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Cassandra Lannister

"When we are children we seldom think of the future. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind."

0 · 676 views · located in Tibera

a character in “The Price of Blood”, originally authored by Scarlet Loup, as played by Dumisa

Description

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“When we are children we seldom think of the future. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”




The Basics




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|| Full Name ||
Cassandra Laurentia Lannister

|| Nicknames ||
She is often called "Cas" or "Cassie" by her family and those close to her family.

|| Age ||
Eight

|| Rank/Title ||
Princess of Seabel

|| Sexual Orientation ||
She's far too young to determine this, but like most children, she is simply fascinated and enamored with everyone "noble" she sees.

|| Kingdom/Alliance ||
Seabel / Her Parents




What's on the Outside




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|| Hair Color ||
Her hair is much a mixture of the dark brown locks that run on her mother's side (though skipped her mother) and the blonde hair of her father. Cassie has light, chestnut-colored hair that is wavy but ends just above her shoulders.

|| Eye Color ||
Her eyes, like her parents', are a bluish-green.

|| Height ||
Three feet, ten inches

|| Weight ||
Fifty-five pounds

|| Scars ||
Besides the usual scrapes and bruises on her knees and hands from running about, Cassie has no true scars.

Description ||
It is obvious upon simply looking at Cassie that she is a young child. Her face still retains the roundness of a baby, and her cheeks are almost constantly rosy in color. She's a bit under the average height and weight, but this certainly doesn't seem to affect her at all. Instead, it allows her to move all the more nimbly through the palace. Often, her face shows a broad, gleeful smile. She is too young to know pain of suffering. Her dresses are often quite elegant and come in softer versions of beautiful blues and pinks.




What's on the Inside




What's on the Inside




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Personality:

{Innocent, Energetic, Inquisitive, Cheerful}

In the midst of betrayal and hatred, Cassandra is hopelessly naive. She is a guarded child who truly does not understand the world around her. It is far too big for her, and no one has wanted to destroy the innocence that shields her from the reality of life. Still, it certainly adds to how endearing she is. Cassie certainly does not lack energy or vivacity in life. She is constantly running about and speaking in a chipper manner to just about everyone she encounters. Her inquisitive spirit often drives her forward as she explores the ever-changing world around her. Though she certainly isn't stupid, her lack of experience with the world around her and her surprisingly sheltered life have left her in a state of naivety. Regardless, she does know that things are changing. She can sense the tension between her mother and her uncle and also between her mother and her father. Still, she tries to hide in her naivety, unknowingly, to avoid facing a harsh reality.

Hobbies:
  • Playing in the Gardens
  • Riding her Pony
  • Racing Through the Palace
Habits:
  • Twirls her hair around her finger and looks away when embarrassed
  • Her bottom lip quivers when she starts to grow upset
Oddities:
  • She often suffers from allergies to pollen, but this does not stop her from spending her time outside.
Likes/Loves:
  • Baby Animals
  • Her Parents
  • Sunshine
  • Dresses
  • Flowers
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Boring Grown-Up Talk
  • Staying Still
  • Thunder and Lightning
  • Fighting
  • Being Spoken Down To




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
|| Place Of Origin ||
Falor

|| History ||
Cassandra, being a child of royalty, has never wanted for anything. She's the first and only child of Alistair Lannister and Rosalie Lannister. Her mother was quite young when she was born, but Cassandra was born with no birth defects besides being slightly smaller than average, which she has retained into her childhood. In her early childhood, she often moved between the castle of the Lannisters and the Eastern Palace. Her childhood was quite simple for quite some time. She was showered with love from both sides of her family, and she loved them all dearly.

To this day, she remains unsure why they left Falor. All she knows is that her mother's father died, and there was a great fight between she and Cassie's uncle. Suddenly, they were packing up their belongings, and the family moved to the Western Palace, which Cassie had never seen in only six years of life. Then, her father left, and her mother hardly had time to be with her. She greatly missed them, but it ended in a grand party in which her mother, and later her father, received crowns and were named Queen and King of Seabel.

From then on, she was not allowed to run about the strange gardens by herself. Instead, her father had a knight appointed to guard her. Of course, she did not mind, for it merely meant she had company. Tensions are running high in the kingdoms now. She can tell. She just doesn't understand why.

|| Happiest Memory ||
Her happiest memory would, in her eyes, be just about any of her memories. Perhaps a part of her believes the move to the Western Palace was the happiest memory of hers, but she does miss her uncle and the friends she had in the Eastern Palace.

|| Saddest Memory ||
Though it could hardly be considered a "sad" memory, she did not initially like the move from Falor to Seabel. Now, however, she has grown more accustomed to it.





Face Claim: Georgie Henley

So begins...

