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Rhaegar Castillon

"I may not have a choice in becoming King, but I will have a say in who is my Queen."

0 · 883 views · located in The Black Keep

a character in “Blackvale”, as played by mjolnir

Description

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{"I don't need to speak to say what I mean."}

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F U L L 0 N A M E
Rhaegar Castillon

N I C K N A M E
Ray, Lord of Fire, The Castillon Falcon

A G E
27

G E N D E R
Male

S E X U A L I T Y
Heterosexual

R O L E
Eldest Castillon twin & child
Heir to the throne

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H E I G H T
A rather tall 6' 4"

W E I G H T
185 lbs
All muscle


H A I R
Rhaegar has rich golden blonde hair that he shares with his brother, and gets from their mother. Unlike Brom, he keeps his rather short on the sides and back, but with a little bit of length on the top. In comparison to his twin, his hair is very short. He also has a short, well maintained beard that suits his strong jawline.

E Y E S
He has rich hazel eyes that lean on the side of a greenish tint. Around the irises are bursts and flecks of a golden hue which make the hazel appear more green.

O D D I T I E S
Rhaegar has a variation of scars on his body, most being more minor from rough housing with Gwendolynn and Brom or from when he goes hunting. His most predominant ones would be a vertical line above his right eye on his forehead, stretching down to his eyebrow. And another smaller one across the left side of his bottom lip. Other than those, most are masked by his clothing.

A P P E A R A N C E
Rhaegar has been said to be built like a wall. He stands taller than most men he knows, the only ones who compare are his twin and father. His broad shoulders and narrow waste give him the ideal figure for a young man. He is thoroughly muscular which only accents his large frame and rugged appearance. Rhaegar has been said to be one of the most handsome men in the kingdom in a more earthly manner. He has a tendency of looking stoic and austere but when he smiles it lights up his face showing his inner sweetness and heart of gold. Rhaegar may seem intimidating, but with one look into his eyes most can see into his soul which cares more deeply than most know.

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P E R S O N A L I T Y
Introverted Kind Adventurous Reserved

Rhaegar holds the stereotype of the strong silent type. He's usually the guy that can be easily overlooked due to his desire to blend it and not draw attention to himself. But in the same breath he naturally stands out from his handsome appearance and being known throughout the land as the heir. Although he is well known he never tries to hold it against anyone, and doesn't think of himself as any better than the simple commoner.

He is fairly introverted and quiet. He's of the impression that he only talks if he has something worth saying. Rhaegar generally won't par take in mindless small talk, but prefers conversations of meaning or purpose. Sometimes his silence can make him seem like he's stuck up but on the contrary he just, usually, doesn't have much to say. Rhaegar is also a bit reserved. He takes caution when it comes to to making new friends and meeting new people. But when he does make friends, Rhaegar is more loyal than most people's family members. He would never turn his back on someone he cares about even if that meant his death.

Once people get to know Rhaegar he tends to be one of the kindest and most caring men they know. It takes a lot to see a darker more angry side of him, and generally that only happens when someone he cares about has been harmed. Rhaegar is the type that couldn't care less about what others had to say about him but becomes very protective of those close to him. He also tends to be adventurous, often wondering out upon his horse to discover the far reaches of the Vale. Rhaegar isn't happy in one place for too long, often wanting to satisfy his wanderlust. He'd love to see every bit of the Blackvale but with him being the heir to the kingdom that likeliness of that doesn't seem very possible.

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S T R E N G T H S
Swordsmanship // His father taught him the art of mastering sword play since he was a boy.

Horseback riding // Between racing Gwendolynn and going hunting he's gotten fairly good.

Hunting // One of the many ways he spends his free time. He never comes back without a haul.

Physically strong // Between all of his physical activity, he's naturally strong.

Loyalty // He has been said to be more loyal than a dog, never breaking his trust or promises.

Bravery // He stands up for what is right and will do whatever should be done.

W E A K N E S S E S
Family & Friends // They are the most important things in the world to him, so they can be held against him.

Selfless // Although could be seen as a strength, it can also make him a bit rash.

Protective // Sometimes he tends to be too protective.

Introverted // It makes it difficult to meet new people sometimes.

L I K E S
Racing // Outdoors // Dancing // Archery // People watching // Hunting // His siblings // Alone time // Mead // Reading // Wine // Rain // Night

D I S L I K E S
Being heir to Blackvale // Women who come on strong // Womanizers // Arranged marriage // Most nobles

F E A R S
Never finding love // He doesn't want to spend his life alone or in a marriage with someone he hates.

Being a failure // He couldn't live with himself if he didn't live up to his Father's expectations.

Losing loved ones // It would destroy him.

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H I S T O R Y
Rhaegar is the first born of the set of twins Magnus and Guinevere Castillon. His brother is 3 seconds younger than him and although they are identical twins, it has never been a difficult task telling the 2 apart. Even though Rhaegar and Brom are twins, since Rhaegar was born first he is the natural born heir to Blackvale after his father passes down the throne or passes away.

Growing up, Magnus wasted no time when it came to training and preparing Rhaegar to become the new ruler of the kingdom. By age 5 he had the basic fundamentals of swordplay and horseback riding figured out. Everything a king needed and should be came to him easily, but he still retained his golden heart that made it hard for anyone to hate him. Going into his teenage years is when he began to realize he quickly had no desire to become the king. But no matter what he wanted, he had no choice and his brother was even a worse choice to rule in comparison to him.

By the age of 20, Rhaegar's parents arranged a marriage between him and a Princess of a neighboring country. No matter how much he begged his mother and father, they decided to proceed with the wedding to make a lasting alliance between their nations and grow the kingdom with their marriage the birth of their children. But on the day of the wedding, Rhaegar fled the capital with the help of his siblings. They waited out in a secret location that only the 3 of them knew of until word spread that the other royal family had called off the wedding and went back to their native country.

For the following 7 years, Magnus and Guinevere continued to search and plan marriages for Rhaegar, but he always seemed to disappear along side his siblings whenever the plans seemed to go anywhere. The one thing the King and Queen cannot seem to make possible is making their children marry anyone against their will. So as a final attempt to try and get them married, especially their heir, they are allowing them to choose from the offspring of the most respectable nobles in the kingdom.



F A M I L Y 0 T I E S
Magnus Castillon // Father // Alive // Magnus has always been the leading role model in Rhaegar's life since he was a little boy. He's always strived to be everything his father wanted, even if that meant becoming King when that is no longer a wish he has.

Guinevere Castillon // Mother // Alive // Guinevere has always seemed to favor Rhaegar above his siblings because he's become the young man he should be regardless of what he wants. She believes he is the best chance as furthering their family into greatness.

Brom Castillon // Twin // Alive // Brom is Rhaegar's polar opposite. Although they are very close, Brom is the unruly twin who cares as much for rules as he does for marriage... He doesn't. So more often then not, Rhaegar is the taming force to his brother's wildness.

Gwendolynn Castillon // Sister // Alive // Gwendolynn is a lot of ways Rhaegar's mini me. He is always looking out for her, and always wants the best for her. But much like Brom sometimes he has to keep her out of trouble because she's picked on a little of his tendencies as well.

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F A C E C L A I M
Charlie Hunnam

H E X C O D E
#B70909

C R E A T O R
Scar.-

So begins...

Rhaegar Castillon's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Brom Castillon Character Portrait: Gwendolynn Castillon
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#, as written by mjolnir
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RHAEGAR CASTILLON
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Heir to Blackvale | The Falcon
#B70909 | Outfit
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BROM CASTILLON
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Prince | The Peacock
#061B62 | Outfit
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SYLAS THORNE
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Heir to Dark Wood | The Viper
#999999 | Outfit
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GWENDOLYNN CASTILLON
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Princess | The Little Dove
#F56E6F | Outfit


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It was the first official day of summer but it felt like it was mid-season. Every window in the keep was open allowing breezes to roll in and the drapes to wave in the hallways. Servants rushed around every corridor busying themselves in final preparations after months of planning. It was obvious they were avoiding the Queen as much as possible as well, poking their heads around corners before entering new hallways or rooms.

Rhaegar tried his best to stay out of their way as he strolled throughout the castle. He had been hoping this day would never come but alas it was here and he was trying to wrap his mind around it all. It wasn’t an arranged marriage per say but only getting a pool of maybe ten women to choose from… Noble women at that, isn’t much of free choice.

As he turned another corner he nearly knocked over a maid that was carrying a mountain of plates. Quick with his hands, Rhaegar managed to keep the tower from tipping over. “I’m sorry, I should look where I’m going.” He lifted a majority of the stack out of her arms so that he could see her face. “Here let me help you.”

“Your Grace!” the young woman gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s quite alright Juliet.” Rhaegar nodded his head for him to follow her lead. “Lead the way, I’ll follow.”

“Oh… Yes… Thank you Your Grace.” She curtsied before heading down the hall towards the grand dining hall.

As they entered the room it was filled with two rather long tables and a smaller one a few steps higher where the royals always sat. Their finest white and gold trimmed silk table cloths covered the brand-new dining tables. The royal bank spared no expense. Standing near the royals table the King stood at the far end nodding his head and talking to several of the handmaidens and servants that were going to be working directly for the nobles.

Rhaegar followed Juliet setting down the dishes beside her own stack on the farthest table. The young woman curtsied once again, “Thank you Your Grace.”

He nodded his head towards her before his attention was drawn towards his father who called out towards him, “Rhaegar.” The King motioned for him to come before dismissing the servants around him.

Rhaegar made his way towards his father who was smiling and tried to give him a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “So apparently, your mother is having the other young nobles stay in the empty chambers in the same wing as you and your siblings.”

“That… Sounds like a bad idea,” Rhaegar said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well,” the King said, “unfortunately I was unable to dissuade her.” His father paced a bit, scratching his freshly trimmed beard. “This is going to be the longest summer in a century which means our guests will be here for a long while. So please be smart… We’ll have enough issues; we don’t need scandals making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Father…” Rhaegar laughed half-heartedly, “you’re telling the wrong son.”

“Yes well, tell Brom as well won’t you?” The King asked before nodding his head to let Rhaegar know he was free to go. He stepped down from the royal’s platform at the front of the dining hall and headed towards the door. Halfway through the large room his father called out after him, “Rhae… Do find Gwen, before your mother does. Today’s stressful enough, we don’t need to make it worse.” The king chuckled towards his son before he began conversing with more servants and continued preparations.

He figured the best place to find his sister would be as far away from the commotion as possible. Rhaegar made his way towards the back of the castle, turning down numerous corridors until he came to the long hall that bordered the ballroom and the great doors leading to the gardens. When he went to open the doors and head outside he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. He turned around and found himself facing his brother.

Brom seemed less than thrilled. “This is all your fault,” he said as he followed his twin outside onto the porch that over looked the large gardens.

“Look I didn’t kick you out of the womb. It’s not my fault your face is messed up,” Rhaegar said as he rested his arms against the stone railing of the porch, smiling towards his brother.

Brom snorted back a laugh. “Everyone knows I’m the better looking one… But that’s not what I meant.”

“Pray tell dear brother,” Rhaegar said sarcastically as he scanned the gardens for their sister.

Brom began searching alongside his brother, quickly pointing at a tuft of red hair up in a tree on the far side of the gardens. “It’s your fault this whole stupid thing is happening.” He started down the stairs of the porch and into the gardens with Rhaegar following closely behind. “If you would have just gotten married—”

“Because you would have said yes to an arranged marriage without batting an eye.”

“Well no but…”

“But what, Brom?”

“They couldn’t have been all that bad. That one from… She had the face with the hair…”

“That’s descriptive.”

“Well, she was attractive.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the rest of them were too. But beauty does not make someone a good person. I mean… Look at you.”

“Hilarious.”

Rhaegar crossed his arms as they followed the gravel path back towards the tree where their sister was presumably hiding from the world. “You should be thanking me.”

“Why? Because now I have until the end of summer to choose a wife?”

“Yes. If I hadn’t ran away from seven arrange marriages—”

“Eight.”

“Whatever… Eight arranged marriages. Then you’d be forced into one, same with Gwen. You’re getting the chance to potentially choose your bride. What other Princes get that opportunity?”

Brom held up his index finger. “Justify it however you want but I know you’re as upset about this as I am, and Gwen.”

As her name was said a blur of red hair swooped down from the tree above until she came to a stop hanging upside by her legs from the tree. “Speak of the devil and he—or she—will appear,” Gwen said as she wiggled her fingers at them.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” Rhaegar asked trying not to laugh as he looked up at his sister.

“Hiding,” she said as she lifted herself back up so she was straddling the branch.

“From what? Brom isn’t that ugly,” Rhaegar said teasingly.

“I thought maybe if I disappeared mother would forget I exist.”

“If only it was that easy,” Brom leaned against the trunk of the tree. “If I have to go through this hell you do too.”

“But why?” Gwen whined as she laid back on the branch, her left leg dangling beneath her. “What does my marriage or lack thereof have an effect on anything. It’s not like I am to be King.”

“You sure? I think you’d look marvelous with Father’s beard,” Rhaegar said as he playfully swung his sister’s foot.

“He’s been like this all day. Obviously, something is bothering him,” Brom said raising his brows suggestively towards his more stoic brother.

“I mean I want you to find happiness Rhaegar, I do.” Gwen poked her brother’s shoulder with her foot. “But couldn’t you have found happiness with one of those eight women?”

“Ha!” Brom stood up right pointing towards Rhaegar.

“Gwendolynn Francine Castillon! Get down from that tree at once!” The Queen’s shrill voice shouting over the vast garden surprised Gwen so much that lost her balance on the branch. If it wasn’t for Rhaegar and Brom beneath the tree, her fall would have been much worse. But they were quick, well aware of their sister’s clumsiness and caught her before she hit the ground and helped her to her feet.

“So much for your invisibility,” Brom teased.

“The three of you, get inside this instant,” the Queen hollered from the baloney. “Banners are seen on the horizon and you all are out in the gardens!” She stormed back inside, slamming the doors shut behind her.

“I’m not going in there,” Gwendolynn said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh yes you are,” Rhaegar said before picking her up and hoisting her over his shoulder.

Gwen sighed letting her arms and head dangle along her brother’s back, “But I don’t want to get married.” The brothers laughed as they all headed back towards the keep to prepare for their guests.

***

Sylas was never one for stuffy carriages. A woman’s place in his opinion. Instead he rode his horse along with the rest of the guard. When he felt that they were nearing the end of the King’s road he galloped ahead to reach the cusp of the hill before them. He slowed his horse at the top to behold the massive castle that was the Black Keep. It was a massive monument bigger than any of the other Hold’s keeps put together. It disgusted him at how their wealth was flaunted around for the rest of the Blackvale to behold. Modesty was lost on the royals.

He clipped his heels into the haunches of his horse and sped back towards the Thorne convoy. Sylas circled his horse around the carriage coming up beside it and knocked on the door. His mother pulled back the curtains revealing herself and his sister, Sylva, within. “What is it my son?”

“The Keep is on the horizon. They’ve most likely seen our colors and will receive us upon arrival,” Sylas answered as he steadied his horse to ride in sync with the carriage.

“Blast. I was hoping we had at least a few more hours of travel before delving into that hell hole.”

“My dear,” Vladmir said as he took his wife’s hand, “It will be us that will make that hell hole fester and decay. It is no fun if you do not at least enjoy it.”

His mother smiled before looking between Sylas and his sister, “Now for the welcoming evening my dears, the King and Queen, no doubt, will have a celebratory ball. We shall be escorted in presented to their royal majesties and then everyone will be given the remainder of the even to mingle and dance.” She adjusted a loose strand of Sylva’s hair behind her ear. “Now as amusing as it would be to enter in a fashion, destroy everything and return home for dinner, that unfortunately isn’t the case.”

Desdemona reaches her hand out the window to stroke Sylas’ cheek lovingly. “I want you both to present yourselves as the elegant, charming and vastly superior darlings that you are. To the public’s eyes we’re perfect. We come out unscathed while everything else spirals into chaos.”

“Yes mother.” Sylas smiled towards his mother before raising a brow in Sylva’s direction. “I shall ride ahead so they are ready for your arrival.”

Sylas rode his horse up to the keep crossing the draw bridge and stopping at the bottom of the staircase that lead up to the grand main entrance. As he dismounted a group of servants hurriedly moved to stand ready at the base of the stairs. Sylas dusted off his clothing before motioning for a young male servant to come towards him.

“Yes, Lord Thorne?” the young servant asked with a bow.

“What is your name my fine fellow?” Sylas asked, resting his hand upon the servant’s shoulder to turn their backs towards the remaining others.

“Uh… Maxwell, my Lord.”

“What, pray tell, are the sleeping arrangements for us visiting nobles?”

“The nobles that being presented as potential suitors for the royal family will stay in the west wing where the Princes’ and Princess’ chambers are located. While the presiding Lords and Ladies of each hold will have their own suites in the northern wing, my Lord.”

“Splendid,” Sylas said as he removed his hand from the servant’s shoulder to open his robes to reach an interior pocket. “I have a request to ask of you my dear Maxwell regarding said sleeping arrangements.”

“Yes, my Lord. But you see, my Lord, the King and Queen have already assigned the rooms accordingly and—”

Sylas took the servant’s hand and places a black velvet coin purse in his hand that was fairly full of gold coins. “My sister and I would like adjacent west facing rooms with either a door connecting the room or a private corridor so that we may visit each other without interruption.”

“Yes, my Lord. Of course, my Lord.” The servant bowed multiple times.

Before he let the servant go, Sylas took a step towards him speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell no one the topic of this chat. Maxwell, my good man, if you work faithfully for me while I am here and do as I ask without question… By the time we leave this keep you will have enough gold to get your own castle.”

The servant’s eyes widened as he bowed yet again. “Certainly my Lord. Anything you wish. I will have those rooms sorted out for you immediately,” he said before rushing inside.

Sylas turned towards the remaining servants, giving a charming grin towards the females among the group. “If one of you might be so lovely to take my dear Xavier to the stables I would be ever so grateful,” he said towards a fair looking blonde servant as he twirled a lock her hair with his finger.

She giggled, exchanging cheerful grins with the other girls before nodding her head and curtsying towards him. “Yes my Lord.” As she made her way towards the horse she stopped beside Sylas and whispered, “And if there is anything you may need, my Lord, anything at all… I am Margarete.”

Once the girl disappeared with his horse, Sylas looked towards the approaching carriage, the fake smile he wore for the servant vanished in the blink of an eye. When a servant approached to open the door, he waved them off and opened the door himself. His father emerged first, then Sylas offered his hand to his mother and helped her from the carriage. Following her, he did the same for his sister.

“Sylas darling,” his mother said to get his attention as she held her arm out towards him, “would you escort me?”

“Of course mother,” Sylas said with a genuine smile as he took his mother’s arm and lead her up the stairs.

When they were a decent amount ahead of his father and sister, she leaned in slightly to whisper in his ear. “I know.”

Sylas glanced over towards her with slight shock. She didn’t have to say what for him to know what she meant. But before he could be covered in a cold sweat and feel a lump grow in his throat, she gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “My love, I could not be happier nor approve more. But I implore that this stays mum while in the Black Keep.” Just before they step through the door, she glances towards him, “This is a dangerous game and I don’t want to lose my family to the turmoil.”

Sylas raised up his free hand and rested it upon his mother’s that grasped the crook in his arm. “Of course mother.” Desdemona smiled sweetly before leaning forward and pressing a kiss upon his cheek.

As they entered into rather grand foyer, Sylas had to fight the urge to groan and roll his eyes at the sight. No doubt nearly everything in this damned castle had been purchased a new particularly for this exact occasion. It was disgusting. Almost everything was plated in gold, fresh marble or silver polished so much that he could see his reflection in it.

His attention was brought back to his current crowd when a servant stepped forward and bowed in greeting. “My Lords. My Ladies. It a pleasure to meet the noble and prestigious house of Thorne. Our servants will take your belongings to your rooms and service your horses and carriages while you stay in the Black Keep. I will be leading you to the ballroom where the Commencement Ball is taking place.” He bowed once more before heading down the halls and leading them towards the rear end of the castle where the large ballroom bordered dozens of glass doors that lead straight out into the gardens.

When they reached the entrance to the ballroom the servant opened the doors and stepped forward as he began to announce them. “Your Grace. Your Grace.” He nodded his head towards the King and the Queen. “I present the noble house of Thorne. Lord Vladmir and Lady Desdemona escorting their children Lord Sylas and Lady Sylva.”

The ballroom was giant and looked like everything within it was gold. Its grand size put the rumors to shame. The room could easily fit a majority if not all of the citizens of the Blackvale within it.

Now approaching them was no doubt the King and Queen. Sylas had never met them face to face before but they lived up to what he heard. The King looked like he had the potential to be a decent ruler, but being King put some grey into his hair and wrinkles around his eyes. While the Queen held herself like she was still twenty, and dressed like she was as well. No doubt a woman not comfortable with her age.

“Welcome my Lord and Ladies. It is such an honor for you all to be staying with us this summer in the Black Keep.” The King smiled what looked like a genuine smile as he shook Vlad’s and Sylas’ hand before bowing and kissing Desdemona’s and Sylva’s. “We want these following months to be enjoyable and comfortable so please, call me Magnus and my wife Guinevere, and do not hesitate to ask for anything.”

