Game of Thrones: You Win or You Die (IC)

[Great Franconia and Verana]

The Reach

Highgarden, Seven Kingdoms of Westeros

---

His Grace, Renly, of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Storms End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands

---

The warm summer wind blew across the Mander, as Renly Baratheon gazed across the wide plains of the Reach. From the battlements of Highgarden, Renly could see for miles around. The fertile plains of the Reach spread before him, and the endless gardens of the Tyrell’s family seat framed his vision. His forces were splayed before him, the seemingly endless camp spreading from the walls of Highgarden, along the Mander’s flat banks, and further out into the country side. The death of his brother had thrown a wrench into Renly’s plans. Both he, and Loras, had intended to bring Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of the South, to court. Had Margaery been able to woo that lecher Robert, the Realm may still have been at peace. Cersei Lannister would have been dumped by the wayside and her entire family purged from any place of influence in the capital.

If only, Renly thought, then we would have had no war, no death and destruction.

Of course, his brother Robert, as was his wont, did not patiently wait for the plan to unfold, and was rather unceremoniously skewered by a boar. The chaos that followed swallowed the capital, before anyone could react to the changing circumstances.

If only that poor fool of a Stark had taken my advice, he might be Protector of the Realm right now, and not decorating the gates of the Red Keep

After his flight with the Knight of the Flowers from the Capital, It had not taken long for Renly and his retinue to race down the Rose Road, sending ravens as they went. Already, the Stormlords were mustering their strength, and upon their arrival in Highgarden, Mace Tyrell had called his banners as well. Loras was always his favourite son, and at his urging, and with some charm on Renly’s part, Mace was easy enough to convince. And all it had taken, was a marriage. Margaery was beautiful, no doubt, yet she was not, as many knew, Renly’s type. The marriage, distasteful as it was, bound Highgarden to Renly, and to have the strength of the Reach at his back, Renly had felt confident enough to finally, and publicly, lay his true and rightful claim to the Iron Throne.

Originally, Renly had planned to press hard for the Capital, the Lion of Casterly Rock would not be slow to protect the little cub that sat on the Iron Throne. The execution of Eddard Stark had changed all that. With a horde of angry Northmen now streaming down from the Neck, Renly and his council had decided that they may as well let the Lion and Wolf bleed each other to death. Already this “King” Robb Stark had dealt Tywin a stinging blow, and taken the Kingslayer hostage. These Northmen would have to be brought to heel eventually, but only after they sucked Casterly Rock dry of its manpower and ravaged its countryside.

Who can stand before me now?

“Your Grace,” a voice said, calling across the vine entwined terrace. “The Council has been summoned, with the arrival of Lord Rowan.”

Renly smiled vacantly, and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. He wore a fine doublet of crushed black velvet, slashed with cloth-of-gold. His supple leather boots came to just under his knees, and about his shoulders hung a heavy cloth-of-gold cape, a prancing black stag sewn into the centre of the rich fabric.

“Tell my goodfather that I will join them shortly. We must ride, and soon.”

[Nuxipal]

Aurane Bloodfyre
Higharden, The Reach

Aurane had rode up the Roseroad with 2000 men. The minimum he was required to provide the Reach in times of war. His other men were stationed at Bloodspyre and protecting the town of Auror under his son Daemon's command. Now, he stood within the castle, his men encamped beneath its walls as the armies of the Reach gathered for war once again. While he wasn't permitted in the War Council himself, he knew that if Lord Hightower didn't arrive in person, he'd likely have to take command of the Hightower forces in the field as well.

Men were bustling about, he new of most of them, even had fought with some. He then was seen by some kind of servant and handed a letter. "What is this?" He asked as the servant withdrew. "A letter from Lord Leyton Hightower. You will be standing in on the Council on his behalf as he has much studying to do in the Hightower."

That's right, Aurane thought, Lord Leyton has been busy studying something about magic for the last decade or so. Can't disturb him unless the tower was burning to the ground. He read the letter, it had more than just standing in, it gave specific instructions to simply follow whichever plan House Tyrell put forward or to use his judgement when deciding between two separate House Tyrell plans. Mentioning a multitude of times that he should only agree with House Tyrell ideas, not put forth his own or follow ideas from some other House.

Shrugging he folded the papers up and put then into his vest. He walked into the Council chamber to await the start of debate. He stood by the seat reserved for House Hightower. Other lords had their own vassals in attendance, but none were absent, save the Lord of the Hightower. He knew that they were going to support Renly Baratheon, not his first choice, but it was preferable to the Lannister children that were currently occupying the throne and much more suited than Stannis, who had taken in a Red Witch from Essos.

[Phalnia]

The Water Gardens, Dorne

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

Doran Martell
Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear

The smell of oranges was strong and carried on the breeze as it weaved its way through the pools, trees, and courtyards of the Water Gardens. The Prince of Dorne sat in the shade of a raised terrace his view of the goings-on below, unobstructed. He could see the children splashing and playing in the numerous pools that made up the Water Gardens. The highborn sons and daughters mingled freely with the children of servants and commonfolk. The Water Gardens were open to all and Doran so loved the joy on the faces of children as they played and feasted on the blood oranges that dangled from every tree. From his seat Doran could see a woman he recognized. The beautiful Ellaria Sand chased after several small girls laughing as they went. Doran had not heard of her arrival and knew if she was near so was he.

"Areo." Doran called over his shoulder.

From the shadows covering the door a large bearded man stepped forward his axe clanging as he went. "My, Prince?"

"My brother seems to have returned from the passes. Please find him and bid him to come."

"Of course." The large foreigner bowed and left through the door he had previously guarded. After nearly half an hour the door behind Doran creaked and a pair of footsteps could be heard entering, one heavy and sure the other light and easily missed.

"Thank you Areo." Doran called his eyes never leaving frolicking below. "How was the ride, Oberyn? I see you stopped at Hellholt instead of returning promptly."

"Ever observant, brother." Oberyn walked past his brother and leaned against the railing, blocking Doran's view. "The ride was fine. I lost little time at Hellholt. Have no fear the Stone Way and the Prince's Pass are well guarded and have ample supplies for as many men as you wish to send."

"I trust you were cordial when you visited Yronwood."

"As cordial as always, dear brother." A devilish smile crossing his face.

"Do not try my patience, Oberyn. I still remember your "duel" with Edgar and the Bloodroyal surely does as well."

"I served my penance, as you recall, Doran."

"And men still whisper of the Red Viper. But, enough of this we are losing focus." Doran fidgeted in his chair. "We must prepare for the results of the death of Robert Baratheon. Stag fights stag. While the lion and wolf swipe and bite at one another."

"Your patience seems to be paying off."

"As I told you it would. Soon we will have what is ours."

"We should have had it fifteen years ago." Oberyn's knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing.

"Our patience will be rewarded. Tywin thinks himself and his lineage secure. We will show him the folly of such thoughts. The folly of the thought that the Red Keep can protect that which he loves." For a long time Doran and Oberyn sat silently.

[The Forsworn Knights]

King Robb 'The Young Wolf' Stark of the North and the Trident. King of Winter, The North, and The Riverlands. Lord of Winterfell.

The Castle of Riverrun, after the battle of The Whispering Wood.
Robb sat in his bedchambers in Riverrun, contemplating the battle. Overall it had been a success. Riverrun had been relieved from the Siege, the Lannister Army led by Jaime was crushed, and several high-profile prisoners had been taken. Including Jaime Lannister, Willem Lannister, Tytos Brax, Quenten Banefort, and Gawen Westerling. That was Two Lannisters including the Kingslayer, the Lord of Hornvale, the Lord of The Banefort, and the Lord of the Crag. Of course, the battle was not without significant losses. Roughly two hundred Riverlanders and Northerners died. Not to mention the Kingslayer killing the Heir to House Hornwood, and two of Rickard Karstark's sons- all of whom had been serving as Noble Members of Robb's personal guard. Robb had had the bodies of the three young Noblemen set aside to be sent to their families at the earliest convenience.
Now of course Robb had to turn his mind to the situation at hand regarding his own house. Sansa and Arya were both presumably in the Crownlands with that inbred tit, although news of Arya was static, contrasting greatly with the news of Sansa's House-Arrest. The thought of Joffrey touching Sansa made Robb's blood boil- the idea that such a craven wretch could be so arrogant, and so cruel made Jon's usually calm and kind demeanor vanish entirely. Jon's thoughts then turned to the two young Lannisters in the Riverrun Dungeons waiting to be transported to Winterfell. Robb sighed as he sipped his wine. His thoughts then turned to his dutiful Squire and close friend Olyvar Frey. The older boy had signed on as Robb's squire as a part of the pact Catelyn made with Walder Frey to bind the Frey's to House Stark. Olyvar was a quick lad and had spilled his fair share of Lannister blood during the battle. And though the boy was two years Robb's senior the young man and showed his King nothing but loyalty, dutifully completing the tasks that were expected of him as the King's Squire. Robb smiled warmly at the thought that he had so many capable warriors in his Guard.