Cassandra Lannister's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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"Oh my," Rosalie gasped in horror at the sight of Prince Ulfricson getting thrown from his stallion, and felt a surge of satisfaction run through her veins as she
remembered that she had been able to prevent her husband into competing in these brutal festivities. With the hand that was free of her husband, she gripped the edge of her seat; watching as a few of his servants rushed over to attend to him. A minute passed. Two. She sighed in relief as she seen him wave away his attendants and stomped off the fields in rage. "Clearly, these games aren't meant for hot heads." She whispered in her husbands ear, and gave out a soft giggle. "They do make quite the temper, but then again I am sure that is just a men's way of saying that they're of way too much high virtue to be seen in defeat." Pushing a brown strand behind his ear, she studied his hard expression closely to the tightness of his jaw and when he finally turned his attention onto Rosalie she seen the usual softness of his slate-gray eyes along with the stubble that caressed across his chin. To Rosalie, he is truly a handsome man. One that always seemed to have those moods where he felt the need to shut the world out. Even his wife for unknown reasons. It made Rosalie feel excluded, a stranger to her husband despite what all they've been through. Together.

As they studied each other, Rosalie noticed that from within those eyes, his eyes, held a pang of sadness that made her heart sink with guilt that seemed to have
haunted her since the time she had made love to her Royal Guard, Loras. It was nothing, but a one night stand. Rosalie was sure of it, but something deep within her chest told her that it was much much more than that, and it left an unpleasant sensation through the atmosphere similar the time she left her brother to the throne of Falor. Rosalie finally tore her gaze away from her husband, no longer wanting to see the hurt in his expression, and instead rested her eyes on his enthralling eyes, like sparkling kaleidoscopes of color. They were celery green, but also ocean blue. Dashes of chestnut brown specked around his irises. Loras Edwards, was his name. He was sat on the saddle of his beautiful, white Destrier at a distance watching her with his helm tucked under his arm, and a hand that gripped the horse's halter.

How long had he been staring? Rosalie could only ponder at the thought as she returned his gaze though his were more taunting; hers was full of modesty,
an eye brow raised as if challenging him. Then, he flashed her that dashing smile that proved him innocent. A dashing smile that Rosalie knew thousands, no, millions of young maidens would've found attractive. That very same smile that always seemed at triumph against Rosalie as she felt her face grow hot, and instantly whipped her attention elsewhere.. At discomfort, she began reaching a hand up to twirl at a loose golden strand, but remembered that her had been pinned up into a braided crown.

"Well... That was anti climactic." She heard a rather familiar voice say, and Rosalie turned her head to take in the sight of her husband's brother Tyrion, at
, his side. As if given a reason, Rosalie felt Alistair's hand slip from her very own. She stared at it. Her hand bare, cold, and more alone than Rosalie had ever felt. She heard her husband say something, but couldn't quite make it out as a wave of nausea passed through her. Almost instantly, she reached for her daughter's hand at her opposite side and stood as she smoothed at her satin gown. "C-Casie and I are going to the Gardens," She stammered at the two. "We shall leave you two to your discussion." Giving her daughter's delicate hand a small tug she said, her voice broke at her words, "Come along my dearest."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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She left, and she took his daughter with her. Try as he might Alistair couldn't feign indifference. He was constantly at war with himself when Rosalie was around. He hated her presence, he hated the way she looked at him and the sound of her voice yet there was not a more beautiful sound in all the world than when she spoke, no feeling more grand then when her eyes were upon him, no drug in all the known world could compete with the euphoria of nearly being close to her. She took her leave and Alistair flashed her a quick glance. A look of sorrow, love, regret and shame all wrapped up in a shroud uncaring. He reached and took hold of his daughters hand as she passed him, holding her for a moment.

"Goodbye sweetheart, I will see you later."

He said before gently kissing his little girls hand as any knight would kiss the hand of any lady. He wanted to kiss his wife goodbye too, he wanted to bid her a fond farewell and tell her how the field would be lack of sunlight for loss of her presence. He said nothing and they left.

Tyrion on the other hand was silent, slouching in his seat pretending not to exist as the queen and the princess left and Ser Gregor Clegane took up his position.

"You two seem happy."

He said sarcastically. Alistair flashed his little brother a glare and downed his cup before signalling his cup bearer for another.

"Much has changed since my last visit to the capitol brother, you and your lady wife seem to barely tolerate each other these days."

"We do barely tolerate each other."

Alistair replied ruefully as his cup bearer refilled his cup and was dismissed quickly. Tyrion was not a man of strong body, capable of any physical skill but what he was capable of was thinking. Tyrion Lannister was one of the smartest most cunning people in all the kingdoms and he'd found his next riddle incomprehensibly intriguing.

"Has anything happened? You two have a fight?"

He asked. Alistair chuckled in his cup.

"Of course, we fight every day. It's about the only thing we do together anymore."

"How curious. I remember Rosalie from her days as a princess at the capitol. She was a darling girl, always courteous, kind and loving."

Alistair grimaced at his brothers words, they pained him for they brought up the bitter memory of what he'd lost and who he'd lost. His sword hand clenched into a fist as he drank his whole cup dry in one go and signaled for his cup bearer once more, at least the wine was strong. Once his cup was fill he was about to down the whole thing again when he felt a strong hand clutching his shoulder.

