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Annabelle Waldorf

"We can only move on from the past, we can't live in it, if we do how can we live in the present?"

0 · 788 views · located in Tibera

a character in “The Price of Blood”, originally authored by Caille, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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"We can only move on from the past, we can't live in it, if we do how can we live in the present?l"




The Basics




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Full Name: Annabelle Lenora Jean Waldorf
Nicknames: Anna or Belle.
Gender: Female
Age: Sixteen
Rank/Title: Lady in Waiting to the older sister of Ostwall
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. Although she prefers males. Society is too harsh for her to be able to freely prefer women.
Kingdom/Alliance: Ostwall




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Medium brown. Like a milk chocolate brown.
Eye Color: Deep blue and filled with emotion.
Height: Five foot four.
Weight: Hundred and twenty eight pounds.
Tattoos: A bird on her spine on her lower back, no one knows about it.
Piercings: None besides the ears.
Scars: Thin scar matching up with a small portion of her jaw line. She usually covers it up with makeup though.
Description: Annabelle has always been described as the petite sort. She is rather average to short in height, and about slim to average in weight as well. It is known that Annabelle is in no way a slim stick, she has light curves that continue to shape as she grows older and matures more. Her jawline is in no way very defined, but it has a nice structure to it. Her eyes are piercing blue and very easy to spot and recgonize. Anna now has brown hair naturally but when she was little there was a point in time it was a shade of blonde and it just got darker as she aged a bit. Anna got a tattoo of a bird on her spin awhile back to signify how she'd gain freedom from her old life before. She plans to share the story with someone she deeply cares for and can call her own later on in her life and refuses to mention it to anyone otherwise.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Nurturing, Perfectionist, Loyal, Kind}
The following words are the common ones used to describe Anna. Meanwhile they are true in other ways there's a lot more than that, that composes up of her personality. Anna tends to be very loyal to people who she decides to devote all her time and energy into. She likes to have someone's back and be there for them no matter what and she'd never let someone else's happiness get compromised and she will do anything in her power to help and serve people. She does naturally have a maternal instinct about her where she can be quote motherly and soothing. She has an extreme want to be there acting as a mother and being quite responsible.

Anna can also be a perfectionist and quite stubborn. She will fight you on something within reason until the day she dies. She's always been a fighter in that way and she has learned to stand up for herself and will not be a door mat, although she can still obey the rules. Anna likes things to be neat and ordered a majority of the time and things have to go perfectly her way or she is not satisfied to her complete needs.

Lastly one thing you may have no known about Anna is that she is very witty, adventurous and a bit of an activist. She believes in people being fairly equal and she believes in a lot of different causes and in her heart she could go on all day talking about those kinds of things and making strong statements. She has read up on quite a bit of books, and she has gained a bunch of knowledge from them and she ends up storing them in her mind for further purposes.
Hobbies:
Cooking - Horseback riding - Reading.
Habits:
Lip biter - tendencies to spew out random facts.
Oddities:
Has Insomnia - Lactose intolerant.
Likes/Loves:
  • Horses
  • Reading aloud to people
  • Helping others
  • Purple
  • socializing
  • Fresh snow
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Her parents
  • Sunshine
  • Ungrateful people
  • Fighting
  • Spiders
  • Poverty




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin: Ostwall.
History: Once long ago about sixteen years back. A ship-man coming in from another land had stopped by in a local tavern. One of the women working there happened to catch his attention and they spent several nights and days together after that moment. They talked about running away together eventually and taking the ship and sailing the seas. Eventually their plans got ruined and that was no longer an option for them.

Clara had ended up pregnant. It took her awhile before she told Jackson but once she did, he wasn't too thrilled. He didn't want a kid he liked to be free and roam around, but none the less he stuck around to support Clara. Once the child was born, he grew a bit attached and they grew up as some what decent family, and it was all Annabelle knew.

Eventually the family ended up with arguments all the time. Jackson wanted to go back out to the open waters and Clara wanted to go too, but they couldn't leave the child alone and couldn't take her with them. Eventually though, they started to skip out on the money they owed for the home, and they took loans out for the ship and their debt rose very high. To the point of when Annabelle was the age of ten that was when her parents wrote a note to the higher up class who dealt with finances.

