do better.” The Prince nodded as he spoke, walking his weapon back to the rack, his uncle looked at him with an angry look, assuming the young man was simply saying that to appease him, but if Doran thought to say anything about it, he bit his tongue. Doran stepped beside his nephew, wrapping an arm across his shoulders.

“Come boy, let’s head to the kitchen and beg the servants for bread and wine. Between the two of us they’ll have to give us something.” Doran laughed, clapping the boy on the back as he led him towards the kitchens.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

King Ulrick let out a slight groan as he looked at the most recent letter from Yronwood. Now they want my daughter... I will need to handle this carefully... I would not like to spend two of my children on the Yronwoods, unless there is a very clear benefit he thought to himself. Ulrick swiftly penned another letter, sealed in bright blue wax, and sent it by his swiftest rider.

King Yorick Yronwood,

Perhaps this could be considered after the wedding of my son to your daughter. With all due respect, I feel I should not commit to so much in so short a period of time. I hope that you understand this.

Respectfully,

King Ulrick II Fowler, King of Stone and Sky, Lord of the Wide Way, Lord of Skyreach.

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

From the bailey, the walls looked even more formidable than they had from atop the main tower. The view from the tower had given Prince Anders an excellent understanding of the sheer size of the Boneway, but from the ground, he was overcome by a peculiar sensation of smallness.

The crenelations themselves were nearly the size of the Yronwood, and the very thought of assailing them directly made The Prince’s stomach churn unpleasantly.

“What do you think?”

“I think that it’d be stupid to try to conquer this keep” said Ser Doran Jordayne. “Our enemies could throw men at these walls for a year and not get over them.”

“Then what would you do if you had to take this place?”

“I’d siege them out. There’s no way an army of boys is going to take the Boneway.”

The Prince frowned, glaring at the stronghold uselessly.

“Are you done plotting to take the castle soon, my Lord? I was hoping to break my fast before the sun was too hot.”

“Yes, we can be done with it.”

Prince Anders begrudgingly followed the knight, the two snaking their way lazily through the sprawling compound. All around them they could hear the sounds of a castle at work: the ringing of metal as the blacksmith’s pounded out steel, the clatter of hooves when horses rode by. The Boneway was half a city, everybody managed to seem busy.

Slipping into the great hall through one of the myriad of entrances, The Prince and his uncle followed the smell of food, not knowing the corridors well enough to navigate any other way.

“Do you hear that, my Lord?” asked the knight.

Raised voices came from down one of the corridors.

“Yes, I do,” The Prince said brusquely, redirecting the two towards the sound.

“The Fowler accepted half of the agreement, shame on then!”

“Doesn't matter my lord. Brother deserves a better arrangement, he's a bloodroyal, we may have to deal with the other noble families of Dorne”

“Well, I should have been notified at once, upon their arrivals! How long has he been here? And how long has the King?”

The first voice was undoubtedly his father, but the second was one The Prince had never heard before, though he recognized the name.

His brother Desmond the golden hands.

There were letters in his solar at Yronwood signed in his father flowing handwriting, complaining of his children, complaining of taxes, complaining of Anders’s marriage proposal, complaining of grain and well water, and the weather, and everything else.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

King Ulrick watched as the servants prepared for the journey to Yronwood for the wedding. Since Ulrick was not entirely sure of what the Yronwoods had in mind, Lucas and Errol would be staying behind. Prince Gareth, Queen Dyanna and Lady Bethany would be going to Yronwood, along with, of course, himself. They would be bringing a small honor guard of knights with them, slong with servants, and the family fool. This would certainly be an interesting journey, especially given the arrogance of Yorick Yronwood. Not only did he call himself High King, he referred to Ulrick as "Lord Fowler". Ulrick did not particularly mind the idea of a nominal High King, but if there were to be one, he would need to respect the lesser kings... something Yorick Yronwood had not done. In any case, Ulrick took satisfaction in having outplayed the Yronwoods. His son got a bride, and the Yronwoods came back empty handed. Hopefully the Yronwoods would not too irate about it.

Ulrick mounted his horse as the procession began the ride to Yronwood. The Knights of House Fowler were a splendid sight, their silver armor glimmering in the sun, and the blue banners floating in the sky. King Urick rode at the head of the column, followed by Queen Dyanna, then Prince Gareth, then Lady Bethany, then the Knights, followed by the servants. The rode on, though the rocky paths of the Boneway, until they neared Yronwood.