"Do you intend to get drunk at the first day of the festivities in front of every noble, king and person of import in the kingdoms?"

His father's voice cut like a knife and both brothers fell silent. Tywin Lannister glared at both his sons before leaning back in his chair with a scowl.

"Lannisters don't act like fools, drunken or otherwise."

Silent and angry from the reprimand by his father Alistair watched the poor, unlucky sod whose job it was to challenge The Mountain. A young lad of barley twenty years, a knight only recently risen to the rank whose name he couldn't even remember.

"I pity the man who must face that mountain of a man, and I pity that horse that must sit beneath him."

Alistair's brother, Tyrion smiled at Count Cristoph Edwards words as he turned in his seat to look at the older man and royal adviser of the young king of Falor.

"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."

A few of the nearby lords who heard Tyrion chuckled at his bawdy words while his father sighed under his breath. Alistair never took his eyes off the boy who was practically shaking in his armor.

"He is going to die today."

Alistair said darkly as the match began. Ser Gregor charged, his monstrous war horse, black as the pit of hell came thundering down the field. The boy, to his credit didn't turn his mount around and ride off in a fright but raced toward his opponent and whatever fate lay in store for him. The crowd fell silent before the moment of impact. Ser Gregor's lance struck first, reflecting off the boy's shield, going up under the chin of his helmet and snapping off after sinking deep into the boy's throat. A gasp shot out from the stands as the boy fell from his horse, blood spurting from his neck and his body convulsing violently. Several aids rushed out to tend to the boy but no sooner had they reached him had he fallen still as the grave. A stunned silence washed over all in attendance like a dense fog, none knowing quite what to say.

Alistair just sighed sipped his wine, his mood was mired as it so often was these days and his fathers presence wasn't helping. At least he had his brother, his daughter and the single combat competition to look forward to. His wife wouldn't talk him out of that.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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Since the first carriages had arrived the previous day, Cassandra had been in a perpetual state of bliss. There were so many people! She recognized very few of the assembled nobility, but there were also faces from Falor that were so familiar that she identified them as soon as they arrived. Still, she was far too overwhelmed to spend much time reminiscing.

She kicked her legs excitedly as Loras and Ronan raced toward each other. Each moment, her allegiance changed until Ronan was dismounted. Then, of course, she decided she liked Loras better. Imitating her mother, Cassie watched the prince rise slowly from the dust. For a while, she tried to listen in to her father's conversation. However, it soon grew tiresome, and she was far too distracted with the Captain of the Guards trotting his horse about. Enthusiastically, she clapped for him. Her youthful face screwed up into an excited grin.

"Mother! Mother, did you see that?!" she cried, bouncing in her seat for a moment. Of course her mother had, but she wanted nothing more than to join in the excited chatter that the others in the stands seemed to be lost in. Her mother failed to reply, however. Instead, Cassie found her hand suddenly being held and pulled softly as Rosalie stood. For just a moment, she looked longingly back at the others, but it wasn't worth arguing either, for then she knew she would not be allowed to attend the later festivities. "Yes, Mother."

As she passed by her father, he kissed her hand, evoking a giggle from her. "Goodbye, Father!" A few of the royals watched her leave, trotting behind her mother while waving in a very "princess-like" manner to the others. It seemed to annoy her, however, that she was unable to read her mother's emotions. Not that she had ever been good at it, but she had always assumed she was. "Why aren't we staying?" She moved a bit quicker once they were outside of the stands so that she walked beside Rosalie.

A great cry rose up in the stands they had just left, followed by absolute silence. Cassie stopped for a moment and tried to jump in place so that she would see what had happened. Her pause, however, was unexpected by her mother, so Rosalie continued to walk and unintentionally pull the girl along. "Do you suppose we've missed something exciting, Mother?!" She ran once more to catch up to her mother, nearly tripping over her dress. "Perhaps Loras has won again! Do you suppose it's hard to joust? I think I would be rather exciting, don't you?" She continued to shoot out questions, peppered with opinions, as they moved along. "Do you suppose Father will be sad without us?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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"Why aren't we staying?" Rosalie heard the usual pleasing sound of her daughter's voice beside her. "Because your father is in one of his fits today." She found herself longing to say, but instead she had kept quiet as she focused on the path in front. Suddenly, there was a roar of cheering from behind though Rosalie made no attempt to look back. Whatever happens back at the joust was all in the past now, a past that she certainly no longer wanted to be apart no longer.

She felt her daughter stop in her tracks as her face perked up to find out what was happening only Rosalie continuing to pull her down the pathway. Her heels made a soft clacking noise as they hit the pavement of the sidewalk. A thought came to Rosalie as she should've took the carriage as it would've been much faster, and safer in this case. "Do you suppose we've missed something exciting, Mother?!" she heard the voice of Cassie once more as she made an attempt to match her mother's steps.