[Aelex]

The Deep Harbor, Volantis, Essos

Artheon Valaris
"Old Blood" of Volantis, Founding Member and Triarch of the "Sons of Valyria"

The sun hadn't rose completely on the harbor but the calmness of the young morning was already defiled by countless yells of foremen instructing their workers on how to load the crates into the boats that had been moored. Clashing with this atmosphere was Artheon, wearing a black embroidered gambison that looked way too noble for the place. He was a tall man, almost 6.2 feets, but as he was standing on his horse, as fitting for any Volantese noblemen since the dirty ground of the city was only for foreigners and slaves, he looked even taller. He observed quietly this spectacle as the sea breeze skimmed his long hair slowly. Like most of the Valyrian half-blood, his hair didn't had a perfect silver-gold tone but rather a dark brownish color at its root that lightened as it grew to reach a pale grey when it reached his shoulder.

The workers were now loading the animals, horses and cattles, in the hold when a big yawn ringed behind him. He gave a stern looking stare to the young boy who was clutched on his back and was about to start lecturing him when he heard someone else shout loudly his name.

"Oy Artheon, always early it seems. I thought we were supposed to depart only in the evening."

Artheon rose his head to look at the man who had been calling him out from the top of his dwarf elephant; "Well, I always prefer to supervise this kind of things, my brother. We're going to depart for a long expedition and so starting it badly would be the worst thing possible."

The man erupted on a laugh and continued "You know, we've got men to do that in our place, my friend. No need to waste your time at such pesky things when you could be enjoying your last hours in this great city of ours. Anyway, who's that lad on your back? You ain't even waiting for the campaign to start to take prisonners, now?"

This time, it was Artheon's time to laugh as the kid blushed to a crimson red; "Ho, him? He's just my nephew, Aegon. He's the third-son of my sister Saenna and his dad feared he wouldn't be able to find him some good place so I gave them a favor by promising them I would took him as some kind of apprentice and show him the ropes of the job."

"Well, sellsword ain't the worst path one can takes in his life I suppose, thankfully for us, at least." he said to Artheon rather neutraly, he then smiled to the kid and continued "Well, if you're going to come with us; I guess I better present myself too. I'm Vogaro Volnyros, your uncle's "blood-brother" and co-Triarch as well as the last other Founding Member of the Company alive." As Aegon remained mute and completely red, he addressed to Artheon once more. "Did you made him sign the contract yet? I mean, we can tolerate some favoritism but even nepotism has it's limits."

Artheon who had drifted back to contemplate the boats once more gave him a quick glance and said "Well not yet, we'll do it once we are on the boat. And I don't intend to catapult him to some position of power if it's what you're worried about. I'm going to keep him by my side so I can ensure he stay safe; he might not be the most talkative but he's a good kid and I wouldn't want to bring him back dead to his mother."

Vogaro groaned back, content with his response, and started to stare as Artheon did. After half a minute of silence, he talked but with a gravity and seriousness that clashed with the joviality he had harbored before then : "I know how you much you're carful, Art, but haven't you overdone it a little? I mean, between the reserves of men you hired and all the supplies we're bringing, it almost looks like we're about to start an invasion rather than merely going to sell our swords a little farther than what we used to."

Artheon broke from the contemplation and gave him a wide, mischievous grin : "An invasion you said? Well, that's exactly what we're planning for, my friend."

[Ontorisa]

Castle of Riverrun
The Riverlands
Braedon Snow

"Should've 'eard that fucking Lanny pleading an' shit mates." Braedon listened on some of his soldiers talking about the Battle of Whispering Woods. "'Oh please sa', O'i got a father with some deep pockets who'll pay kindly for me soul'."

The men laughed as Braedon surveyed the small detachment of Karstark men he had been given control of. Then his gaze went further to the rest of the Karstark section of the camp, where he saw his father coming out of his tent. Grieving. Braedon had never seen his father like this, but he could understand completely. Both Eddard and Torrhen had been close with Braedon, and Braedon may be a bastard, but they were his brothers through the Karstark blood that flowed through his veins.

"Oi Braedon, didn't ya get one of those Lannies in tha' gut?" One of the soldiers called over Braedon, who looked over at a middle-aged man, who had his chainmail coif pulled down behind him.

"Aye, what's it to ya?" Braedon asked the man, who grinned at him.

"What 'e say?" The man asked, his heavy smallfolk accent seemingly taking over what he said.

"Nothing, he just croaked." Braedon turned away, walking towards his father.

Rickard Karstark stood at the edge of his tent. His facial expression resembling that of a stone as he looked across the camp. He turned at the sound of Braedon's feet, looking over and smiled. At least one of his sons had survived, even though Braedon knew he would have to do so much more in order to earn the Karstark name.

"Father." Braedon greeted his father.

"Braedon." Rickard returned the greeting before looking across the camp. "You've heard?"

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Braedon quickly said, before following his father's gaze. "They were good men."

"Aye. I hope to win this war for them at least." Rickard huffed before turning away back into his tent, leaving Braedon alone.

[Rather Polite Gentlemen]

Snakewood, The Vale

On the side of a palisade wall, facing out into the dense forest of the Snakewood, a bastard rested, waiting readily for his friend. In his right hand, a longspear was planted gently into the ground, to imitate a walking stick. The bastard gripped it, and gently ran a finger up the top, and then to the bottom, repeating the motion an uncountable number of times. Though with the occasional word of conversation to the Strongstone Knight who waited with him, and a less than occasional smile to his brother squire, Ser Triston Stone still rested. He considered his path ahead. He and Uthor, along with Garret and Griswald Strongstone, would soon depart from this friendly castle in the Snakewood, ready for the long journey to lands likely to be ravaged by the disadvantages of war. No matter, Triston thought, as they would be making their fortune taking advantage of these lands, whether to loot it or defend it, however their new lord would desire. Triston smiled at the prospect of war, daydreaming of the rewards he intended to reap from his victories. Perhaps a castle of his own in the Stormlands? Maybe a bigger keep, vacated by a house made extinct by his spear. He would receive a note of legitimization from his new king, allowing him to even claim Coldwater Burn. 'The Knight of Waters', they would call him, to honor not only his name, but also his way of fighting, and perhaps even to reference the style of the royal bastards. To this, he beamed rather wildly.

"Are you sleeping again, Triston?"

His eyes batted open and moved to the left side of his head, towards the sound of the voice. Ser Uthor Lynderly stood beside him, perhaps a bit perturbed by Triston's silly grin.

"No, Uthor. Just thinking. Considering our plans, mostly."

"Considering your loot, you mean?"

Uthor knew Triston, more than anyone else really did. Their goals and intentions were similar, but their personalities differed, and Uthor understood this. He was simple, while Triston was a little more complex- not to him, though.

"Yes, Uthor. Thinking about the gold we'll receive. Ten-score more gold than in Essos. That's what I believe, at least. The Baratheons are swimming in gold, or so I've heard. Even the lines outside of King's Landing. For now, at least."

"I think we will receive much, yes. Perhaps more wealth than gold though, if you understand my meaning." Uthor rested his right arm on the palisade, allowing his bannered shield to rest on the ground as the two conversed.

"Titles and honours. We are to join an army. Mercenaries receive the bulk of any gold reserves that a Lord controls. That's what the old commander told me, back in Essos. We'll get a salary. Our nobility will serve us better than our skills, I bet."

"Ha! I suppose that's why you're the commander here. I couldn't begin to care for the intricacies of war. I'll be fighting under you in a couple months. That's what I bet."

Triston turned his head to the other side of the wooden wall, where Ser Garett stood.

"Or maybe you, Garett. You'll be leading the charge, while I follow behind. Uthor will just watch from horseback, while the real men win the war for him."

"Please."

Uthor scoffed at the prospect of nothing but commanding. If he were to lead his men, he would lead them from the front, not the back. There is no better way to command them, he thought, and any commander on the enemy's side would be claimed by him, for he knew that he would be one of the only people capable of such a difficult task. He let Triston have his laugh, and changed the subject.