The Queen looked like she wanted to snarl at the idea of being called her first name and not by her title. But she quickly pushed the feelings back and took a step forward. “We greatly appreciate the opportunity of allowing your children to come and mingle amongst the other young nobles. Please make yourselves comfortable. There is food and champagne at the tables along the back wall. Once the other families have joined us we shall introduce our… Lovely children.”

***

Gwendolynn was barely able to sit on the bench before her armoire as her handmaiden put her tiara upon her head, perfectly nestled in her intricately done red hair. “Gertrude, I think you put this on too tight.” Gwen’s hand rested upon her ribcage as she tried to breathe normally with the corset on beneath the gown.

“My Lady, your mother specifically told you me that you must be dressed properly over the course of the summer. This is how she wears her own corsets.” She moved to her knees, helping Gwen into her heels.

“Mother has no heart, it’s easier for her.”

Gertrude laughed as she took the silk ribbons of her shoes and wrapped them around Gwen’s ankles, tying them in a bow.

“Gerty?”

“Yes, Miss Gwen?”

“What the hell are those?” She pointed to the heels at the bottoms of her shoes.

“Newest fashion my Lady. It’s supposed to make you look taller.”

“It looks like a hazard… I’m already wearing more fabric then all the curtains in this blasted keep, now I’m going to walk around like a newborn fawn.”

“My Lady I promise, there is no thought to it.” Gertrude offered Gwen her hand so she could stand. “Well I’d bet my hat that you will be the prettiest girl there tonight. Even prettier than your mother.”

Gwen chuckled as she walked towards the door, taking a couple steps to get used to the shoes. “Don’t tell mother that or I’ll lose my hand maiden.” She smiled towards her hand maiden and friend before stepping out into the hallway to find her brother’s already waiting for her.

“Thank the Gods, she’s finally ready,” Brom huffed as he pushed off the wall he was leaning against.

“Well you’re free to wear the corset and I’ll wear the trousers,” Gwen said.

“I don’t have the breasts for one,” Brom said as he looked down at his chest.

“Are you sure?” Rhaegar said as he pocked Brom’s pectoral.

Brom swatted away his brother’s hand before adjusting his clothes so everything laid perfectly without blemish or crease.

“Such the peacock,” Gwen teased as she purposely messed up her brother’s attire every time he fixed it.

Before they could fuss with each other some more Rhaegar’s personal servant Charles hurried into their presence, bowing before them. “Your mother has requested that I escort you all to the study where she’d like you to wait until the noble houses have arrived and been announced in the ballroom.”

Rhaegar offered his arm to Gwen. She took it without hesitation while using her other hand to scoop up the excessive train of her ball gown. Brom followed a few steps behind still adjusting his formal attire.

When they reached the study the servant left them to wait in the ballroom until ordered to go fetch them. Gwen yanked off her tiara to study it. “What is the purpose of wearing this anyways?”

“So no one mistakes you for a servant. Very similar,” Brom said as he motioned to her face.

Gwen went to chuck her crown at him but Rhaegar quickly grabbed her wrist before she could. “Woah there. Breaking that would be one thing mother wouldn’t forgive.”

She sighed as her brother placed the over decorative head ornament back upon her. “I just… I don’t understand. If she’s having us wait here to be paraded into that ballroom and presented to all these nobles, then why in bloody hell do we have to wear crowns? They’re just heavy, awkward and make us stand out like sore thumbs.”

“I don’t need a crown to stand out,” Brom says as he fixes the crown upon his head.

“Not everyone enjoys being the center of attention.”

“No not everyone. Just me.”

“It’s probably for mother to keep an eye on us in the crowd,” Rhaegar says as he takes a seat at the piano running his hand along the keys.

Gwen snorts as she holds her chest to brace herself from the pressure of the corset as she attempted to sit down beside her brother. “Fairly certain I’m the only redhead in the ballroom aside from father.”

Brom absently walked over to the window, pushing back the blind to look outside. He saw a carriage pull up to the entrance and four family members emerge, one with red hair that could rival his own sister’s. “Apparently not the only one.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne Character Portrait: Vivienne Chaimbers Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon
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JONAH ALLYRION
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Eldest Child | The Winter's Wolf
#E80000 | Outfit
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CLARA ALLYRION
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Only Daughter | The Winter's Child
#388E8E | Outfit


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Days earlier...
Clara sat watching the snow. She sat on a bench, and leaned on a hand, staring out of the single window in her chambers, the glass was closed and the small hearth burned but she could still feel the cold. The night was particularly cold and dark. She sighed. Something was coming. Something as cold and as dark as this night.
Her Dreams told her as much...
A hefty knock came at the oaken door of her chambers. She turned just as her father, Lord Ramsey Allyrion, Lord of the North, a massive man, skin as dark as the night, yet with strangely light eyes, eyes she inherited. "What are you doing up here all along, Little One?" He asked, his voice strong and deep. She looked down at her feet. "Thinking." She said and he twitched a brow. Not angrily, curiously. "Clara." He said and took a seat on her bed, patting a place for her beside him. She sighed. It wasn't a lie, but she wasn't being forthcoming either. She walked over to him and sat beside him. "I have a bad feeling." She admitted and he said nothing, patiently waiting for her to continue. "I don't know what it is, I just..." She looked up and toward the window, watching the flakes fall and collect on the seal. She sighed. "It's...It's like just before a storm, a bad one, I can feel, the...static...the calm." she said and looked back at her father who was watching her. "What are our words." He asked, and she looked down at her hands, which had been twisting her skirts. "Day will rise." She said. "What does it mean?" He asked, and she looked at him. She knew the words, heard them all her life but she never considered what they meant. She thought she knew but the question made her question herself. She looked down, ashamed. "I'm...I'm not sure." She said and he placed a hand on her head. "A long time ago when our family first landed here from the south-lands." Her father began, stroking her dark hair. "They were used to the warmth of the sun, the days were longer in the south-lands and here in the north, the days were short, the night were long, and some days, the sun wouldn't come for months at a time," he said and she looked at him. She knew this story. Her father's people were from where the sun was hot, and it never snowed. She couldn't imagine a place where it didn't snow, even in the winter.
"They were terrified, the seeds they brought, didn't grow, winds howled, storms raged, and many, many did not survive but then...one day, after months of cold, and the death, the snow melt, plants grew, and the sun rose...." He said and she nodded. She knew this. "That's why those are our words...'Day will rise.'" She said and he smiled. "Yes, but it means more than that," he said. "It means, No matter how dark it seems. The Day will rise, they will get better." He said and she looked at him, understanding playing her face. "So, my little Clara, you might feel a storm, and perhaps it's on the rise, but remember our words...." He told her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Day will rise." She sank into his hug, but she couldn't shake the feeling like something...something horrible was coming. Day would rise, but it had to be dark first.
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Jon twirled his practice sword, one, twice before bringing the wooden blade across the belly of an equally wooden dummy, following through with a sidelong spin as if the dummy had its own sword and would have taken the opportunity to swing in return. Jon rose the blade up and would have taken the head of his foe if he hadn't noticed brilliant red hair out of the corner of his eye. Stark against the white, gray and blues around him. His shoulders slacked, though his arms were still holding the sword high. "Mother..." he murmured but a smile touched his lips, lowering his weapon. He turned to her with an arch brow, still warning his grin. "That's mighty distracting." He told his mother, Lady Charlotte, as she approached him, her hands tucked into the fur-lined sleeves of her overdress. She merely smiled, one that mirrored his. "I enjoy watching you practice." She said, removing her hand from the warmth of her sleeve to reach up, cupping the back of his head to press a kiss to his forehead. He lowered, allowing her the kiss, though he felt a little odd, he was sweating, despite the cold, from the practice and surely the smell was offensive. He stood straight, leaning on his practice sword. "Father still speaking with Clara, I gather." He said and his mother laughed. "Can't I watch my son practice?" She asked feigning innocence. Jon shook his head. "Of course," He said. "Clearly you've nothing better to do." He said and expecting the swat that came to his arm. He wore his grin and so did she, for a moment before his mother's faded. She looked down at her feet and sighed. Her breath appearing in wisps from the exhale.
"Clara is in one of her moods again." She confessed, her native accent touching her words stronger now, she always had one but it was only this strong when she was upset. Jon could only sigh. He knew this of course. She had another episode last night where she ended up wandering around the Keep in her sleep. He was awoken by her running into his door. Thankfully the girl was tougher than she looked. He thought she might be sporting a bruise.

"She was sleep walking again, so..." Jon shrugged before tossing his wooden blade against the dummy and offering an arm to his mother. Her face was paler than usual, Jon noted, clearly, she must have been keeping herself busy.

"I wish I knew what to do." She told him and he sighed. Clara loved their mother and vice versa but she'd always been closer to Father. Mother couldn't reach her, she was often telling Clara all the things she did wrong, much like Father did to him. But whereas, Jon knew he meant well. Clara, though she didn't bruise easy, she had a soft heart, and for the first few years of her life, she was ill, to the point where they did not think she would survive. Thankfully she did, but she was bedridden for most of her life when she finally got better, Mother had to teach her all she needed to know about being a proper lady all at once, it seemed. Rather than, slowly like she would have if Clara was healthy. This put a strain on both of them. Clara had to grow up, quickly, and Mother couldn't treat her like the child she was inside. Jon got to be a child and learned to be a man. Clara woke up one day and she had to be a woman. Jon allowed her to be a child with him, Father did too, though he treated them both like children most of the time, but Mother could not, even when she wanted to. They turned into the keep and the large hearth that heated the main hall greeted them with warmth. Jon took a breath. "Talk to her." He said and his mother looked at him with a frown as if to say. 'I do.'

"I mean...have you tried to get to know her?" He asked and she looked offended "I know my daughter, Jon." she said and Jon sighed, patting the hand that was hooked around his arm. "No, I mean, truly get to know her, like, have you listened one of her songs?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, but she needs not to focus on that now." She said and he stopped their walk and turned to his mother. She was a tall woman but he still had her by a foot or two. "Perhaps," He stopped to lick his lips, knowing he was getting dangerously close to upsetting her. He did not want that. His mother was kind but wasn't someone one wanted angry. "Perhaps that's the problem." He said. "You haven't bothered to listen to her, you tell her what she needs to do, how she needs to do it, even why she needs to do it but...you haven't let her speak to you..."
His mother was quiet, which wasn't a good sign. "You haven't let her do those things her own way," he said and she frowned, looking off which -though she frowned- was a good sign. She was musing. He wondered if she was recalling the one time where Clara was sewing and she was signing, Jon had happened by and hear Mother tell her to stop and that she needed to focus, Jon knew that that was Clara's way of focusing. The moment she stopped singing the stitching wasn't as good as Mother wanted. Jon left after he hear mother fuss, but Clara told him the rest.

Mother looked up at him and sighed, a few stitching her brow. Jon said nothing else, watching her. She looked much like Clara at that moment, or rather, Clara looked much like her when she frowned. "Maybe you're right." She said finally and Jon realized then he hadn't been breathing. "Am I?" He asked with his wolfish grin, hoping to lighten the mood. Mother's face softened but otherwise made no acknowledge to his teasing. She merely huffed out of her nose, much like Clara does when she's relenting. "She's a woman now... And soon--very soon, she will need to marry, and I just want the best for her." She said but Jon stopped listening after 'she will need to marry'.
He looked at his mother, mouth agape. "Wait, what?"
His mother looked at him and then she heard herself. She looked away. "Mother, what are you talking about?" He asked, a little more urgently than he intended. The thought of Clara marrying...it turned his stomach. She was a beautiful girl but she knew nothing of the world and had a child's heart. She couldn't be married, not yet.

"Mother?" He urged and she turned to look at him, her green eyes wide, twisting her skirts. Jon felt a panic. "We were going to tell you both...together...Your Father and I," She said and Jon frowned. "Tell us what?"

"The King...He has requested our presence at the Black Keep; The other families will attend as well," She said and Jon felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. His brain already putting two and two together. The King and his father had always been close, and knowing Clara was of age now, Jon swallowed, bile churning his stomach. She could have more of a chance than most if they played this right.

"The King wants to parade my little sister around other women so that the Prince might choose one for a wife?" He couldn't hide his disgust. "She's a child." He spat and his mother flinched. He didn't mean to shout but it was too late for that now. "Magnus..." His mother started, reaching for him but he recoiled sharply. She called him his first name, not Jonah, his middle name but the namesake he was given after the King. This was bad. "Magnus...She's not." She said and he shook his head.
"But she is, she just doesn't look it." He said and stormed off. How could they do this to her? Clara wasn't ready for court life, and hell, neither was he. This was wrong.

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The next day, Clara and Jonah were called to the Great Hall. It was light with the morning sun casting a soft blue hue onto the stone walls. The Long Night had been over for a few years now and Day had risen, as their father always promised. The hall was normal alight with candles, the great hearth where massive logs would crackle and pop from the flames upon them. It would give the hall a warm orange glow; making it seem more welcoming and safe. Now, it seemed harsh and imposing for the lack of color. They only color in the room was their mother's brilliant red hair, that in this light, looked darker and almost hard to see. That was something neither of the children appreciated. Their parents sat on the dais in front of the large hearth which held no wood or flames this morning, there was no need; the sun was up and warming the keep with its rays. Though, a southern people wouldn't consider the temperature warm, especially for the snow that was still falling outside. They were behind a long oaken table. The wood was sanded smooth, cravings depicted their house sigil, the Crescent Moon. The same crescent moon was stitched finely into the large silver and black banners that hung on either side of the hearth.

The morning sun peeking through the high windows cast what wasn't lit by the beams into dark shadows. Appropriate actually, this was the Shadow House after all.

Clara and Jonah stood together in front of them, Jonah making it a point to hold Clara's hand, which, of course, only made Clara more nervous. She swallowed and Jonah squeezed her hand. "Jonah, Clara." Their father said with a nod, his unusually light eye finding both of them seemingly at the same time. They bowed and curtseyed respectively. "Good Morning, Father, Good Morning Mother." Clara said softly. Father, Mother" Jonah said with an attitude in his tone that it seemed, at least to Clara that they all noticed but otherwise ignored. Their mother merely smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Clara, How are you feeling?"Lord Ramsey asked, looking at her. She smiled in a similar way that her mother had. "Well, Father." She said and he nodded. "anymore coughing fits, and sleeping episodes?" He asked and she shook her head. "No, Father," she said with a smile. She had the night before last but none last night. That was something.
She watched her father's face, their father rarely allowed his thoughts to be betrayed by his face but Clara had learned to read the small things. It wasn't all she really had to do while laying in bed, only seeing people when they chose to visit. She had time to study their faces, the small things they did when they spoke to her, whether or not they were lying to her. So she knew by the small nod and the upward twitch of her father's eyebrow that he was glad to hear this and that would come into play later.
"Good." Was all he said on the subject before his eyes turned to the both of them.

"We received a raven from Blackvale." He began and Jonah's hand twitched, closing her fingers. Clara didn't hide her frown but she didn't turn it to her brother, but she knew, he knew what was coming next.

"The King has requested our presence for the summer, we will be staying in Blackvale for the entirety of it." He went on and Clara would have smiled had it not been for Jonah's tension. She could feel the heat radiating from him. "A whole Summer in Blackvale?" She asked and her father nodded. Clara looked at her brother finally, offering a smile. "Isn't that exciting, Pup?" She urged and he seemed to not hear her at first, before turning to her. He gave a smirk that was more of a twitch but that was all. He said nothing. That was very uncharacteristic of him. He always had a lot of say, good or bad. He was waiting for something. She turned to her father then. "Is that all, Father?" She urged and he shot a look to Jonah that made her nervous and the nervousness continued when he turned back at her. "We will not be the other family to attend, The Thornes, The Chaimbers, The Cavaliers, The Thatchers, The Davernys and the Greysons, all will be there as well." He said and Clara gapped. "My" She breathed and she looked at her brother who while still tense, seemed to finally hear news he hadn't heard before.

"What for, Father?"

"Yes, Father, tell us, What for." Jonah finally spoke and it caused Clara to whip her head his direction. Jonah never used that tone with anyone, especially not Father. "Magnus." Their mother hissed while their father cocked his head threateningly all while Clara looked at her family as if they'd all changed colors. "What is going on?" She blurted.

"They are sending you there to be paraded in front of the Prince, in hopes that you will be chosen by him, marry him and produce him an heir, that is what this invitation is all about," Jonah said, glaring daggers their father and Clara blinked. "Wh-what?"
"Mangus Jonah Allyrion, that is quite enough," Their mother barked from across the room, her voice echoing in the otherwise empty hall. Jonah looked as if he were about to speak but snapped his mouth shut at her tone. Clara was still reeling from the news.
"Is this true, Father?" she asked and as per usual, he merely nodded.
"Not in so many words." Their mother corrected. "But yes, that is why we were invited, for you to be a potential wife for the Prince."
Clara sighed heavily, she knew this day was coming, her mother had been preparing her for such a thing but now that it was here, her stomach turned to knots.

"So nevermind what Clara wants?" Jonah spoke up again, his tone cooler this time. "That is not something a Lady need worry about." their mother said though they all could hear the disgust in her tone. Jonah jerked his head back as if she'd stuck him. "Frozen Hell, you really believe that don't you?" He said shocked. "Jonah." Their father said warningly. Father rarely disciplined them, unless they upset or somehow disrespected their mother. Jonah was getting dangerously close to the latter.

"Father, you can't allow this to happen? Clara's a child, and we don't even know what he'll be like.." Jonah said gesturing to Clara making her feel small. Jonah was always wildly protective of her. He is a wolf and she is his pack, but he often made the mistake of underestimating her.
"You were kind to mother, you love Mother but you two are the exception, not the rule." Jonah went on and Clara closed her eyes. "I am not a child," she said but he voice was too small and Jonah went on. "What if he hurts her? What then? Dear Ancestors, if he chooses her and then hurts her, there will be nothing we can do to stop him, to protect her. Mother, you made me promise to look out for her, Father you told me to be a man of my words, so I cannot sit by and watch as-"
"I'm not a child, Jonah!" Clara shouted, stopping Jonah dead. He turned to her wild-eyed.
"Do you think me so weak, Brother? "
Jonah shook his head, rolling his eyes. "That's not what I meant." He sighed, and out of the corner of her eye, Clara saw her father waved down her mother as if to tell her to let them handle this.
"What do you mean then, Jonah? You called me a child."
"You're young."
"There is a difference, Jonah.."
"Perhaps, but you're still green, Clara, you aren't ready for court life,"
Clara narrowed her eyes, a hand on her hip. "And how do you suppose that I get ready, Jonah. hm?" She cocked her head and Jonah was silent. "You say you care about what I want but you haven't bothered to ask my opinion, either."She waited for his argument but he had none and she knew it.

Sure, she wasn't ready, not even close but she wasn't a child, and she did not wish to be treated like one. She looked at their parents, there was a light in her father's eyes that registered as pride and there was something in her mother's eyes that registered as fear?

"We do we depart, Father?"
"First thing Tomorrow. Are you sure about this, Clara? You know I would not put you in any danger-" He shot a look to Jonah before continuing "-Rhaegar is a good man but you need not win his favor if you do not wish to, there will be plenty of other women there who want his hand."
Clara hadn't thought about it actually, she knew of Rhaegar but knew nothing of him. Would she want to marry a man she never met? It wasn't as if she'd just be handed off to him. He would be given a choose among many -likely more healthy women- sand if she did like him enough then she would decide.
"I will decide on my own and I will let you know, we have to see the bridge before we cross it, yes?" She said and her father smiled then. "Yes."
"I will prepare then," She said they were dismissed. Jonah said nothing to her that entire morning.
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Later that night as they were preparing for the journey, Jonah felt bad. He knew he was wrong, he shouted at his mother, upset his sister, all in the name of protecting her. He still felt wrong about this whole thing but she was right. She wasn't a child anymore and while he would protect her forever. He couldn't. She had to make her own choices; that was what he wanted after all. He made his way to her chamber, all dressed in riding gear, his sword sheathed at his side, and knocked lightly. "Come" she called and he entered, his head down."Oh, Jon." she said and he knew she was still upset with him but didn't completely hate him. He sighed before he began." Clara...I'm sorry." He said. "I didn't mean to upset you, or disrespect you, I look at you, and I remember how things were and I just-" He looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his head."It's alright, Pup." She said and he looked up at her. Pup, that was a good sign. "You meant well, but you've got to understand, I'm not that child anymore, you don't have to worry for me."
"you sleep walk and have coughing fits, yes I do."She smiled. "you know what I mean." She said and walked up to him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and sighed. "Mother has been preparing me for this day for a long time, I knew it was coming, and yes, I'm scared but I will be fine, I can handle to besides..." she smiled up at him taking his face in either hand and lowered it to her lips. "I know I have you to look out for me if something does go wrong." She said and smiled up at him, releasing him He nodded. [color=#E80000]"Alright, Songbird, but if something goes wrong, try not to do anything that will get me hanged or beheaded, I will take it very personally if you do." He aid and she chuckled and shoved him playfully. "Go, we must get ready."
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Present Day
"Ready, Songbird?" Jonah whispered down at her. Clara looked up at him, a nod as they were ushered into the Black Keep, the ballroom was lavish and as daunting as she imagined. She took a breath with normal was constricting due to her illness, she was much more constricted by the corset she wore. It was in the south style so most of her is showing much more of her then even she saw on a regular basis. "Careful, that thing you're wrapped up in will pop. It'll make a terrible impression on the royal family or a good one if you're trying to get the Prince's attention " Jonah grinned wolfishly. Clara scrunched up her nose. her corset was mighty tight, and she was wearing a lot less than she had been used to now that they were in the Southlands. She'd never been this far south before. The Sun felt different down here and she already missed the snow but then again, she was Winter's Child, she preferred the cold.