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

The day honoring the union of the Sarella Yronwood, Princess of The Yronwood and Lady of the Stoneway, to Gareth Fowler, the Lord of Skyreach, had finally arrived.

The lords and ladies of Westeros who flocked to Dorne, braving the sweltering heat and foreign culture and cuisine, all crowded into the Sept at Yronwood. The Dornish worshipped the new gods, and with the exception of the less than modest clothing and a much rowdier crowd.

The drinking began at day break and it was predicted to last the remainder of the week. None were exempted, certainly not bride nor groom. Strongwine and Sekanjabin flowed freely, and a cup was never empty for long.

The feast that followed the ceremony was nothing short of lavish. Spring had come, and the pressure to keep the reserves high had left. Platters of lamb, stuffed grape leaves, flatbread, white cheese and olives, grilled snake with a fiery mustard sauce (for the more daring), purple olives and chickpea paste were carried out before the visitors at the Old Palace. Many of the guests had come bearing gifts, and throughout the feast they came before the bride and groom to present their congratulations.

The tables of the guests of highest honor - the highest Lords of Dorne along with nobles from houses minor and major across the realm, as well as the High King himself - were raised upon a dais. Princess Sarella and her groom were seated at the front of the vast chambers, and looked out across the Great Hall as the sounds of feasting, music, and merriment echoed off its marble walls. The two were laughing, and could hardly keep their hands off each other. All about them, guests ate, drank, and celebrated the marriage of the two houses.

''It's a nice day don't you think, nephew?'' Lord Jordayne claimed.

''I think so'' Prince Anders answered.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

This Wedding is indeed a grand event, Ulrick thought as he sipped at a fine Dornish Red. Gareth was certainly pleased with the Bride, that much was sure. The other lords at the feast seemed to be of good mood, fortunately including the Yronwoods. The Yronwoods would be strong allies, so long as they did not prove treacherous. However, Ulrick had his ways of keeping rival Houses friendly to House Fowler.

Bethany Fowler walked up behind Anders Yronwood, wearing a dress that was nothing else if not daring. "Hello there, you are Prince Anders Yronwood, I assume?", she asked in a flirtatious voice.

[Caralia]

King Vorian Dayne, The Torrentine

Vorian was not a young man any longer, not by any means, but to his credit his virtue had not been lost with age. Where others had become bitter, he had become stern, but good. He was by no means soft, he was honourable, not kind. He sat, now, contemplating himself, and his virtues, by the waters around the castle at Starfall, under the shadow of the great palestone sword, the white stone of the tower reflected against the beautiful waters of the island. He was ill. He had never been ill. But he was ill, dreadfully ill. He didn't know what it was that had taken him, but it was a perverse sort of fever, and it was all he could do to limp around the castle grounds as if a sick hound, wounded but proud, reluctantly leaning against a wooden scepter. He knew he was not healthy, but he would not tell a soul of his affliction. He had lived four and a half decades, and almost all of that time had been at war, with the Oakhearts, with brigands, with the Blackmonts. War had filled his life, and by necessity, it had shaped him into what he was. It had bound him into his armour, and he did not intend to let the facade fall yet. He would not shrink into this illness, and he would damn well not let it claim him. Dawn's light cast the doubts of his mind away, and he rose to his feet, walking back to the keep to get ready for the day's audience.

Jovan Dayne
Jovan was not as his father, standing tall, without assistance, in a shining, almost perfectly clean suit of crafted armour, the symbols of the seven engraved in it. He stood fighting, a group of brigands had strayed near High Hermitage, and he had pursued them personally. They had been at camp when his men had caught them, and when he arrived he did not stop, charging into, and then through the crowd of brigands, bringing his sword in an arc, his helmet echoing with his own prayers. One of the bastards had landed a blow on his horse, and he hopped down from it, urging it to flee from the field. It was nothing special to him, but it was identifiable, and he was sure someone would find it and return it to him. That was perhaps his greatest failing, the assumption that others held the same honour as he did, but he hardly had time to contemplate this as he waded into combat, leading the wedge of his men forward into the fray, sword swinging in great arcs, through swathes of the enemy. His skill was unparalleled among most, and certainly among these brigands, and almost as soon as the shining form of his armour took the field, and his sword had begun to find it's mark en masse, the brigands had surrendered, and they had been escorted back to high hermitage. Jovan left them under the care of his marshal, Erik. He moved off to the nearby hillside, and pulled his helmet away, looking out over the newly dawned sun, suddenly struck by fatigue. He would return to the castle soon enough, but for now, he would stare into the warm horizon, eager for battles to come.

