Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice & Fire [IC]

[NewLakotah]

Karhold, The North
House Karstark
Sworn to House Stark, Wardens of the North

The Sun of Winter

Harrion listened with interest as Leana went through the history of her House. He had remembered hearing a bit about the differences between the Brude House and the Bolton House, but he hadn’t really remembered why they had started. Now he did.

“Those Boltons always have been a difficult and brutal type. Regardless of what they might say now. It was during a Bolton and rebel uprising that Karlon Stark received the Karhold. At least, I think it was… No matter, we can both agree that the Boltons are a difficult, dark sort. Even if only half of their rumours are true. And I look forward to getting to know you family well starting soon.”
The duo, followed by the rest of the assembly head inside where they are greeting by Arnolf and his two sons. Arnolf looks at Leana with a bit of surprise. He had not seen her in many years and it was good to see her again. Cregan and Arthor look both surprised and intrigued.

“Ah, yes. Leana. It has been far too long. I am glad that you are here. Hopefully we will be able to see much more of each other now. I hope that you have been well and the journey here, to your new home was good?”

“Welcome home, then, Niece.” Cregan says with a smile.

Rickard also looked confused. Then the recognition dawned on him.

“Ah ha. My memory fails me sometimes now. I knew there was a touch of Karstark in you somewhere with your look. Now it makes sense. I am glad that you will be among some close ones as you get used to life here at the Karhold.” He turns around to the group. “Please, all, take your seats and let us begin with our joyous occasion!”

With that he turns and takes his seat at the head, as the rest of the congregated assembly begin to move together and separately around to their seats. Glasses of wine and ale are filled and the food is brought out.

Alys

She grins at the two Brudes as they banter back and forth.

“Thank you, Lady Tanda. I hope so. And you don’t have to worry about Harrion. He’s a good man I can tell you that. Well, he may not be the brightest in the world, but he’s a good man nonetheless.” She quips back. She smiles once again at them, and skips forward a bit. Trying to listen in on Harrion and Leana’s conversation a bit. He was going on about his history and the history of the House Karstark. Not the most interesting subject for her, but she was intrigued by the Brude story. She had always heard the stories about the brutal Boltons, but didn’t know how much was true. However, this seemed true. No matter how long ago it might have been. She trails back again, not wanting to intrude too much on their conversation.

[Kernan]

Understone Keep, The Westerlands

Ser Kevan Lannister, Regent of the Westerlands

Kevan rode up to Understone Keep and sighed. He had taken to long he had known, gone off on a foolish quest to save a kidnapped child from some bandits which put him back a few days. Now here he was, at Understone to find it locked up tighter than a Septa's pussy and the locals are no help whatsoever. If Kevan remembered correctly Lord Branwell could muster about 1,200 men to his banners most of them smallfolk. Behind Kevan stood a host of 200 armored, mounted knights, another hundred hedge knights that came to join them, and a few sellswords that Kevan hired. All told Kevan had a force of about 500 men, not even close enough for him to feel comfortable assaulting Understone. Besides, he was here to try and diffuse the situation before Tywin's dog Gregor arrived. Kevan had recieved a raven on the road from Tywin telling him that Gregor was coming home to the Westerlands. No doubt to also deal with the Branwells. Kevan approached the gate and saw crossbowman lining the walls, fingers on the trigger and just itching to fire.

"HALT!" shouted Kevan "I demand to be taken to your lord. My men shall stay outside as a show of good faith, but I swear if a single hair on mine or any of their bodies is left out of place, Tywin will raze this place to the ground." Kevan shouted over the walls."

[Yaana Noore]

---

HOUSE BARATHEON OF DRAGONSTONE
"THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERRORS"

---

Shireen Baratheon
Lady of Dragonstone
Dragonstone

Dragonstone had always scared her. It was dark and moody and gave her the chills. Those maliciously carved statues were intimidating and her nightmares had always been worse inside the ominous black walls of Dragonstone compared to her times at King's Landing, Greenstone, and Storm's End. The place felt so different from the other castles, a place where magic and dragons had yet to die. That scared her.

Storm's End was her favourite. She had been there on the occasion with her family and visited her uncle Renly, lord of Storm's End and all the Stormlands, much more land than her father. Renly had been kind and funny and charming and was even nice enough to give her some gifts! Seeing the extravagance and prettiness of her house's ancestral seat made her wish, rather similarly to her father, that he had been bestowed Storm's End by uncle Robert rather than scary and sullen Dragonstone.

Last night she had had a nightmare about a cockatrice rather than the dragons. She told this to Maester Pylos. "-and then it swooped down and smashed through the walls. The guards tried to kill it, but when it looked at them they all died! It started climbing up the tower, to my room, and then broke down my door and got me too." Devan Seaworth chuckled a little at this, whilst Monterys Velaryon appeared rather frightened.

"I see." The maester nodded, looking totally unfrightened. "And where was your lord father during this?"

"Outside my door in his armour." She explained. "He tried to fight it, but when his helmet came off the cockatrice was able to touch him and he died too."

"What about my father?" Devan asked.

"Dead." Shireen shrugged. "Yours too probably." She gestured to the young Velaryon.

"Well I assure you, Lady Shireen." Pylos broke in. "That cockatrices are totally fictional." He smiled. "The legend says they come from cock eggs, incubated by a frog - or a snake - depending on how you hear it, but cocks cannot lay eggs. If you really do believe your egg to be laid by a cock, then the smallfolk believe you should throw it over your house, and if it lands on the other side without touching the home, then you have destroyed it."

"Dragonstone is too big to throw it over though!" Shireen protested.

"Well it is a smallfolk story." Pylos admitted. "Their homes are much smaller."

"Cockatrices obviously come from lords then, as they can't get the egg over their keep!" Monterys thought.

"A creature which can be beaten by seeing itself in the mirror is not that dangerous." The young maester pointed out. "At the Citadel we now believe that the stories are actually referencing crocodiles. The only time you would see a cockatrice that is not one of the statues here on Dragonstone would be on the sigil of House Gargalen of Salt Shore, currently ruled by Lord Tremond Gargalen. House Gargalen is sworn to...?"

Shireen piped up. "The Martells."

"Very good. Now, House Gargalen..."

---

At the end of their lesson, Shireen felt compelled to ask. "Uhm, Pylos? Where is Maester Cressen?"

"Maester Cressen gets ill a lot these days." He said. "Your Lord father thought it best to allow him rest a times, which is why I took on this lesson on Cressen's behalf."

He was as good as Cressen, at least. "Oh, okay, thank you." Shireen nodded. "But, is he going to be okay?"

"With that we shall have to see." A feminine voice with an eastern accent cut in, and Shireen gave a gasp. The Red Woman. The strange woman always made Shireen feel a little off. For while she seemed to try to be nice, the young Baratheon always felt that there was something more to the lady in red's interests in her. "Lady Shireen, your Lord father sends for you. May I take you to see him?" She knelt down to ask, looking into Shireen's blue eyes with her own burning red ones. It gave Shireen the sensation that the witch was looking directly into her soul. Shireen nodded and Melisandre stood, towering over the young raven-haired girl. She was so tall, taller than an almost any woman she had seen, except for her mother, and was bigger than most men. Ser Davos, Maester Cressen, Pylos, great-uncle Eldon, all stood in her shadow. The Red Woman was probably as tall as uncle Renly! Only her father was taller. Only he could protect her in her nightmares of the red witch.

As the two walked down the halls of black stone, Melisandre cleared her throat. "Do you like my ruby, Lady Shireen?" She asked, gesturing to the red gold choker at her neck.

The Lady stared at it critically. Right now it gleamed like a normal jewel, but she was certain that she had seen it glow and pulse with light previously. "It's pretty." She said.