"I had to say goodbye to mother. She's worried sick at her two boys leaving for war. Me and you, of course."

"A mother by blood. You've always been lucky in that regard. I'm told that a pretty whore birthed me."

"Pretty?"

Triston choked at that response, thrown off of his momentum. He couldn't well call Uthor's mother a whore. That woman acted as a surrogate for most of Triston's teenage and adult life. Indeed, the same could be said for Uthor's father. He turned back to his old friend.

"You're not so pretty yourself."

"Thank you, brother. I try my best."

Both of them chuckled. They were used to the banter, if cutting at times.

"I suppose we should be off now. The supplies have been loaded onto the horses, and we have a long road to the Stormlands. We make for Storm's End, or wherever Renly Baratheon's army may be. With luck, we'll pass out of the Vale safely, into the Riverlands, then the Crownlands, and finally to our destination in weeks." Uthor noted, and counted the various locations and potential stops on the way.

"Indeed. I'll miss the Snakewood, but I'm more interested in trees of gold."

Triston stood upright, gripping the shaft of his longspear firmly with his right hand, and ruffling his hair a little with the left. As he began walking to his horse, he stopped all of a sudden, and turned towards Ser Garett Strongstone.

"Are you and your brother ready, Garett? We'll be riding out of the Snakewood now."

[The Valyria Empire]

The Rhoynar

The Shy Maid, Passing by Volon Therys

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His Grace, Aegon, of House Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Prince of Dragonstone

---

Young Griff stood out on the deck of the Shy Maid. The hot summer air blowing in his face, a face of determination. It was quite the challenge sailing down the Rhoynar but they had done it, all for Young Griff. His blue hair glowing in the sun, once they reached Volantis he could finally wash out the blue dye. With the dye gone he'll still be able to blend in with the "Valyrians" of Volantis.

I am a true Valyrian, I am the blood of the dragon. Young Griff thought to himself.

Jon Connington or "Old Griff" as people called him walked up next to Young Griff. Jon had asked Illyrio, a good friend to Young Griff and Jon to send a raven to The Golden Company in Myr to meet them in Volantis. It was time for the dragon to take back it's home.

Young Griff had heard many tales of his real father, Rhaegar Targaryen. Jon always told him how he would of been the greatest king Westeros had seen and was taken too soon from this earth. He also heard tales of the Lannister's "Dogs" killing his mother and sister. Young Griff had only managed to get away due to a decoy Varys had planted, not even Elia his own mother knew. Only Rhaegar, Jon, Varys, and Illyrio knew the truth.

"So, Young Griff." Jon would start to say. "We are half a day away to Volantis. From there we can hire sellswords, boats, combined with the Golden Company will be the greatest invasion force Westeros has seen since Aegon "The Conqueror". I've even heard that they've kept the Targaryen ancestral sword, Blackfyre and it shall be given to you." Jon explains to Young Griff.

"Excellent, with the Golden Company on our side the Usurper's son will never be able to stop us." Young Griff responses. "Any word of my aunt?"

"I have heard word from Varys that she lives, and that she has hatched three dragons. Once we reach Volantis will we try to contact her. With our combined Targaryen forces we will be unstoppable. We will also try and contact House Martell, they will want vengeance for the death of your sister and mother. They will surely rally behind you, Aegon." Jon concludes as he puts his hand on Aegon's shoulder.

They both look out towards the rising sun in the east. The Targaryens will come to Westeros once more, and will learn their house words, Fire and Blood. Aegon thinks to himself, finally able to cast aside the Young Griff alias.

[Great Franconia and Verana]

The Reach

Highgarden, Seven Kingdoms of Westeros

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His Grace, Renly, of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Storms End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands

---

The high seat of House Tyrell was hardly the Iron Throne. Made of dark oak, its elaborate carving, and the hundreds of delicate wooden roses that adorned its sides were a far cry from the twisted barbs and cold steel of Renly's real throne in Kings Landing. The King looked radiant, though his cloak flooded out of the chair in a cascade of glimmering gold. Before him, below the raised dais upon which he sat, long oaken trestle tables spread forth, all the rather impressive length of Highgarden's Great Hall. Along the central table, the Lords, great and small, that had sworn themselves to Renly were sat. On his right, Mace Tyrel puffed, his broad, flabby chest adorned with a small pin, denoting his status as Hand of the King. Further along, Lords Rowan, Tarly, and both Fossoways sat, among others. Across from the countless vassals of Highgarden, the greatest Storm Lords sat. Lord Caron, and Lord Swann sad chatting, while ancient Lord Estermont was whispering into the ear of Lord Tarth, the Evenstar. The assembled host was one of the most noble to ever be assembled, but they paled in comparison to the few who flanked Renly. Queen Margaery sat in a smaller throne to thr Kings left, he innocent face framed with the famous brown hair of House Tyrell. Upon her head sat a delicate crown of gold, wrought in the shape of two small antlers. Her gown was green samite, with golden trim along the edges, and a proud Tyrell roses embroidered into the goens chest. Even Renly had admitted that she was beautiful, But half as much, he thought, as her brother, the Knight of the Flowers, who stood in bright silver mail and plate over his sister's shoulder.

"My Lords," Renly began, his strong voice a clarion in the wide hall. "Never before have I seen such Nobility nor such gallantry assembled so. We sit here tonight, yet soon enough, we shall meet in the Capital. Tywin Lannister is weakened, and Kings Landing is ours for the taking. Prepare your men, we march on the morrow."

As the men before him stood to leave, Renly beckoned some closer.
"Lord Tyrell, Lord Rowan, Lord Tarly, Lord Caron, Lord Bloodfyre, please attend me in my solar."

The King stood, his cloak billowing about him, and planted a light kiss on his Queen's cheeks.
"Take abed my dear, I fear I will be up into the early hours of the morning."

Margaery nodded with a smile, and withdrew.
The Kings footfalls were constant and elegant as he lead the chosen lords into what was really Mace Tyrell's private solar. Having commandeered so much from his goodfather, Renly had rewarded him with a place on the Council, as Hand of the King. The men sat, with Renly once more assuming Lord Tyrell's high chair. With a sigh, Renly removed his crown, and set in on the side table, before unraveling a large map of Westeros before him.

Placing a finger on the Map, the King traced the Rose Road all the way to the capital.
"Kings Landing is the Key. We capture it, all the other houses must fall into line. Cersei, and her whelps will be our prisoners, and Lord Tywin wouldnt dare continue the fight against us. Robb Star cannot defend both the North and the lands of his Mother, and without Stark assistance, The Riverlords will crumble."
Renly's deep blue eyes flicked towards Dragonstone for hardly a second.
"Lord Stannis is of no consequence. If he were smart he would flee to the Free Cities, where he may be of some use."

The assembled Lords mumbled their agreement.
"The plan should, therefore, be simple. Lord Tarly will march the forces of the Reach up the Rose Road, and seige Kings Landing. Lord Caron and Lord Tarth will return to the Stormlands and rally my own bannermen to march up the Kings Road. Together, we outnumber the Stark's and the Lannisters."

Renly once more took his eyes from the map, and looked at his goodfather, Mace Tyrell.
"Dorne." He began. Many of the Reach Lords present suddenly became very uncomfortable. "Dorne has no deep connections to any of the claimants to the Throne. Should we join one of our houses with the Martell's... And extra 50,000 spears is a good dowry."

The implications were to be left unsaid, and the idea floated about the Room. Renly could only hope Mace Tyrell understood his request.

Slaver's Bay

Meereen, Essos

---

Her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and Mother of Dragons

---

Hot wind blew across the city, as Daenerys Targaryen and the remnants of her tiny Khalasar rode through the streets. Meereen was large, larger than many of the Free Cities themselves, and Dany could not help but look in awe tat the multi coloured bricks that made up the man pyramids that dotted the city. After the death of her Sun-and-Stars, Daenerys and her Khalasar had ridden west, hoping to reach the sea unmolested. The hope was in vain, as along the Skahazadhan they had been set upon by Khal Pono. So many died, Daenerys was only spirited away with her Dragons by the bravery of her Knight, Jorah the Andal, and her Bloordriders. Now, less than 20 remained, the aforementioned not included. She In the aftermath of the Battle, Dany vowed to one day return to the Dothraki Sea, and end Pono, once and for all.