Gavayn Dayne
Gavayn held nothing but a hint of his father or brother, the streak of silver in his hair was only that, a streak, buried by the rest of it, dark brown and currently in full view, as the young man sparred with his trainer, one of many. He circled the man, armour of light leather, small metal shield concealing him, and a mace in his other hand, crafted simply and efficiently, not in the star shape of other Dayne maces. His trainer had gone for a sword, with no shield, a dangerous mistake to make. Gavayn grinned as the older man lunged in, loosening his grip on the shield and pulling it away from his skin. It rattled as the blade slammed into it, and he pulled the thing back, with the sword in the man's hand falling forward, and the mace whirling around and crunching into the man's side. It was not a clean blow, but it worked, with the trainer flinching and twisting to the side, opening himself to a shield bash to the side of the head, and a quick victory for the younger Dayne. In truth, he'd learned combat for the sake of it, doing his best to get it out of the way as quickly as possibly, so he could return to more important things. He took a great pleasure in talking, and his tongue matched the streak in his hair, shining silver, even as a young man. Any other family would worry of him, but his father was still healthy and vigorous, and would rule for years to come, and his brother was more than enough of a virtuous knight to make up for his brother.

Gavayn walked back into the keep, the dawning sunlight falling upon his back.

[Cuprum]

(Image)
House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

This Wedding is indeed a grand event, Ulrick thought as he sipped at a fine Dornish Red. Gareth was certainly pleased with the Bride, that much was sure. The other lords at the feast seemed to be of good mood, fortunately including the Yronwoods. The Yronwoods would be strong allies, so long as they did not prove treacherous. However, Ulrick had his ways of keeping rival Houses friendly to House Fowler.

Bethany Fowler walked up behind Anders Yronwood, wearing a dress that was nothing else if not daring. "Hello there, you are Prince Anders Yronwood, I assume?", she asked in a flirtatious voice.

Food, festivities, and laughter permeated the massive antechamber the Yorick’s had chosen to be the venue for their daughter’s wedding. Wine flowed freely, and the feast the Drahar’s had financed was beyond lavish. Music was playing prevalently throughout the halls, and the man and woman of honor sat at the head of a great table, their seats raised above the festivities.

Sarella, Anders and Desmond looked positively regal, Yorick taking no expense to ensure that his son was surrounded by his supporters, who had lavished upon the couple great gifts. Sarella looked ravishing, her elegant white dress complimenting every part of her body. Anders even looked handsome, having dressed in fine robes.

Yorick looked around the room, smiling widely. Dancers twirled around them, the merriment in the room palpable. Beautiful dancers from around the city were brought there, showcasing their talents. Performers of all kinds, from Tyrosh and Pentos alike took their turns delighting the crowds, nearly all of whom had been invited by Yorick. His supporters crooned around him, doing their best to earn the High King’s favor. The only outliers were the Qorgyle family, who appeared very much disinterested in the festivities.

Quentyn Qorgyle, who Yorick recognized from the parlay at the gates, sat beside his wife, the sumptuous Obara Drinkwater, as well as their son, Trebor, and younger daughter Loreza. The young girl who would be Desmond’s wife in the coming days and weeks.

Maelys stood, abandoning his wife, who looked upon the proceedings with a barely hidden look of disdain. She hated Baerro after the meeting with him before the gates, she was pleased to never have to see his like again after the wedding. Maelys was inclined to agree with her.

Anders Yronwood

“Lady Fowler, nice to see you, would you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?” Anders asked politely, offering his hand to the daughter of the Fowler family. He ignored the look of outrage that clouded Desmond’s face, declining to balk on his offer. Time the man learned his place, He thought to himself, eagerly awaiting Fowler’s reply.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

Bethany smiled at Anders. "Indeed, it would be my pleasue.", Bethany said gracefuly as she took Anders' hand and began to dance with him. Bethany could tell that the Yronwood was already quite taken with her, for it was written all over his face.

Ulrick watched all this from his seat at the table. She certainly knows how to play the game. Ulrick though. Making the Yronwoods work for a bride is far better than just handing her over. He will be more fond of her, and I make sure Yorick Yronwood know' that he is not my master. Ulrick took another sip of Dornish Red. It was a fine wedding indeed.

[Mastropiero]

House Allyrion - Queen of Godsgrace and Lady of the Greenblood

Arianne Allyrion arrives with Ashara's party and their escorts. She let Ashara and Queen Delonne speak together first, though she wished to have a word with her. Despite the somewhat shaky relationship between Ashara and the Queen, Arianne sincerely wished to improve relations between her two sisters.