"It is." Melisandre agreed. "But that is not the only thing it does, as you well know. It is magic."

"Magic?" Shireen cocked her head. "What can it do?"

"You will have to watch me to see, my Lady." Lady Red said cryptically. The two walked out of the tower now, onto the battlements of the castle. Below Shireen could see many men camped outside, the men of the lords that her father had summoned to Dragonstone. From afar she could see, other than the crowned stag of her own house, the blue swordfish of House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, the crabs of Celtigar, the Velaryon's seahorse, Ser Davos' onion ship sigil, the two knights on the sigil of House Farring, the three spirals of House Massey of Stonedance, and a very small contingent of the familiar Florent fox, the house of the her mother. In addition she could make out Sunglass, Follard, and Chyttering. She felt rather proud of herself for being able to remember so many. Father has a lot of vassals, but others have even more.

"Melisandre, what did you mean about Maester Cressen?" She asked, finally working up the nerve. Shireen got the impression that Melisandre was behind... something about it.

"He is ill right now, child. Nothing more, I promise you. If R'hllor is kind, then he shall be fine."

"Maester Cressen is kind. If he does not get better then R'hllor is not kind." At this Melisandre simply smiled, but Shireen had made no jest.

"Is that so? We shall just have to see whether he is. I think we will find out soon." They had arrived at the Chamber of the Painted Table now, where he father waited. "Hush now, child. No more questions, all will be clear soon." She knocked on the door on her behalf. "Now go see your father."

[Great Franconia and Verana]

Sea of Dorne

Mellario's
Dream

---

Arianne of House Martell, Crown Princess of Dorne, Heir to the Lordship of Sunspear

---

The wind whipped at Arianne's obsidian hair, as Mellario's Delight cut its way swiftly through the choppy blue water's of the Sea of Dorne. The vessel was a well appointed Galley, sleek and swift, build at the order of her father to serve the Lady Mellario. The vessel was ornate, with gilded suns emblazoned across it, and bearing bright orange sails bearing the sigil of House Martell. Arianne stood at the bow of the vessel, a turquoise silk gown falling about her slight frame elegantly. Sitting gently atop her head, a small golden circlet glinted in the sunlight. In all aspects, she was beautiful.

"Your Highness," a grizzled voice rumbled from behind.
The Princess turned, and smiled, as her cousin marched up the steps to the forecastle. Ser Manfrey Martell, her father's cousin, had been, until recently, the Castellan of Sunspear. However, after her father had sent Arianne aboard the Mellaro's Delight, he had also dispatched Manfrey and a cohort of Dornish guardsmen to accompany her. At the time, Arianne had been confused. The trip to the capital was relatively safe by ship, and once in King's Landing, she would have her Uncle and his retinue to protect her, along with her own household.

"Yes Manfrey," the Princess replied, turning from the rail of the ship. The man was stout, with a rough face, worn from years in the heat and the sand. He wore light leather armour, and a curved scimitar sat at his side.

"I would have to request that you return to your cabin, your highness. This ship is swift, and has many spears aboard, but pirates are still a possibility."

Arianne shook her head with a light laugh.
"You worry too much cousin. We have sailed through the Step Stones and the time of greatest danger has passed. Leave me, I am enjoying the Sea."

Manfrey grumbled his disagreement, but turned to return to the main deck.
The Princess smiled, and returned to he original perch at the rail, the sun reflecting orange at her deep copper skin. After Ser Humfrey Hightower left Sunspear, Arianne's father had called her to his chambers, and had given her her current mission. It was a breath of fresh air for Arianne, who, for so long, had been excluded from Dorne's affairs of state. After her few forays into politics, Arianne was finally getting her own life, her own political clout.

Of course, my Uncle is at the Capital and will no doubt be watching my every move, but its a start

Arianne could not help herself, and once more grinned, looking at the waves cleaved in twan by the bow of the ship.

When I get there, the men of King's Landing won't know what hit them.

[Warg the Immortal]

---

Ser Niall "Frost Blade" Brude, the Lion Knight

---

New Castle

Niall smiled as Wynafryd joined his toast. However as they took their seats he noticed she was looking past him to another place in the hall, and a look of concern began spreading across her face. Glancing to where she looked he noticed her uncle and cousin making their way out of the Merman's Court. However he brushed it aside as, instead draining his cup alongside his betrothed. He decided to try and lighten the mood by discussing the impending nuptials. "So my lady, do you know when the ceremony is to take place? I assume it will be in the Sept of the Snows? I know my father would prefer it to take place in a Godswood. But, since we both worship the Seven, I think it would make more sense to have it in the Sept." Niall poured himself another goblet of wine as he awaited Wynafryd's input.

---

Lord Robert "the Handome" Brude, the Brude, Lord of Lake's Bane

---

New Castle

Robert perused the letter quickly, before handing it to Jon to allow him a chance to read it. He clenched his fists for a moment, whitening his knuckles, before exhaling slowly. His father had always told him a good lord was patient and didn't react brashly. After all, acting brashly had been the death of many Brude's before him. But the idea of the Boltons attending his son's marriage made him seethe, though he tried his best to hide it. He knew they were only coming to be a nuisance, even if they didn't raise any direct conflicts, their presence would place undo stress on the entire event. Calming himself for a moment, he turned to Lord Manderly. "You have my word, Lord Wyman, the neither me nor my son will engage in any conflicts with the Boltons while we are under your roof." He paused for a moment. "However, my other family members I cannot speak for. I will try to keep them from coming to blows with the Boltons, but if they are goaded, then i cannot make many promises." Robert knew this was not the time to act against one of the most powerful families in the North. While the Leech Lord had only two bastard scions, he still controlled much larger forces than Robert's own, and to act against them directly would spell doom for himself and his family.

---

Lady Tanda Brude, Third Child of Lord Robert Brude

---

Karhold

The feast was almost complete and Tanda was enjoying herself immensely. Seeing her sister laughing with her future husband and Tanda smile, She and Robert sat on one side of Lord Karstark and his family, while Tanda and Harrion sat on the other. Her uncle was seated farther down, closer to the wine casks, where he drunkenly told stories and jokes to Brude and Karstark men. Tanda herself was in-between Robert and Alys, and she found herself enjoying the company of the young girl. As the festivities were coming to a close, their host, Lord Karstark, called for attention. Announcing that the time had come for the families to make their way to the Godswood for the bride and groom to swear their vows beneath the Heart Tree. As the families made their way into Karhold's Godswood, Tanda was glad she had attended this wedding instead of her brother's. She had always loved the Godswood at Lake's Bane, and while she didn't dislike the New Gods, she had adamantly refused throughout her life to step into the castle's small Sept. It had never made sense to her, keeping Gods in a building and all the pomp of Septons and Septa, even though some of her own siblings had taken to it.

---

Tommard "True Axe" Brude

---

Winterfell

Tommard lifted himself off the bed of his chambers, wincing as he pulled his tunic over the bruises on his body. Trimming his beard, he tried to make his appearance somewhat acceptable. Groaning, he made his way into the great hall for a late lunch. The Maester had told him bed rest was best for the most of the day. Looking back on the events of yesterday he regretted some of his decisions. He had let his emotions take hold, not thinking on the consequences. His father had always lambasted him for it in his youth, telling him that he was lucky he didn't tan the hide off his back, acting as brash and foolish as he did. Sighing he looked up to see Greyjoy making his way through the hall. Finishing his meal swiftly, he walked up to the Heir of Pyke, wanting to find some way to entertain himself. "Theon, too bad about the ending of our little contest yesterday. How about we go to the Smoking Log in Winter Town, I could use a strong ale."