Yet now, as they left the huge, harpy arched entry way of the Great Pyramid, Dany could only feel sadness. She was once Khaleesi to Drogo, the Greatest Dothraki Warlord ever seen. Now, she was her brother, a beggar Queen.

No,she thought, glancing back at Ser Jorah, dutifully guarding the crates that hid her precious children. I am a Dragon, the Dragon, and will claim what is mine, with Fire and Blood.

Adjusting her heavy leather vest, she eyed the countess slaves that filled Meereen's streets.
The meeting in the Great Pyramid had been less successful than Dany had hoped. The Great Families of Meereen where among the wealthiest in the World, though their success was built on the back of slavery and the blood of those who died for them. As disgusting as it was, Dany knew she needed their help, to get home, to claim the Iron Throne. This point was lost, however, on the Great Families. Of the fifteen of them,House Pahl, and House Zhak had outright called for her head, and the heads of her "Dothraki savages." Few had differing opnions, save for one. Hizdahr, of of House Loraq had only spoken in her defence softly, yet had entrusted Irri with a message for the young Queen. He had offered her wealth, power, and ships, for a price; her hand in marriage, and the use of her Dragons to crown himself as Meereen's King. Dany had thrown the letter to her Dragons to burn. She would not sell herself once again, to a perfumed aristocrat who made his wealth buying and selling other men.

Her refusal had angered this Hizdahr, but the other Great Families calmed him, and the other hostile Houses. Dany would find that no harm would come to her, in the City of Meereen, but, the Great Families decreed she may only stay until dawn the next day.

Such thoughts weighed heavily on her mind as her small processional made its way to the wide harbour of Meereen. Ships of all kinds could be seen here, from heavy whalers out of Ibben, to the swift Swan Ships of the summer isles, and the elegant slaving galley's of Meereen. Dany looked for them all surveying. She passed the heavy trading cogs that had more livestock than people, and the red hulled, black sailed, ship whose mouth less figurehead gave her gooseprickels. The ships grew larger and larger as they drew nearer to the City walls. One vessel, a massive swan shaped monstrosity, no doubt from the Summer Isles, caught her eye. It looked swift enough, its large square sails held fast to the rigging. Its hold must have had enough room to hold Dany's meager Khalasar.

"Ser Jorah," Dany called. The Westerosi attended her swiftly.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice gruff with exhaustion.

"That ship," Dany said, pointing towards the vessel, "Thats the one."

Jorah nodded, and plodded forward. Before long, he was on the ships deck, his arms gripping the rails tightly. The dark skinned captain did not look pleased, his hands constantly flying around his body.

This is not going well.

After what seemed to be hours, Jorah climbed down the ships side, and returned.
"They are a wary people, Khaleesi," he said, eying the Captain from afar. "The vessels is called the Cinnamon Wind, and its master, Quhuru Mo, has agreed to allow us passage with him and his crew to Pentos."

Dany smiled, a rare occurrence since the death of her Sun-and-Stars.
"I will thank him, and shower him with wealth when I am Queen."

"This is not a gift, Khaleesi. He demands that all your able bodied men work on the ship, as his sailors, until they reach Pentos."
Dany frowned slightly. Her Dothraki despised the sea, yet she saw no way around the issue.

"Tell Captain Mo, we accept the deal..."

By twilight, The Cinnamon Wind was plying its way swiftly from Meereen, its great sails billowing in the sky. Jorah was ordering her Dothraki about, ensuring that none of them slacked, though both Aggo and Irri had thrown the contents of their bowels overboard, and were now recovering below deck.
Daenerys did not mind, and she looked back for just a second, watching as the Great Pyramid of Meereen disappeared over the horizon.

When I am Queen, I will returnshe vowed, gripping the hard oak rail. I will bring the greatest fleet this world has seen, and I will raze these slaver Cities to the ground if they dare defy me. When I am Queen, no one will know the feeling it is to be bought or sold. When I am Queen.

Turning back from the stern of the ship, Dany looked out across the sea, ready to return to her homeland. Above her, Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion flew, chasing one another through the rigging and up into the sky, their shrieks piercing the peaceful night sky.

I am Daenerys Stormborn, I am the Mother of Dragons, and the world should tremble.

[Albertae]

Snakewood, The Vale

(Image)

On the side of a palisade wall, facing out into the dense forest of the Snakewood, a bastard rested, waiting readily for his friend. In his right hand, a longspear was planted gently into the ground, to imitate a walking stick. The bastard gripped it, and gently ran a finger up the top, and then to the bottom, repeating the motion an uncountable number of times. Though with the occasional word of conversation to the Strongstone Knight who waited with him, and a less than occasional smile to his brother squire, Ser Triston Stone still rested. He considered his path ahead. He and Uthor, along with Garret and Griswald Strongstone, would soon depart from this friendly castle in the Snakewood, ready for the long journey to lands likely to be ravaged by the disadvantages of war. No matter, Triston thought, as they would be making their fortune taking advantage of these lands, whether to loot it or defend it, however their new lord would desire. Triston smiled at the prospect of war, daydreaming of the rewards he intended to reap from his victories. Perhaps a castle of his own in the Stormlands? Maybe a bigger keep, vacated by a house made extinct by his spear. He would receive a note of legitimization from his new king, allowing him to even claim Coldwater Burn. 'The Knight of Waters', they would call him, to honor not only his name, but also his way of fighting, and perhaps even to reference the style of the royal bastards. To this, he beamed rather wildly.

"Are you sleeping again, Triston?"

His eyes batted open and moved to the left side of his head, towards the sound of the voice. Ser Uthor Lynderly stood beside him, perhaps a bit perturbed by Triston's silly grin.

"No, Uthor. Just thinking. Considering our plans, mostly."

"Considering your loot, you mean?"

Uthor knew Triston, more than anyone else really did. Their goals and intentions were similar, but their personalities differed, and Uthor understood this. He was simple, while Triston was a little more complex- not to him, though.

"Yes, Uthor. Thinking about the gold we'll receive. Ten-score more gold than in Essos. That's what I believe, at least. The Baratheons are swimming in gold, or so I've heard. Even the lines outside of King's Landing. For now, at least."

"I think we will receive much, yes. Perhaps more wealth than gold though, if you understand my meaning." Uthor rested his right arm on the palisade, allowing his bannered shield to rest on the ground as the two conversed.

"Titles and honours. We are to join an army. Mercenaries receive the bulk of any gold reserves that a Lord controls. That's what the old commander told me, back in Essos. We'll get a salary. Our nobility will serve us better than our skills, I bet."

"Ha! I suppose that's why you're the commander here. I couldn't begin to care for the intricacies of war. I'll be fighting under you in a couple months. That's what I bet."

Triston turned his head to the other side of the wooden wall, where Ser Garett stood.

"Or maybe you, Garett. You'll be leading the charge, while I follow behind. Uthor will just watch from horseback, while the real men win the war for him."

"Please."

Uthor scoffed at the prospect of nothing but commanding. If he were to lead his men, he would lead them from the front, not the back. There is no better way to command them, he thought, and any commander on the enemy's side would be claimed by him, for he knew that he would be one of the only people capable of such a difficult task. He let Triston have his laugh, and changed the subject.

"I had to say goodbye to mother. She's worried sick at her two boys leaving for war. Me and you, of course."

"A mother by blood. You've always been lucky in that regard. I'm told that a pretty whore birthed me."

"Pretty?"

Triston choked at that response, thrown off of his momentum. He couldn't well call Uthor's mother a whore. That woman acted as a surrogate for most of Triston's teenage and adult life. Indeed, the same could be said for Uthor's father. He turned back to his old friend.

"You're not so pretty yourself."

"Thank you, brother. I try my best."

Both of them chuckled. They were used to the banter, if cutting at times.

"I suppose we should be off now. The supplies have been loaded onto the horses, and we have a long road to the Stormlands. We make for Storm's End, or wherever Renly Baratheon's army may be. With luck, we'll pass out of the Vale safely, into the Riverlands, then the Crownlands, and finally to our destination in weeks." Uthor noted, and counted the various locations and potential stops on the way.

"Indeed. I'll miss the Snakewood, but I'm more interested in trees of gold."

Triston stood upright, gripping the shaft of his longspear firmly with his right hand, and ruffling his hair a little with the left. As he began walking to his horse, he stopped all of a sudden, and turned towards Ser Garett Strongstone.

"Are you and your brother ready, Garett? We'll be riding out of the Snakewood now."