However, Ashara remembered why she disliked Dorne upon arriving earlier today. It's hot, arid, bizarre, and dangerous. It is unlike anything else in the Valyrian Colonies, and in many ways a foil to the Valyrian's rigidly customs and ways. The Dornish are not people to be trifled with, and they rarely forget a grudge. The Allyrions especially waver between acting like cunning sneaks and passionate fools, but they are always dangerous. For this reason, Ashara would ignore her distaste for the Kingdom to make sure the two sisters could finally exist in peace together.

She brought with him a small party, only 3 knights and a few more men at arms. Space was limited on the boats for the extra lords who chose to join Ashara. She also rought with her a gift. Her men carried an oak and iron chest, the top decorated with jewel depictions of the Allyrion. It was also heavily perfumed, for an unknown reason to all. She wished to present the gift within before the Yronwood's wedding when she got the chance to speak with the realm neighbours...

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

Damn I’m hot! I’m sweating buckets! Put all your strength into it, until your muscles ache. Ooh, great! The winners here are the ones who, even if they know they can’t be like that, they enjoy the party anyway but we don’t care about that, it doesn’t worry us, c’mon Prince! Dance indecently! Until you feel absolutely amazing.

''The killer dress that entrances me, your flirtatious look, your slender hips. The chemistry between our bodies is the best, mmmm! We go together so well and on that note, let’s get our dance show started, shall we dance madly? I’ll be a gentleman and show you the ropes of intrigue. I’ll take you under my wing like some pathetic womanizer and you gotta forget all your shame. We’re all in this dance hall for some reason. With you and me, it’s not “Shall we dance... It’s ''Shall we dance madly!'' Let your hair loose. Forget about your nobility, today we’ll let out a scream of triumph. No worries! Don’t think about your worries, today won’t come again... And, as for what you feel afterwards – feel however you want. Even if you screw up, laugh it off afterwards. You are a member of our family now. Tonight we’re having a rendezvous until the morning, dance as much as you want”

''Your brother looks like a horny bastard m'lord Desmond...''

''Crazy fun after five... That idiot never learns that a Princess from a neighbour nation is not a paramour,''

[Mastropiero]

House Allyrion - Queen of Godsgrace and Lady of the Greenblood

Lady Delonne of House Allyrion begins her journey north on the Stone's Road with the personal guard of the House and a company of waterdancers for protection. They travel by horse and she carries with her a modest amount of personal luggage full of cloaks and silk. This lady has never traveled north, and expects the weather to be most undesirable.

It's been a long trip and Delonne is nearly past the border, From there he decides to ride for Yronwood with Haste, "Finally we are here" as she looks at the hills and tree's covered with dust. Feeling that sand storm as he went in full stride ahead of his men was relaxing to a Yronwood, and although she rides for Yronwood and does not know what will happen next. The ride has kept his mind clear

Ashara rides her palomino rounsey, a strong capable steed of no particular breeding. Her eyes and ears are alert to anything unusual in the surroundings. Nothing befalls as the day fades to night, and the party camps and arises the next morn to continue once more, swallowing the leagues between them and the Yronwood.

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

Bethany looked at Prince Anders with a mixture of shock and disgust. She stopped dancing, let go of his hand and slapped him across the face. "How dare you say such a thing! I am a highborn lady, not some tavern whore! You had ought to learn a bit of chivalry!" she said, before turning around and briskly walking back to her place at the table, visibly infuriated.

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

Everyone was deep into their meal, none of them really interested in conversation. At the table was Yorick, who was sitting at the head of the table, with the The Jordayne's Head, Doran, sitting beside him. Also at the table was the steward, The Qorgyles; the Vaiths; some guards and of course, the man of the hour - or whatever you'd call this - Gareth. They were almost in complete silence until Anders decided he'd had enough.
"So," he coughed, "Where is the wine? Where did it go? We can't sit in silence forever," he shot a look towards his uncle Doran before looking back at his father, "I imagine someone have some stories to tell, don't you think uncle Doran?"

Doran was slightly caught off guard as Prince broke the silence while he was mid bite. He swallowed his food and wiped his mouth with a cloth before talking. "Well. To be honest, not much happened." He took a sip of wine before continuing. "We went on our normal route. We went north up the Blue Fork and circled back around south, past the castle and down near Fairmarket." He shrugged. "Not much else, I'm afraid."