---

Ser Robert Snow, the White Lion

---

King's Landing

Robert smiled as he entered the hall of the feast, following the end of the tourney. Thanks to his placement in the joust he had earned an invite to the illustrious banquet alongside his cousin, Willam. Unfortunately their other cousins could not attend, Niall being summoned home, and Jon, sadly, not placing high enough to be invited. Instead, Jon had begun the Journey home, not wishing to be apart from his pregnant wife for much longer. Robert was happy that he and his own wife had not yet conceived a child, thus allowing them to attend feasts and travel together.

Willam, on the other hand, had other tastes that had kept him unmarried thus far. Though he was seated as far from the rest of the guests as possible, Robert was still happy to attend such an amazing celebration with his wife and cousin. He and Willam had hoped to speak with Prince Oberyn. He had been runner up in the tourney, and had defeated the man that bested their cousin. They had decided to see if he would take them on as Sworn Shields in order to become better warriors. While the Hound had bested him, Robert believed the Clegane would be more likely to tear his head from his shoulders, than take them on as retainers. Neither Robert, nor Willam, wished to return to the North, where it was cold and dreary and held no prospects. They hoped to see the wonders of Dorne, where they might learn skills unavailable to them in the North. Following the feast Robert made sure to find one of Prince Oberyn's courtiers, paying him a few silver stags to deliver a message bearing their intentions to the Dornish Prince. Much more coin than was likely necessary, but Robert wanted to ensure the message reached its intended recipient. Upon returning to his lodgings in the city itself, Robert wrote another letter, this time to his uncle, Lord Robert, informing him that they would be taking his son, Alester, on their travels. As well as Robert the Tall's bastards, Robert and Walton.

[Jhet]

Kingslanding

He had watched the melee with dissatisfaction. Where was the grace? Here a man fell to a spear. There three self-claimed knights ganged up on a fourth. He had watched with narrowed eyes as the knight of crosses was struck down, only for his victors to turn on themselves. Was this the chivalry as sang by the bards? A sword stroke missed its target. A horse shrieked as it was struck by a morningstar. That fool in his wine stained robes waved his sword like a squire raising his master's banner. One by one the knights fell, the common men-at-arms proving themselves better suited to the muddy brawl that was the melee.

He had not watched long.

Picking himself through the city streets, Loras lost himself to the press of the masses. The family manse did not sit far away, too close to be safe from the stench of the heart of the capital. And it was the heart, a pulsating sore that dwarfed the jewel of the Red Keep. Here the people ruled, so close and yet so distant from the throne. Is it always like this? He didn't dare to care. A few thousand smallfolk in their hovels or the far flung northmen in their fur tents, there were always those who thought themselves above the rest, too far, too small, to be outwith the jurisdiction of the crown. Fools. He could not respect a barbarian who thought like that, be they northman or foreigner.

His horse seemed to take over, guiding him from bakery to smokehouse to bakery. Here and there and over there goldcloaks marched and patrolled and arrested, all the while knives slipped from pocket to throat in the alleys and women whimpered to earn a halfpenny. It was a disgusting display of power, of a oaf-king's reign. It was no small wonder that the gutters were flooded over, when the man in the place of gods preferred his whores to protecting his people. That was no king. Not a real one.

Even from the depths of the city he could still see the Red Keep, whose colouring was as much from the blood of the innocent as it was dyes. That was the seat of the crown. Within its thick walls there was a hall. And at the end there rested a gargantuan throne of twisted metal. A restful chair it was not, and yet so the king refused to sit it. If he could not dare the barbs then how can he dare to call himself king? An adulterer, a drunkard. More at home anywhere but in the seat of power. Yet did he step down?

Damn them all, he swore. We'll tear it down if we have to.

Kingslanding

Roxton laughed as he refilled his cup, pausing only long enough to force a handful of ham into his mouth. "I could have kissed that mare, I tell you Ser Garlan." He took another pile of ham and forced it down with a gargling gasp of wine. "Not that the Mountain had the same idea."

The nobles had gathered in Garlan's manse like conspirators, appearing cloaked and ushered in without a word. Yet the soft glow of Wickenden candles and warmed wine loosened the tense air. That and Roxton's apparent insatiable appetite. Leonette, a child compared to the noble ladies that flanked her, frowned at the mention of the Clegane brothers.

"He tried to kill my brother in law," she retorted, a chill in her voice.

Roxton, young and bold and yet not courageous enough to be brave, coughed on his wine. "We did not expect him to try to kill Ser Loras. The thought of such could never have crossed a knight's head. If Sandor hadn-"

"But he was there, and no harm was done," Lady Regina interrupted, offering Crane a smile. "Sandor proved himself better than his brother, at the least."

"The Hound. Let us not forget what he is," Garlan heard his wife respond, a barbed tip finishing each word.

Old Lord Crane, ever to found agreeing with young women, added his own voice to hers: "A brute if I have ever seen one. Unfitting to be in the royal household."

"It was his brother who threatened mine," Garlan reminded them, shifting position in his seat. "I will not have the King's sworn sword insulted after sparing me the pain of watching Loras die." His gaze took them all in. "I expect you to extend him the respect that is owed."

There was a brief pause as the nobles accepted their chastisement. All except Lady Elinor, ever the one to speak her mind as if the words just escaped her mouth.

"But he isn't the King's man, Ser Garlan. He is the Queen's. If his mangy fur wasn't so soaked with his brother's disgrace I would expect to smell aurochs on his breath."

Garlan looked to his wife, who seemed to have the sense not to smile at the comment. Instead she raised her glass as the sniggering subsided around the table.

"To the Queen."

"To the Queen," they chorused, without nearly as much conviction.

A lull descended on the reachmen as they gathered their thoughts. Lord Roxton in particular seemed to need a moment to rearrange his temperament, as the young man took on the complexion of a man thrice his age. For a few seconds he seemed to sway, blinking furiously to cast aside a shade unseen by the rest of the revellers. Garlan reached out to him, calling out his name softly as the lord lurched over to Jon Crane. Before either Tyrell or Crane could do anything, Roxton's stomach surged out of his mouth. The vomit struck the older lord like a landslide, covering him in a unsightly beige.

The women leapt back as if Lord Crane had been gutted before their eyes, fleeing the table as to protect themselves from even the most periphery vomit projectiles. Garlan did likewise, withdrawing to a safe distance as Roxton joined his young peer and hurled his meal back onto the table. Together, they seemed to flood the heavy bowls as surely as any kitchen staff. As their servants came rushing in to try and offer whatever futile gesture of aid they could, Garlan found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all.

And just like that, the meeting was adjourned.

[Eraus]

Rodrik Snow, Bastard of the Dreadfort

The darkness of the night had still loomed over Winterfell when the Bolton ward woke from his sleep. He looked to his right and saw the servant girl who had slept with him. He didn't know whether to kick her out or simply let the servant girl sleep and likely against his better judgment he allowed her to sleep in his chambers.

He decided to allow his hair our of the ponytail which he usually placed it in. He liked feeling the wind blow his hair. He then went to decide what he'd wear for the day. He looked through his outfits and found one that called for him especially after the letter he had gotten from his father the day before. It was a quilted tunic of blood-red leather with the flayed man upon his chest, He couldn't help by smile at the thought of him walked around Winterfell with a flayed man strapped to him with a Brude not too far away. After getting dressed he looked around the room remembering his sword which Robb had taken the day before.

Ug, He's yet to return my shit he thought as he simply grabbed one of his daggers. After yesterday, There is no way I'm leaving my room unarmed yet in the back of his head he knew that kind of thinking would get him in trouble but as his father once told him, Once can never be too cautious.

He left his room heading towards the Library Tower. He loved to read about history although distort to favor his hosts, he cared little as he loved to learn about not only the Starks but all houses of the north and their past. Once Rickard had gotten there he grabbed a two books, The first being Justice and Injustice in the North: Judgments of Three Stark Lords by Maester Egbert the book it talked about crimes in the north in which guest right was violated were rare but were invariably treated as harshly by House Stark as the direst of treasons. Only kinslaying is deemed as sinful as the violations of these laws of hospitality.