Snakewood, Vale

Garett laughed. He was the oldest of the group of friends and certainly had the most experience. He'd been friends with Ser Uthor and Ser Triston since they joined the Second Sons as mercenary knights. The group were good friends and Garett said this bit with the tiniest bit of hazing meant. Garett finally replied,"Uthor is a egotistical commander. He will always put himself at the top of an army whether it be on a horse or a pike." He laughed knowing the other two would laugh with him.

Griswald had stayed quiet most of the time as it was custom for the squire to only talk when spoke to or need to speak. When they asked if they were ready Garett replied with a mighty laugh,"I'm always ready for war." Garett got atop his war horse, a powerful animal meant to be a menacing charger in battle while able to easily traverse the harsh terrain of the Vale mountains.

[Ancian]

Lord Renford Rykker
The Dun Fort

Lord Renford was walking, and thinking, as he was apt to do. The sea breeze of Blackwater Bay gently whispered at his face and newly, or so he kept telling himself, graying hair. As he walked, he looked out at the Bay, and at the great town of Duskendale sprawling from the walls of the Dunfort. Lord Rykker was left with a decision, and no amount of pacing and staring at the Bay would make it an inch easier to decide. Lord Renford had always been a loyal man, and both a bold and humorous one. Yet it seems the first trait always came back as the defining one. He was, of course, quite aware that House Rykker was of importance due to House Darklyn ' s subsequent lack of loyalty. He gently shook his head. He was not the Darklyns, Duskendale was his. The decision that was to be made was a precarious one, Lord Rykker was a loyal man, and, he prayed daily not a foolishly loyal one. For he had 3 roads in which he could take. The first to lead his forces to the King's road or the rose road, and harass his kings enemies. But, that was not his only option, for he could very well hide behind the Dunfort and attempt to weather the Storm. Something he was feeling would be a wise choice. For his last option would be too ride with 3000 men and help garrison Kingslanding. Something he was loathe to do.

So Lord Renford stood there, with seagulls, and the hustle and bustle of life, and remembered two occasions, one not so different from this moment. The first was a wry time, a faint smile touched his lips and crinkled his eyes. The great Lord Tywin Lannister was at a feast, and being a young fool, who had just been made Lord of a great estate, he had sought to make a jest with the Hand. The jest, he recalled, had to do with Tywins ability to produce gold, and where the Gold, erm, came from. He cringed , as he watched the ships entering and leaving the harbor. Lord Tywin had simply stared until the young Lord Renford Rykker simply turned away. Ah that stare had been a menacing one. His brain, of course, loathe as he was to recollect, moved to another meeting with Tywin Lannister. During Roberts rebellion, he had sent his men to garrison Kingslanding, Tywins men sacked the city and sent poor Ser Jaremy Rykker up north to the watch. The memory still angered him, his hands gripping the walls he was standing in front of. He sighed, the past was the past, and he had his decision. The men of the Dunfort and Duskendale would stay here unless the King marched. That was the decision made as he stood in the gentle breeze, surveying his domains. Whether it was the right decision or not, it was the decision he had made nonetheless.

[The Forsworn Knights]

---

King Robb 'The Young Wolf' Stark of the North and the Trident. King of Winter, The North, and The Riverlands. Lord of Winterfell.

---

Outside the Castle of Riverrun, Robb Stark is seen walking out of the Keep with his Squire and two members of his Personal Guard- a unit made up entirely of the next generation of Northern Nobility
Robb looked straight ahead as he marched through the tall grass with his bodyguards, the plates covering his arms and neck gleaming in the light of the various torches and campfires that lit the camp. Ahead of him sat area set aside for the tents of House Karstark and their retainers. Robb passed several tents as he marched steadily, stopping about twelve meters away from the Karstark tents, turning to face his bodyguards.
"Olyvar, fetch Lord Bolton, and the other Lords present and take them to the Great Hall- the ones who arent drunk or passed out I mean." Robb said to his squire, sending the young Frey off to fetch some of the Northern and Riverlander Lords. Robb then turned to his two highborn guards, dismissing them.
Torrhen and Eddard Karstark had been Robb's close friends, and they had laid down their lives for the man they believed in- they had died saving Robb from the Kingslayer's blade. The least he could do was pay his respects to Lord Rickard and express his sorrow for the loss of the two Karstark boys. Robb removed his helmet, placing it under his left arm as he began to once more approach Lord Rickard's tent at a steady pace.

[Eraus]

]

Adam Blacken
less than a mile west of Bloodspyre

---

Adam Blacken had spent months searching for the murderer of a House Blacken Guard and His Mentor. This mission had come with sadness but also a new title Marshall of House Blacken this was an honor but also a burden as he had to find the murderer who went by the name Erik Longset. After the Failure at Horn Hill this was possibly the last chance before the murderer could leave Westeros or get on a ship and head to another part of the continent. Adam was given command of 12 men to find the murderer and since 12 men could only venture so far they would select a starting point and venture 3 days in each direction in two's looking for Erik. Now that Adam and his partner Eddard Snow headed west of the starting position and this was their 2nd day looking in this direction.

"Where the Fuck are we" Adam said to Link. "Tell me who's land we are in" he said knowing that link was looking at the map trying to figure out where he was.

"We are in Bloodfyre Territory..... That sound too Targaryan for comfort." Link said referring to the Blackfyre's.

"Let's hope they ain't Pale with the white hair" Adam Said jokingly "What's the nearest town they own and which way is it?" He said to link

"Bloodspyre, Why does that sound scary... or is that just me" Link said with a smile "It's Just west of here. We are heading right for it."

-----Few Hours later in Bloodspye-------
"THATS HIM" Link screamed as he and Adam chased after Erik Longset who took off after hearing Link. The men ran towards a dead end. Both Link and Adam pulled their swords

"Erik Longset, You will be heading back to the north to face execution for the Murdd..." Adam said as he looked back and saw Bloodfyre guards "Hello, Gents" He said as he sheathed his sword and walked towards the guards. At that moment Erik tried to run past Adam towards the Guards which caused Adam to punch him leading to the guards arresting the three of them.

"I request a Meeting with Lord Blackf... Bloodfyre, Sorry got the names confused. I am a Marshall and have looked for this man for Months. He murdered a member of my Houses Guard... Why am I telling you this? Can I just go see Lord Bloodfyre? I'm sure me and him can talk man to man and get this dealt with" Adam said while being taken to the Castle

---

Eddard Blacken
Blacken Tents, Riverrun Castle

Eddard had now Lord Ned Stark his whole life and now that he was dead. Eddard knew that one way or another he would get vengence for Lord Stark... The Last Warden of the North.

Adam had better get back soon, How do I know that he isn't even dead The thought scared Eddard and made him regret ever sending his second child on this impossible mission and now it was even more stupid as the realm was in war. A Frey boy Squire to King Robb came and told him to get to the Great Hall.

Eddard put on his Formal wear and headed to the Hall awaiting his King, King Robb Stark of the North and the Trident. The North and the Trident Together plus the Rest of the realm in-fighting should make this an Easy battle as long as we use our advantages.

[Rather Polite Gentlemen]

Snakewood, The Vale

Triston chuckled heartily at Garett's cutting jibes, but Uthor grimaced, in a fashion as to convey sarcasm.

"In our group, I think you'll find that Triston is the one more driven by his ego."

"I was the child of a whore and a neglectful father. As you see, this gives me full rights to a voluminous ego, as well as a right to view each one of you as the true bastards, who are stepping stones to my rightful throne. The Iron Throne!"

Triston jested with Garett and Uthor in kind, who both laughed alongside him. When all was said and done, the two friends joined Garett on their horses, double checking their packs to ensure that nothing would be left aside. The group of Knights planned to ride straight to Storm's End, via the Kingsroad. They would avoid King's Landing, intending to disguise their intentions until they were joined to more friendly lands.

Uthor and Triston, alongside Garett and Griswald, rode out of the Snakewood, nodding a long goodbye to the familiar homestead.

[Lendenburgh]

Theon Greyjoy, Prince of Pyke, and Heir to the Iron Isles

In all truth, the death of Robert Baratheon did not bring Theon any sadness. The political games played by the lords of the south have always seemed stupid to him. But, when Robb, someone he'd grown up with, and if not by blood, by circumstance, somewhat of a brother to him, had brought news of Ned Stark's death, that had hit much closer to home. And as always in the political games of Westeros, Robb was forced to react quickly. Proclaiming himself King of the North and moving the army south into the Riverlands to relieve the Lannister siege of Riverrun.