Anders seemed quite disappointed, but still he persisted. He hated silence, but Doran was the opposite. He had spent plenty of time in silence throughout his life, all those days and nights as a child in bed with no sounds to be heard - even nowadays, with his lack of sleep, he spends most of his time in silence - and he had become accustomed to it. "Nothing at all?" Anders asked. "Surely there were rumours? No word from... wherever? The Riverlands, the Twins, the North? Nothing?"

"I don't know what to tell you, nephew. The smallfolk didn't really seem to care much about the rest of the world, like you do." He frowned. "All we heard was complaints from..." He paused, trying to remember something. "Some complaints about the ghost of Harrenhall. Taxes or something. I don't know what the situation is in the lands of the Mudd, Blackwood, the Justman and Teagues. Do you really care about that, though?"

Anders sighed. "No, not really..." He went back to eating his food. Doran finished his meal and was waiting for his nephew to do the same until he noticed Yorick nudge his son on the other side of the table.

"Hmm?"

"You're setting off again, though, right?"

"Again?" Anders complained. It was the first thing he had said since they sat down. Everyone looked towards him, including his brother Desmond and the household guards at the other end of the table.

"Well. Yes. In a few days, actually."

"But, why-"

"And I was hoping that you would come too." Anders interrupted. "Both of you." Doran was somewhat shocked by that. "You seem interested in
the going ons of the rest of the kingdom, so why not come and see it? Now that I think about it, the idiotic smallfolk would love to see you, father. All they know about you is your father and that you overcame illness to be their lord."

"I -"

"Of course, you don't have to. It's entirely up to you. If you wish, I'll stay too." At that point everyone in the room was looking Anders's way.

"I'll do it." He answered. His face didn't show it, but deep inside he was happy about this. He had never been outside the walls of Yronwood, or at
least not in his memory.

''We can also go to the Valyrian Colonies, The Rhoynar or the secret city of the Moonsingers which is hidden in the North of Essos! Desmond will be a capable regent if I'm honest and we can make some profit.''

''Where is your sister?''

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

King Ulrick watched as the dance between Bethany and Anders went southward. Oh well, there are plenty of other men in the Dorne, Ulrick thought to himself. Despite that, it would probably be a good idea to defuse the situation a bit. Ulrick stood and cleared his throat. "My good lords and ladies. We have had a wedding, and a fine feast tonight. But we are still missing one thing. I believe it is about time for the bedding ceremony.". Ulrick sat back in his seat and took another sip at his Dornish Red.

[Mastropiero]

House Allyrion - Queen of Godsgrace and Lady of the Greenblood

Ashara grumbled as she pulled her silk coat more tightly about himself, adjusting her seat in the saddle as she looked back to where her ship had moored in the harbour of Yronwood.

At least it's an excuse to get out of that bloody city, much nicer up here... Ashara's thoughts drifted back to the years she had spent out in the wilds of Essos, living as a simple hunter and gameswoman. Often during the warmer months of the year she would travel north, hoping to find beasts fleeing from the even more bitter warm from farther up.

"Lady Ashara, please just have a bit of water to refresh yourself..." Kermit reigned his horse up beside Ashara's, holding out the bottle of spiced wine. Kermit and Ser Elmo made up two of the four people whom Ashara considered slaves of her sex. She had been half-tempted to bring along Captain Groover for the trip as well, but she felt she could not in good conscience leave her sister to rule the city alone.

"Fine..." She said bruskly. Her love of the drink didn't pass Kermit's notice, but he supposed he couldn't really blame her. After all, she was in a relaxation journey... And she never seemed like she would be a drunkard under normal circumstances.

Ashara shook the thoughts from her head as she glanced back at her retinue of guards, all wearing the red cloaks of her house. After she conducted a brief and silent inspection of their dress and manners she turned forward in his seat once more, nodding her head towards Kermit as their gazes met.

Off in the distance loomed the massive hold of Yronwood, growing closer with each passing minute. She was frankly still puzzled by the eagle she had received inviting her to come meet with Lord Yronwood on an urgent issue. She couldn't recall ever meeting the man, her thoughts wandering back to any times they might have met.

Was he at my father's third wedding?

[Cuprum]

(Image)
House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

King Ulrick watched as the dance between Bethany and Anders went southward. Oh well, there are plenty of other men in the Dorne, Ulrick thought to himself. Despite that, it would probably be a good idea to defuse the situation a bit. Ulrick stood and cleared his throat. "My good lords and ladies. We have had a wedding, and a fine feast tonight. But we are still missing one thing. I believe it is about time for the bedding ceremony.". Ulrick sat back in his seat and took another sip at his Dornish Red.