Again, Rosalie ignored her as she bit her lip, but that hadn't stopped her daughter. "Perhaps Loras has won again! Do you suppose it's hard to joust? I think I would be rather exciting, don't you? Do you suppose Father will be sad without us?" Almost instantly, Rosalie stopped in her tracks and whirled her attention to her daughter. "Cassandra Laurentia Lannister, that is enough." She said her full name between clenched teeth. Her face was flushed, and she was sure her cheeks were now glistening with tears. She kneeled in front her daughter and squeezed at her small biceps for reassurance "Your father and I aren't...friends at the moment. And I-I'm not well, but you know me and you are going to the Gardens, okay? And we are going to get Otter pops afterwards with or without your father, okay? But I need you to promise me you would never ever do that again, okay?" She squeezed her daughter's arms once more, then planted a kiss at her temple. "I love you so dearly." she murmured.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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She thought she'd left them all behind. The kings and queens, lords and ladies and the knights. She'd thought she'd taken her daughter and whisked her away from all the false smiles, mock affection and convenient distractions of the joust. She would have been right for not the shadow of shining steel, touched with the kiss of enameled roses. Even in his armor Ser Loras Edwards was surprisingly stealthy. Keeping several paces away, matching the queens movements with her daughter as she made her way towards the gardens. Several times he had to dip behind barrels or circle faire tents to avoid being seen by her or anyone watching her. The castle had many eyes, and many little birds all eager to sing their songs for the right price. Best not give them too much to sing about unless necessary. The pause she took with her daughter nearly made Loras lose her entirely. He had been gauging her speed and where she would end up. When he came out onto the walkway he'd expected to near walk right into her, a clever ruse to disguise the fact that he'd been following her and give him an excuse to walk with her.

Instead she was several paces down the path behind him. Her daughter was just catching up after lagging behind, full of boundless energy and countless questions. He was a short distance away and close enough to hear pieces of their conversation. The daughter had asked about the father, and the father pained the mother. Loras expected amusement, or even indifference to touch him now at the sight of her hurt. Yet all he felt was sadness for her and anger towards he who wounded her so. Alistair Lannister did not deserve her. So much he had been given, so much was his and her he took from him only to abuse and ignore her. She deserved more, she deserved better, she deserved him. Rosalie was the most delicate flower yet He had cast that rose aside and left her out in the cold to shiver and wilt. Watching her speak with her daughter touched something in Loras Edwards he was not familiar with. He wanted to comfort her, to bring her in out of the cold and keep her warm in his arms. Two roses, intertwined, growing strong together. He hadn't even realized his feet were moving until he was standing nearly directly behind her.

"Did someone say Otter pops?"

He said charmingly with a soft smile and a look that drank in Rosalie's beauty.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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"Did someone say Otter pops?" A voice had said from behind. Rosalie whirled around at the same time she clutched Cassie at her side. She sucked in a startled breath as she looked up. The sunlight stabbed her eyes, and she covered her face with her free hand. At first she could see only a shifting shadow, but it soon turned into a shape of a body- someone was standing there, looking down at her in which only brought her daughter closer. And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the face cleared.

To her surprise it was Loras. She blinked-twice awfully confused. She hadn't expected to be followed especially by Loras who continued to stare down at the two as Rosalie noticed that his lips started to curve up into a smile. That same smile that often sent a shudder creep up her spine. She turned away from Loras to face her daughter, her eyes giving away that worried expression. With a hand, she smooth down her brown hair. "Honey, why don't you go pick some flowers for me. I want the biggest red rose you can find. And don't you think about going any where near the dandelions either." she recited to her daughter that she was allergic. Then, she shooed her off.

Rosalie smoothed at her gown when she rose to meet Loras' full height, though he was a few inches taller than her and stood there in silence. Her eyes found Loras' and almost regretted it before she turned to find her daughter off in the flower beds. She sure just hoped she wouldn't get her gown filthy. With a smile, she turned to her left as a man with a cart full of breads shouted at the pedestrians, "Pain gratuit! Vous obtenir du pain!" Free bread! Get your bread! Rosalie quickly translated and was happy her mother took the time to pay for her to get a private French tutor. The language did come in handy.

Rosalie faced Loras once more to find that he hadn't let his eyes from her. "I apologize for my daughter." she told him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister

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Loras couldn't help but allow a soft smile to touch his lips as his eyes never left the blue green orbs of his lady, the Queen. The way she flustered when he was around, the way she shooed off her daughter as if the child would learn everything with a glance, it was charming in it's own way. Loras cared little for what the girl thought, she was a child and even if she got an idea of what was going on she was after all, just a child and children do have such active imaginations. Yet as the princess pranced through the flowers Loras had his eye on a rose of his own. His hands were carefully folded behind his back, it gave him a professional posture should someone be looking yet allowed him to be as close to her as he wanted. He could smell the sweetness of her perfume, see the dimples created by her smile and hear her shuddering breath as she fidgeted under his gaze.