In the mean while, Theon had tried to take a break from his 'regular' activities, such as training in the yards of Winterfell and frequenting brothels, to think over a strategy. Despite his relative political ineptitude, Theon still wanted to impress his father and further the reach of his House's influence. Robb has already asked Theon to return to Pyke and persuade his father to declare the Iron Island's independence, joining the war against the Lannisters.

He now sat in accommodations prepared for him by Robb in Riverrun, deciding to come with the Lord of the North while arrangements were made for his travel to the Iron Isles. Theron's train of thought was interrupted by a stiff knock of the solid wooden door to his bedchambers. Getting up from the desk he was brooding over, he walked to the door, cracking it enough to see the face of who it was. A messenger, obviously sent by Robb.

"Excuse me m'lord, but Lord Paramount Robb is requesting your presence in the Great Hall," The squire said,

Already so liberal with the titles, Theon thought, "Course he does. Tell 'em I'll be there in a while."

The messenger nodded, and turned to walk away as Theon shut the door, and traversed the room to the wardrobe where a small number of his clothes were kept. Slipping into more formal clothes that he was supposed to wear around nobility, Theon prepared to meet with the other lords that were present in Riverrun. Perhaps this would elevate his house to a more respectable level with the lords of the North.

[Ontorisa]

Castle of Riverrun
The Riverlands
Braedon Snow

Braedon looked up from the campfire. In the distance, approaching his father's tent, he could see, the King in the North. Quickly standing up, Braedon entered the tent, bowing towards his father. Rickard Karstark turned and looked at him, a mix of confusion and warmth lit up his face.

"I thought I'd let you know that Lord Robb Stark is approaching." Braedon informed his father. "Shall I-?"

"Yes, yes, bring him in." Rickard dismissively waving his hand at Braedon, who nodded and stepped outside.

As Robb Stark approached, a few Karstark men got up, watching him walk towards Rickard's tent. As Braedon stepped forward, he looked over his shoulder to see two Karstark men there, fully armed. Mildly surprised, Braedon began walking towards the Young Wolf, starting to smile.

"M'lord, Lord Rickard awaits for you in the tent." Braedon informed Robb Stark as he motioned to the rest of the Karstark men to sit at ease.

Everyone was on edge after that first battle. Although it had been a victory and the Kingslayer had been captured, it was at a cost. Everyone in the army had lost someone at the Battle on the Green Fork. Braedon had lost his two half-brothers, kids he had known since he was a child, at the Battle of the Whispering Woods, so he knew how most of the men felt.

[The Valyria Empire]

Volantis

The City of Volantis, The Long Bridge

---

His Grace, Aegon, of House Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Prince of Dragonstone

---

Aegon found himself leaning on the edge of the bridge looking at the Rhoynar. It was one of the few spots on the massive bridge that allowed one to gaze upon the Rhoynar. Rolly Duckfield stood at Aegon's side, watching for any of the Usurper's would be assassins, however unlikely it would be that they knew of Aegon's survival.

It feels good to finally be off that boat. Aegon thinks to himself stretching. All these bastard Valyrians in this city. None of them actual true Valyrian like House Targaryen. I should of worn my House's sigil, then they would most definitely shower me in gifts...but Jon suggested other wise and would not see me be a "Beggar King" like my uncle.

Aegon would sigh and got off the rail he was leaning on. His silver hair begins to blow back as the wind comes in. Aegon in his red and black robes beckons Rolly to follow him. Eventually after walking down the bridge for a few minutes Rolly would get closer and whisper in Aegon's ear.

"Your Grace, we are being followed."

"By who? Some merchant? A thief?"

"Some old man, Westerosi possibly. As well as a very large man, dark skinned. Could be a Summer Islander, maybe Meerense. They've been following us since you stopped gazing at the river."

"I will not let them strike fear in the Dragon. Rolly, ready your sword."

Aegon then turns around and pulls out his longsword, with Rolly mimicking Aegon. The people on the streets begin to back away, some run off, and some even yell for the city guard in Valyrian.

The old man and the large man stop in their tracks. The old man is wearing some very raggedy robes, and holds a staff while the large dark skinned man wears baggy pants, a yellow silk bellyband and a tiny leather vest with iron studs. He has a arakh on his bellyband.

The large man begins to laugh, as the old man removes his hood. The old man has a very long beard and hair both very grey.

"Your grace, I am Arstan Whitebeard a squire to this man here, Belwas but many call him "Strong" Belwas." he announces has he puts his staff in front of him.

"For every scare I have, I killed that man." Belwas would announce.

"Please, put down your blades, we come to you in peace. A friend of yours sent us from Pentos."

"Illyrio? That trickster...I can always use more fighting men. You are welcome to my crew, as a companion of Illyrio is a companion of mine." Aegon says as he sheathes his sword with Duck following him.

Aegon would approach Belwas and Arstan where they would be kneel before him.

"Rise, my friends. The time for kneeling will come when I take back my home. Now we must go find Jon, he must of found some sellswords to join us or possibly received word from the Golden Company." Aegon tells them causing them to rise.

The group would then quickly cross the bridge before the city guard arrived and reach the Black Wall where they would then enter in search of Jon and new men to join them.

[Great Franconia and Verana]

Volantis

The Great Harbor

---

Her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and Mother of Dragons

---

The teeming harbour of Volantis was even larger than that of Meereen, though it's buildings not so magnificent. The eldest daughter of Valyria had always claimed the Freeholds old mantle, a travesty in the eyes of House Targaryen. The Triarchs had delusions of grandeur, the idea that their city, built on slavery and blood, could one day rule over the other Free Cities and begin Valyria anew.

The fools will crow and howl, but in the end, Valyria wad never a tiger nor an elephant. Valyria was only ever a dragon.

The Cinnamon Wind had docked in the far end of the port, among the other larger merchant ships. Against the wishes of both her blood riders and Ser Jorah, Daenerys had left the safety of the vessel, and, with Aggo and Rakharo in tow. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion were safely aboard the ship, guarded by her loyal bear and the rest of her Khalasar.

Travelling across the Long Bridge of Volantis, Daenerys could only vaguely remember the day Viserys brought her here. It had been just months after the death of Ser Willem, and Viserys had hoped to to recruit the Triarchs to his cause. Of course his efforts were in vain, and Dany still thought Viserys wrath on that night had been one of his worst episodes.

Now, with the great black walls of the Old City gleamed before her, Dany turned away, into the Great Market. She had little enough gold, though her appearance had been improved greatly. Captain Mo was very generous to the Mother of Dragons and had gifted her a beautiful, if simple black silk gown, with red thread fringed along the edges, though the black swan feather cloak was more than she had ever anticipated. Her thanks were profuse as were her promises of wealth once she came into her Throne.

The central market of Volantis was full of life, and the growl of a thousand different languages, from the guttural ghiscari to the elegant tongues of High Valyria. Each stall seemed to hold a veritable myriad of items, from great casks of Arbor Gold to glittering jewellery from Lys and rare spices from the Jade Sea. As wondrous a place it was, Dany could not help notice the handful of slaves behind each stall, nor the slaving posts at which other men sold flesh for gold.

The sight horrified Daenerys, but she simply shook her head, and carried on. Running a hand through her hair, she smiled. Captain Mo's daughter had braided her hair in the fashion of the Summer Islanders, the long platinum locks curling down her back.

With Rakharo and Aggo in tow, Dany approached a small cluster of tables. The barkeep was originally wary of serving such Dothraki savages, though the black searched valyrian beauty assuaged his fears somewhat. With a light, if uneasy smile, the man served the Queen, a sweet Dornish red. Watching the market from her seat, Dany began to watch and listen. She knew she needed soldiers, more than her little Khalasar to take the Seven Kingdoms. Eyeing several of the other men in the Café, Dany wondered how many were sellswords, and how many she could bind to her cause.

Seven know, Aegon the Conqueror won the Throne with less than I.

[Nuxipal]

Daemon Bloodfyre
Great Hall, The Bloodspyre

The three northerners were brought to the Great Hall. The Flags over the castle would be eerily similar to a Targaryen Banner, save the actual colors. A blue, three headed dragon, on a silver field. It flew proudly, and likely defiantly, in the wind. No where else in the Seven Kingdoms could a similar flag fly so openly. The Castle itself was large, but nothing close to the great castles of other houses. There was also plenty of space for it to be improved upon in the future. As the men walked beneath the gates the inner courtyard was full of men, clearly the banners had been called in. Men were busy practicing, teaching, and training for battle. Those who already knew how to fight and march had left with Lord Aurane, what was left were the household guard, castle garrison, and levies. The guardsmen brought the two men to the great hall where a young man, too young to be the Lord of the Castle, sat on a raised platform. Below were half a dozen men each with leather braces holding their arms together at the wrist. The young man had silver hair and deep violet eyes. While his skin was not as pale as his ancestors in House Targaryen, it was probable that this was due to other families in his background.