The second being something he'd long wanted to read The Seven-Pointed Star a faith of seven book. He had long been curious about the southron religion and having few who'd speak to him about it caused him to be more curious. To him the new gods were a peculiar topic, he didn't know which gods were right nor did he truly care.

As he read he slightly become fond of the Warrior "The Warrior stands before the foe, protecting us where ever we go. With sword and shield and spear and bow, he guards the little children" he read aloud. 'Part of this seems like something a Bolton would be into" He paused "minus protecting people stuff" he again said aloud.

He didn't realize until it was too late that one of the servants had been silently watching the young bastard. "Who be you?" He said sharply

"My lord, I see you've become interested in learning about the Faith of Seven" He said with a smile

Rickard looked at him emotionless with a cold stare "The more you learn, The stronger you are. Now if you've got nothing important to say I suggest you leave and next time I suggest you answer me when I ask you a question" He said pulling the book out and reading it again

"I was simply going to say that if you wish to learn more about the faith I suggest you go to the sept. There you can learn far more than you could from that book" The man said

Rickard knew the man was correct but he wouldn't do that just yet. He'd first finish this book and then head for the sept to learn more about the Southron faith.

[The Immortal Wolf]

Wynafryd Manderly

Wynafryd thought it over for a moment before answering "I'd suggest maybe doing it in the Godswood but having a septon preside over the ceremony as a way to bring comfort to both sides of the faith". She didn't want to make some of the other Brudes feel left out as they worshiped the olden gods.

"I've still yet to know much about you. I'd like to know about your hobbies and your desires but it'd only be just if I also state my own." She said with a smile "I like to ride horses and watch ships sail away just as the sun sets. I desire to one day have a large and beautiful family with a good looking husband." She said as she finished off her goblet "Let's just say I've checked one of those off my lists"

Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander, and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand.

"That's, well that's good enough" He said as he continued to eat his pie. "What I can tell you is Roose likely won't interact much with people. He is quite intimidating I must say. His eyes are hallow and dead and his voice is even worse" He said as he shook his head

"But hopefully the younger bastard comes" He accidentally said unable to catch himself. "Hopefully you're Kin don't mess too much with the Boltons. They are quite something but hopefully this wedding ends peacefully and calmly" He said as he rose

"After we are finished eating we can leave and get you settled in" He said smiling "Then our families can better get to know each other"

[The Valyria Empire]

The North

Winterfell, Rana's quarters

---

Robb of House Stark, Regent of Winterfell

---

As Robb took his seat, he grabbed the bottle. He turned the bottle around in many directions, he placed it down and looked at Rana.

"I must say, it is a surprise. Wine from the Neck... I assume the grapes came from the Reach?" Robb spoke as he studied the bottle. "Hmm, very well. I thank you for the gift." Robb picked up the bottle and brought it to his lips. As the wine went down his throat, he had to stop and cough. "Excuse me, Rana I have to say that wine is quite strong." Robb coughed a few more times before he looked to Rana.

"Help yourself." Robb said as he motioned to the wine. "I came here tonight, as it has been a long time. How have you been, friend? I have heard that you are the captain of your house's guard, what else have you accomplished?" Robb asked as he leaned back in the seat, a smile across his face.

[Vladivostokava]

House Blacklocke
Rana Blacklocke III
Winterfell, Rana's Bed Chambers

"Death Before Dishonor!"

---

Rana took a seat on a nearby trunk at the foot of her bed and watched as Robb inspected the bottle. Rana couldn't help but laugh as Robb took a drink of the rum. She knew it was strong but didn't want to warn him, 'where would the fun be in that?' Rana thought to herself.

Rana listed to Robb as he spoke and she nodded, "Yes I am captain of the Black Cloaks now. Though not exciting as it may seem, belive it or not things are not as exciting in the neck as they seem to be here." Rana took the rum bottle and poured herself a glass. "As captain I am merely a hand for my hermit father to reach out to the people. Mostly to let them know he is still alive." Rana took a drink and continued, "After my brothers left I had to take up their responsibilities. Charity, city watch, settling all smaller disputes between the common people that my father can't find time for." Rana sighed and took another drink looking at Robb, "It is not the most illustrious of positions, but it is mine and I will see to it that I serve well." Rana smiled and looked Robb in the eyes, "I have done less than you that is for sure, you find yourself lord regent of winterfell in your father's absence. So you must have done something right." Rana joked.

Rana relaxed and leaned back, "I am currently tasked a few things. As my unfortunate disfigurement has left me practically useless in terms of marriage." Rana pointed to her eyes and large scar running down the side of her face before taking a small sip from her cup. "I have been sent north to meet my cousins in Ironwrath and Karlhold to try and broker a deal for marriage, no other lord will have me, but my father hopes that the word family still means something to my uncles."

Rana sighed "I pray they turn me away to be honest."

[Warg the Immortal]

---

Ser Niall "Frost Blade" Brude, the Lion Knight

---

New Castle

Niall nodded at Wynafryd's words. It did make sense for them to get better acquainted before they were wed. "I suppose in the Godswood would be quite fine, though the majority of my family don't particularly care either way. But whichever you believe it best. As far as myself, I must say I never really expected to marry until now. My elder brother has a much better head for logistics, and has so many potential heirs already that I never thought that I would be needed. Even if I had inherited, I would have abdicated to my younger brother. I always preferred to be a warrior, like my forebears. But, meeting you now, I must say, I am looking forward to our marriage."

Clearing his throat he continued. "Of my hobbies, I would say my favourites are swordplay, jousting and horse riding. Ever since I was young, I wanted to be a knight, though my brothers would always jape about it. Them being followers of Old Gods, they thought knights to be pompous and self-righteous. But I always loved the idea of chivalry, and hearing stories of knights like Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, Davos the Dragonslayer and Symeon Star-Eyes."

---

Ser Robert Snow, the White Lion

---

King's Landing

Robert awoke to the sound of a sharp rapping on his door. He groaned, untangling himself from his wife and slipping on a simple pair of trousers and a white tunic with blue embroidery. Groggily he made his way to the door, slightly annoyed to have been woken from what had been a pleasant dream. As he opened the door he was greeted with the sight of a swarthy man, wearing a tunic with the Martell colours and sigil on it's chest. Robert was jolted awake at the realization that this must be and envoy of Prince Oberyn. The man cleared his throat before beginning. "I am a servant of Prince Oberyn Martell. I am here on his behalf to request the immediate presence of Ser Robert Snow and Willam Brude." Robert stuttered trying to find words. He had never really expected the Prince to reply, let alone so quickly. "O-of course. I'm S-Ser Robert Snow." The man nodded curtly, pressing a golden token embossed with the Martell sigil before making his way out of the inn.

Quickly, Robert dressed into more eloquent clothes and made is way into the adjacent room, in which his cousin slept. Not bothering to knock, he shook the elder man awake, and was greeted with a volley of curses and epithets that would have made the Crone blush. However, as Robert explained what had just occurred the two quickly made their way out of the inn, leaving a note for their other family members to find, and went to the Red Keep.

At the gate, they were met by two Baratheon guards, who, upon seeing the token, passed them off to some of the Dornishmen in Oberyn's retinue. Togethor they walked down the halls of the Red Keep, coming to a stop in the guest wing, outside the chambers of the Prince. Outside the door stood the envoy that Robert had met earlier. Upon recognizing him the man opened the door, and began introductions between the two Northerners and the Dornish Prince. "My Liege, may I introduce, Ser Robert Snow, and his cousin, Willam Brude."