They left to go out to sea but they left their daughter there to work off the debt that they created. Although right away, she couldn't go in to just be a lady in waiting to the royal family. They had to clean her up for quite some time, and get some training into her, so she knew what to do and knew how to do it well. Annabelle caught on quickly, but the lessons for it just added on to her parents debt that she had to pay off. Finally at the age of twelve she ended up being able to help the older princess of Ostwall and she served as a friendly figure to the princess.

Happiest Memory: Getting to see the ocean and enjoy the breeze and the view. It was a mild summer day, and her parents took her aboard and she enjoyed it. She yearns to go back out on a ship again one day but doubts it'll happen.

Saddest Memory: When her parents gave her away without batting an eye just so they could pay off their debt. They abandoned her, and never bothered to try and contact her again.




Face Claim: Sarah Bolger

So begins...

Annabelle Waldorf's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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Celia found these tournaments quite... boring? Perhaps that was the correct term? That was most likely why she had a book on her lap and her eyes were fixed on it rather than the competitions. In fact, she ignored the scene completely until her brother's joust came up. She glanced up, watching as he was thrown off his horse and she sighed. She loved Ronan, she really did, but she had to question why he participated in competitions he knew he was going to lose. He sat down next to Genevieve, not that Celia was surprised. In her mind, she reprimanded him; he should be more careful. After all, rumors were a courtesans favorite tool and it was not the best idea to give them something to talk about. Even so, it was not her place to mention this to him, should it arise more suspicion. "Damn horse screwed up the entire thing. That beast can't do a damn thing correctly," Ronan complained and she looked at her elder brother.

"Blaming the horse may not be the best course of action, dear brother. Nobody enjoys the company of a sore loser, especially one that blames a beast trained by said loser."

At least, Celia assumed in her mind that's what others thought. She didn't blame her hawk when she failed to hit her target with an arrow. It was her own folly that had caused the misplaced arrow, not Careen's. However, she knew that her brother's pride prevented him from viewing the world in this way. Celia stood up, noting that it was nearly time for her own competition, making her the first woman to participate in the archery tournament. First, she had to get out of this blasted dress; she never understood how other women could wear layers of cloth so easily. "Shall we go, Annabelle?" she addressed her Lady-In-Waiting, who sat directly behind her. She then turned to her younger sister. "Wanna come with me to get ready, Cori?"

She spoke so quietly that only people that knew her could hear her soft tone. To everyone else, she looked like nothing more than a young woman moving her lips without a sound escaping them. Celia bent down so she was level with her father. "I'm going now, Papa."

Without waiting for his answer, Celia navigated through the crowds and disappeared out of the arena. She breathed in the less foul air and walked towards the castle to change before the her own event began.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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Alistair watched as Prince Ronan Ulfricson was knocked to the dirt. A dark smirk touched his lips as he watched anger grip the prince and rage threaten. Ronan clambered to his feet and stamped off to change out of his armor and rejoin his father, mother in law and sisters. Ulfrics son was ruled by his mood, a fact Alistair would remember. Alistair had heard that the prince of Ostwall was someone of special skill and distinction, someone to watch. Watching him unhorsed in the first bout of the day was amusing to say the least. The King of Ostwall barely seemed to register his sons failure in front of the whole realm. Odd to Alistair who could only think of how his own father would have reacted. Anger, disappointment and disgust would have hung heavy on Tywin Lannisters face if the roles were reversed. Unfortunately Alistair would not be riding in the days lists, not that he hadn't wanted to. In fact he had been half way into his armor when his wife had found him. She said he should be with the other royals, as he was hosting the celebration it was his place. They had argued and she had won, like she did in so many things. The whole affair left a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste that needed washing out. Alistair reached with his free hand to grab his wine goblet and sipped the rich Arbor Red, savoring the fine vintage. His other hand was imprisoned in his wifes grasp. She had always insisted on these public displays of affection, no doubt to show the world a unified regency. Her very touch caused a storm to brew within the King.