Clara watched as the Graysons and then the Chaimbers were introduced while Jonah had been not so casually staring the line of yellow-haired women. "Do you know them?" Clara whispered. Jonah rose his brows. "Huh?" He asked, finally looking in her direction. ""The Princes and the Princess? Do you know them?"she asked again and Jonah shrugged a shoulder, casting his gaze abut the "I sort of remember Rhaegar, we met when I was really small. I've seen Brom a few times with Father but I don't know him well but the Princess...I have never seen her before, I look forward to meeting her.." he said and Clara closed her eyes to avoid rolling them. Her brother was a flirt, and it was hard to get his eyes off on any woman that was his pray. Luckily for them, he was a good man otherwise, she'd have more nieces and nephews than she knew what to do with."We are supposed to be here for me, Pup."
"We are, we are." He said and patted her shoulder. "Surely the Princess will need something to do while her brother courts you all, no?"
"If it helps you sleep at night, Brother."
"With any luck, I'll be much too busy." He said with a wolfish grin and Clara closed a hand over her face. She asked for that, she really did.

Next, it was their turn to be presented to the royal family and Jonah straightened himself up.

"May I present to you, The noble House Allyrion. Lord Ramsey and Lady Charlotte." The herald began Their mother and father bowed respectfully. "And their children, Lord Magnus ." He said and Jonah seemed to want to wince but didn't. He merely smiled and bowed grandly to the King and Queen. Clara knew he didn't like being called by that name, he hadn't felt like he earned it yet, and being called that name in front of his namesake would daunting. Of course, he didn't tell her this nor would he but she could read him too well. "Lady Clara." Clara stepped up and curtseyed. "You're Graces" before stepping aside for the next family.
Suddenly, she felt it again. That static, sending a shock up her spine. The storm was still on its way and it was hit here.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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AVERY THATCHER
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Eldest Son | The Armadillo
#FF4500 | Outfit
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ELLIOT THATCHER
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Youngest Son | The Casanova
#551A8B | Outfit
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ILENE THATCHER
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Only Daughter | The Thorny Rose
#CD1076 | Outfit

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"Oh come on, you can do better than that," Avery grinned at his younger brother, lowering the large shield with the family armadillo crest adorning the front. "Where was the soul in that swing? The fight?"

"Oh shut up or it'll be your soul floating about," Elliot grumbled as he recovered from the bounce his swing had produced when it collided with Avery's shield. Elliot rolled his shoulders and twirled his swords in his hands as he got back into a crouching position as he and Avery circled each other.

"You'll have to practice more for that feat. At this rate you wouldn't be able to slaughter a slug," Avery taunted, his blue eyes alight with a teasing glint. Elliot gave a war cry as he rushed forward, right sword swinging, forcing Avery to bring his shield up and step back as Elliot twirled with the force to bring his left sword down at Avery's shoulder which Avery parried only to get a kick. Avery stumbled back from the kick and barely brought his shield up to block the two sword coming down from above. Avery flicked his own sword out to swat Elliot's ankles with the flat of his blade. "Better! But I still got you. In a real fight I would have slashed your ankles and you would be downed."

"If you didn't have that shield to hide behind I would have gotten you," Elliot growled as he pulled back to get some distance.

"Most will fight with shields. You need to find a way to get beneath them or you'll never win."

"Oh honestly, don't you two ever get bored of playing with your swords?" Ilene grumbled from where she sat beneath a shaded tree. Ilene pulled at one of her threads in her needle work as she fixed one of Avery's shirts. Her blond hair was down today, cascading down around her face and shoulders as she worked.

Elliot couldn't help the grin playing on his lips. "No, it is actually quite fun to play with my sword. Better yet with another slowly rolling over it."

Ilene looked up at her younger sibling aghast. "Elliot! Must you always interject with such lewd imagery?

"You started it," Elliot laughed.

Avery rolled his eyes at his siblings. Realizing he'd lost Elliots attention and would no doubt not get any real sword training from the man, he put his sword away and hoisted the shield on his back. Avery ran a hand through his own blond locks with a sigh. "I guess we are done for the day. I am going to go into the field. Farmer Padrick asked for some assistance in the cornfield. Tell mother and father please."

"I am not your page. You can tell them yourself. I am going out now that we are done here," Elliot answered and put away his own swords.

"Damn it Elliot, I know very well where you are going. You are going to give Mam a heart attack at this rate. Leave that poor boy alone. He's the best stable hand we've got and you'll scare him off."

Elliot gave his brother a mock look of horror and pressed his hands against his chest as if he had been struck. "Brother! You make me out to be a monster! I am wounded! I merely offer him my affections!"

Ilene and Avery both gave each other a look before leveling their gazes at Elliot un-phased by the youngest's theatrics. Elliot gave a pout before he gave up the charade. He rested his hands on his hip. "Approval or not, I am going," Elliot announced as he turned away. Before either brother could leave, however, their mother's voice rang out over the garden, calling all three of them. The three siblings glanced at each other in a bit of worry and confusion. It wasn't often their mother called for all three of them at once. The immediate thought was that something grave had occurred. Elliot and Avery both helped their sister gather her sewing before the three of them hurried back to the manor where their mother was calling for them.

Lady Ophelia was yet beautiful in her old age, a testament to the beauty she had been. She had aged gracefully, the wrinkles barely tugging at her eyes and lips. Her skin was still fair like her daughter's though slightly roughened by her hard work. Her pale golden hair was beginning to grow in silvery and gave her an air of sophistication. Even her movements were yet graceful and enchanting. Ilene truly hoped that she too aged as well as her mother. It was easy to see where the Thatcher children had gotten their charm and beauty from. Ophelia held her head high and proud as she rested her warm eyes on each of her children.

"Oh, Avery, Elliot, you both are covered in dirt again. And look at the holes in your clothing! You make me and Ilene work just to mend your clothing," she chided lovingly. "Your sister is already mending clothes," she mused as she looked at what Ilene was holding.

"Sorry, Mam. We were training in the yard. Has somewhat happened? Is everything all right?" Avery asked her, concern playing on his handsome features.

"It is not trouble so don't worry yourself over it but we received a letter from our liege of the Black Keep your father and I would like to discuss with you."

"The Black Keep?"

It wasn't often their parents brought them into counsel after a letter. What was all of this about? Three three siblings glanced between each other before they followed their mother into the counsel room where their father was waiting for them. Just as their mother, Lord William was a handsome man in his aging. Though far more weather and stress worn, the lines of his face gave him a sort of stoic recognition. His good nature was easily seen in his deep blue eyes, shinning through the gruffness of his love of simplicity. Unlike most lords, he was happy with the simple pleasures, never over adorning his home with trinkets. Even the clothing he preferred was tailored to be far less rich and elaborate for his station. It was easy to see Avery took after that predilection. Lord William smiled as his wife took her place at his right hand and he looked over his children as he sat forward.

"As I am sure your mother has already explained, we just received a message from his Majesty and her Highness. They have invited us to stay for the summer in the Black Keep."

"Stay for the summer the Black Keep?" Ilene repeated in surprise. That was quite the honor but there had to be more to it then that. The king and queen would have no use for all of them to take up residence there for an entire summer.

"Is that wise? Who would watch over our lands? The people?" Avery interjected. "I could stay home and watch over everything. You both know I do not have the desire to play in court intrigue. There are far more important things to worry about here." Ah, the ever practical Avery. If he could, he'd avoid these political games as much as possible.

"We will have the men here protecting the residence. You don't need to worry about that, Son. Unfortunately, the three of you must attend," Lord William explained.

"You see, they are holding a ball and we are not the only nobility that will be attending. All of the families have been called upon," Lady Ophelia finished. The lord and lady let that settle on their children for a moment. Realization of what the ball really meant was quick to sour everyone's mood.

"So it is a marriage convention, with each of us a prize for the royalty?" Elliot mused sourly.

"You mean me and Avery," Ilene remarked to Elliot. "We are eldest and neither of us have married yet. The time is ticking," she finished dryly.

"All of us. They just said all of us. I am not exempt," Elliot sighed and crossed his arms.

"Regardless," Avery said with a wave to quite them both before they began to bicker, "We have to go. Do we have a choice in any of this?" Avery asked his parents. He personally had no desire to marry, princess or nobility, that would be nothing but a pretty face. He had other concerns.

"You do have a choice in a selection of a marriage partner. You and your brother mostly. Should the princes take an interest and pursue Ilene, we will attempt to pursue the arrangement." William answered sadly. "I am sorry my Starlit. I know your feelings about a proper husband but as a queen, you could do much. Other than that, you to will have a choice of your marriage though we do implore you to find someone to settle with. You are right in thinking that time is beginning to run thin. You've forced many suitors away." He hated to speak this way, especially to his daughter, but soon, no nobleman would ask for her hand, beautiful or not. Lord William then looked at Avery pointedly. Avery would know why. He had yet to produce an heir and considering Elliot's odd... fancy, he did not expect to see one from him any time soon.

"I know father. I am sorry for making your life so much harder. I will keep your words and duty in mind, but I will not change myself either; not for any man, may it even be the king himself," she answered. The suitors would have to accept her as she was, not a pretty picture of what they expected.

"Of course my dear. I would not ask for you to change yourself. I want you to be happy to," her father said.

"When will be leaving?" Avery asked sullenly.

"Tomorrow," Ophelia answered. "Finish the tasks you have for the day and prepare to ride."
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Finally, they were nearing the castle. Avery could see it rising up like the looming bars of a cage. He wished this summer was already over and that they were riding on their way home, not towards this dreaded place. The castle itself looked mesmerizing but the entire trip was colored by the fact that he would more than likely have to come out of this with a marriage proposal. He had had no intention of ever being married but he knew that would break his parents hearts. He needed an heir though he did not want to go through with this in the least bit. Avery pulled the rein's of his grey stallion to get it to stop and stood up in the saddle measuring the time. They would be at the gates in about half an hour. He heard a horse neighing behind him and turned to see his brother riding up beside him. Elliot at least was enjoying the horse ride. He kept straying off from the main road to explore at a safe distance.

Elliot looked like quite the lord with his rich clothing fashioned in the green and rusty red of their house. The Blazon stood out on his chest like a beacon. Avery himself had been forced into a fashionable attire least he be confused with a peasant though they were highly uncomfortable clothing. He felt like a peacock to be gawked at, what with the hot layers covering his skin. He even had a cape draped over his shoulders in the rich green his sister had crafted. It was connected to his attire with the golden clasp of the armadillo holding the evergreen leaves. Avery thought he looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Don't look so sour, Avery. You'r face will freeze that way. There isn't much going for you but your face, so don't screw it up," Elliot teased.

"Ease for you to say. I don't want to be here."

"Avery, I know you are looking at this through the duty lens but there is more to it then that. Look at it this way. Sure we are being paraded around like show ponies, but look where we are. We are at the Black Keep. We don't often come here or leave our territory. Don't let one part of it sour the rest of your mood. Take the time to enjoy yourself a little bit. You'll be better off."

Avery looked over at Elliot with an arched brow as he studied his brother. Elliot arched his own brow then. "What? Why are you staring at me?"

"Nothing. Just surprised you can say something intelligent and supporting."

Elliot scoffed and punched him in the arm. "I might as well not say anything at all if my words are so squandered," Elliot said with a proud toss of his head.

"You really are such a drama queen" Avery chuckled.

"Drama king. But look, I've made you laugh," Elliot answered with a mischievous grin. "My work here is done. You scowling and groaning... it doesn't suit you so put a smile on your face. Come on."

Avery was smiling as he shook his head and followed his brother back to the carriage. The two of them lined up with it and Avery knocked on the wall to draw someone's attention from inside. Ilene parted the curtains to look out at her brothers. "We'll be there shortly. he announced.

"All right. Thank you," she answered.

Within moment, their carriage arrived and both boys dismounted and handed their horses off to the stable hand. Elliot came around to the carriage door and stood aside as his father stepped down with a thank you who in turn helped his mother down. Elliot moved forward to offer his arm to Ilene then. Ilene carefully stepped out so she wouldn't trip on her dress. It was the same lush green as Avery's cloak with delicate silver and red laces and designs down the front and upon the little jacket she sported to cover her back. Her golden hair was done up extravagantly with little pink blossoms woven throughout. From it, some of her hair cascaded down her shoulder in rivulets to frame her face. An emerald necklace hugged her throat and she fussed with it to make sure it sat straight.

"You look beautiful, Ilene."

"Thank you, Avery. You should wear clothing like this more often. It suits you. And you to, Elliot."

Avery shook his head amused but Elliot preened like a bird and adjusted his shirt. Then it was time to head inside. Lord William escorted Ophelia first before Avery led Ilene with Elliot at the rear.

"Introducing Lord and Lady of the South, William and Ophelia Thatcher with their children Avery, Ilene, and Elliot Thatcher."

The family gave their bows and sweet words then before moving to stand farther away and waited.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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#, as written by mjolnir
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RHAEGAR CASTILLON
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Heir to Blackvale | The Falcon
#B70909 | Outfit
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BROM CASTILLON
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Prince | The Peacock
#061B62 | Outfit
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SYLAS THORNE
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Heir to Dark Wood | The Viper
#999999 | Outfit
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GWENDOLYNN CASTILLON
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Princess | The Little Dove
#F56E6F | Outfit


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Sylas bowed beside his sister while she curtsied towards the King and Queen. As he did, his gaze never left the Queen Guinevere who seemed to be intently watching him with an animalistic hunger. He quirked a brow as a stood upright, adjusting his attire as he glanced away. Although the gaze was direct and a bit unnerving, he held his composure and if anything stood tall and strong.

After the King and Queen moved on to greet the next family, Sylas stood elegant and tall as his mother held his arm. His gaze was drown towards his sister when he heard her voice, “Excuse me mother, for I must steal by brother. I feel that having some alcohol in my system may make the socializing a tad less painful.”

He smiled towards his mother as she adjusted part of his suit and then a bit of Sylva’s hair. “I would say behave, but where is the fun in that.” She then gave him a more serious look which garnered his full attention. “Make sure she doesn't get too drunk. Remember what happened that one New Years eve?”

Sylas looked between his mother and Sylva, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, of course mother.”

“Yes yes, I accidentally burnt down half the stables. Don’t worry mother. He will take care of me, he always does.”

Sylva slid her arm through his and began to guide him away. He glanced back over his shoulder towards his mother before they were too far away, “It’s my turn to get drunk anyways.” He winked towards Desdemona who chuckled at him before waving them off.

When they reached the table that was worked by a young servant girl, Sylas smiled towards the girl while giving a sly wink. He grabbed himself and his sister a glass of champagne before leading her over towards the large windows that lead out to the gardens. He watched the King and Queen greet each family as he sipped his champagne. When he noticed the mannerisms in the King shift at the presence of the Graysons, he quirked a brow, leaning in towards his sister slightly. “Now what could have the mighty Magnus so tense, I wonder?”

As more families filed into the ballroom Sylas felt like the viper in the brush patiently watching as all the field mice scurry around him. He was ready to pounce. Every move, every suggestive glance and translative body gesture had him eager to attack. But all the exterior showed was a calm, cool and collected young man. Refined, and elegant, everything a young lord should be and everything young women swooned over. He was going to give the Prince’s a run for their money. Seduce and destroy every woman just to watch the Blackvale crumble.

His train of thought was disrupted when Maxwell moved before him, bowing in greeting. “My Lord.”

“Ah. Maxwell. This is my lovely sister Sylva.” Sylas motioned to his sister.

“A pleasure my Lady.” Maxwell bowed in her direction. Sylas then motioned for the young man to come closure and keep to hushed tones. “I have taken care of your rooms, my Lord. The adjacent chambers have a shared door so that you make travel between the two without notice.”

Sylas reached into his pocket pulling out a couple more gold coins, slipping them into Maxwell’s pocket. “That’s a good man. Now…” He took a step closer to the servant, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Who is your allegiance to?”

“You my Lord.”

“Good man. I’d like you to keep your ears open. Anything and everything you hear you report to me… The more useful, the more gold for you. As long as you’re loyal to me, you’ll never want for anything ever again in your life.” Sylas’ grasp on Maxwell’s shoulder tightened, not enough to cause pain but enough to send a message. “If you betray me, the King will wake up to your head on his breakfast tray.”

***

Gwendolynn sat at a window seat in the study, resting her chin upon her arms on the windowsill as she watched the families arrive. “The Davernys… That’s all seven.”

Rhaegar stood behind her with his right arm raised, resting against the wall as he too watched the arrivals. “Do you think it was intentional for it to be exactly ten ladies and ten gentleman?” More of a rhetorical question that literal. Of course, it was intentional. Most likely every Lord and Lady was hoping for their child to make a smart match during their stay here. And a majority of them would be pushing their children at them… Him.

Gwen slowly reached behind her to grab Rhaegar’s hand in hers while she looked over her shoulder towards Brom. “This… is our last summer together.”

The comment caused Brom to stop his mindless scanning of the numerous books in the room to look towards his sister. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but a lump formed in his throat. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Him and his siblings haven’t been apart for more than a month but now… This summer was going to take at least Gwen to the opposite side of the nation.

Rhaegar gently squeezed Gwen’s hand while Brom walked over to her, and place a kiss on her forehead. He remained silent as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she wrested her head against his side.

They remained silent. They hoped maybe if they never let go then no one could tear them apart. A trio forced to separate because of ridiculous societal norms and laws. It took everything they had not to cry or run away. It was their duty… A horrible responsibility.

The knock on the door hit them all like a dagger in the back. Their grips on each other tightened, but they did not move. After a moment without an answer, the servant slowly opened the door. “Your Graces… Your mother has asked me to fetch you.”

Gwen took a deep breath before she finally moved to her feet, exchanging a look between her older brothers. They all we scared and they knew it. They didn’t have to say anything to know. The one thing they knew best was each other.

“Come here,” Brom whispered before pulling them in an embrace. He patted his brother’s back while pressing his forehead against Rhaegar’s. His other arm held Gwen close, her forehead resting against the twins’ jaws.

“I’m sorry…” The servant spoke up again. “But your mother implores. If you do not come, I’ll be the one to pay.”

Rhaegar pulled his siblings in tighter for one last embrace before whispering to them, “No matter what, we have each other. Do not settle for anyone short of amazing… If we have to run away and live as paupers to be happy, then so be it.” He leaned in pressing his lips to Gwen’s forehead while using his hand to rustle Brom’s hair. He then nodded his head towards the servant, “Apologies. I do not want you to suffer on our account.”

As they walked down the hall towards the ballroom they recited the names of the different Lords and Ladies that will be present. Their mother made sure they knew who was who. Royalty should know their people. Of course Rhaegar and Gwendolynn had the names straight weeks ago while Brom was lucky if he could guess how many children each family had.

They neared the large doors at the top of the grand staircase and while Rhaegar and Brom continued forward, Gwen froze in her tracks. It wasn’t until the servant had his hands on the door that the twins turned around looking for her. “…I can’t do this.”

The brothers both held out their arms to her while Rhaegar nods his head towards the door, “We’re right here with you.”

“Yeah and if you fall we’ll be the first to laugh.” Rhaegar smacked Brom in the chest, “Ow.”

Just as Brom went to smack the crown right off of Rhaegar’s head, Gwen quickly ran up between the two and took their arms. “How about you both stop fighting and escort me so I don’t fall in these ridiculous shoes.”

”Your Grace, the Queen wanted me to announce you one at a time and—”

“It’s all of us or none of us.”

Brom rose his brows towards Rhaegar as they both chuckled at the ferocity in Gwen’s voice obvious from her nerves. “Remind me not to piss her off,” he whispered towards his brother as the servant pushed open the large doors.

Their escort stepped out of the shadows where two other men waited. With a motion of his hand the two men raised horns to their lips and blew a tune in sync to gain the company’s attention.

“Seriously? A horn?”

Rhaegar brought snorted back a laugh as he raised his hand to cover his mouth.

”My Lords. My Ladies.” As she the servant started, Gwen’s grasp on her brother’s arms tightened. ”It is my honor to present to you the royal children of the family Castillon.” He motioned towards them and with a deep breath they stepped forward. Gwen could have sworn she saw stem flood out of her mother’s ears at the sight of them entering together, arm in arm. ”Eldest son to the King and Queen, heir to the Blackvale Rhaegar, his twin brother, Prince and King’s Guard Brom and their sister Gwendolynn.”

The siblings walked down the stairs elegantly, arm in arm. Gwen tried to best not to trip but even when she thought she was losing her balance her brothers just held her steady. When they reached the ballroom floor Rhaegar and Brom bowed while Gwen curtsied. They walked through the crowd of people towards their parents. Gwen tried not to look at her feet as she walked, her nerves growing with each pair of eyes she saw fixed on her.

When they reached the King and Queen, Magnus stepped forward raising his hand in a way to ask the crowd to grow silent. “I would like to thank you all for making the long journey to the Black Keep. We are pleased to accept you all into our home for the summer. Although our time together is to hopefully make new alliances and marriages between our children it is also a chance for us all to get a chance to know each other and create new friendships where we previously wouldn’t have the opportunity. So I’d like you all to make yourselves at home and please do enjoy yourselves.”