"Apologize? I wouldn't dream of it. You never need to say you're sorry My Queen. Not to me."

He leaned in. His eyes on her lips and his hand reaching out from behind his back. He could see her body stiffen, knowing she shouldn't welcome this closeness but doing nothing to stop him. He held himself a hairs breath from her, he could almost taste her lips. He would take her there and then if he could. The two of them in the flower garden, naked as they made love in the meadow with the sun shining above them, what a sight it would have been. When she looked as if she was keen to fall into him he leaned back with a rose in his free hand, plucked from the bush behind her. He smirked, holding the flower in front of him, twirling it in his finger tips.

"A rose for a Rose."

He said smoothly, his voice soft as silk as he offered her the gift.

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The tourney field was torn well and good by the end of the final match. They'd all nearly forgotten about the dead boy, slain by Ser Gregor Clegane. Alistair sat in his seat, his leg had fallen asleep the better part of an hour ago and his only real enjoyment, his brother, had wandered off. So there he sat with his father on his right speaking seldom and only when need be. Alistair had half a mind to leap onto the nearest horse and ride off into the night, leaving behind the whole damned lot of them. He sat in his seat, his fingers restlessly picking at the arm of his chair. As the final match came to a close and the lists were closed the field was quickly cleared and prepared for the Archery Competition. The wooden fence divider was torn down and dissembled to make room for the archery butts. Large multicolored targets were painted on the hay butts. They were placed several paces apart so the shooters wouldn't cross their lines of fire. Twelve targets in all for twelve different competitors.

Arching an eyebrow Alistair figured it best to at least attempt some form of small talk with some of the other royals. He turned to the King of Ostwall who had barely spoken all morning.

"I hear your daughter is quite the marksman, Your Grace."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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The Imp, the damnable dwarf of Lannister. Why did it have to be him? One Lannister son was bad enough but two? Well one and a half to be true but all the same. The way the little bastard looked at him, with casual calm like he knew every little thing about him, like every secret Loras had was laid out to bear to the little freak as one would open a book. It infuriated him, most of all because of what this would mean for Rosalie and him. He'd have to be more careful, at least while the imp was around. Loras walked with purpose, each stride clearly ringing off the cobblestone, he was careful not to allow his fists to clench even though the reflex wanted otherwise. The tension in his was palpable until he heard her voice.

He turned as she ran up to his side and smiled at him tenderly. She thanked him for his company and Loras had a mind to wrap his hands around her hips and bring her to his lips. Yet no sooner had he looked at her had he caught the sight of that damned imp, watching him from the distance. Tyrion hadn't moved. He remained on the path just where the queen had left him, his clever gaze watching them both with interest. Loras wanted to carve those bloody eyes out of the imps misshapen head. Clenching his jaw he returned his gaze to the beautiful queen standing beside him. He had to remain measured and professional so as not to give any clue to his true intentions.

"Of course, Your Grace. As the senior member of your Queensguard I am ever at your disposal."

He bowed respectfully but couldn't help allowing his eyes to rise and touch here, a promising glint in the look.

"Should you need anything."

He said rising with a telling nod. Loras turned and left, leaving Rosalie in the garden with her daughter and the freak that was her brother in law. Loras considered the best way to kill him as he made his way back to his tourney tent to change out of his armor.

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"Of course, of course."

Tyrion replied amiably before Rosalie rushed off to bid farewell to her Queensguard. Tyrion shot a glance at his niece who was happily playing in the roses. With her occupied Tyrion turned back to his sister in law and the knight of flowers. He watched as she approached him, she watched Loras's demeanor, and he watched the look Loras shot him when he caught him watching. A pit began to form in Tyrion's stomach that soon began to ache. Tyrion knew a little of the marital issues going on between his brother and sister in law. People talk and when people talk he hears things. The king and queen were at odds in best of times, barely speaking at worst. What he didn't know was why, or how bad it had gotten, or what brought this all on.

At their wedding Tyrion had never seen two people happier or more in love. The ceremony was splendid and extravagant but for all they cared Alistair and Rosalie could have been married as paupers. They barely noticed the fortune Tyrions father had spent on the affair. No, they only had eyes for each other. Their fingers seems constantly entangled with the one another. Their eyes always playing that dance of flirtation and promise. Their lips meeting more times than Tyrion could count. While Tyrion toasted, or his father, or their sister, or the royal family they spoke softly to one another and giggled at secret jests. It had warmed Tyrions heart but what he was seeing now chilled him like the winds of winter.

He assumed his brother was cheating on her. Alistair was smart but didn't always think. He didn't know with how many women or if it was just one mistress but it was one of the things he had intended to set right upon his visit here. Yet this, he prayed he was just being paranoid as he watched the two speak. Loras was careful and kept his distance, speaking professionally and maintaining a respectful posture. That was until the bow and the look he shot her. No sooner had Loras's eyes rose to meet hers did Tyrions heart sink.