A part of him hungered for it, yearned for her closeness. He needed her, he wanted her like a drowning man needed a breath of air. Another part, a darker part, hated it. He couldn't trust it anymore, he'd swam to the surface and found the air tainted and foul. His eyes flicked over to look upon the face of his wife. Her eyes blue turning to green like pools of cool island water that he could dive right into and stay there forever. Her long blonde hair kissed by the sun more radiant than all the gold in Casterly Rock. He watched as the breeze caressed her locks giving him a fleeting glimpse of some of the few light brown strands that seemed to hide in her sea of golden hair. She was still more beautiful than any other woman he'd ever set eyes on. Yet the person she was, the person who held all that beauty scorned him, sullied him as that damned crown sullied him. So often he'd heard them whisper, how he wasn't fit to rule, how he sullied the crown and the cloak given to him on his coronation. That's where they were all wrong. He didn't sully the crown and the cloak, the crown and the cloak sullied him. They called him king, or Your Grace or any of the other countless tedious titles attributed to him now but he knew what they all thought. He knew what they all really called him. Of all the things they titled him behind his back it was Oath Breaker he hated the most yet in a way it was also his favorite, it had a nice ring to it. They wanted a ruler, they could look to his wife, let her bother with it for he washed his hands of the whole damned lot of them.

"Well... That was anti climactic."

Came his brothers voice at his right. Alistair smirked as Tyrion leaned back in his seat, his short, stunted legs dangling off the edge of the seat as he drank deeply of his wine. Alistair took the opportunity to slip his hand away from his wife, pretending merely to lean closer to his brother but in truth he was grateful to merely free himself of her touch and the feelings it brought.

"To say the least, good thing I didn't place a bet on him."

Alistair joked. Tyrion chuckled in his cup before setting it down.

"Speak for yourself, brother."

Alistair gave his little brother a knowing look.

"You didn't."

"I did and I regret it."

Tyrion replied before the victor who unseated Prince Ronan rode out around the tourney field to chivalrously tip his lance toward his king and queen. It was only then that he removed his helm to reveal who had bested the son of King Ulfric Bjornson with a single blow.






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Loras removed his helm of shining steel, polished like a mirror. He set it at his side, his eyes on the beauty that was the queen of Seabel. Long, golden hair, porcelain skin and eyes both green and blue. Her most attractive feature was that she was his. Alistair Lannister, the King of Seabel and Lion of Casterly Rock. Loras sat there atop his white Destrier and watched as Alistair spoke with that freakish little imp of a brother. Beside the brothers was the father, Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. The whole pride of lions were in attendance to watch Loras unseat a prince. The whole thing made Loras smile but the smile was cleverly disguised as one of flirtation and admiration as he let his eyes hold the queen and her gaze for he knew what it did to her. His gaze flicked to his own father who sat beside the king of Falor, a respectful nod before a final glance at her majesty before he rode off down the field.

So much excitement in the world all culminating on this celebration. Every noble of worth and regent from all three kingdoms were in attendance, so many opportunists for a clever man to exploit. Loras Edwards was a clever man, a clever man who in time would cast a very large shadow. First came his hunt, once the lion pelt was he would rise and take what was rightfully his. Loras rounded the corner and damned near rode straight into a mountain. A man easily eight foot and then some tall, covered head to toe in thick black castle forged steel armor. Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain That Rides was seated atop a war horse that dwarfed most others, black as night. Loras was careful to steer his white pony clear around the dangerous eldest Clegane brother. Gods help whoever he rides against.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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There was a weight in her stomach. It was nothing to be worried about, she had been assured, but that didn't help much when Ronan got hit right in front of her. Genevieve had thankfully been able to repress her reaction to just a small gasp as she jumped in her seat. It couldn't have been much damage though, she thought. She glanced over to her... husband. She hated the thought, but for now she could do nothing about it. Ulfric hardly seemed fazed by what had happened though, so she did her best to calm herself.

Her eyes followed him the whole time he walked up, her eyes lighting up as he chose to sit beside her despite what he had been told. The girl grinned and her cheeks lifted, her nose scrunching up as she forced herself to not hold tightly to him. She nodded in agreement to his complaints as he sat beside her, frowning with concern as she reached to touch his shoulder, leaving her hand hovering hesitantly above it while Ronan’s gaze challenged his father. “Are you alright?” She murmured gently, letting out a small laugh at Celia’s remark and turning to wish her well as she left with all of the group but Ulfric and Ronan.