King Magnus bows towards the crowd before motioning towards his wife. Queen Guinevere tried to seem as genuine as possible when addressing the crowd. “In celebration of the beginning to this great summer and new friends, we invite all of our children in the dance of the Blackvale.” The Queen motioned towards the Castillon children beckoning them to take their place in the center of the dance floor. “The dance is simple,” she holds out her hand towards her kids who lined up where Brom and Rhaegar were in one line and Gwen was on the other side. “Our strapping young men will line up across from the beautiful young ladies. They share a dance with the woman across from them and when the song changes you switch partners. The dance is over when you’ve danced with every young man or woman.”

Sylas’ attention shifted towards the main staircase when he heard the horns. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or what about the royal children looking fairly attractive and nice. Of course, nice means nothing, especially when Thornes are around.

Although he never of thought of anyone other than his sister in a none loathing matter, he was surprised at how agreeable the Castillon daughter was. He had heard rumors about her but words failed to compare. He wondered how many of the men in the room were going to fight at the chance for a chance at her hand. Her beauty no doubt would only make her more desirable partnered with her status as the Princess of the Blackvale. It only made the wheels in his head turn as he contemplated the demise he could cause.

He sighed when he heard the Queen’s announcement about some sort of Blackvale dance. Sylas held out his hand for his sister and guided her towards the forming lines of the young men and women around their age. Trying not to be blatantly obvious he made sure that after he helped his sister to her place that he did not stand across from her. Instead he moved into an empty place in the line that was across from the Daverny girl.

Underneath all of what she wore he imagined a beautiful woman was there. Sylas could respect that she wanted to be her own person and not conform to societal norms. But either way he would like nothing more than this dance to be over with.

Sylas bowed towards the woman before offering her his right hand while his left hand was behind his back, “Ms. Daverny.”

Rhaegar made his place to the line while his hands nimbly worked on his cloak. He removed the cloak before handing it the closest servant. “Thank you William.” He patted the lad’s shoulder before he resumed his place, adjusting his sleeves so he’d be more than capable of dancing.

He waited patiently, cupping his hands together before him as he watched the others line up. Before some of the more eager girls shuffled their way before him, he reached out his hand to grab Clara’s and guided her across from him. “Apologizes, but I think I could handle this evening better having the first dance with a familiar face.”

Rhaegar knew Clara may not have remembered him because it’s been numerous years since they had seen each other. But he hoped she wouldn’t hate him for wanting to dance with the one person he knew.

Still being the gentleman he is, he bowed before her as the dance entails then offered her his hand. “Of course, you can always dance with someone else,” he said in a hushed tone. “Being paraded around always makes me a little nervous.” He smiled towards Clara with his hand still held out palm up towards her for if she decided to accept the dance.

Brom was more hesitant to make his way to his spot in the line, moving to stand beside the dark and sinister looking Thorne son. He thought about talking to the guy maybe even talking about all the attractive women at the ball but the guy looked like he had a royal stick up his uptight ass.

Instead he waited until an intriguing young blonde beauty came to stand before him. Brom began to smirk as he glanced her over. Maybe this wouldn’t be all bad if he got the opportunity to meet numerous beautiful young women just waiting for a dashing young man like himself to sweep them off their feet.

“Lady Vivienne… Right?” He held out his hand towards her as he bowed, but his gaze never left hers. His smirk only seeming to grow as he took in more and more of her beauty.

Gwen moved along with her brothers before she could even take a step she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder. The Queen stepped up to whisper in her daughter’s ear, “Don’t you dare ask someone to dance.” Gwen looked out of the corner of her eye towards her mother. “You are a lady,” the Queen grasped her shoulders tight, “ladies do not do the asking. The gentlemen ask you to dance.”

After her mother let her go, Gwen slowly took her place in the line between two blonde girls. She gave them both her best attempt at a friendly smile as she waited. Her fingers toyed at the lace embroidery on her sleeves when a young blonde stepped in the line opposite her.

Feeling her mother’s gaze on the back of her head, Gwen took the skirt of her dress in her hands as she curtsied towards him.

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Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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JONATHAN CHAIMBERS
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Eldest Son | The Pawn
#9BC4E2 | Outfit
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FREDERICK CHAIMBERS
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Youngest Son | The Trickster
#96CDCD | Outfit
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VIVIENNE CHAIMBERS
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Only Daughter | The Weaver
#92CCA6 | Outfit


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Frederick made for the far wall, his intentions to grab as many flutes filled with champagne as he could and drink as much as he could. He could hear the capricious falsities, Lords and Ladies all huffing and puffing about themselves and their pretend interest in the others, the rumours he could hear circling were enough to make his head spin and not in the fun way alcohol did. The back table was his safe haven, away from the hushed whispers and polite lies, he grabbed his first glass of champagne and downed it without a seconds hesitation, flashing a smile at the serving girl as he handed her the flute back. "You've been here all of one minute." The familiar voice tutted as he spun to meet her gaze, loose strands of brunette shook with her head as she did so.
"Catalina? How did you get in here?" Frederick then grinned and put his hands on his hips. "This is a private party, am I rubbing off on you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, your mother got me in, apparently she thinks I was hired to your court to babysit you." Catalina's tone was far from kind and closer to mocking.
"Isn't it?" Frederick asked as he reached for his second glass.
"No, I am your court advisor. I advise you on important matters, by the gods, why do you think I am always telling you who is who and what to do in the court?" Catalina threw her hands up in exasperation, nearly knocking the champagne from his hand. "Your father hired me to make sure you didn't mess up the Southern Shores and to maintain our political friendships." Catalina then stormed off into the crowd as Frederick shrugged before downing the second glass, just as his brother finally caught up to him.

"Did you get lost in the crowd?" Frederick clapped his hand onto his brother's upper arm. "Here, have a drink." Frederick grabbed one of the flutes and handed it to him, but was politely declined. "Okay, more for me then, brother." He then lifted another and proceeded to knock it back, Jonathan gave him a less than impressed looked.
"Gods, how desperate are you for a drink." Frederick smirked before grabbing another and did the same simply to spite his brother. Jonathan merely rolled his eyes at how petty his brother was being. "Can you be normal for just one night? For Viv's sake?"
"Sure, no doubt she'll ruin it for herself, talk about one of her bizarre nightmares and then we'll all be sent home, no big deal." Jonathan looked as if he'd taken a hit from Frederick's words, but he simply grabbed another flute and went to drink it, not even showing any remorse for his words.

Jonathan snatched the five champagne glass from Frederick's hand, "She's our sister, how dare you?" Jonathan scolded the youngest, taking a sip from the champagne to show him how it was done. "Keep yourself out of trouble and do not come near me or Vivienne tonight." Frederick merely rolled his eyes as he pinched a grape from one of the platters.
"Oh dear Father's pet, you are a good guard dog." Frederick clapped his hand against his brother's back three times with a large grin on his face, the intended joke being far more offensive than he clearly meant it.
"How you're mother's favourite still astounds me to this day." Jonathan set the crystal flute back on the table and was swallowed back up by the crowd, leaving Frederick to his champagne.

Finally being left alone to the table, Frederick turned to have another but then the royal children were announced and he was forced away from the very table he intended to spend most of his night. He leaned up against a pillar, his expression and composure revealing his lack of interest in the well rehearsed speech. The announcement of the speech even garnering an eye roll as he pushed off from the pillar and made for the floor. He positioned himself next to Jonah, the Northern Lord, dark of hair and only slightly lighter of skin tone, he gave him a polite wave, he had no doubt Jonah and Jonathan had dealt with each other at least once but Frederick had never had to pleasure. He looked across and spotted a woman the complete opposite in description, her hair was like spun silver and her skin just as fair, her eyes weren't a dull brown but instead an enticing blend of blue and gold. Her features were so delicate and innocent, Frederick almost felt bad that her first dance would be with him. "Lady Aurora, may I have this dance?" He bowed and stretched his hand out towards her as he did so.

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Whilst navigating the crowd, Jonathan occasionally paused as each of the families were announced and greeted, watching them and making a note of the faces as the names were called. He eventually caught sight of Vivienne as he navigated through the crowd, she was stood with some courtiers, playing her little game, no doubt. As he made for her, there was a loud horn announcing the presentation of the royal children. He found himself bowing with the rest of the ballroom, whilst watching the children descend the steps. Before he could continue towards his sister, the King and Queen took to the floor to announce a dance, before inviting all the intended to step forth and form a line, when Jonathan looked back to find his sister she had already made for the floor. So he opted for simply falling in line with the other young lords.

Jonathan took his position in between Howell and Benjy, both the Daverny sons, the presence of the two making him uncomfortable, as if he were about to be jumped and mugged. He didn't usually harbour such stereotypical feelings, he spent a lot of time in the Southern Shores, he was used to their presence. He then watched as the woman lined up before them, his mind clicked then, he wasn't wary of the Davernys, he was simply nervous about the dance and was projecting it onto whatever presence was most familiar, he would have chuckled to himself if he wasn't surrounded by such watchful eyes so simply smiled at the lady before him.

Her blonde hair held up by golden pins adorned with pearls and her dress matched their colours, a lovely golden trim with a pearl fabric being the most present. He observed her features, his inner artist taking in the subtle details. Her beauty was subtle, the pallor of her skin, which revealed why they called her the Swan Princess, simply accentuating the shadows around her eyes and the beauty mark just slightly above her lip, and the indent to the left of her lip, noticeable only by the faint shadow.

He smiled at her before bowing, "Lady Cavalier, may I have this dance?" As he bowed, he stretched out his hand for her to take, waiting patiently with a smile on his face. "Although, please do not vomit on me." His jest was meant to tease and not offend, indicated simply by his playful smile and soft tone.

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Vivienne blended in with a group of courtiers, they were at the court often enough to get enough information about the other families, they mainly gossiped about the families, including the Chaimbers, making Vivienne chuckle at their ignorance and herself for believing they would be of any use to her. She remained with them, however, saving herself from being a social pariah and being seen at the ball sitting looking out the window at the garden. As luck would have it, she wouldn't be with them for very long as the royal children finally presented themselves. Vivienne curtsied as they descended the stairs, she listened with a smile on her face at the announcement of a dance, before the Queen had even finished she made her way to the floor, paying little attention to where she stood.

Vivienne smoothed out her dress as she awaited her partner to appear, if it was her first time playing the game that is court intrigue she would have fiddled with her hair and even ensured the placement of her jewellery was just right, but then she would have revealed herself from behind her mask. As she ran her hands down the fabric one last time, she heard a strong, somewhat charming voice address her. “Lady Vivienne… Right?” She looked up from her dress to see him, his golden mane cushioning a silver crown, whilst simultaneously curtaining his strong jaw and proud cheekbones. His hazel eyes nestled in the sockets above taking on a more cobalt blue colour, the same eyes that locked with her deep blue ones as he bowed, she took his hand and curtsied, low enough to be at the same level. "Prince Castillon." She smiled at his smirk, his eyes never breaking from hers except to blink. "One might be considered about that grin, particularly if one is to believe the rumours around these very halls." The tone of her voice soft and sweet, with no intended malice, and her smile the same.

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Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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JONAH ALLYRION
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Eldest Child | The Winter's Wolf
#E80000 | Outfit
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CLARA ALLYRION
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Only Daughter | The Winter's Child
#388E8E | Outfit


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Clara rang the fabric of her dress as they waited for the Princes, and the Princess to arrive. She looked around the room and saw that not just a few families were here but ALL of the families were her. Everyone in the Cradle was present, even the Davernys to whom Jonah always called pirates, even if they technically weren't since The King hadn't issued a mandate saying that what they did was illegal. Of course, she couldn't tell Jonah that because he'd still call them pirates. They were privateers if anything. She took a breath, looked at all of the beautiful girls, most of them with brilliant yellow hair, and while hers was a deep midnight black, she seemed to be the only one. She looked around again, besides the Throne daughter....Sylva? If Clara remembered correctly. While, no one had her dark curls, golden amber eyes, and warm skin, she still felt unimpressive and to make matters worse, she wasn't healthy either. "Now, Songbird, try to relax." Jonah said, obviously noting her nervous habit. She dropped the bit of fabric and closed her hands. "What if I cough?" She muttered to him, trying not to move her lips much. On the ride, Mother told her to try to at least appear healthy, she didn't want any of the other girls to know how ill she was, or the Prince for that matter. Though Clara knew she wouldn't make a good wife because of her illness, Mother didn't want anyone to know that. "You only do that in the cold and it's summer here," Jonah said in the same hushed tone. "Besides, Their winters are our summers, you'll be fine."
He assured her just before the herald blew his horn.
”My Lords, My Ladies, It is my honor to present to you the royal children of the family Castillon.”
Just then, arms locked the Princes and the Princess walked out. Clara swallowed, feeling small and out of place, while Jonah gaped like a fool at the Princess. Clara was about to elbow him but she stopped as they were introduced.
”Eldest son to the King and Queen, heir to the Blackvale Rhaegar, his twin brother, Prince and King’s Guard Brom and their sister Gwendolynn.”

Clara's eyes went to the focus of this party, Prince Rhaegar. He was handsome, looked strong and he had a kindness in his eyes. She felt a little at ease for a moment and then thought. Right now, she looked like the picture of health, something she was very not, she knew all too well, looks could be deceiving.

Cursing her pragmatism, she took a breath, she could feel the rawness of an incoming cough in the back of her throat. If she could get some water, or perhaps fresh air...or better yet, out of this freezing corset, she'd felt better.

It was then that that King Magnus stood, and a hush fell over the crowd.
“I would like to thank you all for making the long journey to the Black Keep. We are pleased to accept you all into our home for the summer. Although our time together is to hopefully make new alliances and marriages between our children it is also a chance for us all to get a chance to know each other and create new friendships where we previously wouldn’t have the opportunity. So I’d like you all to make yourselves at home and please do enjoy yourselves.”
He said and Jonah twitched beside her. He turned to their mother, who Clara forgot was behind them this entire time, only to get swatting and shushed. Jonah turned back as the Queen stood. "I suppose I'm not the only one to be wedded this season, Am I, Brother?"
"Don't you start..."Jonah replied only from them both to receive sharp shushes from their mother. Clara merely smiled but it faded when the Queen began to speak.


“In celebration of the beginning of this great summer and new friends, we invite all of our children in the dance of the Blackvale.” 
Clara's eyes went wide as the Castillion children were gestured to the middle of the ballroom floor. She looked at her brother, who was the one smiling now. He had the princess in his sights, and probably was looking forward to dancing with all of the women. Clara did not want to dance with anyone.

"Clara...You'll be fine, you've done this dance a million times." Jonah told her, casting a glance at Mother but since he was consoling her, Mother said nothing. Father was as stoic and watching as always.

Clara merely nodded. She had done this dance, but it had only been with Jonah and the first few times, she'd broken into a horrible coughing fit. It was the middle of winter though so if Jonah was right, that shouldn't be a problem.

Clara merely sighed as the Queen continued.
“The dance is simple. Our strapping young men will line up across from the beautiful young ladies. They share a dance with the woman across from them and when the song changes you switch partners. The dance is over when you’ve danced with every young man or woman.” She instructed and Clara looked around. Every young man? Would she have to truly dance with every man here? Clara felt herself beginning to panic. She took a few deep breaths, and a cough tried to surface but she held it back as best she could. Jonah gave her an appraising look and she nodded. One of their many wordless conversations that usually only happened whenever he was worried about her but didn't want to worry Mother.

"Go on." Their mother told them as the others began to line up, and Jonah gave Clara a smile, and a nod before separating from her and moving to the opposite line.
She moved to the line and didn't make any move to assert herself. She was never a sociable person, quite the opposite so she hung back, hoping to be passed up.

Instead, the Prince, the heir no less, came forward, his eyes on her, and her olive cheeks flushed red. She looked around her and behind because surely he wasn't after tiny little Clara but no, he reached out for her, taking her hand and guiding her in front of him. Her eyes were wide. She knew it, she felt it them staring wild at him.

“Apologizes, but I think I could handle this evening better having the first dance with a familiar face.” He said and she blinked, her face no longer frozen like a deer. "Familiar?" She muttered but he didn't hear her, not over the music and her voice was always soft, raising it would cause her to cough and no one needed that. He bowed to her and she fumbled a curtsy that she knew her mother would keel over and die if she saw. Clara glanced and either her mother didn't see it, or she was holding her reaction until later.

“Of course, you can always dance with someone else,” He told her and she smiled, albeit a bit awkwardly and shook her head, missing that he had offered his hand and since he was not Jonah, he wouldn't know that she merely meant that was fine and not that she was declining the offer.
 “Being paraded around always makes me a little nervous.”
He said and offered a smile that eased her tension. She laughed before placing her hand in his. "It's alright, Your Grace, I understand better than you think." she said and chuckled. "I must admit, I must have been very small, the last we met, I fear I don't remember you, I know of you, but no memories of my own, I'm afraid." She said, knowing that she probably shouldn't be that honest but being bedridden for so many years, cut off from people, she didn't have many of the social graces most people developed, she spoke her mind far too much most of the time.
"When last were you in the North?" She asked, as the music picked up, and she allowed him to lead her as Jonah would have.
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Jonah having left Clara on the other side of the line, watched as the men chose their partners. To his surprise, Rhaegar went straight for Clara, and soon enough she was smiling. That was a good sign...he hoped. Clara could be rather despondent so for someone other than him to get her to smile was something he was glad for. Turning his attention from his little sister, he eyed the women. They were all so lovely but who to choose? His first thought was for the Princess but he didn't want to be so forward, she was the Princess, after all, surely she would not be dancing alone and besides, he would have wanted to make a good impression and he noticed that eagerness was not exactly charming in the eyes of women, at least not in the women he came across.

Then his eye caught sight of the eldest Greyson. She looked formidable. She would be a challenge. He could see it in her eyes. Sweet words would not do for a woman like her, she had a light in her eyes that was all too familiar but whose they belonged to, he did not know. She was tall, carried herself like a fighter, being one himself, he knew it when he saw it. Jonah smirked. He made his choice.

He sauntered up to her. "My Lady Rosalyn."He said, hoping to the Gods that he did not confuse her for one of her sisters. Mother made he and Clara memorize the names of the children from the families, and while he'd heard them being introduced, he wasn't entirely confident in his memory of them to be sure. All of them were blonde, but this one was tall, unlike her sisters. When she didn't correct him on her name, he assumed he guessed right. He gave her his wolfish grin and bowed gracefully. "Magnus Allyrion, but please do call me, Jonah, might I have the honor of your first dance" He asked, using his charm in his expression as oppose to his words as he offered her his hand.

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Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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LARA CAVALIER
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Eldest Child | The White Frog, Swan Princess
#A8C5EA | Outfit


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Lara eventually and painfully her attention away from the Davernys who had just entered the ballroom to watch the Castillon siblings be flaunted to their company. Her gaze fixated on the to-be king in silent resignation, as she saw no reason to shy away from observing the Blackvale's most wanted bachelor. He knew they wanted him and was probably ignoring the stares, including her own. Ah, no, there could be no staring. Only coy glances. Despite this Lara stared still before raising one eyebrow and busying herself by looking inconspicuously around the ballroom, whistling inside of her head. At least he seems easy to fall in love with, she reassured herself despite being a little disappointed at the lack of "love at first sight". Sure, such a thing was unrealistic, but was she forbidden from dreaming? At the same time, she was relieved to not have been poisoned with mushy love-sickness despite how it would've made things easier. Feeling ill, she distracted herself by looking up at the ceiling and entertaining a small, unusual thought.

"What is running through your mind..." James whispered to her as the Queen called for a dance, "... Frog?"

Lara didn't want to divulge that the only thing "running" through her mind since arriving had been her tiny subconscious screaming "I'm doooooooooooomed", and she especially didn't want to explain that she had just been speculating what it meant to relate oneself to a wall, a floor or a ceiling so instead, she lied.

"I'm going to have to fight them," she said suddenly, like the epiphany had just hit her. "I see no other way to win. I must tie soap to the Prince's shoes so when they chase, they fall and break their necks." She swiped up a goblet of red wine from a passing platter and held it up high in a toast. "Here's to the Prince going down with them so they can call this entire mistake off." She shielded her face from the crowds as she chugged the entire thing down, her father watching on disapprovingly.

"Not so loud. Such loose talk can be interpreted as treason," he shushed then frowned when she didn't repent immediately and instead muttered something about the wine being strong stuff. "You cannot be se-"

Lara shot him a dark sideways look. "I'm deadly serious," she uttered. Barely a moment passed before her hardened features relaxed into a little amused smile. "Of course not, anyone could have heard me. I'll have to think of something else now." Her eyes trailed up to the magnificent chandeliers adorning the ceiling, mischief in her eyes as she remembered her daydream from earlier. She gestured up at them suggestively with a nod as she swapped out her empty cup for a full one.

"Battle plans for a ball are thoroughly unnecessary."

"This is a battlefield. All the women secretly try to knock competition off the dance floor. That, is why they make our skirts so ridiculous." She swooshed her excessive skirts around her to prove a point then hurriedly sipped at her wine when it threatened to leap from the cup. James watched her gravely and she walked back to him sheepishly. "I only make jests, Father. I'm going to be fine. My skirt could shroud a bear, I can't possibly lose."