"No Rosie... please no..."

He whispered to himself. Loras walked off, leaving Rosalie alone. Tyrion took a steadying breath, taking solace in the fact that despite his fears he still knew nothing for certain. He needed proof, and proof he would get in time, to one end or the other. He walked the few steps to his sister in law's side and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Edwards, The Counts son right? He seems nice."

Tyrion said casually, looking up at Rosalie. He loved his sister in law and he loved his brother. There was still a mystery to unravel here in the Western Palace and it's conclusion could mean the destruction or affirmation of Rosalie and Alistairs love. He vowed to ensure it was the latter.

"Would you sit with me? An Imps legs are not as strong as a Queens I fear. I could use the rest."

Tyrion asked, ushering a direction along the path toward a stone bench looking out at the field of flowers Cassie was playing in.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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Christoph looked straight back into the eyes of the Imp with a hint of, perhaps, condescension. It wasn't because of his height that Christoph looked at him in such a way. He would have addressed any of House Lannister similarly. In fact, out of the entire family, Tyrion was perhaps the one he liked the most. The Half-Man's mind was nearly as sharp as Christoph's own, and perhaps it would achieve the acuity of the Count's by the time Tyrion reached his age. The younger man's response was unexpected enough to evoke a laugh or two. Even Christoph let out a soft laugh, but it also sounded vaguely like a scoff.

"I am quite certain that if he were able to best The Mountain, even the men might line up, also hoping to -- how did you put it? -- 'taste his cock'." The boy, of course, was not as lucky as Tyrion had mentioned. Christoph hardly shuddered as the lance lodged itself into his neck. "What a shame." He looked to Nicholas as the boy looked at him, searching for some reaction. "This is why, of course, men like you and I shall triumph. We think before acting so rashly." Christoph looked into his empty goblet and sighed before slowly standing.

"I shall take my leave now, Your Majesty. I have matters to attend to before tonight's masquerade, and it appears many of our companions have also left." He moved by slowly and stopped before Priscilla to lean down and kiss the top of her head. "Enjoy the rest of the competition, dearest," he said with a smile as he stood upright again. With that, Christoph left the stands and made his way back toward the palace.





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To say the least, Cassie had been shocked when her mother so suddenly grabbed her by the arms. She was simultaneously upset at the harsh way her mother addressed her and the way her mother's cheeks glistened with tears. Wasn't she happy? Everyone else in the audience seemed to be smiling and enjoying the day. Subconsciously, her bottom lip began to tremble. Still, despite being yelled at, her mother's kiss managed to bring a smile back to Cassie's face. "I love you too, Mother," she replied, wiping hurriedly at any tears that had managed to appear in her eyes.

When Loras appeared, however, she suddenly grew quite again as if afraid of embarrassing herself before the young knight. She even moved quickly behind her mother as if afraid to face him. Before she could peak out at him again, she felt her mother's hand on her hair and heard her suggestion. With a quick nod and a even quicker curtsey to the knight, she ran off towards the bushes, just far enough away so she could not hear them.

She shot a glance back and saw the knight handing her mother a rose. It was something out of a fairy tale, except her mother was a queen, not a princess. She was married, with a daughter, and princesses were supposed to marry knights that tried to woo them. For a moment, Cassie prepared to run to them, to warn them of this predicament. It didn't seem fair letting poor Loras waste his time courting her mother when her mother was already married.

When she looked back again, they had been replace by her uncle. In her hands, she had begun to form a miniature bouquet of white daisies with a few wild flowers.

The third time she looked up, Tyrion and her mother had moved toward a bench by themselves. She followed them, smiling gleefully as she worked her way through the grass. She placed the bundle on her mother's lap and clambered up beside her on the bench, kicking her legs once more as they dangled in the air. In the eyes of a child, parents could do little wrong. To Cassandra, her parents were the epitome of perfect human behavior. They weren't, of course, and that would mean that one day she would come to a startling revelation. Until then, however, she simply began to speak about the different flowers she had encountered with eagerness.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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Rosalie knew that Tyrion was watching her, watching them with those hawk-like eyes of his. She felt him scrutinizing at them as if one false move would soon give them away. Loras must've noticed as well because when he turned around his eyes were instead lingering behind her at him. She watched as his expression turned dark; jaw tightened and eyes filled with rage. She had to resist letting her fingers entwine with his, nonetheless he too remained under control as he stood in the appropriate position for a Guard before his Queen. "Of course, Your Grace. As the senior member of your Queensguard I am ever at your disposal." he said, bowing.

Rosalie couldn't help, but give him a half-smile when his eyes suddenly gazed up at her. There, hidden within them,was a glint full of affection and honesty., that same glint that brought a flush to her cheeks. "Should you need anything." And at that, her smile faded as she watched as he gave her a courteous nod before turning on one heel, and walking down the path back towards the joust. She stood there until he vanished aroud the corner, not wanting to take her eyes away from his absent presence nce.