This was torturous. Why couldn’t the old man just find something more important to do? Or she could find something that could conveniently distract herself and Ronan from the festivities. Perhaps examining his wounds would be a proper excuse? Genevieve rose an eyebrow, touching his shoulder gently as he gripped her hand. “You should go make sure you aren’t hurt, Ronan.” She said, making it sound like more of an order than a suggestion.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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"Can you teach me how to ride a horse Celia?"

Celia looked at her younger sister, surprised by the abrupt question but at the same time, not very surprised. The oldest daughter of Ulfric was actually quite surprised no one had taught her yet. "Of course, Cori. We'll take Nightingale out tomorrow."
Nightingale was one of Celia's two horses and the one she had brought with her to Seabel. She wished she also had dearest Euphemia as well, but her father only let her bring one.

They walked up to the room Celia was sharing with her Lady-In-Waiting and her sister. Immediately, they were greeted by Fallon, Celia's spotted dog. Unlike most people, she let her dog inside her room, seeing as it was well trained. After all, there was a pair of doors that led directly outside should she need to relieve herself. Celia gathered the clothing laid out on her bed into her arms and stepped behind the divider. She stripped off the suffocating dress and put on the relieving clothing.

Finally. Gone was the stuffy dress. Celia was now dressed in a thin chiffon skirt and a blouse. She stepped out from behind her divider and sat at her vanity for Annabelle to braid her hair. How she hated this room, so far from her one at home with her research stacked up to the ceiling. Another exaggeration. She did have a lot of research at her home though. Her fingers itched for a quill. She could take some notes on the humorous interactions of the royals with everyone waiting for the opportune moment to stab each other in the back. Yes, very humorous indeed. Celia briefly wondered if she was a sadist, but she pushed through thought out of her mind once she saw her younger sister. Why couldn't her father let her choose Corianna's clothing? "That dress must be killing you. Honestly, do the servants not know a winter dress from a summer one?" she pointed to Corianna's trunk. "Change into something more seasonally appropriate, Cori."

She dearly hoped that the servants didn't pack only winter dresses. If they did, Celia would have to do some improvising. Something she would hate to do to her sister's dresses. Winters got cold in Ostwall and she'd freeze without proper clothing. Fallon laid down at Celia's feet as she let Annabella do her hair. She was actually anxious for the archery competition.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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Annabelle had been watching a few of the jousts while she sat behind Celia. She had been studying the tactics that each one was using and she made judging notes in her mind as she watched it go on. Although the most prodding thing in her mind was how the horses must feel. They didn't deserve to have these guys with their heavy armor sit on them and then joust, talk about animal cruelty. Anna couldn't complain much though, this was what they lived in and horses did a lot for them. Sighing she returned to reading the book Celia was reading over her shoulder briefly, it was a book that Anna had read before and she smiled a bit.

Soon enough her gaze wandered from the joust to the book, and then just looking around the crowds. Anna was wondering where Ren was. She hadn't seem him too much recently, and she'd go look for him, but her duties were to attend to Princess Celia, which sometimes meant helping Princess Cori once in awhile, considering the older princess and little princess were around each other quite a bit.

Watching Ronan do his jousting match, she watched him, fail, and fall off the horse, or whatever. That had to dent the ego, and didn't make him look too good in terms of reputation and she exhaled softly. That was about the point where Celia decided to go get ready for her archery competition and Annabelle followed her to the room she was led to.

Once Celia was finished getting ready she came out and sat in front of the vanity. Soon Annabelle began to brush Celia's hair knowing that she wanted to have it braided and she wanted to smooth it out some first. "If you need help with putting the dress on, I can help you." She said to the little princess with a small smile on her face. She didn't offer her assistance in horse riding, knowing it was a bonding moment for the two sisters to do later. Anna then began to section out the pieces of hair and made sure they were even before braiding her hair down the middle. "Would there be anything else you'd like me to do after this, your highness?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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"Of course, Cori. We'll take Nightingale out tomorrow."
She smiled excitedly. That would be great fun. She was excited now for this tournament to finish now. As she followed her sister up to the room she had more fantasies about riding and even more about jousting.