A man was listing off charges. "..Arson, six counts of banditry, five counts of attacking a septon, one count of defiling a septry, one count of burning a septa, twenty-seven counts of rape, nine counts of murder, two counts of trespassing, one count of attempted murder, and five counts of attempted kidnapping." The man then handed the scroll to the boy. He looked over the scroll and motioned for someone else to approach. She had red-brown hair and cold blue eyes, however their facial similarities suggested they were siblings of some kind. She sat on a second seat and they seemed to discuss something. Nodding at whatever the woman was saying the young man stood and addressed the prisoners.

"I find you guilty of all charges based on the list of crimes, personal involvement, and witness testimony. As is fitting of your crimes, you are all sentenced to death by the hanging at first light tomorrow. Undergaoler, take them back to the cells. I will see the men whom have just arrived next." The men of the north were brought forward and Daemon welcomed them.

"Welcome to the Bloodspyre. I am Daemon Bloodfyre, heir of Lord Aurane Bloodfyre. I have been told you are northerners, I have to ask. Have you been to Castle Black before?"

[Eraus]

Daemon Bloodfyre
Great Hall, The Bloodspyre

The three northerners were brought to the Great Hall. The Flags over the castle would be eerily similar to a Targaryen Banner, save the actual colors. A blue, three headed dragon, on a silver field. It flew proudly, and likely defiantly, in the wind. No where else in the Seven Kingdoms could a similar flag fly so openly. The Castle itself was large, but nothing close to the great castles of other houses. There was also plenty of space for it to be improved upon in the future. As the men walked beneath the gates the inner courtyard was full of men, clearly the banners had been called in. Men were busy practicing, teaching, and training for battle. Those who already knew how to fight and march had left with Lord Aurane, what was left were the household guard, castle garrison, and levies. The guardsmen brought the two men to the great hall where a young man, too young to be the Lord of the Castle, sat on a raised platform. Below were half a dozen men each with leather braces holding their arms together at the wrist. The young man had silver hair and deep violet eyes. While his skin was not as pale as his ancestors in House Targaryen, it was probable that this was due to other families in his background.

A man was listing off charges. "..Arson, six counts of banditry, five counts of attacking a septon, one count of defiling a septry, one count of burning a septa, twenty-seven counts of rape, nine counts of murder, two counts of trespassing, one count of attempted murder, and five counts of attempted kidnapping." The man then handed the scroll to the boy. He looked over the scroll and motioned for someone else to approach. She had red-brown hair and cold blue eyes, however their facial similarities suggested they were siblings of some kind. She sat on a second seat and they seemed to discuss something. Nodding at whatever the woman was saying the young man stood and addressed the prisoners.

"I find you guilty of all charges based on the list of crimes, personal involvement, and witness testimony. As is fitting of your crimes, you are all sentenced to death by the hanging at first light tomorrow. Undergaoler, take them back to the cells. I will see the men whom have just arrived next." The men of the north were brought forward and Daemon welcomed them.

"Welcome to the Bloodspyre. I am Daemon Bloodfyre, heir of Lord Aurane Bloodfyre. I have been told you are northerners, I have to ask. Have you been to Castle Black before?"

"I've been there multiple times, So yes I have" Adam said "Also before you imply that I am a Night's watch Deserter let me introduce myself. I'm Adam Blacken, Second Son of Eddard Blacken of Blacken Castle, Youngest Marshall in the North, I'm also the best damn looking man north of the trident." Adam and Link tried to hide their laughter while Erik just looked at them. Which also happens to be under King Robb Stark of the North and The Trident." Adam said arrogantly. " You people have interesting eyes, you know that" Adam said looking at the women with blue eyes.

Link looked at him with a dead stare "Pardon him, He ain't the brightest in the batch" Link said with a smile.

"Now onto reason we are here, I was sent to find Erik Longset and Either 1 Take him back to the north and have him executed or 2 Kill him myself and Bring his head back to Lord Blacken. I am with 12 other Knights who should be around this area all looking for him. His charges are Simply He Killed Ser Edmont Froste a member of the Blacken House Guard, Emily Monte a 10 year old girl, and Raped and then murdered Lyna Hillsen." Adam said as if he had practiced it before. "So Daemon Bloodfyre of House Bloodfyre, What do ya say... Cause this is nearing the who knows how many towns and lords we talked to about this." Adam said while Erik Longset stood Frightened

[Nuxipal]

"I've been there multiple times, So yes I have" Adam said "Also before you imply that I am a Night's watch Deserter let me introduce myself. I'm Adam Blacken, Second Son of Eddard Blacken of Blacken Castle, Youngest Marshall in the North, I'm also the best damn looking man north of the trident." Adam and Link tried to hide their laughter while Erik just looked at them. Which also happens to be under King Robb Stark of the North and The Trident." Adam said arrogantly. " You people have interesting eyes, you know that" Adam said looking at the women with blue eyes.

Link looked at him with a dead stare "Pardon him, He ain't the brightest in the batch" Link said with a smile.

"Now onto reason we are here, I was sent to find Erik Longset and Either 1 Take him back to the north and have him executed or 2 Kill him myself and Bring his head back to Lord Blacken. I am with 12 other Knights who should be around this area all looking for him. His charges are Simply He Killed Ser Edmont Froste a member of the Blacken House Guard, Emily Monte a 10 year old girl, and Raped and then murdered Lyna Hillsen." Adam said as if he had practiced it before. "So Daemon Bloodfyre of House Bloodfyre, What do ya say... Cause this is nearing the who knows how many towns and lords we talked to about this." Adam said while Erik Longset stood Frightened

The man had been to Castle Black, that was excellent. Perhaps he knew Maester Aemon then, Daemon had exchaged letters with the old Tagaryen in the past, but recently the man has stopped writing as often and it has been distressing. The matter with the third man with the two northerners was discerning. It seemed as if his entire time as acting Lord Bloodfyre would be spent dealing with criminals instead of fighting the war. "I see, and this man seems to have fled from the north if what I am understanding is true. Fleeing before the law is an admission of guilt. You are of course, welcome to keep him in the prison here in my family's castle until you depart. I do however, invite you to stay as long as you wish. I have a few questions I wish to ask you regarding the North and Castle Black in particular."

Daemon stood, signaling the official end to court that day. There wasn't any other petitioners as it were, most of the men were either preparing for war, or already sent off to battle. The issues had been dealt with swiftly, between Daemon himself and his sister. A household knight leaned over to him and whispered something to him to which he said, "Damn, fine. Let me go talk to Aegon, see why he did that." He motioned to his sister, "This is Lady Rhaenys, my twin Sister. She will show you towards the feast hall. I have other matters to attend to, but I will be there shortly with our siblings."

Rhaenys smiles and gestures for the two men to head through an archway towards the Feast hall, where already dozens of people were entering from various passages. Platters were being brought out and Rhaenys invited the visitors to sit at the table closest to the Lord's table. She took a seat there instead of the high table. She then asks an extremely forward question, "Is it true that the North is declaring itself independent of the realm? I do hope that the North rejoins the Kingdoms once the issue of succession is ended, it would be a terrible tragedy for the continent to fall apart simply because of a spoiled child sitting on the Iron Throne."

[Eraus]

The man had been to Castle Black, that was excellent. Perhaps he knew Maester Aemon then, Daemon had exchaged letters with the old Tagaryen in the past, but recently the man has stopped writing as often and it has been distressing. The matter with the third man with the two northerners was discerning. It seemed as if his entire time as acting Lord Bloodfyre would be spent dealing with criminals instead of fighting the war. "I see, and this man seems to have fled from the north if what I am understanding is true. Fleeing before the law is an admission of guilt. You are of course, welcome to keep him in the prison here in my family's castle until you depart. I do however, invite you to stay as long as you wish. I have a few questions I wish to ask you regarding the North and Castle Black in particular."

Daemon stood, signaling the official end to court that day. There wasn't any other petitioners as it were, most of the men were either preparing for war, or already sent off to battle. The issues had been dealt with swiftly, between Daemon himself and his sister. A household knight leaned over to him and whispered something to him to which he said, "Damn, fine. Let me go talk to Aegon, see why he did that." He motioned to his sister, "This is Lady Rhaenys, my twin Sister. She will show you towards the feast hall. I have other matters to attend to, but I will be there shortly with our siblings."