"There's no shame in retreating to the gardens once you've had enough, but you will go no further." Lara smiled gratefully, despite knowing he was basically telling her not to run away. "Be careful."

She curtsied. "I just won't say anything." Interesting.

With that she bustled over to one of the final places in the line. Despite all her attempts at humour, her mood hadn't improved and unease settled like dust on her tongue. It was then that she realised she had claimed her place between two Davernys, the sons of the house she had been watching with as much excitement as a boy seeing his first jousting match. Her eyes darted between the two almost half expecting them to pull out cutlasses and take the entire castle hostage... and the King to reveal that they were all kidnapped and had to take part in some blood sport for his children's favour in which her soap trick proved victorious but alas, such fantasies existed only in her head. The daydreaming young woman almost forgot that she had a dance partner of her own in front of her before he spoke.

"Lady Cavalier, may I have this dance?" Her attention was stolen by the dark-haired man bowing before her. She tilted her head only slightly as she peered at him, her face crinkling with curiosity at who the man could be. She concluded that he had a handsome face - was there anyone in the court who didn't - that while plain in comparison to some of the nobleman, was littered with enough tiny imperfections to be interesting to her, such as the small brown dot beneath his right eye. She felt that if she were to look away for a moment then return her gaze to him, she would discover some new crease or shadow to color him with. If he were a treasure chest, she thought unabashedly, he would be made of pine and leather, and hold old papers inside. Probably of something boring, like a merchant's accounts.

"Although, please do not vomit on me."

What a gentleman. Lara shut the metaphorical chest in front with a snap. Of course, she already knew this was going to happen. A look at the man's face told her this was a lighthearted jest that under usual circumstances Lara would laugh at however this time it felt as though her heart had been shot, merely because she had failed in enacting her plan of being openly self-deprecating before anybody could tease her. Being the only noblewoman present to have been sick on the groom on her wedding day certainly took her down from a six to a two in terms of desirability. Her eyes trailed down guiltily to the goblet she had forgotten was still in her hand. A servant was already hurrying over to assist her and she quickly took a final drink before solemnly passing it over. She looked down at her partner and placed her slim yet surprisingly calloused hand in his.

"It would be my honor," she said with a polite smile, "Lord Chaimbers." She ticked over what she just said and quickly added on, "To dance with you. And to not vomit on you, I suppose. I'm sorry my reputation has you concerned." After all, if the story had made it to as far as the West, it had to pass through, somehow... that blob of land being the Vale, home of the Castillons themselves. After that stumble she stopped talking and let him lead her into the opening bars of the music. After watching the other dancers begin to talk she looked up at the man - who was either Jonathan or Frederick, she could not recall which of these names belonged to the eldest Chaimbers son - and her eyes narrowed, the way they always did when she was about to ask a question. "Forgive me for asking, my Lord, but from whom did you hear of that story?"

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Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne
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AVERY THATCHER
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Eldest Son | The Armadillo
#FF4500 | Outfit
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ELLIOT THATCHER
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Youngest Son | The Casanova
#551A8B | Outfit
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ILENE THATCHER
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Only Daughter | The Thorny Rose
#CD1076 | Outfit

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Avery glanced around at the families gathered after their introduction and realized that almost all of the families had arrived. There were the Thornes, Graysons, Allyrions, Chambers, and the Cavaliers. Had his own family been the last to arrive? How long had the other families been waiting? He thought they had made relatively good time. And then he heard the door as another family was announced. Ah, the Daverny. How could he forget the strange and yet intriguing Daverny? He didn't often hear their name or hear about them really. He supposed it was nice that at least he could finally put more faces to the names rolling around in his head. The Davernys' dress was intriguing to say the least. He wondered what they had seen of the world. By far he was sure they were the most world savvy. He was itching to ask them about the different places they must have visited. What were the Misty Isles like anyway?

"Do you see anyone you fancy, brother?" Elliot asked as he too scanned the room for someone of interest, breaking Avery's wanderlust pondering.

"Not really. I mean I would like to speak to Clara of the Allyrion family. I haven't heard much about her. It would be fun to talk to Marriane of the Daverny. I am sure she would offer by far the most intriguing conversations. She doesn't look like so many of the other women, concerned with dress and primping."

"You do realize I am standing right beside you," Ilene asked with an eyebrow raised. "I am a lady, concerned with dress and pimping."

"You don't count,"

"You don't count,"[/color Avery and Elliot answered her in unison. Avery gave her a smile then. [color=#FF4500]"You are our sister and I know you have more on your mind that snatching a prince," he answered. "I doubt most of them want to even associate with us since we don't wear crowns. How about the two of you, any fancy?"

Ilene shrugged idly. "Not sure yet. They are all fetching," she answered but like her brother, she was far more interested in their personality, rather than appearance.

"You two are a bore," Elliot answered. "I would personally love a tumble with Howell or Jonah. And Johnathan is a cutie. There is a subtle look I like about him."

"Please behave yourself," Ilene implored. "If you do anything here, it will go beyond reprimand by our parents hand. I'd rather have you sullen and sulky then beheaded for a misunderstanding," she warned.

"Relax! I am not going to be stupid," he reassured. He'd watch, test the waters. He liked his head where it was to.

The three siblings were brought out of their revere when the royal family finally introduced their children. The family, like all the others, bowed and curtsied as was proper. Avery was about to pull his gaze away when he caught sight of the princess. He couldn't help but give a double take. He had never seen a beauty like hers. He had no love of the power mongering and originally, had no interest in her but to see her in the flesh... she was truly the most beautiful person in the room. Then again, it was just her physical appearance. What was behind those polished jewels and political smile? He didn't want another girl in his life that only cared about events such as these and looking 'pretty'. He was far more interested in learning more about her on a personal level, gauge who she was as a person. He shook his head to himself. This was all politics. She wouldn't tell the truth. Then again... he would try and find a way to ask her for a dance before the night was out. Or maybe... maybe not. He wanted to distance himself from the fight that would no doubt ensue. Maybe he'd find a way to talk to her another way. He didn't want her to think he was like everyone else, even if he did decide to pursue her in any manner.

"You are oogling," Ilene tsked though she was trying not to smirk. She was honestly surprised how instantly taken her older brother was with the princess.

Avery flushed and brought his gaze down. He was already figure out how he wanted to talk to Gwen when the queen announced the dancing. They had to dance with every lord and lady, respectively? That was good and bad, he supposed. He didn't really want to dance with everyone but it would hopefully make the evening go by faster. People were already lining up.

"Careful to keep your gaze on the woman you are dancing with," Ilene teased Avery with a subtle bump on his hip.

"I know, I know," Avery answered. "Let's go get in line."

Elliot led the way to the line with Ilene close behind. While Avery moved down the line, Ilene ended up standing beside the princess and offered her a smile when the princess looked her way. "Hello, your highness," she greeted politely. She looked forward, assuming that Elliot was going to try and dance with her first so he could gossip about the lords he wished he was dancing with. When Elliot instead stood in front of Gwen, her eyebrows reached for her hairline. What was her silly little brother up to?

Elliot himself was indeed up to something. He may not be looking for a love relationship this summer, but having friends in other families was always a bonus. You never knew what could happen in the future. He had looked over the ladies available and quickly took up his place in front of none other than the princess. He figured she would appreciate her first dance being with someone who wasn't after her hand in marriage. And considering the whispering he heard between Ilene and Avery, he'd realize that Avery was smitten with her. Maybe he could see if her personality would match up with his brother. All teasing aside, he loved his siblings dearly and he wanted for them the happiness they deserved. He had far more freedom than they did. And he was blessed with being able to take risks without too much consequence or fear. Well, time to put his neck out there. This could end badly but you didn't get anywhere without risk.

He gave Gwen a flourishing bow as she curtsied for him and took her hand to kiss her knuckles in the most charming way he could and gave her a smile. "Good eve, my princess. I was hoping you'd do me the honor of being your first partner in the long series of dances we are about to undertake," he said. He stepped just a little closer to bring his voice down as he added, "I am not after your hand, or your honor, do not fret about that. Just a friend to dance with," He offered her a smile and a playful wink. "If men were compasses pointing north, my compass lies south, if you take my meaning."


Avery was a bit surprised that his brother had gone to ask the princess for a dance. What was he playing at? He didn't have long to dwell on that however. He turned his attention to the available ladies and his eyes settled on one of the Grayson daughters. He took a moment running through the names before he figured out who she was. The second eldest if he wasn't mistaken.

He moved to stand opposite her and gave her a pleasant bow and kissed her knuckles just as his brother did to Gwen. "Lady Seraphina, would you mind terribly honoring me with your first dance?" he asked and offered her his hand, head still slightly bowed to show his consideration to her choice.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Jonah Allyrion Character Portrait: Rosalyn Grayson Character Portrait: Clara Allyrion
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JONAH ALLYRION
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Eldest Child | The Winter's Wolf
#E80000 | Outfit
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CLARA ALLYRION
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Only Daughter | The Winter's Child
#388E8E | Outfit


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"If we must." Lady Rosalyn said and Jonah couldn't help but chuckle. He knew she wasn't going to be easily won, not that, that was his intention but still. He was glad to have been proven right. He could meet only so much polite and admittedly insipid women in one lifetime without wanting to fall on his own sword.
She followed him to the circle, and at once, appraised him with a hum and a raised brow. He knew this face, but for the life of him, he couldn't place it. "From the looks of you, you are a soldier. Most soldiers aren't graceful, so if you are too afraid of stepping n my feet, I could always lead you." She told him and Jonah outright laughed at that. Oh yes, formidable indeed. He took her slender fingers and rose her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against the skin. Her skin was soft but still rougher than that of his sister and mother. It was the tips of her fingers that were rougher than the skin on the rest of her hand. Archery, or Throwing knives, if he had to guess. Perhaps she was a hunter too?

"Oh, My Lady, while it goes against my principles to tell a woman she is wrong, I must inform you, I am a not a soldier, I am a Ranger." He said after cupping her hand with the one that held it and wrapping a hand around her waist, keeping a respectable distance away from the small of her back as they were giving their cues to begin. He led her in the dance, his steps light, and quiet.

"Soldiers aren't meant to be graceful, they are meant to be loud, they are meant to seen and heard coming" He told her as he swirled them both, his back straight and his grip on her hand and waist firm but gentle, considering how they'd only just met and he did not want to seem too forward or controlling. It wasn't his way, he was always the one to let the woman have it her way and with a woman like Rosalyn, it was probably a safer bet.

"Rangers, however, are trained to be quiet, to not be seen or heard until it is too late, that means, we are to be light on our feet." He said, twirling her gracefully, to prove his point before he gave her his wolfish grin as a thought occurred to him.

As much as he wanted to flirt with her, he was curious. She noticed he was a fighter, that much was obvious, but that also meant that she had to be good, well trained to be able to spot another fighter. "Though, I will admit, I am much more interested in hunting with you than dancing." He said, hoping he didn’t offend her, but she seemed like a woman who wouldn't be offended by a man choosing to focus on a skill, something that was selected personally rather than a dance which most were forced to learn if his sister's lessons were anything to go by.

"You noticed I was a fighter, and I noticed the same of you. Which means that you know a thing or two, Your weapon of choice....Bow and Arrow, or Throwing knives, something light but takes focus, patience..." He said, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious about the small callouses on the tips of her fingers and focused on what it would take to use those weapons rather than the obvious tells. "Archery, is my guess, Am I wrong?"

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Before the prince was able to answer her, he led her in line with the others, holding her hand. Suddenly, he twirled her, her dress blooming around her legs before she was gently tugged toward him, his hand on her waist. Clara let out a small giggle of surprised. Her nerves were gone all of a sudden.

"I do believe it's been the better part of a decade. My brother," He began, as he glided across the ballroom, and with her nerves gone, her feet followed with relative ease. It was as if she were dancing in the great hall of the Shadow Keep with Jonah, something she'd been doing since she was very small. "It must have been when he decided to become King's guard. I believe we took him to the North to train under your father. Understandable that I would remember you and no vice versa, I was 17 or 18 which would have made you...8, I believe?" He said and she smiled, nodding. He knew, or rather remembered how old she was. That was refreshing though a bit sad. She didn't remember him. She was eight at the time, and that was during the years of her seclusion. She wasn't allowed out of the chambers, she was barely conscious during those years. The doctors had her drinking tea that made her sleep. She hated that tea. He might have been able to visit her in her chambers but if she were awake she was hardly lucid. She did remember once seeing the King. She remembered thinking he looked bright, like the sun.

Rhaegar twirled her again, and this time, more confidently, she spun and after bring he brought her close again, she closed her fingers around the hand that held hers.

"So are you hoping to find love this summer? Or did you come because your parents wanted you to?" He asked and Clara was struck by the question, luckily, she hadn't missed a step of the dance.
"Um, well." she stammered before swallowing the lump that formed in her throat and started again.

"To be honest, a little of both." She said honestly. "My parents--my mother mostly, insisted, but I agreed," She said and looked him in the eyes. "You've known me since I was small, you remember how sick I was?" She said and sighed. "I'm not good with other people, I tend to shy away from them, but I figured, since I was going anyway, I should give it a try since I probably wouldn't find love otherwise." She said and chuckled, "Do you hope to find love?" She said and with a suddenly surged of her brother's silver tongue she thought to ask if he'd found it yet and being that she'd been the only woman he'd danced with that would only mean she meant did he like her but she was hard that cheeky.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Vivienne Chaimbers Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Brom Castillon Character Portrait: Jonathan Chaimbers
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JONATHAN CHAIMBERS
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Eldest Son | The Pawn
#9BC4E2 | Outfit
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FREDERICK CHAIMBERS
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Youngest Son | The Trickster
#96CDCD | Outfit
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VIVIENNE CHAIMBERS
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Only Daughter | The Weaver
#92CCA6 | Outfit


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Vivienne took in more of the youngest prince's features, the twin princes were identical it was true but Brom held a more rugged beauty to himself, his features were strong and bold, just as he was rumoured to be. If Vivenne were to see him in furs and leathers, she could quite easily confuse him for one of the Clansmen her brother was so fond of, but he wasn't. He was a Royal and it showed in his movements, graceful yet not flamboyant, cocky but at least it was consistent, unlike the polarity of a Clansman. His hands were unusually soft for someone so rugged, he was Captain of the Guard yet his hands felt smooth, instead of calloused like she had expected them to be. "Oh my dear, you may call me Brom... Or call upon me tonight, I wouldn't mind." She smiled as he kissed her hand, like most gentleman, a charmer.
"A Marquise calling upon a Prince, oh how scandalous. Here I thought the Royals gave the orders." She teased him, a certain playfulness in her eye. Usually at these kind of events, the Game was tedious and upsetting, hiding her true self never made her comfortable but, for once, she was enjoying it. "Prince Castillon." The prince took a step closer to her, now she was closer to him she could spot a faint scar on his face, it would seem there was more detail to the prince than she thought.

Brom took his position to her left, the promenande was the best part of the dance to collect her bearings before they continued, she could understand why women so easily fell at his feet, if the rumours were to be believed, he was a handsome man and had all the makings of a fine gentleman, regardless of his agenda. As they silently engaged in the promenande, Vivienne could feel him studying her, but it didn't make her uncomfortable, she certainly didn't feel as if she was in any danger not immediately anyway. The prince then placed his hand on his waist, Vivienne lost in her own thoughts she missed the cue for them to face each other, luckily for her, her body reacted to the music and not her wandering thoughts, she placed her hand on his shoulder, well as close to his shoulder as she could reach. Then started the true dance, the pair twirled and Brom lead with as much grace as she was now expecting from him, she was definitely no long in the Western Bluffs. As they twirled with the crowd, a smirk spread across his face.
"Rumors?" His grin revealing the lie of that was his tone. "Do enlighten me because I fear I do not know what you speak of." Vivenne felt the pressure lifted from her waist, before she was spun under his hand. If she hadn't of made his eyes her focus, she may have been a bit disoriented but luckily they stood out quite proudly. "I'm an angel."

"Come now, Prince Castillon," His previous comment encouraging her to continue to call him Prince rather than Brom. "I am not a lady so easily fooled." She purred as she placed her hand on his shoulder once again. "However, I shall indulge you." She decided to keep the game going, perhaps a cryptic warning for the Prince would do the trick, she was deep into the Game now, talking in certainties was dangerous. "The woman of the Vale have very loose lips, and the men are all to eager to hear." Now it was her turn to play tease him. "Although, I have it on good authority that the Western woman know how to hold their tongue." She may have been teasing him and Vivienne had little intention of a simple romp under a satin blanket, but her words were honest, she at least knew how to keep a secret.

As Vivienne and Brom did one more twirl, she spotted the red hair of the Princess, who was dancing with one of the Thatcher children. As much as she willed it not to, it brought her back to the real world, and sadly she was going to bring Brom down with her. "The Princess, she's very beautiful tonight. One could see why she wouldn't be short of suitors..." For all she played the Game, she couldn't hide when she was sincere. "Does that worry you?" Her eyes met with his once more, no doubt it was a sensitive subject but she hoped the Prince was capable of a conversation of more substance. When she thought on it, she realised the insensitivity of the question and took a deep breath. "I don't mean to offend or upset you, it's just we understand what it's like to be seperated."

***

Jonathan noticed her lack of laughter at his comment, his cheeks going slightly red as he realised he may have embarrassed her. As his brain raced to make an apology, she placed her hand in hers. He looked up and smiled warily at her, the hands were calloused like an artists hands, it was comforting to know not everyone in the ballroom lacked talent in that area, but then again he only knew for certain his brother and sister were not artistically talented. "It would be my honor, Lord Chaimbers..." He heard as he raised from the bow, to meet her eyes which had widened before she quickly added. ""To dance with you. And to not vomit on you, I suppose. I'm sorry my reputation has you concerned." Jonathan lightly chuckled at her somewhat flustered response, before giving her a smile.
"Please, Lady Cavalier, call me Jonathan. I'm not the most formal of my family." He took his place by her left side, his hand still holding hers as they started the promenande, a modest dance move that could seem clumsy if out of step with the partner or music. "It does not concern me, I did not wish to offend you, merely make the air seem more lighthearted, instead I made it more uncomfortable for you."

As the music changed it's pace, Jonathan glided in front of her, lightly placing his hand on her waist, ensuring it was neither so low it was inappropriate and so high it looked awkward. He noted her eyes narrowing, as if she was a predator focusing in on its prey. "Forgive me for asking, my Lord, but from whom did you hear of that story?" He once again gave her a sincere smile.
"There is no need to be forgiven, I would be worried if you weren't concerned." He tried to reassure her. "In all honesty, it was from the lord himself. He was visiting my father for some reason and told me of how I should avoid you. In all honesty, I thought he was lying, and warned him that Westerners don't appreciate gossip, particularly of families we consider friends. I can assure you, the news only reached the Gadleigh Keep, and if it did reach the Nightwell Hold, I can imagine my father gave him quite the hard time for it." He then looked up to the ceiling and then back down at her with a smile. "You were asking to wonder if it had spread like a plague?" He then shook his him with a somewhat defeated looking smile. "I am afraid I cannot say, I only ever heard it from him and many lords and ladies travel through the Keep, but most have become accustomed to our ways, so I cannot be certain."

***
"Of course you may Lord Frederick James Chaimbers." Frederick smiled at her grin, unsure of whether or not she was teasing him. He contemplated retorting, correcting her for calling him lord instead of Marquess but no doubt that would come off as snobby. "There is no need to bow though my Lord, I am not that special.” Her comment brought his attention back to her, as he rose wondering how long he was bent over as he pondered how his reply to her using his full name.
"Oh, dear Lady Aurora, how wrong you are." He twirled some loose strands of her hair. "Have you ever been to the Western Bluffs?" He asked her, more or less rhetorically, he knew she probably hadn't. "Because we have a legend about woman with your hair. We call them the Fae, they once inhabited the land now known as the Green Valley, which is why it is the most fertile land in all of the Bluffs. The women were said to have silver hair and such delicate features, much like yours, and whilst we have no evidence of them ever existing, if you ever visited you would be referred as a goddess." Whilst it wasn't completely true, it wasn't a lie either. Her hair and delicate beauty was how he imagined the Fae in the stories he was read as a child.

Before he could say anymore, the young lady was laughing. “You smell of alcohol.” The pair took their position beside each other, stepping in tow with the music as the promenade began. “I have never drank before. Is it fun?” Jonathan's eyebrow raised as he turned to face her to begin the proper dance, his hand resting on her waist, just at the bottom of the bodice of the dress. He spun her once or twice, before waltzing with her.
"It's fun to forget certain things and let your inhibitions run loose for a night, so yes. It can be quite 'fun', I suppose." He then looked up to the ceiling in thought before tilting his head from left to right. "But then again, sometimes the morning afterwards is like that spin, only for an hour after waking and then all that fun didn't seem worth it because you can't quite recall everything that occurred that night."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Elliot Thatcher Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne Character Portrait: Vivienne Chaimbers Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Brom Castillon
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#, as written by mjolnir
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RHAEGAR CASTILLON
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Heir to Blackvale | The Falcon
#B70909 | Outfit
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BROM CASTILLON
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Prince | The Peacock
#061B62 | Outfit
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SYLAS THORNE
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Heir to Dark Wood | The Viper
#999999 | Outfit
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GWENDOLYNN CASTILLON
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Princess | The Little Dove
#F56E6F | Outfit


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"A Marquise calling upon a Prince, oh how scandalous. Here I thought the Royals gave the orders." Brom caught a glimpse of her a hint of playfulness behind her dazzling blue eyes. ”Prince Castillon,” Vivienne said as she stepped closer to him as the dance called for.