[Kernan]

The Eyrie, The Vale of Arryn
Tyrion Lannister, Heir to the Westerlands

Tyrion Lannister sat in his cell and shivered as another gust of wind cut him to the bone. He had no idea how long had passed since his imprisonment or what was happening in the outside world. It could have been two hours, two days maybe; time seemed to blend together when all you can do is sleep, piss or shit and think. That is what Tyrion was doing to stay sane, thinking. Thinking of how to get out of here and he had a few ideas, however they all were risky. Sweetrobin could yet see the small man fly. However Tyrion began to notice the wind calling him towards the edge of the Sky Cell so if he didn't try something soon...well he didn't want to think about it. Tyrion went to the far side of his cell and shouted.

"Gatekeeper! I need to speak with you!"

The burly, bald fat man burst into the room, club in hand and began to beat Tyrion while repeating the phrase "The Dwarf should shut up!"

Tyrion took the beatings, flinching in wincing in pain as the club fell upon him, however Tyrion managed to speak.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked

"A dwarf who should shut up!" the man said as he rose his club again.

"I am a dwarf, but also a Lannister! Do you know the Lannisters? Of their immense wealth?" Tyrion said

The man hestiated, eyes fixed on Tyrion and club raised. However Tyrion saw a curiousity in his eyes, this might just work.

"So you have? You are a quick one arent you?" Tyrion said with a smile "Well I have a deal for you-" Tyrion began, but the club suddenly came down on his leg and Tyrion gritted his teeth.

"A Lannister dwarf should shut up!" the man said "At least its a little different this time." Tyrion acknowledged silently

"I will give you my purse, all the gold seized from me when I was imprisoned, if I could just speak to Lady Lysa. Could you do that for me? Tell her that I request an audience?" Tyrion asked as he slowly got to his feet. The man stood in front of him, towering over him, for a moment before dropping his club to his side

"A Lannister dwarf better pay!" he said as he left.

"A Lannister always pays he debts as they say!" Tyrion shouted after him

[The Valyria Empire]

The North

Winterfell, Rana's quarters

---

Robb of House Stark, Regent of Winterfell

---

Robb looked at the girl across from him. He stood up, walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Do not say such things, Rana. Your family needs you, and I assure you that you will find a suitable husband. One who loves you for everything you are." Robb smiled and looked down at her. "What other Lord would be able to say his lady wrestled a lizard-lion."

Robb removed his hand, stepped back and raised the bottle in the air. "To Lady Rana Blacklocke, may you find the one desire most of all." Robb shouted before he took another swig, followed by more coughs. After he had calmed down, he heard a scratch at the door. He opened it, to find Grey Wind who stood at the entrance.

"Ah, forgive me Lady Rana. Allow me to introduce my faithful companion, Grey Wind." Robb explained as he knelt down to pet Greywind. Robb sat quietly as he starred into Grey Wind's yellow eyes, and after a few moments he stood up. Robb looked back at Rana and bowed his head.

"Apologizes, Lady Blacklocke. It is quite late, I should let you rest. We can speak more on the morrow." Robb said as he walked into the hallway. "Sleep well." Robb then departed down the hallway with Grey Wind at his side.

Eventually Robb reached his quarters where he would undress, however he walked over to a window and opened it. The cold, icy wind blew into his face and body. It was calm, and somewhat soothing after the heat from being in Rana's quarters. He eventually closed the window, but would sit on his bed as his mind wondered.

[Yaana Noore]

---

HOUSE LANNISTER OF CASTERLY ROCK
"HEAR ME ROAR!"

---

Cersei Lannister
Queen of the Seven Kingdoms
The Red Keep

There was a knock on the door of her chambers and the Queen's heart thumped. Was the drunken oaf done with his drinking already? No, it can't be. Robert would not knock... Jaime, perhaps? She wondered, approaching the door. She wondered what it could be that he would risk disturbing her at this hour, particularly when Robert could have been abed. She wore a conservative scarlet gown on this night, hesitant to wear something showing too much skin in case it persuaded the inebriated Robert to try and 'claim his rights'.

"Ah, Your Grace." Said a soft voice. The hooded man wringed his hands uncomfortably, trying to peer around her. "Sorry to disturb you at this hour, I trust the King is not abed?" Cersei gritted her teeth. You know he is not. She wanted to spit back at him, but held her tongue. If he was here, he clearly had information of some importance. "May I... come in?" The Spider asked hesitantly. If Robert was on his way Varys would have not come, so she allowed it. "You will recall you were worried about what Lord Stannis was doing now that he had fled, and asked me to try and keep track of his actions."

"Of course." She responded quickly. Get to the point.

"Lord Stannis is a prudent one. It has become more difficult to learn just what is happening on Dragonstone." He gave a giggle. "All sorts of stories, you would hardly believe them if I told you."

"But what has Stannis done, Varys?" She asked, losing patience.

"Well, you were most concerned with whether Lord Stannis would try to spread any... ahem, lies, about yourself. My little birds do believe that the King's brother is trying to do just that. A man in his service, one who owes everything to Lord Stannis in fact, arrived at King's Landing just today."

"And who would that be?"

"I am always terrible with names, Your Grace, forgive me. But I do believe he goes by the name of Ser Davos Seaworth?" The name sparked no recognition from the Queen. "Ex-smuggler, landed knight, missing some fingers..."

"Ah, that Onion Knight." She recalled seeing the sigil once now, an ugly little ship with an onion upon the sails. "Stannis sends that parvenu to speak for him? How... Stannis," she rolled her eyes.

Varys nodded in agreement. "Alas, I wish we could speak more but I really must be going. It appears His Grace is on his way to bed."

Enemies everywhere. She thought to herself as she returned to bed, dreading Robert's return. Agents of Stannis in the city, Starks down south, the Dornish coming north, Tyrion abducted... There were even rebels back home if rumour was true. She had no doubt her father would vanquish those who slighted House Lannister, but the fact that they even had the nerve the disobey the lion was concerning. She held no love for Tyrion, but if someone could kidnap the Imp and get away with it, who knew what they would do with someone of value, like herself or her children? And whilst her father dealt with the traitors in the Westerlands, he could not stop those in the capital. Your family is in danger, Jaime. And what do you? Play horses with the other knights. Fortunately at least one of Lord Tywin's children had some wits about her. She did not trust the Spider, he was far too dangerous to be trusted. Enunuchs are much less predictable than men, and immune to my charms... But she considered the information reliable at least. Varys did not lie, instead he only told half-truths. Enough information to be of use, but no more.

But if only he had told her earlier, Cersei bemoaned. With Robert on his way back she was trapped in their chambers. On the morrow she would have to act, have some of the gold cloaks check the inns and taverns in hopes of finding this Davos Seaworth character before he could act against her. In addition, she thought, it may be necessary to send Prince Tommen away, the Red Keep these days was much too dangerous for children. She could sneak him out of the capital to one of the more loyal vassals in the Crownlands such as Gyles Rosby. The prince would need a protector of course, Ser Meryn Trant would be suitable. She doubted Robert would find out quickly, and once he did, whilst he would punish her, he was unlikely to reverse her decision. When it came to beating a woman or child Robert's could still make himself feel like a man, but when it came to him actually having to make a choice or decision of sorts that was beyond his next drink or woman, the man (if she could call him that) was like a fish out of water.

[Kulonia]

Damien Branwell, Lord of Understone Keep

Understone Keep

---

"M'lord! Kevan Lannister is here with around 500 men. He demands to be taken to you." A servant was shaking as he stood before Damien.