A minute passed. Two. Suddenly there was someone who had cleared their throat, bringing Rosalie back to reality as they did so. She turned to find that Tyrion was at her side now. He seemed lost in his own thoughts as he stared after the path that Loras left moments ago. "Edwards, The Counts son right? He seems nice." he told her as he met her eyes.

Rosalie seemed to contemplate at her brother-in-law's words, not wanting to say anything that might give her away. She nodded respectfully, "Captain Loras is a very respectable man. He is Seabel's most honorable Guardsman."

She watched as he pursued his lip, but said nothing as he studied her. After a second passed, he finally spoke,"Would you sit with me? An Imps legs are not as strong as a Queens I fear. I could use the rest." And at that, Rosalie allowed him to guide her back towards the Western Palace Gardens, and to Cassie. She watched as her daughter rummaged through the flower beds and admired her for being like herself when she was a kid; always curious and full of energy. Just then, her daughter's slate-green eyes met with Rosalie's and she smiled, the crinkle by her eyes appearing. Rosalie returned the smile, and urged her to sit beside her on the bench. As Rosalie suspected, she skipped over with a bundle of flowers. She gave Rosalie the flowers, and Rosalie returned her with a peck on the tip of her nose before seperating Loras' rose with her daughter's white daises, and finally turned her attention acroos towards Tyrion, "So, my dear brother-in-law. What brings you here. Cassie and I were just about to get pops, then return home to get ready for the ball."

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: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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"You wound me, dearest sister in law. Must I need a reason to visit my beloved family?"

Tyrion asked with mock offense and a playful smile as he wrapped his arm around the shoulders of his niece and gave her a warm hug. He chuckled before looking into the face of the little girl who looked so different from the child he'd last seen.

"My how you've grown Cassie, you'll be taller than me in no time though admittedly it wouldn't be that much of an accomplishment given my vertical deficiency."

He joked before sitting back with a sigh as he rubbed his sore legs. He had only been half lying about needing the rest as his stunted legs did ache something fierce after the long journey from Casterly Rock. His eyes slowly rose to his sister in law whose face was a perfect mask of innocence. How he wished it was not a mask at all but Tyrion had learned a long time ago everyone had masks, fitting they would be having a masquerade ball tonight. Yet there was still a lingering fear and a doubt in his mind. That look Loras gave her, the urgency she felt at bidding him farewell once he left. While it was no bad thing to be kind and courteous to those who are sworn to protect you something about the long goodbye trouble Tyrion greatly.

Looking back at his niece he smiled softly and leaned in as if to tell her a secret.

"Have I ever told you about the day your parents were married?"

Cassandra seemed to perk up excitedly at the mention of her parents wedding, the sweet girl always loved her uncles tales especially ones about love and happiness. She had such a gentle heart yet at the mention of her wedding day he could feel Rosalie's eyes on him.

"It was in Casterly Rock, and all the lords and ladies, knights and heroes of the realm were in attendance. It was a grand affair Cassie, if you could've seen it but alas you were not yet born, but a dream of two loving future parents. Extravagant, was used to describe it I think, but then what good is the word extravagant if not to describe a wedding? My father, your grandfather paid for the entire affair. There were lions carved of solid gold, rare birds imported from all over to lend their songs to the occasion, and banners of crimson and gold. And the food, oh the food! There was lamprey pie and honey cakes, duck sausage and candied almonds, every kind of custard imaginable, venison, hare stew, pigeon pie and lemon cakes and more than my memory can give justice too, I'm afraid. Then there were juggles, and singers, a fire eater from Pentos, silk dancers from Volantis and there was even a dancing bear!"

He said emphasizing the dancing bear, knowing how his niece would love that part. Yet as he continued his eyes slowly began to drift from his niece to his sister in law, his eyes looking into hers keenly.

"Yet for all the wealth and beauty none of it compared to the love of your parents. Your mother and father loved each other so very much and on that day they out shined the sun. Rarely did their hands separate, their fingers seemed permanently entangled. Constantly they whispered to each other sweetly, telling private jokes only they knew the punch lines to. Truth be told even when the toasts were made I doubt they ever heard them for they only had eyes and ears for each other."

Tyrion put his hands softly on his nieces shoulders and ushered her to turn and look at her mother.

"You learn well from your mother now, darling niece. When you grow up and find a love of your own you settle for nothing but the true love your mother has found in your father. A love that is strong, passionate and resilient. A love that burns brightly and even during the coldest winters, when the night seems to last for generations one need only stoke that flame to feel its warmth once again."

Tyrion let his words linger for both his niece and sister in law to hear, all the while his intelligent gaze locked on Rosalie. After a moment he sighed and slid off the bench to hop down to the floor.

"Ah, but alas. I fear I've taken up far too much of both of your time and you lovely ladies have a ball to prepare for. I bid you both farewell, and I shall see you tonight."

Tyrion kissed the hands of both Cassandra and Rosalie before turning to leave, pausing when he'd only taken a step or so away.