Men of both houses applauded the couple, and Yorick shook Gareth’s hand. Yorick immediately slammed his tankard on the table, bellowing a loud call for silence. “I think it’s time for a bedding!” He hollered into the crowd, answered by the slamming of cups on the thick oaken tables. All around, men and women gleefully stood up, heading towards the Lord’s table like hungry predators. Sarella nodded, knowing what was to come.

“Good luck Sister.” Desmond whispered in his sister’s ear. Her eyes were wide, her hands clamped on the skirts of her dress.

“Where is Andy?” Sarella asked cautioslly.

Prince Anders pulled away from her, hearing her gasp lightly when he exited her, and lay beside her. She crawled over to him, laying her head upon his chest, her eyes fluttering. “Was I okay?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“You were wonderful My Lady. Does your father know about it” Anders answered, thoroughly exhausted by their exertions. Truth be told their interactions had gone much better than he’d expected, and he looked forward to the close encounter and time again in the future.

“He endorse it, as you know my father is in good terms with our dear king” Lady Qorgyle answered with a cunning look in his eyes.

''I'll visit my cousin in Godsgrace to discuss an issue, so I was thinking if you don't mind...''

''No problem m'lord''

[Mastropiero]

House Allyrion - Queen of Godsgrace and Lady of the Greenblood

The famed palace on the shores of Plankytown was filled with lavish gardens and waterworks. It was the private residence of the rulers of Godsgrace, located on a beach next to the sea, three leagues to the west of Sunspear on a coastal road. Children from all ranks and areas of Dorne were sent to the Water Gardens to foster, where they played together at the beach, pools, and fountains and in the ocean.

The Water Gardens were raised by Prince Maron Allyrion as a gift for his new bride, Princess Sarella Uller, to mark the union of Dorne to the rest of the petty kingdoms Kingdoms. Pale pink marble paved the gardens and courtyard. Terraces overlooking the numerous pools and fountains of the Water Gardens, shaded by blood orange trees, could be reached via a fluted pillar gallery leading to a triple archway. The Gardens were pleasant on this spring day. It had been a mild winter for Westeros, but Dorne had hardly felt the bite of the now receding cold at all. The salt breeze blew in from the sea, and the fountains and pools were filled laughing children.

Princess Delonne, dressed in flowing orange silks, lead Prince Anders through the grounds, her arm looped through his, pointing out her favorite places. They were a fine looking pair: two rulers with two crowns. Tall in stature, her head came up slightly above his shoulders, though he was not an unusually tall man. Her thick brown hair cascaded down her back in waves, and the sun catches her simple tiara and makes it sparkle.

He had not been out of the Yronwood since the wedding of her sister, and was nervous for the entire voyage. It wasn't until they docked in Dorne that he realized he was not going to be killed after all. He rode on the King's ship, but was kept at a distance from him.

He looked up at his cousin Delonne, his eyes pleading with her to free him from the boredom that is listening to her converse with the scholars. Delonne smiled at him, her eyes glancing over at the Dornish boys playing in the surf, and she excused him at last.

She and Anders paused, watching the child gallivant across the palace grounds. Members of both of their guards were present at the seaside palace, and even they appeared relaxed, enjoying the fine weather. With the stiff ocean breeze blowing from the sea, the Prince and his men were grateful that for the first time since arriving in the south Dorne they were not sweating.

“Your Grace,” he heard the musical voice of the Lady Allyrion ahead of him, “I hope I haven’t bored you with all this talk of ancient history. Come, let us discuss what you have come here to discuss: peace, and the future.”

[Cuprum]

(Image)
House Allyrion - Queen of Godsgrace and Lady of the Greenblood

The famed palace on the shores of Plankytown was filled with lavish gardens and waterworks. It was the private residence of the rulers of Godsgrace, located on a beach next to the sea, three leagues to the west of Sunspear on a coastal road. Children from all ranks and areas of Dorne were sent to the Water Gardens to foster, where they played together at the beach, pools, and fountains and in the ocean.

The Water Gardens were raised by Prince Maron Allyrion as a gift for his new bride, Princess Sarella Uller, to mark the union of Dorne to the rest of the petty kingdoms Kingdoms. Pale pink marble paved the gardens and courtyard. Terraces overlooking the numerous pools and fountains of the Water Gardens, shaded by blood orange trees, could be reached via a fluted pillar gallery leading to a triple archway. The Gardens were pleasant on this spring day. It had been a mild winter for Westeros, but Dorne had hardly felt the bite of the now receding cold at all. The salt breeze blew in from the sea, and the fountains and pools were filled laughing children.