"Let the old, grey lion in. Only him. None of his men." Damien held his sword's hilt as he sat at the end of the table. "Tybalt. Go to the wine cellar. My best men will guard you. They'll lock you in there until that old Kevan is gone." Tybalt nodded as he was escorted to the cellar. Branwell allowed the crossbowmen to open the gates. The elite crossbowmen were aiming, steadily. Damien walked out into the courtyard. He wore his Branwell colored garments, proud of his heritage. "Lord Kevan," said Damien as he greeted the Lannister, "welcome to Understone Keep. I assume your brother and my liege sent you here to execute me and my son, yes? I'm just glad that brute Clegane didn't get here first." Damien crossed his arms and smiled at the Lannister.

[Kernan]

Understone Keep, The Westerlands

Ser Kevan Lannister, Regent of the Westerlands

Kevan looked around at the keep and found it quaint, built for doing what it was meant to and that was to defend the area. He eyed the crossbowman and saw them of varying ages, boys just old enough to be considered men and men as old as time itself. Some of the younger, obviously green troops eyed Kevan worryingly. They had grown up their entire lives knowing what happened to Castamere and Tarbek Hall and were no doubt fearing the same fate. Kevan couldn't help but respect Damien, he had balls and ambition which rarely came together.

"Hello Damien Branwell. I was not sent to kill you even though Tywin doubtless wants that to happen. Frankly I want to prevent another Castamere situation from what I was told you boy Tybalt was a loyal servant if not angry. Being as bold as you are, I cannot help but to respect you a bit. Lower your arms and turn over Tybalt Branwell at once. He will be sent to The Wall under Lannister guard for his crimes, spared the chopping block he arguably deserves. If you do not accept I am afraid I will be forced to leave you to Tywin's wrath, or Cleganes. Whoever arrives here first." Kevan said

---

Near Deep Den, Goldroad

Lord Ser Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands

Tywin rode his horse ahead of his caravan as it meandered down the Goldroad towards Casterly Rock. He kind of liked being on the road again as staying cooped up at the Rock gets stuffy after awhile. Especially since his wife died, everything in that damned castle reminded him of her. However he liked being away from Cersei more than that but not for the reason some would think. She looked like her mother and whenever Tywin saw her the back of his mind could not help but see Joanna and it hurt Tywin. It hurt him to remember how he could not save her. As he began to spiral Tywin took his mind off of Joanna and instead back on internal issues in the Westerlands. Finances were coming up a few dragons short. Kevan was still fucking around with the Branwells and to top it all off his Imp son was caught by Lady Stark and in a Sky Cell in the Vale, had been for a while if the raven was true. Tywin would have loved to let him rot in there but Lannister honor was at steak. If Tyrion could rot in a cell many could think Cersi could, or her kids, or Jamie Gods forbid. Tywin looked to the sky as he saw a crow fly over and land on one of his entourages arm. The man, Maestar what's-his-face found a note attached to its foot. Tywin watched as a guard was given the rolled up note and rode up to him.

"Lord Tywin! A message, from Kevan!" the man said

Tywin read the note, crumpled it and threw it away before turning to his guards.

"Half of you keep with the caravan, the rest of you follow me!" he shouted, and then they all rode off.

[The Valyria Empire]

The Crownlands

The City of King's Landing, Tower of the Hand

---

Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King

---

The sun was cast over head, they had ridden for many days and the Dornish heat made them very weary. However, the war had ended and all that remained was one final destination. The Tower could be seen for a mile, as it stood in front of the great Red Mountains of Dorne. The seven men stopped their horses, outside the Tower stood three men of various sizes. The smallest had a black bat of House Whent on his helm, the tallest stood strong and proud like a bull, and the middle of the three wielded a blade as pale as milkglass.

The seven men silently dismounted their horses, as the three Kingsguard stood their positions. The leader of the seven men, pulled a greatsword from it's sheath that rested on the horse. The blade had a dark and smokey appearance unlike the blade of the Kingsguard.
As the seven men faced the three, the quiet wolf would speak first, and after a few minutes the Kingsguard with the pale blade spoke.

"Now it begins."

"No, not it ends." the quiet wolf spoke.

---

Eddard awoke to the sound of a knock, sweat had dripped from his face. He waited a few moments until the beating in his chest stopped, then quickly got dressed. Eddard then opened the door to find one of the guards from the Tower's Entrance.

"My Lord, Ser Davos of House Seaworth is requesting an audience with you." the soldier said, as he straightened himself.

Ned frowned, and scratched his beard, puzzled why the Onion Knight would come to him.

"The Knight said he had a letter addressed to you, from Lord Stannis."

Ned's eyes shot open for a moment, then relaxed. He looked at the soldier, as a grabbed a candle. "Very well, bring him here. I will be in my audience chamber." Eddard then lite the candle in his hands, before he lite the others. After he took his seat in the audience chamber it would only be a few moments before Ser Davos was presented before him.

Ned nodded to the Knight, and positioned to the seat across from him. "Please, Ser Davos. Have a seat, it is good you are here." Ned waited for the soldier to depart the room before he resumed. "Your Lord, Stannis had been visiting a brothel very frequently before his departure. Stannis is not a man who would sleep with whores, tell me do you know why? Or... does this letter provide the answers I seek?"

[Jadezi]

Lysa Arryn, Lady Regent of the Vale

Lysa had been talking with a few of her suitors including Nestor Royce, Lyn Corbray, Horton Redfort and Eon Hunter not including the countless other lords who'd come. She found it flattering that man, powerful man all wanted her to be their wives yet she knew that'd only ever marry one man and he was Petyr Baelish. The man who she'd love since she was a child and the one who took her maidenhood. She found most of them to be decent men but none matched her Petyr. Just then she heard a knock at her door

"Come in" The door swung open and the jailor and a guard entered

"My Lady, The Lannister Dwarf wishes to speak with you"

"What do you mean the Dwarf wises to speak with me?" Lysa said before the Jailor

"The Lannister dwarf said it was important maybe a confession" The Jailor lied

"a confession?" Lysa smiled at the thought of that "Fine, Get my sister and have her meet us in the cells" She said to one of her guards "If he does something stupid you will pay for it" She said as she made her way towards the cells

Word about the prisoner would have already gotten to the Lannisters yet none of them dared to ask for the Imp back. That truly showed they gave no care for their name which they should if they expect to not have the rest of them locked up like this one.

Catelyn had slept early but she was quickly awaken and made her way to the imp's cell. She just like her sister hoped he'd confess yet he was a lannister, she felt as if he might be attempting try to something.

Once they arrive the Imp's door was open and a guard dragged him out and into the hall. Lysa smiled "See sister, I told you the Sky cell always makes them confess" She along with her sister not waited for the imp to speak.

[Great Franconia and Verana]

The Crownlands

The City of King's Landing, The Red Keep

---

Oberyn of House Nymeros-Martell, The Red Viper, Prince of Dorne

---

"Ah," Oberyn said gleefully, as he stood from his bed. He was unclothed, aside from a pair of light silk trousers, the candlelight reflecting off the sinews of his bare copper chest. Behind him, swathed in the exquisite covers of his bed, Ellaria and Daemon were entwined. The Prince could only imagine the surprise these grim Northern's would feel upon entering this small Dornish enclave in the middle of King's Landing. When he had received the request to meet with these two Northmen, Oberyn had been himself surprised. With his reputation as the "Red Viper," few actively sought the Prince out, and of those that did, many did no leave alive. However, these two were different. They did not want to fight, they wanted to learn.

Walking towards the Northerners, Oberyn dismissed his attendants, allowing Ellaria and Daemon to remain in bed.
"Evening," Oberyn said, sauntering over to a small tray of goblets and wine. "Would you care for something to drink? We brought our own wine, Dornish, not at all like the swill they serve here."