Rhaenys smiles and gestures for the two men to head through an archway towards the Feast hall, where already dozens of people were entering from various passages. Platters were being brought out and Rhaenys invited the visitors to sit at the table closest to the Lord's table. She took a seat there instead of the high table. She then asks an extremely forward question, "Is it true that the North is declaring itself independent of the realm? I do hope that the North rejoins the Kingdoms once the issue of succession is ended, it would be a terrible tragedy for the continent to fall apart simply because of a spoiled child sitting on the Iron Throne."

Link and Adam both looked at eachother for a split second. "Well, My Lady Your Name is Rhaenys right. The North had dealt with Tyrants far too long and I personally think that what King Robb did is right. Now that we have the North and The Riverlands together we are unstoppable. To me Lord Eddard Stark's Death was the Last Straw, That might be Bias as House Blacken is a Cadet House of the Starks but The North and The Trident are done with the Shit that the Iron Throne has thrown at us. Lord Eddard Stark the Last Warden of the North will be Remembered for many reasons may his death not be in vain." Adam said with Pride. Link stayed quiet as he is usually shy but nodded at what Adam was saying.

"Now that you asked that Question, Let me asks you this. Your have Targaryan blood don't you. I don't mean that in a Rude way it's just that their women are usually extremely beautiful and I can see that in you" Adam said with a Smile.

[Nuxipal]

Link and Adam both looked at eachother for a split second. "Well, My Lady Your Name is Rhaenys right. The North had dealt with Tyrants far too long and I personally think that what King Robb did is right. Now that we have the North and The Riverlands together we are unstoppable. To me Lord Eddard Stark's Death was the Last Straw, That might be Bias as House Blacken is a Cadet House of the Starks but The North and The Trident are done with the Shit that the Iron Throne has thrown at us. Lord Eddard Stark the Last Warden of the North will be Remembered for many reasons may his death not be in vain." Adam said with Pride. Link stayed quiet as he is usually shy but nodded at what Adam was saying.

"Now that you asked that Question, Let me asks you this. Your have Targaryan blood don't you. I don't mean that in a Rude way it's just that their women are usually extremely beautiful and I can see that in you" Adam said with a Smile.

Rhaenys listened to his explanation. She knew where her father had gone, the North and Riverlands were strong, but they were fighting the Lannisters and the Crownlands currently, and if they thought of keeping themselves.. well, she knew her father's feelings on the matter of Westeros splitting up again. He then asked her regarding her heritage. "In fact we do. However, it is old blood. Our founder was the bastard child of Prince Aemon Targaryen and a daughter of the then Lord Hightower. Our house has closer relations with the Hightowers than we do with the Targaryens, but my brother has been in correspondence with the Maester at Castle Black. Though, he hasn't heard back from the old Maester for nearly a year now. He will likely ask you how he is doing. Don't tell him I told you, but I've been reading his letters before the maester gives them to him. They have been talking extensively about dragon dreams and dragons in general."

As she says that, Daemon appears again, this time trailed by three more siblings. Each with silver hair and purple eyes, each looking as much like a Valyrian as the last. The two girls sat at a table across the hall from Rhaenys while the boy, who looked only a few years younger than Daemon, sat next to Daemon at the High Table with several other important bannermen.

Daemon stands and says, "I would like to raise a toast, to justice finally catching up with all criminals. May their wrongdoings be brought into the light and their evil deeds punished as the gods see fit." A round of 'here here' went up from the collected men and women. "Let the dinner commence." He sat and the dishes were served. The bounties of the reach were extensive and dinner was never a dull affair in the South of the Reach. Daemon and Aegon seemed to be discussing something while the younger sibling was looking embarrassed while looking in the direction of his other two sisters who were glaring back at him.

Rhaenys spoke up after clearing her mouth with a sip from her wine glass, "So, I actually haven't heard of House Blacken before. You say you are a Cadet Branch of Stark. Legally speaking, we are at war with one another. My father took our veterans to join King Renly in his war to remove the Spoiled Cub and his vicious mother from King's Landing. If the Stark and Tully men are still in revolt after that, I am almost certain that my father will be dispatched north with the armies of the Reach and Stormlands to fight them." She takes another bite from her plate waiting to see how Adam responded. She knew the combined strength of the Reach and Stormlands numbered far beyond what the North and Trident could raise. The Reach alone could field 100,000 men if all its vassals sent soldiers as they were supposed to.

[Eraus]

Rhaenys listened to his explanation. She knew where her father had gone, the North and Riverlands were strong, but they were fighting the Lannisters and the Crownlands currently, and if they thought of keeping themselves.. well, she knew her father's feelings on the matter of Westeros splitting up again. He then asked her regarding her heritage. "In fact we do. However, it is old blood. Our founder was the bastard child of Prince Aemon Targaryen and a daughter of the then Lord Hightower. Our house has closer relations with the Hightowers than we do with the Targaryens, but my brother has been in correspondence with the Maester at Castle Black. Though, he hasn't heard back from the old Maester for nearly a year now. He will likely ask you how he is doing. Don't tell him I told you, but I've been reading his letters before the maester gives them to him. They have been talking extensively about dragon dreams and dragons in general."

As she says that, Daemon appears again, this time trailed by three more siblings. Each with silver hair and purple eyes, each looking as much like a Valyrian as the last. The two girls sat at a table across the hall from Rhaenys while the boy, who looked only a few years younger than Daemon, sat next to Daemon at the High Table with several other important bannermen.

Daemon stands and says, "I would like to raise a toast, to justice finally catching up with all criminals. May their wrongdoings be brought into the light and their evil deeds punished as the gods see fit." A round of 'here here' went up from the collected men and women. "Let the dinner commence." He sat and the dishes were served. The bounties of the reach were extensive and dinner was never a dull affair in the South of the Reach. Daemon and Aegon seemed to be discussing something while the younger sibling was looking embarrassed while looking in the direction of his other two sisters who were glaring back at him.

Rhaenys spoke up after clearing her mouth with a sip from her wine glass, "So, I actually haven't heard of House Blacken before. You say you are a Cadet Branch of Stark. Legally speaking, we are at war with one another. My father took our veterans to join King Renly in his war to remove the Spoiled Cub and his vicious mother from King's Landing. If the Stark and Tully men are still in revolt after that, I am almost certain that my father will be dispatched north with the armies of the Reach and Stormlands to fight them." She takes another bite from her plate waiting to see how Adam responded. She knew the combined strength of the Reach and Stormlands numbered far beyond what the North and Trident could raise. The Reach alone could field 100,000 men if all its vassals sent soldiers as they were supposed to.

Link stopped eating and just looked up at her. Adam let out a smile and a little laugh "You are something, Legally we are at war but If Renly wins and he decides to come after The Kingdom of the North and the Trident then we shall face in the Battlefield. You lot might have more men but Northmen can Endure anything as we are descendants from the First men." Adam said quickly looking around and then jokingly whispering "And Giants" He said as he laughed

"Don't even start with the Crannogmen or Skagosi or the Mountain men" Link said with a Smile as he then started to eat and drink again.

[Nuxipal]

Link stopped eating and just looked up at her. Adam let out a smile and a little laugh "You are something, Legally we are at war but If Renly wins and he decides to come after The Kingdom of the North and the Trident then we shall face in the Battlefield. You lot might have more men but Northmen can Endure anything as we are descendants from the First men." Adam said quickly looking around and then jokingly whispering "And Giants" He said as he laughed

"Don't even start with the Crannogmen or Skagosi or the Mountain men" Link said with a Smile as he then started to eat and drink again.

Rhaenys smiled. The two northmen were quite a pair to host. "How do you think the Kingdom of the Reach was founded Ser Adam? Men who were brave enough to fight the Giants and defeat them. I am certain that the men of the Reach can face any foe and come out victorious. Hopefully however, it does not come to that. I would hate to see my father have to march all the way to Winterfell just to put down a revolt. I haven't forgotten the last time he went off to war, he was gone for years." She sips her wine again, having finished what she had on her plate. A thought crossed her mind and she continued idle conversation while her brother left his seat coming towards them. "I heard the most unusual rumor from a merchant last week. The last Targaryen was spotted in Essos. According to him, she had three dragon hatchlings with her. I don't know how much of that is true, but he said they were in Qaarth at some point."