Princess Delonne, dressed in flowing orange silks, lead Prince Anders through the grounds, her arm looped through his, pointing out her favorite places. They were a fine looking pair: two rulers with two crowns. Tall in stature, her head came up slightly above his shoulders, though he was not an unusually tall man. Her thick brown hair cascaded down her back in waves, and the sun catches her simple tiara and makes it sparkle.

He had not been out of the Yronwood since the wedding of her sister, and was nervous for the entire voyage. It wasn't until they docked in Dorne that he realized he was not going to be killed after all. He rode on the King's ship, but was kept at a distance from him.

He looked up at his cousin Delonne, his eyes pleading with her to free him from the boredom that is listening to her converse with the scholars. Delonne smiled at him, her eyes glancing over at the Dornish boys playing in the surf, and she excused him at last.

She and Anders paused, watching the child gallivant across the palace grounds. Members of both of their guards were present at the seaside palace, and even they appeared relaxed, enjoying the fine weather. With the stiff ocean breeze blowing from the sea, the Prince and his men were grateful that for the first time since arriving in the south Dorne they were not sweating.

“Your Grace,” he heard the musical voice of the Lady Allyrion ahead of him, “I hope I haven’t bored you with all this talk of ancient history. Come, let us discuss what you have come here to discuss: peace, and the future.”

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

''My lady I came here not only to discuss a treaty of friendship and trade but also to talk about an issue concerning your dear sister Ashara. She was hunting without my permission in a sacred forest dedicated to the gods. She's woundless and quite angry, she even dare to bit my hand after being captured by my man. She was treated like a princess since she's my cousin after all!''

[Mastropiero]

Zus

''Um... Idiotic sister of mine. I hope our diplomatical relation won't get strained after this. We are neighbours anyway. Another matter, I heard the Fowler's girl gave you a lesson of etiquette in your sister's wedding. Now I know why you are still single... If you want to know where did I know that, I won't tell you but I can give you a hint after the Tea.''

[Austria and Bavaria]

House Fowler of Skyreach - Kings of Stone and Sky
"Let Me Soar"

Prince Gareth stroked his wife's cheek as he arose from his bed in the morning. Gareth was glad of this marriage, more so than he had thought he would have been. She had been nervous early last night, but she had warmed to him. Last night had certainly been... pleasant. Gareth grinned at the memory as he finished dressing himself. He then leaned over kissed his wife's forehead and left the room.

King Ulrick was already well awake when Prince Gareth entered the room. He looked up and asked " Enjoy yourself last night.". "No doubt of that" Prince Gareth said, "But on to more pressing matters, what news from Skyreach?" he asked. "Nothing of note, all is well. Although no doubt we should be leaving soon. We have little other buisness here. Your sister made quite a stir last night, slapping the Yronwood." "Indeed," Gareth said grinning, "Can't say the bastard didn't deserve it though." Ulrick himself even smiled at this. "Yes, the Yronwood boy made a damned fool of himself. And to think these fools call themselves High Kings."

[Cuprum]

House Yronwood - High Kings of Dorne

His enemies circled like vultures, swords held low and shields held high. Desmond’s eyes slowly roved over the targets – teeth bared in a snarl. The guards were hesitant to approach despite the heavy manacles around Desmond’s feet. The Yronwood's back wept from the multitude of burns Ser Yorick had left with his poker, but the pain was ignored in the thrill of the fight.

The knight’s voice cut the tension in the empty courtyard with all the grace of an axe blow. “Get in there ladies or I’ll bugger you with those blades.” He spat.

A roar sent the two guards forward, coming at him with unrelenting blows that sent swords glancing off the worn steel shield in a tumultuous rhythm. He planted his feet, letting the men tire themselves out.

He didn’t have to wait long, as he felt the blows slowly began to land less frequently. He grinned and let loose a blood chilling roar. He pushed his shield with all his might, flooring the guard with a savage charge. The chain snapped taut, and Desmond brought his armored foot down on his enemy’s chest again and again while his comrade could only look on in horror. The boy coughed blood onto Desmond’s steel foot – eliciting a bark of laughter from the giant.

He retreated a step and taunted the remaining guard. “Will you fall so quick? Or will you give me a fucking challenge?”