As Fallon greeted her, Celia and Annabelle gleefully Corianna lent down and scuffled it's ears. She was ever jealous of her sisters animals. Apparently she was not responsible enough yet. Ever since she left that plant die that her mother...she falls back and spreads herself out on her bed and sighs. She becomes increasingly sad on the inside but does not let this show. Looking sad and weak would just make them worry again about her state of mind and that she could be going back to where she was a couple of weeks ago. That would not help anybody.

"That dress must be killing you. Honestly, do the servants not know a winter dress from a summer one? Change into something more seasonally appropriate, Cori." Her sisters voice breaks through her thoughts. "I did tell the servants that. But they said," Her voice goes into a high pitched mocking voice "No miss you must look presentable". She snorts, then looks towards her trunk and gathers clothes. She changes into a simple brown dress and lets her hair loose and shake it a bit. "How did Ronan do? I missed it, and where did Genevieve go? She wasn't next to Papa when we said goodbye."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne

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Lucas never wanted to watch the tournament from the side, but he knew if he didn't and competed, well... Nicholas was likely to be a larger target. At least up in the box for nobility, by his friend's throne, he could watch his friend with little to no fear someone would hurt him without going through Lucas first. He stood on the king's right side, between him and the count Edwards.

Lucas had been to focused on searching the best ways to kill a fifteen year old king when he heard the conversation finally. "I pity the man who must face that mountain of a man, and I pity that horse that must sit beneath him." The advisor right next to him seemed to be as he always was, bringing others down when he can without seeming to.

Another man by the Seabel king spoke up, "Pity is good my dear lord but think of the possibilities such a contest can have. Should this boy, under matched as he is, win against The Mountain That Rides his tale would be sung from Ostwall to Falor and back. He'd have a literal banquet of women lining up for a taste of the cock of he slew The Mountain, a course in each village and dessert to boot."

It took great power not to roll Lucas's eyes. The fool hadn't been ready for such a competition. Lucas would have to compete next year. He couldn't have done jousting or the swordplay without fear of something happening, and he was perhaps the worst archer in the land even though he trained all year. Then the king of Seabel himself spoke up, "He is going to die today."

Lucas refrained from shaking his head. As true as it seemed, he hoped it wouldn't happen. Just as the thought went through his head, the boy went down and it was obvious should he not yet be dead, he would be momentarily. Lucas took a deep breath, the sight of blood making his stomach twist. Lucas' hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he stood there, growing more and more less concerned.

His eyes moved throughout the tournament, finding some surprising things without really finding interest in them. He didn't want to say anything, but he certainly didn't want to stay entirely silent. It was obvious this tournament should have a competition to enter so young boys such as this weren't killed. Sure there were the rare occasions, but that didn't mean it was still okay. Lucas would have leaned back in his saddle, or pushed the lance away with his own when his life was at risk, for it was nothing but a tournament.

As the archers came out, he wasn't surprised to see a female among the men. As his gaze drifted away, it caught on girl reading. She was near the princess of Ostwall and he looked away quickly. He could not get distracted, yet there she was drawing his attention away again. He found himself leaning forward between the seats to look until he caught himself. What was he doing? He was old enough not to get distracted by someone, especially a girl. He also knew he didn't want the heartbreak again. Perhaps he could talk with... No. He would not. If he did, he'd be doomed to thinking of her all the time. And yet...

He hoped nobody had noticed him leaning forward though he was nearly positive it would not go unnoticed. He just hoped the count didn't see it. The prince would just tease him, but the count... That might be bad...

Lucas hadn't talked much through the tournament, but that was because he hadn't been talked to. He also kind of didn't want to, unless it was to that girl... Lucas took a deep breath and shook his head. He wondered if the nobility around knew him or of him, possibly since he was younger than Loras who was the captain of the guards for Seabel...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf

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At long last, she had a quiver on her back and a bow gripped in her hand. Celia tilted her head at the targets, each of them varying in distance. She turned to Annabelle and Corianna, "Would you hold my book for me, Annabelle? I don't know where Genevieve is, Cori. You should go back now, wish me luck."