Brom leaned his head towards hers while keeping his head and face turned forward. “You’d find… That I am very good at following orders.” he whispered towards her. His face had a seductive and potentially sinister grin that matched the velvet like caress of his words.

As they began dancing Brom was light on his feet and elegant. No doubt surprising for someone as large and bulky as he is move with such fluidity. He carried the dance in such a way that they moved in sync like a unit. He guided her and lead her with ease but Vivienne had his full attention.

Of course, Vivienne was ready to play when it came to his humble declaration of his angelic-ness. "Come now, Prince Castillon. I am not a lady so easily fooled.”

Brom chuckled, using his hand on her back to gently move her through a spin before returning her before him. “Oh I would never think such a thing of a beautiful woman.” He quirked his brow weaving them through the other pairs of young men and women. Brom would have loved to have heard the conversations being exchanged between all the partners. The information he could find and to know everyone’s interest would be enticing. But being the gentleman he was, no one had his attention aside from Vivienne.

"However, I shall indulge you…The woman of the Vale have very loose lips, and the men are all to eager to hear. Although, I have it on good authority that the Western woman know how to hold their tongue."

The comment made Brom let out a hearty laugh, enough to where he had to raise a hand to try to stifle it when he caught glaring glimpses from the Queen. He cleared his throat as he calmed his laughter. When he looked back to Vivienne, he smirked yet again as he spoke. “Well, I have never had the pleasure of holding the tongue of a Western woman. But it is a delicacy I’d greatly enjoy experiencing.”

But as soon as the friendly and flirtatious banter started, it subsided taking Brom by surprise. "The Princess, she's very beautiful tonight. One could see why she wouldn't be short of suitors..." The comment made Brom stiffen and his smile fade. He quickly tried to make it return but not it was strained and his discomfort noticeable. "Does that worry you?” His gaze was met by hers causing his tried smile to fade showing the true concern he felt across his face. "I don't mean to offend or upset you, it's just we understand what it's like to be seperated."

Brom took in a deep breath. He was trying not to think about it but now that it was brought to the table there was no way of avoiding it. “I love my sister very much. She has grown to be quite beautiful… She deserves all the happiness in the world.” He could tell by the music that the pairs would begin to pull together for a switch soon. “It’d be a lie to say that it doesn't hurt to know that this summer could be the last time my siblings and I are together. But,” He gave Vivienne a final spin bringing her close to the line. “If someone were to hinder Rhaegar’s or Gwendolynn’s chance at happiness they would have to deal with me. I would rather them happy and separated then heartbroken and all of us together.”

With everyone gathered back together in their lines, Brom’s smile slowly reformed. He gave Vivienne a final bow with a tender kiss upon her knuckles. “Enjoy the evening my lady for it is the first night of an amazing summer.”

As shifted along the line with the other gentlemen, Brom cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt trying to get back into a more enthusiastic mood. He adorned his face with a suave smile as he stopped before one of the beautiful blonde Grayson’s. Seraphina no doubt was the most attractive of the Graysons. He gave a flawless bow while taking the beauties hand and placed a gentle kiss upon it. “My lady Seraphina, you are without a doubt stunning this evening.”

***

Sylas smirked ever so slightly when Marynn laughed at his comment about the horrible dance choice of the Queen. "I'm a Daverny, all we do is pretend to enjoy that which is beneath us." Although Sylas smiled at the comment he thought there couldn’t be much that is beneath Daverny’s… Not much more than pirates but given the title of “Lords.” There was nothing beneath them besides dirt. "I suppose it isn't so bad."

After that they both took part in some silence between them which Sylas did not mind. It was tiring sometimes to pretend to be the charming and friendly Lord that he is far from. His eyes caught a glimpse of Sylva during a rotation in the ballroom. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she seemed to be greatly unsatisfied with her dance partner of yet another Daverny. Poor boy will be destroyed by the time she will be done with him.

"I can't say I'm much for chatter either... merrymaking is much easier with a drink in hand.”

Sylas raised his brows slightly, nodding his head in agreement. ”Now that I can agree with. But too much drink can also make the chatter worse.”

"I don't know much about your family, and nor do I believe you'd care much about mine so what then is there to talk about?"

Sylas actually chuckled at the comment, nodding his head before guiding her through a spin. She then wasted no time to continue talking, mostly nonsense, but that wasted the last portion of the dancing while they shifted towards the lines. "We’ve covered names, of course, that’s a given. As well as the inability to dance, a phrase I’m sure to repeat more than once tonight.” He would not deny that. "I’m sure you’ll also be able to reassure more of the ladies here about your ability to dance. How delightful.”

He allowed his charming smile to shift to barely a smirk of understanding and content. ”Well… whomever told me that all Daverny’s lost their intelligence from drinking that salt water was wrong.” He bowed before her, and gave her the customary kiss upon the hand. "Let’s hope more rumors are disproved this night… What fun would a summer in the Keep be if we all already knew everything about each other.” He nodded his head towards her one final time. "Have a pleasant evening my lady.”

Sylas let his façade fall momentarily when no one was watching him before taking a deep breath and putting on the charming smile once again. He gave a bow and kissed lady Vivienne’s hand. "You are looking lovely this evening Lady Chaimbers.” He then offered her arm to begin the promenade and start yet another dance. Sylas was curious to find out if more of these women here had something more to them than looks or if their skulls only contained marbles.

***

”Um, well,” Clara mumbled apparently taken by surprise by the question. Rhaegar’s smile faded slightly. He didn’t mean to ask a question out of line he was simply curious as to the intentions of others here at the court. Him and his siblings were just hoping to survive, they didn’t like being paraded around for the world. But he hoped that maybe at least someone hoped for love and happiness here this summer.

"To be honest, a little of both. My parents--my mother mostly, insisted, but I agreed.” Rhaegar’s gaze did not waver from Clara as she answered his question. "You've known me since I was small, you remember how sick I was? I'm not good with other people, I tend to shy away from them, but I figured, since I was going anyway, I should give it a try since I probably wouldn't find love otherwise."

Did Rhaegar believe that? Not entirely. Everyone has a love out there somewhere. That included her. Even if she did not find love here this summer he knew someday she would. ”You’ll find love someday be it here in the Vale or in the North. Everyone has someone out there, we just have to find them.”

He gave Clara a slow and elegant twirl before she returned to his arms and asked a question of him. "Do you hope to find love?"

Rhaegar’s face saddened slightly as he contemplated the question. He let out a soft sigh before he continued. ”Yes but not for the reasons I should.” His gaze fell slightly and his smile slipped away. ”If I do not find love this summer and choose someone, then I unfortunately will be assigned someone.” He began to guide her back to the line as the song was coming to an end but still held her gaze. ”It’s not that I would not care for the woman and treat with the utmost respect… But I could never be truly happy with someone I did not choose.”

When they reached the line and the end of the song, even though the dance did not call for it, Rhaegar gave Clara one final twirl. He then smiled towards her while bowing and kissing her hand. ”I do hope that you find the love you deserve this summer my lady. Someone deserves to wake up to your beauty every sunrise.”

Rhaegar then parted from Clara and shifted down to find himself standing before the Daverny daughter. He couldn’t help but grin at how she made the formal attire her own. It was a nice sight to see someone still be themselves throughout all the pomp and circumstance. ”A pleasure my lady Daverny.” He pushed back his cloak as he bowed and gently took her hand in his. His lips graced her knuckles with a soft kiss before he stood and offered her his arm. ”How are your land legs faring you? I can imagine it’s quite different being in the Vale.”

***

"Ugh! I know!" Gwendolynn giggled at the comment. "It will be a lonely summer I am sure. Such a dreadful thing. But if you do happen to see that one of these handsome lords might take a fancy to it, please do send them my way. Especially if it is Jonah Allyrion. He is quite the looker. Jonathan Chaimbers would do quiet nicely as well. Howell has a nice roguish looking quality now that I have a chance to look him over.”

Gwen smiled towards Elliot. No doubt it was a relief to relax and not have to worry about impressing him. “Well my lord, I shall keep my eyes peeled while I dance with the other Lords and report back to you with my findings.” She smirked playfully towards him. “But in return you should listen out for which gentlemen have true and honest intentions so that I might survive this summer unscathed.”

"Sorry. I hope you don't mind me scouting eye candy."

“Oh no, it’s quite alright.” She smiled reassuringly. “I find Sylas Thorne quite agreeable, but I stop that right there, she leans in to whisper, “We all know the rumors there.” She allowed Elliot to spin her before returning to his arms. “I do agree Jonah is quite handsome. Howell looks charming as does your brother,” she chuckles making a silly face. “As for Jonathan Chaimbers, I’ll leave him to you. He isn’t quite my type… At least, so far as I know.” She playfully winks towards Elliot.

"It is of no offense to you though, my lady. You are quite beautiful and the dress does suit your complexion. But I digress. When not being forced into an overly tight corset, what do you enjoy doing with your time?"

Gwendolynn smiled at the compliment. “Well thank you my lord.” She then momentarily placed her hand on her abdomen. “It is so tight.” She agreed quietly.

She noticed that the song was coming to an end, unfortunate. Gwen was enjoying her time with Elliot. Of course she’d enjoy time with someone completely uninterested in her. She supposed as a last resort they could potentially marry under the agreement to allow each other to take lovers. But she pushed though aside hoping she might be able to find someone. “Well… I do enjoy horseback riding. I’m quite good at it, even beat my Father in races. Honestly, I enjoy most things that gentlemen prefer that is unacceptable for a female to enjoy. My mother detests it. But what does she expect when I grew up with two older brothers.”

Gwendolynn let out a soft sigh as she curtsied before Elliot, flashing him a sweet smile. “Well I did quite enjoy our time together. I do hope we can spend time together again… When I’m not wearing an obscenely tight corset.”

She ran her hands along any ripples or wrinkles in her dress as she waited for another partner to step before her. When Gwen saw Howell step before her she nearly choked on her own forgotten breath. She wonder if it was a cruel joke by the Gods. Over hear her mention that he looked charming so of course he’d be her next partner. Gwendolynn curtsied, holding out the fabric of her dress. “Lord Daverny.”

***

“Of course, it would be an honour,” Robert replied to Magnus’ question to walk about the room with his wife.

”Thank you. I’ll take good care of her.” Magnus smiled towards Robert.

When Elizabeth took Magnus’ arm his heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since he hand touched this goddess of a woman? She was effortless, perfect and utterly gorgeous in everyway. He couldn’t restrain himself from reaching his free hand to rest upon hers that held his arm. But just before they touched she spoke. “Your Majesty, to what do I owe the honour of this stroll?”

The subtle harshness in the words dug deep. But he keep the smile upon his face and let his hand finally rest upon hers. His gaze fell as he hesitated before speaking in a hushed tone. ”Would it be too forward of me to say because I missed you terribly?”

He finally looked back up and met that gaze of hers that made him fall in love those many years ago. Magnus made sure to do nothing to draw attention their way, he didn’t want scandal or to disgrace Elizabeth. ”I know I shouldn’t speak of such things,” he concluded as he continued to lead her about the ballroom.

Magnus remained silent for a long while until they stood on the far end of the room where no one lingered and their voices could not travel. He kept his gaze forward, fixated on his children’s merriment but he spoke towards her, his hand lightly grasping hers tighter. ”I’d be lying if I said my heart did not yearn for you every waking moment since the day you left.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aurora Grayson Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Jonah Allyrion Character Portrait: Rosalyn Grayson Character Portrait: Gwendolynn Castillon Character Portrait: Clara Allyrion
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JONAH ALLYRION
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Eldest Child | The Winter's Wolf
#E80000 | Outfit
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CLARA ALLYRION
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Only Daughter | The Winter's Child
#388E8E | Outfit


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“My, my, Lord Jonah. Despite the way you look, you are quite clever.” Lady Rosalyn jabbed and Jonah chuckled. She wasn't the first woman to tease him and surely she wouldn't be the last. He had the feelings with the women here, most of them anyway, that would happen a lot before the night was through. “As much as I love to prove someone wrong, I must adhere to your assumption. What can I say? The gigantic tension before the shooting of an arrow and the total release and relaxation seconds later is my way of keeping me connected to reality.” He said and the way she spoke Jonah believed every word. He could see it in her eyes when she spoke them. She got a sense of relief and escape when her arrows flew, much like when he and Snow were out for a hunt. The wait, the quiet, the way his senses came alive and the world around him felt as if it rested on his skin, and the freedom that came when he snagged his game. Yes, he understood that feeling well. Perhaps not the same as she, he could only imagine the pressure she was under being the heiress, it was harder on the women than the men he noted so he could understand the sense of control she must have felt. Rosalyn, catching herself in a moment of vulnerability, shrugged. “I am quite good at it also.” She said simply and Jonah smiled. He wouldn't press for any more than what he'd already received. He was honored really.
"Of that, I have no doubt,"
He led her a little in the dance before she mused something, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

“A piece of advice though, I wouldn’t go digging around within the backstories of many people here, lest you come across something too shocking that ends you with an arrow right here…” She said and pressed a delicate finger to his forehead and tapped. Jonah gave her a wolfish grin. He wanted so to...well, he wouldn't, but she was tantalizing his thoughts. “Whether you take this advice from a woman, or not, is completely up to you, Lord.” She warned him and he rose a dark brow, his grin never fading.

"The best advice I've ever receive tumbled from the lips of a woman, I trust her words more than my own." He said and of course, he was talking about his mother but he wasn't about to admit to that. Some woman liked how much he loved his mother but some might not. He hadn't deduced that from Rosalyn just yet.
"I will say, though, My Lady, A mysterious woman such as yourself, tend to arouse curiosity." He told her, choosing that word specifically, not in a crude sort of way, but he was flirting again. He couldn't resist considering his curiosity wasn't the only thing she aroused. "Though your advice is sound, I'm sure, you should know it will be very difficult to heed. Especially when the mystery dances just out of my reach, He told her, allowing himself to pull her a bit closer than he had before. His hand was still a respectable distance from the small of her back, but she was tugged gently to his chest. "it would make any man risk an arrow to solve it."He said just as the song ended. He graced her with a bow and another kiss to her knuckles. "We should hunt together, I imagine it would be great fun, I will be sure to wear my armor, should there be any stray arrows flying my way." He said before spinning her off into the line again. He swaggered to the line, hoping she was watching and did not dare look back. Women liked mystery as well, he noticed.
A wolfish grin lingering on his full lips, he turned to face the women again. He noticed his sister and there was a lingering smile on her face. Her lips were turned slightly upward and for Clara, that was saying much. She liked Rhaegar. Whether it was romantic or not, Jonah couldn't tell from here, but she liked him and that was a good sign. He looked over the women and he was back to his previous dilemma. Who to choose?

He scanned the women and his eyes once again fell on the Princess and her crimson hair. A strange lump formed in his stomach and he thought about approaching her and he couldn't bring his feet to carry him her direction. A strange sensation filled the pit of his stomach. Nerves? No, not him. He never had nerves, well, he did but it was often the bold nerves to approach a woman, not the ones that held him back from one. Despite this, his eyes averted and he found himself looking at a tiny little silver haired woman and he smiled. She was awfully small, she had a childlike aire about her that drew his thoughts from whatever happened to him when he looked at the Princess. She reminded him of an opulence version of his sister, who too was small and had a childlike aire. He chuckled to himself, poor Clara was the shortest thing here. He approached the woman and realized by the blue of her eyes that he found himself with the youngest of the Grayson. He wasn't sure about how Rosalyn would feel about him dancing with her sister shortly after flirting so vigorously with her but it was much too late now. "My lady, Aurora." He said with a graceful bow, wondering if her sister actually brought that bow with her because if she did, he was in trouble. It took one look to tell him that she, unlike her eldest sister, would smile at sweet words, not crude ones. He decided to treat her much like he would his sister, more or less. "Such a fitting name, It reminds me of the lights that dance in the sky in the North." He told her, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Now, her hands were soft, but she had a warmth to her skin that, a sun kissed glow to her skin that showed that she liked the outdoors but not in the sun, directly, too often, not with that silver hair. He wondered if she'd ever seen the snow. [color=##E80000"Might I have this dance?"[/color] He asked her with a sweet smile, not his usual predatory wolfish grin, he didn't want to intimidate her.




”Yes but not for the reasons I should.” Rhaegar's expression grew crestfallen causing Clara to frown sadly herself. ”If I do not find love this summer and choose someone, then I, unfortunately will be assigned someone.” He said and she sighed. How awful it must be for him. She was the youngest child, and while yes, her mother drilled it into her head how important it was for her to marry, she would never be assigned to anyone. Her father would see to that. The song came to an end and he lead her back to the line. ”It’s not that I would not care for the woman and treat with the utmost respect… But I could never be truly happy with someone I did not choose.” He said and she nodded, understanding. When they reached the end of the line, and the song slowed to a stop, Rhaegar gave her a twirl, she did not see coming. She managed to keep from spinning off like a klutz and released a chuckle. He was smiling now but it wouldn't solve his problem. He gave her a bow and took her hand into his and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She smiled sadly at him. He was so kind, so sweet. She wasn't in love with him, but it wouldn't be hard to do so.

”I do hope that you find the love you deserve this summer, my lady. Someone deserves to wake up to your beauty every sunrise.” He told her and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. She wanted to tell him, he deserved true love too, and she would pray to the Ancestors that he would find it but he'd already walked off. Distracted by the Prince and his parting words, she did not see Fredrick Chaimbers approach her and he gave her a bit of a start. "Oh, I didn't see you there, My lord, You gave me a fright!" She said, a hand to her chest. He was a handsome fellow, as many of the men here were, but he had a friendly face and an easy smile. She had half a mind to ask him to dance, he was so welcoming.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Gwendolynn Castillon Character Portrait: Ilene Thatcher
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MARYNN DAVERNY
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Only Daughter | The Quarter Master
#567580 | Outfit
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BENJY DAVERNY
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Youngest Child | The First Mate
#5BA664 | Outfit
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HOWELL DAVERNY
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Eldest Son | The Swordsman
#DEAD83 | Outfit


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“Then we have much to learn from each other, Lord Howell. I’ll teach you about the South and you can teach me about the Misty Isles. But really, my life isn’t all that exciting. Farming is our staple and that is what we mostly deal with. We do a lot of trades and such so it is interesting to see the strangers that come by. The most exciting thing about the South is the forest if you want to explore it. The South is quiet and peaceful. Elliot often refers to it as ‘boring’,” Exciting or not, Howell listened with his whole attention focused on her. The dance something done in the background, dips, and twirls automatically. He isn’t so easily battered as the rest of his family when it comes to being on land. He finds the contrast between their homes fascinating. Farming, for all its import, may be ‘boring’ but it seems like honest work. Something that many of the people in the Isle’s can’t boast about. Trade and thievery the main source of their income. He could find plenty of room for an alliance between them, no doubt, and it helps that Ilene is so openly willing to speak to him. Maybe he could show her a thing or two about what it's like to be a pirate. Even if he is more of the proper sort.

The end of the dance comes far too fast for Howell’s taste, but alas, there are many people here tonight. And no reason to deny further interesting conversation. Especially since it seems his next partner is one of three reasons that the nobles have come to gather here. “I look forward to the chance to learn more about you and your Misty Isles,” Howell returns her smile, glad that his first dancing partner of the night was someone who did not harbor ill will or misinformed rumors “As do I.” Before turning to his next partner for the night.

Gwendolynn is truly a sight to behold, and yet, beyond the obvious beauty is a spark of rebellion hiding in the shine of her eyes. Like recognizes like, despite Howell’s penchant for pretending at being truly proper. Or perhaps Howell is superimposing his own views of the situation. Were he to be under such strict supervision, he’d have certainly gone mad. Lady Elena is bad enough, he can’t imagine how much worse she’d be if she were a queen. He could tell that she, most of all, would most likely have plenty of interesting things to say. That, he has no doubts of. “Lord Daverny.” She curtsies, and he bows back before he takes her hand lightly. Leading them into the dance with a newly practiced ease. Glad to have gotten the steps down between the first iteration and now.

“Lady Castillon,” He smiles, channeling the easy charm that makes him who he is. “Just Howell is fine, we are here to get to know one another after all.” A true enough statement, though truthfully, Howell is already suffocating under how proper and put together this event is, the formality on top of that just makes it so much worse. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself, so to speak” Howell comments, “I know these events probably aren’t all that fun. Though I find it rather interesting that all of us have managed to be this mannered for so long – especially with so many clashing personalities in one space.” He wouldn’t mind something interesting happening, so long as it didn’t come from his family. They had enough issues here without demonizing themselves in front of the other nobles. As if their reputation weren’t already bad enough. It amuses him in a way, how easy it is to speak his mind when unencumbered with his siblings. They are too often the stifling force behind his own ability to relax.

~*~



The charming smile was not completely lost on her, and Marynn, for her worth did not pretend that he was not indeed charming. Though she still had to force her expressions, no amount of charm would change that. And she had no inclinations to pretend otherwise. Compliment or not. ”Well… whoever told me that all Daverny’s lost their intelligence from drinking that salt water was wrong.” He bowed and parted with a kiss on the hand, Marynn bid him farewell as per required, wondering if that had been a true compliment or more of a backhanded one. Whatever the case, she did not let her mask fall too far. "Let’s hope more rumors are disproved this night… What fun would a summer in the Keep be if we all already knew everything about each other.” Her lips quirked into a small smirk after that, “Indeed.” She spoke, though more aloud to herself than to him. It would simply be no fun if things turned out at clear cut as she had formerly assumed it would be. Nothing like a few surprises here and there to keep the waters from going stagnant. "Have a pleasant evening my lady.”