Handing two of the silver cups to his guests, the Prince walked back towards the rooms farthest wall. Along the breadth of red stone, the Dornishman's assortment of weapons gleamed in the candlelight. His long, ash spear was at the centre, snakeskin streamer's dangling from the base of the leaf shaped blade. To the right of the spear, a gilded single-handed sword hung, blade pointing gracefully upwards, its hilt covered in gold, and the pommel shaped to be a snakes head, eyes set with rubies. A shield, engraved with a shining sun, sat above, the copper blazing in the candlelight. Alongside the larger pieces of equipment, sat several small daggers, a re-curve bow, and Oberyn's ornate Princely armour.

Oberyn cast a look over his shoulder, eying the northmen.
"Do you know why I am dangerous?"
The Northmen were mute at the seemingly rhetorical question.
"It is not because of this," Oberyn said, gesturing to his collection of weaponry. "It is because of this." The Prince placed a solitary finger on his temple, indicating towards his brain. "Some men believe fighting is about the weapons, or the armour, or the physical stature and strength of the combatants. Those men fools, and they will lose, every time, to the men who have discovered the reality of combat. I am dangerous because my mind is dangerous."

The Prince threw a small black and orange cloak around him, and slowly made his way towards the Brudes.
"I received your letter and I will admit, I am intrigued, few Northmen are as open to new ideas as you appear to be, certainly not your Lord Stark."
The Prince took a gulp of wine, tossing the empty goblet onto the plush bench nearby.
"If you want to learn how to fight, find another teacher. If you want to learn how to be dangerous..."
Oberyn grinned, his pale white teeth shining like fangs in the dark, his eyes gleaming with ferocity.
"It will not be easy. I learned my skills from more than one man, and I learned them equally through experience and travel. I have been, from Dorne, to Casterly Rock, to King's Landing, and even beyond the Narrow Sea. Through Pentos, Volatis, and Braavos, all the way to Astapor, and Meereen, even Qarth. And all the while I watched, and fought, and listened. I read, and I trained, and I wrote, and by the end, I had become what I had set out to be. I had become dangerous."

"I make no promises as to your safety, I am not always the safest traveling companion, and, as you may see," the Prince gestured to his paramour and squire, still abed, eying the northerner's through the sheer silk drapes, "My personal tastes often offend the senses of the more reserved among the Seven Kingdoms. You will be my Sworn Sword's, and you will do as I say. And in return, you may learn, in time, how you too can become more than a warrior."

[The Novakian Empire]

---

Lord Caleb Novakai, Lord of Seafrost Castle, Chiltern Castle, The Misty Isle, and The Quiet Isle.

---

The Broken Anvil, Kings Landing.

Caleb sat at his bed, thinking. It was late, but he was unable to sleep. No, his mind had drifted off into deep thought some time ago. There would be no stopping it.

On yesterday morn, his men had given him a rather troubling letter, delivered by raven from Riverrun, intended for him..

Dear Lord Caleb. I have received troubling news, from the east, in the Vale of Arryn. Apparently, in her grief, Lady Catelyn, my dear sister, has kidnapped Lord Tyrion Lannister, and has brought him to the eyrie to be put on trial for the attempted murder of my nephew, Brandon Stark.
I fear that Lord Tywin will react rashly to such an act, and will launch a misguided attack into the Riverlands, to punish us for my sister's actions. This cannot be allowed.
As a precaution against a Westerlander invasion, I, Edmure Tully, Lord Regent of The Riverlands, have decided to call my banners. I trust you will do the same.
While I pray that Lord Tywin understands the Riverlands is not responsible for my sister's action, we must be ready.
Once your armies have been raised, send a raven to Riverrun and prepare for further instructions.

Signed, Edmure Tully, Lord Regent of the Riverlands, in the name of Hoster Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and lord of Riverrun.

Caleb sighed. He did not relish the thought of war against the Lannisters, and he knew Edmure likely felt the same, but not preparing would be foolish.
In any case, he had received his orders. On the morrow, he would ride to Seafrost Castle, and call his banners. The prospect of war worried him, but there was some part of him that was excited for it.

There were some who still called his elder brother Robert the rightful lord of Seafrost castle. If he served admirably under lord Edmure and proved his strength, no-one would dare challenge him.

Caleb missed his brother. Originally, he had intended to sail off to essos, to search for Robert, as he had heard that robert had been found, serving in the golden company, but it had recently became clear that that was simply not possible. Caleb was needed in westeros, to serve Lord Edmure.

Caleb yawned. Perhaps he was more tired than he originally thought.
He blew out the candle illuminating his room, and slipped the envelope into the drawer of his nightstand, and drifted off to sleep..

[Kulonia]

Damien Branwell, Lord of Understone Keep

Understone Keep

---

Damien frowned, but felt relieved. He'd have no heir, but at least Tybalt wouldn't die. He sighed. "Done. Guards, go get Tybalt and escort him to his horse. Get him ready for the Wall. Hopefully he becomes a steward or a builder. I thank you for your kindness, m'lord Kevan." Branwell's men brought the Heir of Understone to them. "Tybalt. I'm sorry, but you're going to the Wall." Tybalt's eyes widened. He had no motivation to speak, right now. He was just.. in shock..

"Father.. please.." Tybalt shook. Damien looked at Kevan and back at Tybalt. Damien took his dagger out of its scabbard and handed it to Tyb.

"I'm sorry, son. It's either the Wall or Tywin and his Beast. You'll be alive. Keep the dagger somewhere safe. To show you that I still love you." The crossbowmen-guards escorted Tybalt out the doors. "Lord Kevan, I thank you for coming. I ask you to try and guide Lord Tywin away from Understone, now that Tybalt is being punished. He turns five-and-ten next year. It'd be a shame for him to die so young, and to have one of my cousins in Ashemark inherit my keep. I also ask that the Branwold with the strongest Branwell blood be named my heir, unless I re-marry and have another child." Damien smiled at Kevan.

[Warg the Immortal]

---

Willam "the Honourable" Brude

---

King's Landing

As the two stood before the Dornish Prince, Willam adjusted his tunic over his lithe frame. He felt excited and nervous, unsure of how to behave in the company of such refined individuals. He tried his best to conceal a smile as the two of them listened to the Prince's words. He had heard that the Prince had a taste unlike that of most men, and was happy to discover it to be true. Willam's cousins were more accepting of his own preferences, but knew that such things were frowned upon elsewhere, to say the least. Trying to maintain his composure he sipped his wine slowly. The taste was unusual to him, in the mountains they generally drank hot mulled wine to stave off the cold air, and while he had tried Arbor reds a few times, this was much stronger and richer in flavour.

Glancing around the chambers he tried to take in as much as he could, not used to the brilliant colours and opulence. While he, Robert and Niall were often teased for their preference of more lavish clothing and equipment than was common of a northerner, it still paled in comparison to the rich silks and extravagant clothing of the Dornishmen before them. Finally, his gaze lingered on the Prince's armour and armaments. Beautiful items of exquisite quality. Willam could see from the arrangement that Oberyn preferred lighter armour, allowing for quicker and more fluid movements, the same as Willam. He also took note of the man's bow, a weapon that Willam also enjoyed. He was glad that his cousin had convinced him in joining his attempt to receive instruction from as deadly a man as the Red Viper.

---

Ser Robert Snow, the White Lion

---

King's Landing

Robert barely touched his wine, focusing instead on memorizing the Prince's every word. He had come this far, and was not about to lose his chance to learn from one of the deadliest men in Westeros. He knew the importance of learning, as well as training. His father, Jon, had drilled that into him since he'd first been old enough to understand such lessons.

Robert also knew what the Dornishman meant by dangerous. His own father was considered dangerous, though he was not much for fighting, he had a keen mind, and tried to have Robert's mind flourish in a similar way. Hopefully, to receive instruction from the Red Viper, he'd be able to surpass the others of his family, an prove himself to be more than just a bastard scion of little worth. As the Prince finished his speech Robert glanced at his cousin, the two nodding in unison before turning back to the Prince. "We are willing to do whatever is asked of us, Prince Oberyn. A chance to learn from the best is all the payment we require. Our swords are yours from this point on." With that the two men bowed, awaiting the Prince's reply.