She gave her Lady-In-Waiting her book and turned back to the targets. Distance. Accuracy. Humility. That was what made a good archer. Judging by the cocky smiles of her opponents and the way they looked at her like she couldn't hold her own, she knew that none of these men had the last piece of the puzzle. It was true that Celia's archery skills didn't come from genetics or pure talent; no, she had to work to become a good archer. Years of staying out until dark until she hit the bullseye at least four times. Blisters covering every inch of her fingertips. Pain was a good teacher and instead of quitting like most girls would've done, she endured it.

Standing there and gauging her opponents, Celia had to wonder why she started archery. Most likely to impress her father. When you're born a woman, you have to work harder to prove yourself. The bell went off and the archers lined up. Celia watched her opponents appraisingly. If you didn't hit a bullseye, you were automatically disqualified. She was last.

100 yards. Celia nocked an arrow and drew back the string of her bow. She blocked out all other noises as she released the arrow into the air. A twang followed by a satisfying thunk. Bullseye

200 yards. Bullseye

300 yards. Bullseye

400 yards. Bullseye

500 yards. The arrow nearly missed the bullseye, scraping the surface of the red dot. She waited for a servant to declare it good and she only smiled when he did.

Sound came back to her all at once. A loud roar. She blinked. She'd almost forgotten she was a tournament. She faced the crowd and bowed slightly, walking past dumbfounded men. Yes, women had to prove themselves in a world like this and Celia knew she just did.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne

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After Anna had finished helping Celia getting ready and she was going out to do the archery competition she was told to hold her book. Annabelle was alright with that considering she'd likely just read it while she was waiting for Celia to be done outshining the guys in the competition. Anna was almost always around when Celia practiced and she knew just how much she had worked for this and knew how good Celia's shot was.

Annabelle went and took her seat in the front row, so she'd be easily at access for Celia if she needed something and she was close by. Anna knew there was likely nothing to worry about, so she started to open the book and began to read it. Although having read it when she was much younger it was still a rather good read for her. She heard the competition go on for a few moments, as she'd turn the page.

Soon she looked up as the competition was coming to an end, she wanted to see the victory, of Celia's, although as they were adjusting the amount of yards, she was scanning the crowds a bit, and that was when she saw, a male looking at her. How long had he been watching her? She was a little curious per say, and soon enough she looked to lock eyes with his, and she was looking back. He had to be of some form of nobility, not royalty it'd seem, but he sat close enough to be of some form of rank. Her blue eyes just stayed locked on his eyes.

"500 Yards!" someone called out and that broke her looking over at the guy staring at her, and she looked over to Celia, who began to make her shot. It just barely missed the bullseye and it was right on the line and soon, the official cleared that it counted and the whole crowds even Anna stood up and began to clap, some others cheered but to keep her lady-like mannerisms she refrained from it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Lorelle de Croismare Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Elanor Lannister

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OOC: "Here ye here ye! Come one come all. The good ole' Royal family Lannister of Tibera has put forth their 4th annual Masquerade ball at dusk. So, ladies and gents grab your masks and prepare to see identities be revealed.."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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#, as written by Caille
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Annabelle had been helping Celia get ready for a duration of the night, but at one point she was allowed to go off and get ready herself. Anna couldn't wear anything too elegant as that was more so reserved for royals. Anna had got her favourite purple dress she saved more so for special events such as things like this. She kept her hair down and found a simple mask and she slipped on some of her shoes. Anna knew she wouldn't fit in with the royals but she never really wanted to in the first place.

For awhile she had been rushing around to help out multiple different people and she had been waiting for the evening to start. She had been thinking about whether that one guy was going to be there, she could still imagine what his eyes looked like, and so she'd just need to be on the look out for those same pair of eyes. it was her goal to find him and at least get his name by the end of the night, if he was there. She was mostly just curious as to why he was staring at her in the first place.