The guard screamed in fury, his voice breaking. The Stray brought his shield up and deflected his weak thrust with casual ease. He followed up with a high cut, the blunted blade striking the guard’s neck with a crushing finality. The Younger Yronwood shrugged as he crumpled into a ball of bones.

“Rowan, clean up this mess!” Lord Yorick screamed with a red face. Desmond grinned as the Maester’s boys dragged off the guards; he spat on the spluttering guardsman and laughed until a metal fist struck him in the jaw.

“Don’t you dare spit on them, Mutt! These are my pathetic bags of meat. Cut them up, kill them, even fuck them if that’s what you like! But don’t ever spit on the men who’ll be guarding you when you sleep!” He motioned to servants to cut the chain from around Desmond’s ankles.

Lord Yorick drew his own blade slowly, the blade sharpened with an efficiency belying his years of soldiery. “Now then, let’s show you what training is all about here.” He approached Desmond Yronwood slowly, blade drawn and shining in the Summer sun. He turned his blade in his hand and plunged it into Desmond's foot, selecting the one which had injured his guard through the armor. The big man cried out and cursed his father.

The doors to the armory opened and out strode three guards in light armor, hatred etched on their face. Ser Yorick withdrew his sword and affixed the manacle to Loren’s ankle with a metallic clang. The Mutt’s eyes filled with flame as he looked at his trainer and his thugs.

“I will kill all of you.” He vowed as he rose to his feet. The armor and sword felt lighter than ever as wrath filled his being.
Ser Yorick grinned, “Now this is a monster boys. Give him a taste of steel.”

The guards charged with sharpened blades, Desmond dropped his guard and drove the blunt blade t against the first’s armor. The guard stumbled and Loren tried to press the advantage. He raised his sword to strike the guard before a blade parried his blow. His sword tumbled to the ground, prompting the two attackers to renew their assault.

Ser Yorick told the third boy he was “dead” and sent him away with a stream of curses. The other two were still active, slashes striking his shield with precision and speed. Their strikes were so quick and precise, they began forcing Desmond to move his stance often. A sacrifice that sent pain racing up his right leg. The blades kept coming and the boy was reminded of what he was; he was a dog of war.

He tightened his grip on his shield, pushing against the weight of two men with one arm. The blow surprised them, sending one guard to his knees and the other back a step. His sword hand went to his belt, moving past his empty sheath to the old hatchet he wore.

It fit in his plated hand like an old friend, a grin forming on his cheeks as he brought it down on the crown of the kneeling foe. Bone gave way beneath the blow, decorating the cobbles with blood.His blood had long since pooled and the guard’s joined it soon after. The remaining guard fled as he drew back the hatchet again, much to Desmond’s displeasure.

“You cravens can’t even match a hobbled Yronwood and yer supposed to protect the keep! I’ll fuck your wives tonight and show them what a real man is!” He laughed long and loud, Ser Yorick's faced contorted in what looked to be approval. An alien look on the man’s wrinkled face. But he looked past Desmond and fell to one knee.

“You are no Yronwood, mutt! You are my son, yet I see wounds? You are no Yronwood, you are a pup, barking at the night with ignorant fury.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“My Lord, your son is a brutal fighter; I will have him ready a month from now.” A maester said, with what Desmond assumed was disgust.

“I can cut through these whelps all day Father, bring me a challenge!” He roared.

“A challenge? Boy, you know not what Yorick has in store. A servant will take you to your chambers and clean you, for tomorrow the real training begins.” The Lord walked off with little ceremony, heading for the feast hall.

Ser Yorick pulled aside a page; “Tell Rowan to attend to our dear Barbarian and then bring me the stable master. We’re going to need a mount for this cunt.”

He walked off in the opposite direction from Yorick Yronwood, leaving Desmond alone with a servant who was undoing the manacle around his ankle. He sighed and spat some blood into the growing pool around his feet, causing a shriek from the girl.

Her hair was red matched by warm green eyes and freckles which decorated her face like gems. Desmond grinned as his eyes wandered over her wide hips and small breasts. “I think you will be the one to take me to my chambers.” He growled.

“Milord, I was to take you to Maester Rowan.” She whimpered a little; he liked that.

“What’s your name girl?” He demanded with noble authority.

“Melanie milord.” She whispered.

“Take me to my chambers Melanie. You can bring Maester Rowan to me once I’m done with you.” He gripped her forearm with such
force that tears formed in her eyes.

She practically begged him for relief with her eyes, “Yes Milord, please follow me.”