[Kernan]

Understone Keep, The Westerlands

Kevan Lannister, Regent of the Westerlands

"I give you that honor. If you should have any....bastards, if you would forgive me, who you would like to have your keep then consider them legitimized. A Branwell will holda prosperous Understone, I assure you. I also will tell some Lions Guard to escort little Tybalt to the Wall. He is such a young boy, promising to, shame it had to end like this. Maybe he can become Lord Commander or friend to that Stark bastard. Unfortunately Tywin is already on his way so I will hold with my men around your keep so I may talk him down when he arrives". With that over Kevan left Understone, stopping by the walls to see a crossbow up close. He had seen them from afar sure, his archers had been increasingly adopting them so he wanted to see them. He was even allowed a few shots off at a dummy in the courtyard. With that done Kevan left to wait for his brother.

---

Ser Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands

Tyiwn cantered his horse into Kevan's camp and nodded silently as men saluted him. He was lead to Kevan's tent, he would have to since it looked a lot like the others. Kevan was not really one for the pomp and grandeur that being a Lannister usually brought with it. Tywin swung of his horse and handed it off to a squire as he walked in briskly to see Kevan reading a book, A Dance of Dragons. He saw Tywin and smiled, closed the book and rose to his feet to shake his hand.

"Hello Tywin, how was your travels?" Kevan asked

"Good enough. Kings Landing is still as stuffy as ever, even with that fat drunk running the show." Tywin responded

"Well, I spoke to the Branwells in your absence. The younger one, the one who started this has agreed to be sent to the Wall and in return I agreed to name another Branwell as his heir." Kevan said

"You what! I wanted you to keep them holed up and wait for Clegane to come and finish them!" Tywin said

"Tywin, Lannister honor is preserved and it seems we aren't giving them anything besides an heir of their own family." Kevan responded

"Ugh, what is done is done and I cannot go back on it now. I still would have wished to be present Kevan." Tywin said

"I apologize Tywin, is that you want to hear." Kevan asked with a smirk

Tywin simply shook his head as he walked over to a small, round table. He then found and poured himself a small glass of Dornish wine. "Did you hear about Tyrion?" he asked as he drank

"No, what happened to Tyrion?" Kevan asked

"Kidnapped, imprisoned in the Vale for killing Jon Arryn." Tywin said simply

Kevan took a deep breath before speaking "We need to save him." he said

"I know, but I am in no rush." Tywin responded as he took another drink

---

Tyrion Lannister, Heir to the Westerlands

Tyrion stretched as he stood in front of his captors and had the sudden urge to stab them in their smug, bitchy faces. However, that would not do, oh no; at least not yet. He cleared his throat and tried to speak in his most authoritative voice.

"I demand my ransom, I can pay with all the wealth of Casterly Rock. If I do not get it, then I demand a champion be named in my honor so I may have my promised trial by combat." he said

[Kulonia]

Damien Branwell, Lord of Understone Keep

Understone Keep

---

Damien walked on the battlements to see the Lannister camp. A siege would have been even worse than losing the heir. But, what's done is done. Tybalt will be freezing his manhood off at some ice wall. Kevan had a point. Maybe Tyb could befriend the Stark bastard. Or become the Lord Commander's steward. His men were watching the camp, still. Some were training in the yard. Ready for a battle. Not that there'd be a battle, anyway. Damien thought Lannister colors are so.. drab and boring, looking at the camp. His ancestors chose the Branwell colors well. But, one thing plagued his mind. Should he immediately marry or.. have a bastard? Maybe he'd find a Frey or marry a Marthart. He chuckled. Having a bastard and sending a letter to the King for legitimization would probably be his best bet. After all, the King had plenty of bastards. He made up his mind. He'd have a bastard. He looked at his stableboy and nodded for him to get his horse. He'd head out to the Branwold's town to go to the brothel and find a woman. After the Lannisters leave, of course. If Tywin is there, he'd have Damien's head.

[Yaana Noore]

---

HOUSE SEAWORTH
"HONESTY. LOYALTY. SERVICE."

---

Ser Davos Seaworth
The Onion Knight
The Tower of the Hand

Davos waited hesitantly as the guard went to inform Lord Stark of his arrival. There was no reason that the Onion Knight could think of that would have him turned away, so why did he feel so nervous? Eventually though, the man returned, bringing him to see the Hand of the King.

Davos gave a smile as he saw Ned Stark was alone. They need not waste time then, Davos could get straight to the point. "Thank you, m'lord Stark. I doubt you remember me, for we only met the once. I was present when you relieved us at the Siege of Storm's End from the Tyrell Army. I am, was, the smuggler who brought Lord Stannis the onions." He took a seat, listening as Lord Eddard spoke. He was already aware that Stannis had been to the brothels, which was a most pleasant surprise. Stannis did not think he would investigate it, for once I am happy that my Lord was wrong.

"Indeed Lord Stannis was investigating them brothels. I see you have been looking some into his and Jon Arryn's affairs prior to his sudden death. Indeed I do know why they were there, though it is rather a long story." He retrieved the letter, offering it to the Lord of Winterfell in his right hand. "It is less an answer in there, more of a guarantee from Lord Stannis that what I am saying to you is what he believes to be the truth. He has drilled me well on what he wishes to be said however, and regrets that he cannot do so in person, but to be in this city, it would be... rather dangerous for him now." Davos cleared his throat. "I can tell Stannis and Jon's findings, if you will allow me?"

"Lord Stannis started to grow suspicious about the, err, legitmacy of the issue of the Queen. The children are of golden hair and green eyes. I don't know how they do it for you nobles, but in Flea Bottom we learned that such traits was how a Lannister looked." He did a little gesture to his own hair and eyes. "Baratheons are of black hair and blue eyes, and tall. Like how Lords Stannis and Renly look, or Lady Shireen. King Robert too, and the two bastards of his that you know about, Mya Stone and Edric Storm." The former, Stannis explained, Eddard would be very familiar with, having seen her many a time as a child whilst he and Robert were in the Vale.

"So Lord Stannis told Jon Arryn about his suspicions. As you might think yourself, it does appear rather fortuitous that Cersei's children are bastards, leaving Stannis as the heir to the throne. He himself did not think Robert would believe him. Thus he confided in Lord Arryn instead, someone Robert trusted greatly, and would believe. Which is why he now sends me to tell you. Robert's closest, perhaps only true friend. There is not a person alive the King trusts more than you, Lord Stark.

Lord Jon and Stannis started to investigate together. They found a young lad by the name of Gendry working as an apprentice smith to Tobho Mott. He works as an armourer on the Street of Steel, if you're familiar. Gendry's mother was of blonde hair, though he himself was black-haired, blue-eyed, big, strong, like you would expect one of the King's sons to be. Then they went to one of the brothels that they knew Robert frequented, and found a girl with red hair, who claims that her babe of black hair and blue eyes is Robert's daughter. Barra, she is called. I can show you the brothel they visited, I imagine the bastard and her mother are still there.

By this stage both Stannis and Jon were convinced that Cersei's children were not Robert's. However, if they were to convince His Grace, they needed evidence. There was a book, Maester Malleon's The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children that Jon intended to look at, but that following night he was poisoned by the Lannisters. Pycelle, he works for them, he had Jon Arryn's maester sent away to work on Jon himself, and then he died. The Lannisters killed Jon Arryn to hide the truth, Lord Stark, they killed him to hide the secret that Queen Cersei's children have been fathered by her brother the Kingslayer."