“And you, my lord.” She nodded, satisfied that she had in the least held her ground in words. Her skills at dancing may be wrought with fault, but she still had her tongue and the spark behind it. She took a few moments to breathe, relaxation far from mind. She could not drop the rigidity of her spine or the way her cheeks seemed to burn from the force of keeping up such a peasant expression. She is tired already, wanting to find somewhere to exercise her skills of hiding away for a while. But this event had only just begun, there was more to contend with in the coming few dances. Almost hilariously, she found that she was soon faced by the prince. Looking down the line, to where her brothers were, she could see that Howell too had been paired with one of the royal children. Something about that amused her, internally. Externally she curtsied, feeling a little out of her depth here.

He was grinning, and she could not tell if it was meant to mock or encourage. Either way, she steeled her resolve. ”A pleasure my lady Daverny.” He caught her almost off guard, there was no hint of a lie in his tone, so far as she could tell. And that gave her some pause, as he kissed her knuckles and offered his arm. ”How are your land legs faring you? I can imagine it’s quite different being in the Vale.”

“This dance is tiring,” She spoke in truth, eyebrow raised as if to dare him to make a joke out of it. She had not yet sussed him out yet. Nothing separating the idea of who he is supposed to be from whom he really is. Marynn knows she shouldn’t judge so early on, but the urge is still there to bite. “Otherwise, I do quite fine on land. Would be better if I were not forced into wearing such dreadfully unwieldy clothing.” Her complaints were no doubt unoriginal, she couldn’t possibly be the only one uncomfortable with dressing out of their own style. Marynn at least, reinforced hers as best she could with the customizations she had made. Unwilling to play a role that she does not belong to, no matter who it was for. Something that her kin never seemed to understand. Still, she would have liked to have had some form of pants instead of this dreadfully long dress. Too damned easy to trip over.

“And you?” She doesn’t mean to sound harsh, though her words naturally fall from her lips in varying rough tones. Her smile, small and careless, hopefully, contradicts that. “How are you faring, knowing that the ladies here are the only choices you have?” Marynn doesn’t realize how rude that sounds before its already out. There is no room for regret, however, not in her world. Perhaps he won’t take it as badly as she meant it.

~*~




“I would hold your tongue, pirate, else wise you may wake up one morning to find that it has gone missing.” Benjy raised both eyebrows in mock surprise, he had imagined a vicious response but truly, this was amusing. No doubt he’d have to be weary of the Thorne’s. Perhaps he should inform Marynn that he’s made enemies already – how delightful. She would at least get a kick out of it. Threats were her game usually, but he quite liked the feeling it gave him. The rush of excitement, and perhaps a tinge of fear.

Alas, his enjoyment of the situation only seemed to grow as the dance came to a close, and the partner change was upon them. “I’m quaking in my boots.” He muttered beneath his breath, long after Sylva had gone. He pitied whoever stepped into that one's war path and hoped that he would not have to be formally within her presence again. Next found himself standing in front of the Cavalier girl. He instantly found himself intrigued, if not only because she seemed much easier to get along with than Sylva. She was different in posture, the air of her seemed to reek of originality. Not to mention, she had practically come alone – parents notwithstanding – each of the other guests here have siblings of a similar age to contend with. “Greetings my lady,” He bows, turning up the dial on his charms as much as he can. Smile bright and careful. There was something like excitement in the way she fidgeted, he found it endearing and a good sign that he was not facing another rude dancing partner.

At least this girl has a more easy style, pretty, without being utterly terrifying in the process. Definitely of the kind he would usually pursue. As shallow as that may be.

“Is there anything you wish to speak of my lady?” He did not wish to dominate the conversation, less she feels put out by his boisterous nature.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Sylva Thorne Character Portrait: Sylas Thorne Character Portrait: Vivienne Chaimbers Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Brom Castillon
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RHAEGAR CASTILLON
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Heir to Blackvale | The Falcon
#B70909 | Outfit
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BROM CASTILLON
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Prince | The Peacock
#061B62 | Outfit
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SYLAS THORNE
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Heir to Dark Wood | The Viper
#999999 | Outfit
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GWENDOLYNN CASTILLON
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Princess | The Little Dove
#F56E6F | Outfit


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"Lord Thorne," Vivienne said in response to Sylas' greeting. Her smile was quite convincing. To the unknowning or daft minded, she might have actually be convincing. But no matter, he did not care if she was happy to dance with him or looked at him like the scum on the bottom of her shoe. These trivial matters of matrimony and seducing dull women didn't thrill him. He played the game like a well bread noble. The one art he perfected was the art of deception. He looked, acted and talked like the charming young Lord he was raised to be. That was good enough. "The same could much be said of you."

Sylas tucked his left arm behind his back while his right held Vivienne's left hand. He glanced down momentarily at his attire. He raised his head with a slight smirk, glancing over at the blonde beside him from the corner of his eyes. "Ah, well thank you my lady. I hadn't noticed." A lie. Of course he noticed. Sylas was no idiot when it came to his own appearance. He was as vain as he was handsome but he also didn't not flaunt it around like a chauvinistic peacock either.

"Sometimes the most venomous snakes, have the most beautiful scales." The words nearly took Sylas by surprise almost stopping him mid-promenade. But it only made his smirk grow, taking on a more devious tone as he twirled the girl around and brought her close for the dance. "The Snake House, that's what your family is known as?"

Sylas chuckled as he let his gaze drift around the ballroom. When it landed upon Sylva he could see the tension that laid behind that strong visage of hers. He read her like a book, so he knew enough to sense her discomfort. He hated that he couldn't go to her but with so many prying eyes and appearances to uphold he had to remain well behaved. He looked back down at the disinteresting woman before him. "Clever girl.

He danced with her in silence for a long moment, twirling Vivienne a couple times. Sylas then decided to continue the conversation, "True in most cases. But, the Inland taipan is the deadliest snake in the world," He leader her around the ballroom effortlessly. His feet glided across the ground with purpose. "And it is no prettier that any other common snake. Being deadly isn't about being beautiful and bewitching, it's about being ordinary and invisible in plain sight."

Sylas looked about the ballroom yet again, this time taking in all the young lords and ladies. "It is better to be a predator than prey. A snake may be small, but it could overtake a stag, a swan, an armadillo and even with enough cunning and planning... A phoenix." His face remained cold and stoic, but his gaze fell to meet hers. He couldn't help but wonder if the gears were turning behind that tussle of blonde hair or if it sounded like the ocean between those ears. "United by blood, bound by stone." The smirk slowly returned to his lips, "A rock does not even enter the same arena."

***

The lady Seraphina curtsied before Brom then said, “Prince Castillon, what a pleasure… Though from the looks of that fake smile, you are having just as much fun as I am.” She chuckled and in returned caused himself to laugh as he began to lead her through the promenade and into the dance.

"Well, what is not to enjoy about spending an evening dancing with the most beautiful women in the kingdom?" He asked, giving her a twirl. As she returned to his arms, Brom pulled her in closer so that his voice was softer but still rough and enticing. "And for the record, my lady, this smile is all but fake. Unlike the majority of lords and ladies in this hall, I find no reason to be anything than what I am. Everyone knows the rumors about me and how I am. Why deny it or pretend to be anything I'm not?"

“Appearances are quite a hinderance. Especially in front of family.” The blonde was feisty, Brom liked that.

His smirk only seemed to grow with the comment. His attention was fully on her while his body mindlessly went through the moves and guided her effortlessly. "True, it does take far too long to get all primped and powdered for these sort of things. But... It is much more fun taking it off in the eve." Brom then winked down at her with a chuckle, "Especially when someone else is doing the removing."

Was Brom being too forward? Without a doubt. Did he care? Not the slightest. She seemed to come prepared for quips. Seraphina seemed the type to have a sharp tongue and sharper whit. Plus, everyone knew his reputation. And as he said, why deny it? A summer with all the finest women in the kingdom under his roof. It'd be foolish for him not to enjoy every moment of it before he became shackled in the bonds of marriage to potentially someone not of his choosing.

***

Howell bowed before Gwendolynn, then took her hand and lead her through the dance. "Lady Castillon," he finally said towards her, causing Gwen to smile slightly. “Just Howell is fine, we are here to get to know one another after all.”

"Well, just Howell," Gwen teased with a lighthearted smile. "You may call me Gwendolynn if you'd like, or Gwen... As long as my mother isn't around to scold me for being so informal." The thought of her mother's blood boiling at hearing another lord call her Gwen almost made her giggle. She hated all the formalities and pretenses her mother made her live up to. She constantly felt like she was suffocating under a mountain of things that she wasn't... And the corset didn't help.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself, so to speak,” Howell commented. He was, no doubt, one of the more attractive lords in the vale for the summer. Some were too young for her liking or too... Proper. She couldn't imagine being forced to marry someone who was more vain than herself. Gwen was a handful and no doubt needing someone capable of taming her while also setting her free. Howell played the proper part well, but the roughness of his palms and his ease at removing titles from their conversation made her wonder how different he was from what he appeared. “I know these events probably aren’t all that fun. Though I find it rather interesting that all of us have managed to be this mannered for so long – especially with so many clashing personalities in one space.”

Gwen gave a soft sigh, "I suppose I'm enjoying it as much as I can when I'm being forced to choose my future husband from a pool of pre-chosen suitors." Her eyes widened when she realized how openly blunt and off putting she sounded. "No offense... It's not personal. I just don't do well with the idea of arranged marriages, or rules... or really anything related to being a Princess."

She remained quiet through the dance for a moment. Her eyes settled upon the different faces really soaking in all the different personalities Howell mentioned. "That is a surprise. I wouldn't mind something exciting happening... Anything that gets me out of this corset sooner," Gwen laughed softly as she glanced up at him. "But, how are you enjoying the Vale? I'm sure it's quite different compared to what you're used to on the water. I've never been on a ship or seen the ocean... The closest I've been is when my brothers and I would sneak out of the Keep at night to play in the fountains in the garden."

***

“This dance is tiring,” Marynn answered Rhaegar with enough honesty that it made him smile and chuckle. She seemed different, in a nice way. She looked authentically herself which was a breath of fresh air in a ballroom filled with pretenders trying to present themselves in the best way to win his, or his siblings hand in marriage.

"It is," Rhaegar let out a soft sigh as he spoke. He caught some glimpses of Marynn dancing earlier and noticed it wasn't her strong suit. Not that he blamed her. If he was on a ship day in and day out, the last thing on his mind would have been learning a waltz. So, as he spun her, his left hand remained in the mid of her back to help guide in elegance. Not in a rude way but in a helpful manner, like a polite gentleman should do. "My mother made Brom, Gwen and I practice this dance before every meal since winter. 'You must be perfect' she'd tell us." Rhaegar smiled towards her, "I've done it so much that I could do it with my eyes closed. I was tired of it before the music started." He chuckled.

“Otherwise, I do quite fine on land. Would be better if I were not forced into wearing such dreadfully unwieldy clothing.”

Marynn's comment made Rhaegar laugh much in the way his sister did whenever she complained about being forced to be a lady. "You remind me of my sister. I do believe you both would get along quite well. She tried to convince me to wear the corset and dress on multiple occasions." Rhaegar lead her in steady circles around the ballroom, his gaze every so often checking upon his sister. He always worried about her. Brom, not so much. He worried more for the unfortunate women who had to dance with him. He looked back over Marynn with a smile. "At least you still are you, even if you have to wear a ridiculous dress." He motioned his hand to her adornments that she accented her outfit with.

“And you?" Marynn smiled towards him, and even though she seemed uncomfortable something said she was still sincere. “How are you faring, knowing that the ladies here are the only choices you have?”

Rhaegar was silent for a long while. Not because her comment was rude, but the harsh reality that was constantly nagging at the back of his mind. "I'd be lying if I said I enjoy it." His smile faded slightly as he gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I do feel bad though. It is my fault... I kept disappearing whenever my parents tried to marry me off. I just wished they would have kept Brom and Gwen out of this. They deserve happiness, not to be forced to choose from a pool of suitors." He gave a halfhearted chuckle with a slight smile. "But not everyone hear seems blood thirsty for my hand. I much like your bluntness and honesty. It's hard to find authentic people in court."

***

Magnus could sense everything that Elizabeth felt when he spoke. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, comfort her and be her rock. But he could not. In that moment he felt his heart sink as he watched his children. His wife was forcing their children to do the same thing he was forced to do... Spend their lives with someone they do not love. It sickened him but it was too late.

“You know it was not I that left you…” Elizabeth's words were expected but cut deeply.

It took everything in Magnus not to turn and face her, to take her beautiful face in his hands and make her listen to his words. It's so much more complicated than that. She only knew a portion... The portion he let her know. He blamed himself every day for hurting her, and he still will until the end of his days. "Lizzie... You know it's not that simple."

He glanced down at the ground while his thumb stroked the top of her hand. Magnus knew she only agreed to walk with him because 'The King' asked. He hoped she actually wanted to see him and speak with him, but it was daft and stupid. He didn't deserve her forgiveness or even a glance. "Give me a chance to explain things to you this summer... I'll explain everything, please?"

Magnus did not wait for a response, he knew she'd want to think on it. His hand gently patter hers before he let her hand slip from his grasp. "You do not have to be tormented by my presence any further this evening. Return to your husband if that is what you wish. I do not desire to hurt you more than I already have. His gaze drifted to hers. It was a dream to see her and it made his heart swell and ache at the same time. She was more beautiful than ever and it killed him not to be able to hold her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lara Cavalier Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Gwendolynn Castillon Character Portrait: Howell Daverny Character Portrait: Marynn Daverny Character Portrait: Benjy Daverny
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MARYNN DAVERNY
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Only Daughter | The Quarter Master
#567580 | Outfit
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BENJY DAVERNY
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Youngest Child | The First Mate
#5BA664 | Outfit
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HOWELL DAVERNY
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Eldest Son | The Swordsman
#DEAD83 | Outfit


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"Well, just Howell," He broke into a grin, glad that she did not take unkindly to his informality. It may have not been the proper way of introduction after all but it was the one that spoke the truest. ""You may call me Gwendolynn if you'd like, or Gwen... As long as my mother isn't around to scold me for being so informal." Howell simply couldn’t help from laughing, imaging his own sister and mother, the parallels were striking.

“Gwen it is then.” He could admit that, he was not finding this situation unfavorable in any way.Princess or not, Gwen had an air about her that spoke to Howell. A beauty, but also a note of rebellion that he could hear in her words and in the way her eyes shone. She is, for all the constant and angry rants from his parents about the royal family, nothing like what he imagined. A refreshing relief, when he had grown up with the notion that they were horrid people.

""I suppose I'm enjoying it as much as I can when I'm being forced to choose my future husband from a pool of pre-chosen suitors." That was fair, Howell had no such desires to be forced into something that did not come from his own heart, his inclinations to form bonds alone had been enough to keep him from falling into the same pit of annoyance that his siblings had. And, while he’s here, if there is something of true love – as impossibly naïve as that sounds, he wouldn’t entirely mind it. ""No offense... It's not personal. I just don't do well with the idea of arranged marriages, or rules... or really anything related to being a Princess."

“No offense taken, it does seem rather awful – well, in some ways of course. I can’t be a pirate and pretend I don’t envy the crown.” It was in their blood after all, “But the rules that come along with it, the formalities, the grand gestures.” Things like this ball, and the fact that the royal children were to be married off without much of a say, “Just…awful.” He repeated, hoping he didn’t come off as rude. He rather liked this easy conversation and wished for it to not turn sour by the slip of his tongue.

Howell continued on the lead the dance, a bit worried for her short silence but soon enough their easy speak continued on. ""That is a surprise. I wouldn't mind something exciting happening... Anything that gets me out of this corset sooner," Howell wouldn’t have minded either, though it would be a shame to interrupt a conversation that is going so well. ""But, how are you enjoying the Vale? I'm sure it's quite different compared to what you're used to on the water. I've never been on a ship or seen the ocean... The closest I've been is when my brothers and I would sneak out of the Keep at night to play in the fountains in the garden."

“The Vale is grand,” Howell let his smile slip into something akin rueful, “It’s certainly different from what I’ve become accustomed to. Life on the Ocean is rough, and here it seems the most I’ve had to deal with so far is the scornful stares of those around us – “ He couldn’t pretend that he had not seen some of the more nervous or angered glances thrown towards him and his family. Though, they had been here for quite some time yet and still nothing out of the sorts had become of the ballroom. No stolen or broken goods, no random fights breaking out in the middle of the floor. Things that people often came to expect from a pirate – what honestly, Howell had almost expected at least from Benjy. Though his siblings were doing remarkably well not to create a hassle.





Marynn could see why people were drawn to the Prince in the same way that she could see why people were drawn to just about anyone with a sense of kindness. She was glad, in the least that he helped her to keep up with the dance, her legs already burnt out from the repetitive steps – this dance would last forever, it felt like. She would only be grateful for the amenities provided when a bed came within her sight. She sighed and listened without her usual scorn.

" "My mother made Brom, Gwen and I practice this dance before every meal since winter. 'You must be perfect' she'd tell us." To Marynn it sounds like hell, but honestly, her own mother wasn’t far off from expecting perfection from her children – and upon not being given it she would stomp and rage all the while Marynn grew more resentful. A vicious cycle. One that she is glad is shared by more than just herself. "I've done it so much that I could do it with my eyes closed. I was tired of it before the music started." She had to laugh at that, the feeling mutual despite never having dealt with this dance before. The music was nothing like the loud tone-deaf singing one would hear from the crew or in the shanties where women would dance in a circle while cheaply made instruments created upbeat sounds to accompany them.

"You remind me of my sister. I do believe you both would get along quite well. She tried to convince me to wear the corset and dress on multiple occasions." Marynn could almost imagine how amusing that would be. But furthermore, she couldn’t help her mild surprise from showing. One eyebrow quirked as she thought about it – someone like her getting along with the Princess of the Vale. Perhaps. But there were enough differences between them to make her doubt.

“I’d love to see that,” Marynn chose to mumble instead, honestly teasing though she couldn’t be sure if she had spoken loud enough to be heard.

“At least you still are you, even if you have to wear a ridiculous dress." At least someone could see the reasoning behind her adornments. Preferring to keep true to herself, instead of following the stuffy rules placed together by this event and by her mother’s constant sharp words.


A moment after her final words she almost felt bad for saying anything at all, wondering if she had crossed the line – but it quickly dissipated as she returned to her default expression. Guarded and unsure. "I'd be lying if I said I enjoy it." The gravity of the room seemed to drag both of them down as he continued on, Marynn listened, silent and attentive though somewhat drifting. “I do feel bad though. It is my fault... I kept disappearing whenever my parents tried to marry me off. I just wished they would have kept Brom and Gwen out of this. They deserve happiness, not to be forced to choose from a pool of suitors." She nodded, pursed her lips. She isn’t so sure his own guilt is worthy of being the foundation of this event, her observance of the situation leaning towards the idea that whether he had dodged suitors or not the Royal children were going to eventually wind up married off.

He gave a halfhearted chuckle with a slight smile and Marynn knew at last that she had not offended him greatly by her blunt words. "But not everyone here seems bloodthirsty for my hand. I much like your bluntness and honesty. It's hard to find authentic people in court."

She laughed again, turning her gaze to the rest of the room. “That’s odd,” She didn’t often have people saying they liked her for the way she spoke without care. Rudeness was something she came by naturally, and the snappish way she sometimes acted went hand in hand. Even her own family often found her more tolerable when she kept quiet. Though, that usually resulted in her anger flaring twice as bright.

“Finding authentic people anywhere these days is near impossible,” She sighed, turned back towards him as the dance continued. Focusing less on the faces around her and rather on the one in front of her. “But,” She paused, considering. “I’m happy to be one of them, I’d hate to act the way some of the ladies here do – that just simply isn’t who I aim to be.” Formal attire, dances, things like this were as far from the reality she grew up in as possible. Etiquette may have been taught to her in a roundabout rough manner, but she had no will to become as stuffy as some of the nobles here, especially the ones who sought the crown as if they would die were they to not attain it. That, to her, seemed to be one of the more pathetic facets of this soiree.

“It must be dreadful,” She spoke, “I don’t pity the women who think having the crown is all they need in their life. You seem like a good man, genuine. You shouldn’t have to deal with snakes. But, it is the unfortunate truth that everyone here must face. None of us are going to leave here at the end of it unscathed.”

“And that’s a horribly sad – “ annoying, angering, devastating ”Fact.”
She realized that she was complaining, perhaps a bit too much. Felt no need to further drag the mood of the dance down. Placed her best smile, more genuine than not with her feelings on the matter out in the open.

“I fear we’ve gotten onto quite a heavy topic.” Typical of her, something she would need to work on if she wanted to get out of this season with her head still intact. She shouldn’t wallow, not even when she has to be resigned to the event. Things weren’t as bad as they could be, and thus far things had not gone awry in the way she imagined. She should be happy for that instead of angry still about being here.