Upon everyone making their entrance and such forth, the first dance had started, and she managed to find someone to dance with, which had been a stable hand boy. Annabelle made light conversation with him, talking about horses, and books in general, which none he seemed to think about too fondly. It disappointed her a bit but she wouldn't let it show. After the first dance, she was wandering around looking for someone she knew. One thing for sure was she knew what Celia was wearing and could likely point her out rather easily.

After looking for a bit, she spotted Celia, and she began to walk over there. Eventually she reached Celia's side and she smiled. "There you are, miss, I hope I haven't worried you too much with my absence." Anna said formally in case of anyone around heard, she was fairly close with Celia although in public cases she liked to make sure she was presentable.

(OOC: Will post for Elanor later on I need to sleep now.)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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Nicholas adjusted his mask, grateful for the thin veil of anonymity it granted him. When it came to balls, Nicholas was willing to endure them. In most case he actually ended up having fun, in spite of what most people expected. Although he would probably have more fun if he wasn't engaged. He had already danced with Priscilla that evening. She wasn't by any means a terrible dancer, far from it, and she followed his lead well, it was just that there were far more interesting people for him to be spending his time with than his future wife. Lucas seemed determined to be his constant shadow at the ball, despite Nicholas's protests that he would be fine for one evening. It appeared that Lucas disagreed with him, as he often did when it came to personal security.

"You are allowed to have fun at these things you know," he said to Lucas, "Consider it a night off, you've earned it. Besides," Nicholas grinned impishly, " How are you to find the girl you were admiring earlier if all you do is act as my living shadow?" Nicholas looked around the ballroom, moving further into the crowd when he spied Christoph talking to his son. Where was Priscilla? He couldn't see her anywhere.

Nicholas looked up, slightly surprised when someone bumped into him, "I must implore for your forgiveness," the girl curtsied. When she straightened up, Nicholas vaguely recognised her as Celia. The girl Lucas had been admiring earlier, he assumed she was Celia's lady-in-waiting, was not far behind. "There you are, miss, I hope I haven't worried you too much with my absence," she said quietly.

Nicholas gathered his composure, "No, not at all. There is no need to implore me for anything, no harm was done and no offence was caused," Lucas was still acting as his shadow. Nicholas turned to Lucas, looking at him pointedly, "If you'll excuse me, m'ladies." He took his leave of the group before Lucas could protest, blending into the masked crowd so Lucas couldn't follow. Nicholas took a goblet from a passing servant, sipping from it as he observed the crowd. He spied his sister among the dancers with her husband. Rekindling their relationship as brother and sister was seeming ever more unlikely. It had never been a wonderful relationship, but following her marriage into the Lannister family, things had become decidedly sour. His eyes scanned the ballroom again, searching for Christoph and Priscilla. That was his original intention, instead his eyes fell on a boy whom he hadn't seen before. Nicholas might have known him, but with his face half covered it was difficult to tell. Although that meant that the boy wouldn't know who Nicholas was either. And in that single thought Nicholas knew why he liked masquerades. People did not treat him any differently because he was a king. In this place, he was just like everybody else.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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"There you are, miss, I hope I haven't worried you too much with my absence."

Celia turned to find Annabelle standing next to her and smiled softly with a shake of her head as if to say she was fine. She turned her attention back to Nicholas as he excused himself and walked away. Then, she faced the King's bodyguard as he asked Annabelle to dance. Celia knew enough about body language to tell that he was nervous and that Annabelle was the focal point of that anxiety. The Princess turned to her lady-in-waiting. "You should enjoy yourself," she whispered before walking away and leaving her to her own decision.

She gracefully took another glass of wine off of a servant's platter and made her way over to her family's table, where Cori was seated. With a small sigh, she sat down next to her sister. Her eyes roamed the ballroom, longing for a quiet night in her room more and more. She half-wished she could just run away from Seabel altogether and return to her home. "What is it about masques that makes people so happy, Corianna?" she questioned her younger sister; she knew she didn't like being treated like a child, so she didn't bother trying to dumb it down. She turned to Cori with an imploring look as if she'd just asked for the secret to eternal youth. "Is it something about the atmosphere of mystery and intrigue? After all, even with a mask, everyone knows whom you truly are because we wear masks in our lives everyday."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Lorelle de Croismare Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Elanor Lannister Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre Character Portrait: Guy Priestas Character Portrait: Simon Priestas Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards

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The King's hand brushed lightly against the scar that still graced his left cheek -- a bitter-sweet reminder of how he had come to stand here beside Genevieve. His coronation, given the lack of spiritual leaders in the widely-diverse Ostwall, was headed by one of the eldest chieftains within the kingdom's borders, a man of a staggering seventy-seven years. Ronan's hair and beard had grown out to appear more like his people, from whom he required approval. The thick fur of a bear, draped about his shoulders, only helped further that image and reflect the symbol of his father. The pelts seemed to weigh him down greatly. They most certainly were the reason beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow. Or perhaps they came from the worry that, somehow, they'd trace the murder back to him.

The death of Ostwall's monarch had brought the festivities to a screeching halt. Ulfric's burial had been a ceremonious one, and the kingdom had grieved for months, meaning the current coronation had been unable to occur until now, two months later. In the mean time, Ronan suddenly found himself in the shoes of a man he had only, until then, dreamed of becoming. He played the part well, and Genevieve had as well. It was only when they were behind closed doors that she lost her air of nearly-constant mourning. Even then, he had not permitted her to be joyful in public until far after he had announced his plans to wed her.

Ronan moved his hand to brush at his brow then, and as he looked up at the chieftain before him, he noticed Celia just a bit off, holding Volundr. His son. He could never acknowledge the boy as his own, for the kingdom believed he had been the child of Ulfric and Genevieve, but Ronan told himself that the young prince should rightfully bear the surname of Ronanson. It pained him that it should be otherwise.

The chieftain stumbled over his words, causing Ronan to look back at him. Ostwall, unlike the other two kingdoms, had never truly adopted the more traditional concept of coronation until Ronan had insisted upon modernizing the nation. The chieftain had little idea as to what he was doing, and the words on the page made little sense given the fact that he was just barely literate. His stammering ended soon, thankfully, and he moved on to the crowning of the royals. The crown that was placed upon his head was nothing more than a thick band of iron with ornate patterns carved into it. The real beauty and power laid in the heavy chain that was placed about his neck, further weighing him down.

It was a relic dating back to times before even Falor had been unified when the clans of the North would give the chain to the strongest chieftain in the land. Over time, the simple chain had been added to in terms of links and precious stones until it hung heavy enough that it was only used for ceremonies. This, of course, was one of them.

As Genevieve went through a similar ceremony, receiving a less burdensome crown and chain that he had had created, for up until this point, the consort of the king of Ostwall had no political say. Though he had most certainly received the approval of the others in his kingdom, he knew they hardly approved of this action. Nevertheless, he turned around to great his people, hand reaching for Genevieve's as he did so. The chieftain cleared his voice once more before speaking in his thickly accented voice.

"I present to you King Ronan Bjorn Ulfricson, first of his name, and his queen, Genevieve Hansdottir of Falor, first of her name."




The proceeding festivities were a welcome change for all in Ostwall, having been in a period of nearly perpetual mourning for two months. A mixture of traditional and foreign instruments played, inspiring many to leave the banquet table in order to dance. Ronan, a bit too drunk by then to gracefully find his footing, resolved to stay at the table where he held the one month old Volundr in his arms. The King brushed a finger along the boy's cheek, laughing as the young prince gripped it and inspected the calloused finger with fascination.

"It's wonderful, is it not?" he remarked, looking out on the crowd of nobles, local and foreign, who occupied the hall. "It's ours now." Ronan continued to look about, meeting the gaze of a few nobles who watched the pair closely, with judgement visible in their eyes even from at the royals' place at the table. He knew they spoke about him and Genevieve quite often. It was most certainly scandalous for anyone to marry their widowed stepmother, let alone just months after her husband's death, but there were no laws regarding marriage in Ostwall.

Propping the small child up in his lap, Ronan gripped his tankard of ale and sipped from it for a moment, positioning it afterwards so that it attempted to block out the gossiping nobles. It hardly helped, however, and he simply turned back to Genevieve with his arm once more around Volundr.