Things had already begun far better than they had with the wicked Lady Thorne. Benjy found Lara cute, in a sort of meek way. Not as stiff as most people here, and certainly far more open to talking to him than he expected. “Well, there's only one interesting thing to speak of. How are you?” He hadn’t expected her clear interest, but it was nice all the same. He smirked, felt more confident that he could make nice with this young lady.

“I am well,” He spoke before she continued on. The dance went far smoother with her, less of a duel between two unwilling partners like before, and far more of an easy sway and dip that many of the others here were experiencing. The curiosity in her gaze did not leave him, and he could tell that look anywhere.


“In truth, my parents have instructed me to be cold towards you,” Unsurprising to say the least, there would be few here who cared to see their child speaking with one of the more notorious of the pirate siblings. Benjy alone had his reputation as a drunkard and womanizer within his own home and perhaps even here in a way, and maybe that gossip hadn’t reached every ear in the kingdom but his family and their own dastardly reputation is enough to keep most people from looking at him with the same interest that Lara shows. He can’t help but soften his smile, understanding in his eyes.

“Ah, yes, well that may be the case for many others here. I do not blame you for the fact.”

“This may be the only time I speak to you. Fortunately, the Queen demands that tonight we dance, so, I want to use this wisely. This may be something quite dull for you, and something that many, many others will ask you but -” He could almost tell where this was going, something that he would no doubt deal with multiple times, but, for the moment she was the first. Her rambling endearing in a way, sweeter than what he’s used to. Benjy almost feels bad for sweeping his gaze over her appreciatively, but, he wouldn’t be himself if he hadn’t done so at least once or twice over the course of the dance.

“Can you tell me a story?” There. The thing that he had been waiting for. He wouldn’t deny her, but before he could open his mouth she spoke on.


“A pirate one, specifically! A true story, ideally, but I don't mind if you stretch it. Something with storms, gold, women, celebration, blood – I want to hear all of it. Do you... have anything like that?” She had hit all the normal caveats, the things that were present in his life constantly though perhaps not all at the same time. He smiled and nodded. “I think I have a few tales for you, M’lady.” Embellishments would, of course, have to be made, but, that’s what she was asking for anyhow. He prided himself on being a particularly good yarn weaver. And there weren’t many stories he could tell that were bland, to begin with. Life as a pirate could be summed up in a single word; adventure.

But in the sacrifices, it took for his parents to keep their noble status (and not be incriminated for refusal) things had slowed down considerably. Most of their adventures were devoid of treasure hunts and stealing from merchant ships. They controlled most of those now, for the Vale. Which meant they had a higher amount of off-limit ships to contend with. The few they were “allowed” (A word his father curled his lip at when his mother would speak of their duties) to topple were usually small with crews of inexperienced men and women who were more than likely seeking to escape their old lives. Criminals, in some cases who had nothing but the clothes on their back. They were, however, the ones that fought the hardest and shed the most blood.

No, the action generally happened in the Misty Isles these days. With thieves and killers alike stalking the shanties. There was, however, one, a distant memory of his induction into the crew. A man at last, and training under his sister's harsh regiment alongside other new crew members. They were given reign of a secondary ship for some time as their father and mother went on leave for some reason or another – and that, well, that was where he would begin.

“My siblings and I have had to live under the rules of the Crown for far longer than my parents, they truly were allowed to see the glory days of pirating – “ He smiled softly, “These days, so long as we don’t bother the Vale we’ve got free run.” A half-truth, but still not quite a lie. Their mother was half the issue when it came to their old lives. Something had happened to the fearless pirate Elena had once been. A pity.

“Once, when I was a young lad, my sister and myself were placed upon another ship – just for a short time while Mother and Father were dealing with the more Noble side of things, likely at the Vales ports.” He had never cared to ask. Curled his lip at the very thought of it at all. “We were meant to be surveying the ocean, ensuring no trespassers came near –“ And that nobody left either, though he didn’t say that aloud. Not many people knew how far under the Daverny’s thumb the people of the Misty Isles were. “It was routine, so boring that we could do it in our sleep. But it didn’t stay that way for long, of course, dusk had begun to fall when one of the Riggers called down from the spars, he had spotted a distant ship on the horizon. A Brigantine, slightly larger than the Sloop we were on. They’re generally more fit as merchant ships.

There’s a sort of…code of honor out on the Ocean, but when young pirates are involved it usually gets swept under the rug. Whether the Brigantine was Vale or not we were more than ready to chuck the rules in order to have a little fun – and, it would certainly be an impressive tale to tell, a little Sloop manned by a crew as young as ours taking down a Merchant ship.”
He chuckled, the memories flooding back. Their crew had certainly been far more capable than what he painted them as, but where would the fun be if he had told her how very easy it would be to take down another ship, even with their smaller crew.

“Sloops are fast ships, capable of turning on a word. The crew had been reluctant, knowing the trouble we’d have if the ship were from the Vale but neither I nor Marynn cared. The rush of it kept us going. She commanded our Shiphands to get us as close to the broadside of the vessel as possible, if they didn’t stand down for a docking we’d fight our way on – and oh, fight we did.” The battle had been rough, the crew of the other ship outnumbered them. But where they had numbers, the Davernys had power. Besides, Merchants often backed down once a few of them were skewered. He related this to Lara, every gory detail slipping from his tongue as they danced.

“We had the crew cowering before us soon enough, their captain at our mercy, half of their fighters fighting the blood loss and the other half already gone to the gods above. The ship as it turned out was an independent, looking to trade with the Isles, they seemed to be unaware that we were more likely to simply take their cargo altogether.” He couldn’t even begin to wonder what they were thinking, coming into pirate-infested waters with the intent to trade – honestly, it was a foolish choice on their part.

“We took our pick of the able bodied crew for servitude and stranded the rest along one of the smaller islands out on the ocean. It's unlikely they survived, lest they were crafty enough. We took their goods, gold and all, and later on after returning to the isles threw a grand party in celebration of what we had done with the very gold we had taken from them.” He explained to her the way they would all gather together round fires, while women danced and people sang merrily, Rum passed around and around till even the hardiest of them became too weary to continue on.

Benjy himself never seemed to tire during such festivities, took his time wooing the women and would always eventually wake up back at the ship, with a lovely lady or two on his arms while either a sibling or a parent towered over, looking down at him in amusement or anger. On that following day, it had been the latter.

Lady Elena had caught wind of their transgression first. “Mother ranted for days, asking us what we’d have done if we had begun a war with the Vale. I didn’t much care, not when the buzz of the fight still rung in my ears. Our father had been proud though.” Benjy sighs, “that had been enough. Well. And hearing the story of it passing from ear to ear. Each iteration more grand than the other.”

The story had come to pass, but he had much more to tell. He didn’t want to deprive her of the only chance she would get to ask, or hear of them. So he continued, each getting more and more elaborate. Though they had such a limited time he tried to keep the stories short, though he refused to skimp on the violence and glory of them.

He hoped that she was enjoying herself, for what little time they had to speak.

“I know that you’ve been told to do otherwise,” Benjy began, in the lull of silence that accompanied his final words. “But I do hope we get to speak some more some time.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Grayson Character Portrait: Vivienne Chaimbers Character Portrait: Rhaegar Castillon Character Portrait: Brom Castillon Character Portrait: Gwendolynn Castillon Character Portrait: Howell Daverny
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#, as written by mjolnir
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RHAEGAR CASTILLON
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Heir to Blackvale | The Falcon
#B70909 | Outfit
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BROM CASTILLON
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Prince | The Peacock
#061B62 | Outfit
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SYLAS THORNE
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Heir to Dark Wood | The Viper
#999999 | Outfit
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GWENDOLYNN CASTILLON
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Princess | The Little Dove
#F56E6F | Outfit


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Howell’s laugh as her comment about her mother’s strictness made Gwen smile. “Gwen it is then.” The pirate was nothing like what she imagined a pirate would be. Unlike his siblings, Howell seemed well mannered and polite like most young lords should be. In most cases, that would be slightly off putting to Gwen. But he seemed to be lighthearted in a way she didn’t expect. It was nice not having to put on a facade with some of these men. Although she is not the kind to pretend to be anything she is not, it is still a relief having to hold back her not so Princess like behavior.

“No offense taken, it does seem rather aweful - well, in some ways of course. I can’t be a pirate and pretend I don’t envy the crown.” Gwen was surprised at his honesty. She knew many people lusted after the crown, but it was an entirely different thing for them to come out and say it. In many cases, she should be wary of someone who admittedly wanted what she already had, but she wasn’t as superstitious as her mother when it came to others. “But the rules that come along with it, the formalities, the grand gestures. Just… awful.”

Gwen’s gaze fell slightly at the comment. She allowed her body to be guided effortlessly through the dance. It was evident that Howell knew how to dance fairly well because it didn’t take much thought on her end to be led around the ballroom. She didn’t know if she appreciated that he knew how awful this particular situation was for her or if it just made everything seem worse because he could tell that easily. Either way, there was nothing she could do to change what was happening. She had no choice, at the end of the summer she’d be married off, one way or another.

“The Vale is grand,” Howell replied to her comment with a smile. “It’s certainly different from what I’ve become accustomed to. Life on the Ocean is rough, and here it seems the most I’ve had to deal with so far is the scornful stares of those around us.”

“Do not let the gazes of others weigh heavily on you. Their opinions cannot harm you if you do not let them. They can believe what they like. In the end, your own happiness is what is most important, not the approval of those around you… You have more freedom than a royal. I’d do anything to have that luxury.”

***

Marynn’s brow quirked at Rhaegar’s comment about her being similar to his own sister. “I’d love to see that,” she said in a mumbled breath.

Rhaegar though about ignoring the comment, but instead he smirked. “Jest all you like. Just before this ball my brother and I had to fetch my sister from a tree in the gardens. I would put money on the fact that she’d prefer to be a pirate like yourself instead of a Princess.” He guided Marynn through a slow turn before meeting her gaze once again. “There are plenty of women here, I’d wager, that behave more like a Princess than my sister.”

The conversation took a darker and more melancholy turn for a moment but before long Rhaegar decided to turn it back to a more lighthearted tone. Marynn laughed at his comment about her blunt honesty. “That’s odd. Finding authentic people anywhere these days is near impossible.” He nodded his head in agreement. A sad truth, he never understood why people felt the need to pretend to be something they’re not. How could that bring fulfillment out of life. “But, I’m happy to be one of them, I’d hate to act the way some of the ladies here do - that just simply isn’t who I aim to be.”

“Well,” Rhaegar started, looking down at the fiery woman. “I do hope that you get to remain being the true authentic you. I’ve never liked seeing anyone forced to be something they’re not. The only people worth having in your life are those that accept you as you are.”

“It must be dreadful. I don’t pity the women who think having the crown is all they need in their life. You seem like a good man, genuine. You shouldn’t have to deal with snakes. But, it is the unfortunate truth that everyone here must face. None of us are going to leave here at the end of it unscathed… And that’s a horribly sad fact.” Rhaegar wouldn’t argue that either. It was the raw truth of it all, and he knew it. He just hoped that maybe something good would come from this summer.

“I fear we’ve gotten onto quite a heavy topic.”

Rhaegar chuckled at her comment. He hardly had noticed. Heavy or not, he was simply enjoying the conversation. He gave Marynn another gentle twirl. When she returned to face him, he parted his lips to speak, but never got the chance…

***

Sylas had barely finished his well worded, idle threats when the entire ballroom went dark with a single gust of wind, in through the garden doors. He inhaled deeply through his nose. He didn’t have to look around the room to know who was the cause, he could feel it, running beneath the surface of his skin. Magic. Not his sister, she wasn’t strong enough. He had felt her magic before and it was nothing like this. The only explanation he could think of was his mother…

He tensed at the thought. Although, he was more than happy to support an attack on these inferior nobles but it was soon, too soon. They needed to set their roots and set up false niceties, not attack the first not. He hoped it was just a warning, and not the final blow so soon.

The ballroom was silent, Lords and Ladies stood frozen in the darkness waiting for the lights to return. Sylas didn’t move from his stance, one hand on Vivienne’s waist while the other held her hand. He heard new footsteps shuffle into the hall, spreading in multiple directions. He knew that one was approaching behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, locking his eyes with the hooded assassin.

The man froze, lowering his blade slightly at the sight of Sylas. Being as subtle as possible, Sylas nodded his head towards Vivienne. She was a liability. A woman he mindless carried on veiled threats with when right after there was an attack. She’d speak, his name would leave her lips and he would be compromised. That wasn’t in the plan. He parted his lips, speaking towards the man, “What do you think you are doing? I am the heir to the Dark Wood.”

The assassin stood frozen for a moment, before Sylas rose his right arm slightly. As if on cue, the assassin thrusted his blade forward beneath Sylas’ arm, plunging it into Vivienne’s abdomen. Sylas took the blonde into his arms, then looked back at the man behind him. “I cannot get away unscathed. You know what to do,” he whispered. The assassin pulled back the sword in a swift motion, slicing deep into Sylas’ right side and under his tricep.

Sylas stumbled to his knees, holding the quickly fading Vivienne who looked up at him with wild eyes of disbelief. “My apologies my Lady… But loose lips are dangerous for us Thornes. It is nothing personal,” he whispered towards the dying blonde.

Once she drifted away in his arms, Sylas reached his hand up, grabbing the assassin by the scruff of his shirt. He jerked the man down to his level. “Target the Chaimbers. Make it look personal to remove our names from suspicious lips.”

“My Lord, what about about your—”

“You will obey, or I’ll flay you live in this ballroom and make a spectacle of your death to prove my innocence otherwise.”

With that, the assassin scurried off into the darkness of the ballroom to pass on the message. Sylas’ left hand clutched his side as warm liquid seeped through his fingers. He knelt there with the lifeless blonde strewn across his lap. He prepared himself for when the lights came on and he’d have to return the burdensome facade to cover his true intentions.

***

The minute the lights went out in the large ballroom, Brom instinctively moved before Seraphina. His hands gently guiding her so that she stood behind his large form. He kept one hand instinctively on her arm to make sure she remained behind him where he knew she was. He took her hand in his and lead her slowly towards the edge of the ballroom, until he found one of the guards standing at the ready.

“Get the King and Queen out of here immediately. Take them to the panic room and lock yourself and five other guards inside with them. Do no come out until me or one of my siblings comes for you,” Brom ordered with hushed tones.

“Yes, sir.”

The man bowed and went to depart but Brom stopped him. “Do you have a spare weapon?” The man unsheathed a second sword from its holster around his waist. He grabbed the weapon but he blade, aiming the handle at Brom. “Thank you, Sebastian.” He took the sword in his right hand, his left still keeping Seraphina protected behind him.

Brom couldn’t help his protective nature. It came from being a brother and head of the King’s guard. He hoped that Seraphina wouldn’t fight him on this and take his lead as being what’s best. Whatever was going on wasn’t normal or planned and it put him on edge. He half turned to look at the blonde beside him. “I know you have no right to, but for your best interest, I need you to trust me and stay close.”

He didn’t like having only a few feet of visibility in the darkness. Brom wanted to check on Rhaegar and Gwen but also did not want to risk having all of the royals too close together. It was too quiet in the room. It was like everyone was holding their breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could hear distant whispers and shuffling feet but beyond that he had no idea what was happening in the veil of darkness.

Brom quirked his head to the side when he heard footsteps approaching. He raised the sword to be at the ready while his left hand pressed back against Seraphina’s abdomen softly, guiding her backwards until her back was to a column and he was in front of her. Before him was darkness and then out of no where a cloaked man came at him. The man slashed a blade down towards him. Brom quickly raised his sword to block the attack.

“Who sent you?” Brom demanded of the man. But he did not answer. As the man withdrew his weapon to attack again, Brom slammed his foot into the assassin’s knee. The blow snapped his leg backward. The crunch reverberated off the walls as the man fell to the ground. Before he could cry out in pain, Brom was knelt over him, with his left hand pressed against the man’s mouth. “Tell me who sent you and I’ll let you live.”

The man laughed through winces, not divulging any information. “So be it.” Brom slit the man’s throat, then moved back to his feet. He hurried over to Seraphina. “Were you hurt?” He didn’t think he heard anyone approach but he had to be sure.

***

Before Gwen and Howell could continue on in conversation, a large gust of wind through open the tall glass french doors that led to the gardens. The air flooded into the ballroom, extinguishing the lights in its wake. As quickly as the wind current came, the band silenced and the dancing halted. The large room was barely light by the moonlight that trickled in through the windows, most of the crowd veiled in shadows.

Unlike her brother Brom, Gwen couldn’t stand still and wait for whatever was going to happen. But she wasn’t dumb either. She stepped out of her obnoxious heels, leaving them where she was standing. Her bare feet quietly padded along the cool stone floor as she skirted the edges of the ballrooms. She knew this room like every other corridor in the castle like the back of her hand.

She walked with her right hand extended so that her fingertips brushed the marble columns with each passing. Gwen frozen when between two columns, her fingers touched the fabric of someone’s torso. Before she was able to ask who it was, the person moved behind her, holding a dagger to her throat. “Make a single noise, Princess, and I’ll slit your throat before you can finish calling for help.”

Gwen remained quiet but jerked against his hold as he dragged her backwards towards the doors that lead to the gardens. When they were out in the moonlight it was like everything was illuminated unlike the pitch black ballroom. Gwen rose her hands, grabbing the dagger by the blade and tried to pull it away from her throat as she threw her head back into the attackers nose. She ripped the blade from his hand as he stumbled backwards.

Blood ran down her hands dripping onto the ground and trailing along her forearms. Her grip fumbled as she tried to hold the weapon in her right hand. The wounds stung with every movement, but she tried to ignore them. The man approached her. Gwen still unable to get a good grasp on the weapon, in a last minute decision threw it out into the gardens just before the man reached her. He took her throat in his hand and slammed her back into the wall of the castle.

Gwen gasped for air, her hands punching and hitting his arms as hard as she could without any luck. As a last minute attempt, she thrusted her knee up into the man’s groin. Free of his grasp, she ran past him. She knew she would simply run into another assassin in the ballroom. So, instead, she sprinted for the gardens, the one place she spent most of her time.

She placed bloody palms on the concrete barrier, hurdling it in a swift jump. Gwen lands a few feet lower on the soft, dew covered grass. She was fast but not as quick as she could be if she wasn’t weighed down by her heavy gown and her breathing constrained by corset. It wasn’t long before the man was behind her. He stepped down on the train of her dress, causing her to stumble to the ground. She rolled over onto her back just in time to dodge most of the blow of his sword, the blade slicing along the top of her right shoulder and collar bone.

She raised her already bloody hands to stop his sword as he brought it down again. Unlike the knives, the blade was thick and harder for her to get a grip on with already wounded hands. She wiggled and groaned but her grasp was slipping. Gwen wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer.

***

Rhaegar tensed when the lights went out. His right hand instinctively went to his left hip, only to find it bare of his usual sword. “Damn,” he cursed under his breath. He took a step closer to Marynn, his eyes fixated on the darkness around them. He stopped when his head was beside hers. “Do you have any weapons hidden in that dress of yours?” he asked under hushed tones.

He kept his sense alert as he slowly and quietly led Marynn and himself towards the far wall of the ballroom. Out in the open they could be attacked from all sides. But if they had their backs to the wall, thats one direction they wouldn’t have to worry about.

Rhaegar froze when he heard movement behind him. He quickly and carefully shoved Marynn out of the way to the left while he dodged to the right. Just as they move, the blade of a sword slashed down between them, slamming into the stone ground. Rhaegar spun around, putting his right foot down on the blade while he grabbed the attacker by the head and slammed his nose into his left knee.

Rhaegar ripped the sword from the assassin’s grasp and kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He was tempted to kill the man, but instead wanted answers. So he quickly pinned the man down on the ground, his knees pressed down into the man’s arms. Rhaegar raised the sword and slammed the hilt of the weapon into the assassin’s head, knocking him unconscious.

***

Magnus quickly took Elizabeth in his arms and brought her close when the lights went out. “We need to get to safety,” he said to her. But it was too dark for him to navigate the dark hall without the potential of running into a threat.

He moved himself before Elizabeth, but without a weapon, the King would be able to put up that much of a fight. When he heard someone approach, Magnus raised his fist, preparing to do whatever he had to. But as the person got closer, he quickly recognized one of the King’s guard, Sebastian. “Your Grace, the Prince has ordered me to take you and the Queen to the holding room.”

Magnus looked towards Elizabeth, “Lady Grayson is coming with us.”

“No, she is not,” the Queen hissed from behind Sebastian, surrounded by four other guards.

“She comes, or neither of us go.”

“Your Grace, we must go. I have my orders,” Sebastian said.

Before anyone else could argue, the King’s guard members ushered them through the nearest door that led down a secret corridor. Once out of the ballroom, a servant met them with candles and guided them to the panic room. They all filed inside, locking the door once in.

“What about my children?” the King asked, wanting to go back out there with a sword in hand, ready to fight for his family.

“Your Grace, I got my orders directly from Brom. I could not see Princess Gwendolynn or Rhaegar, but there are at least another dozen guards in the ballroom.”

“Why aren’t they in here with us!? Go get them!”

“My love,” the Queen said as she walked towards the King. “Your safety is always of the utmost importance. Your sons are well trained, they will be fine.”

The Queen placed her hand on the King’s shoulder but he shrugged it away, pacing around the room. “And what about our daughter? Their as much your children as mine, Guinevere. You could at least pretend to care about them.”