"Oh and Cassie, before you go to the ball, come to my room. I have a gift for you."

With that Tyrion left his niece and his sister in law in the garden, hope hung heavy in his heart that she'd heard his words and that he was wrong to fear in the first place.

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A cheer went up in the crowd as Ulfric's daughter hit the bullseye at five hundred yards, an admirable feet and not one Alistair could remember ever being accomplished before. He clapped along side her father who beamed with pride. Once the applause had subsided Alistair turned to Ulfric who seemed to somber somewhat, looking into his goblet and the wine red as blood.

"These lords around us, they do not understand what war is, what it does to a man. It is as if we are different animals entirely, and I often feel that ours is the dying species, Alistair."

Alistair couldn't help but allow a half chuckle to escape his lips. It was almost tragic how right Ulfric was. Kings ruled at the edge of a sword, and when swords mattered it was soldiers who were called upon yet to the nobles and bickering lords, soldiers were oafish brutes with clubs. Ironic that it was soldiers that ended up earning the glory the song writes love to doddle about. Alistair looked at Ulfric with renewed appreciation and respect for the man who he was quickly garnering a great liking for.

"Well said."

With the archery competition coming to a close the days festivities were over, making way for the nights entertainment and the masquerade ball. Alistair dreaded the damned ball, he was never one for fancy parties and would rather prefer drinking with a few close friends rather than a entire hall full of people he didn't even like. As the benches began to clear Alistair and Ulfric rose and Alistair shook the king of Ostwall's hand one last time before departing.

"Ulfric, you and your family will be my guests at my table tonight. Perhaps with you to swap war stories with I wont want to pitch myself off one of the towers by the end of the night. Don't leave me alone with these people, eh?"

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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The entire day she had been wondering what it was her uncle had to show her. As she was bathed after the joust, she squirmed incessantly until the servant had to scold her for doing so. Her dress had been tailored to fit her perfectly, as had the gowns of most of the women there. It was a very pale lavender with a richer shade of purple to accent it. Cream colored ruffles adorned the collar, hem, and the sleeves. A thin crown of flowers sat in her brown curls while a thinner silver necklace hung about her neck.

For a moment, she was far too distracted by the way her dress puffed slightly due to the hoop skirt around her waist. When she spun, it lifted off of the frame of the hoop skirt and danced about around her. Shortly after, however, she suddenly remembered what Tyrion had said. As soon as her slippers were on, she shot out of her room without a warning. Her hand snatched her mask up as she moved past the dresser and into the hall.

Already, members of the noble and royal families made their ways toward the ball room. Cassie, however, moved against the flow toward her uncle's room. When she finally reached it, the small child knocked eagerly once, twice. He didn't respond right away, for he was most likely getting ready too. Upon the door opening, Cassie beamed up at Tyrion. "I'm here! Just like you asked!" she exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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The crackling of the heartfire filled the room with the soft sound of a fires whisper and a soothing orange glow. The room was empty, and black where the fire light didn't touch. A well furnished bed chamber, complete with lion banners hanging from the walls. Lannisters were never known to skimp on cost there fore everything from the finely carved ornate bed posts to the masterfully crafted wardrobe and the wonderfully polished mirror were all made of the finest quality and no doubt each cost fortunes in their own right. Closer toward the large fire place was a small desk atop it was strewn papers, scrolls and books. One book in particular was open and it's reader sat in deep concentration as his eyes soaked up the words on the page.

Tyrion Lannister had been in his room the past few hours. He had been putting his mind to the mystery he'd swore himself he'd solve. He'd written so many letters to every spy and informant in his employ that his hand had cramped. Setting the quill and ink down he'd switched to books to help him research every house in Seabel and all of it's members. He liked to know who he was dealing with in great detail when he dealt with them. Family trees were often handy little devices for discerning secrets if one knew where to look. Yet even this grew so tedious that before long his eyes grew heavy and he thought he'd fall asleep at the desk, so he switched to more enjoyable reading instead of the research work of every lord, minor lord, knight, squire and all of their wives.

Histories and Lore of the Known Kingdoms written by Grand Maester Chavalthan. Currently he was reading about the far away nation of cold and snow called The North. A kingdom so large it could fit Ostwall, Seabel and Falor inside it, not that any of the three truly cared. Cold and damp, that was how most saw The North. A land of wilderness and wolves, a land where the populace was spread so thin in the massive expanse of a country one could ride for weeks and not see a living soul. As of yet The North was not a member of the nations alliance that Ostwall, Seabel and Falor were a part of. Not that the allied nations hadn't tried in the past to bring The North into the fold. Emissaries had gone up there, marching through that land where it snowed in the summers and winters were so long you wouldn't see the sun for days. They'd met with the King of The North and they'd returned empty handed. The Northmen valued their independence, a common saying among Northmen was "Our way is the old way". From their gods to the way they lived their lives, the hardy and resilient Northerners were not easily moved from things they have done for centuries. The more Tyrion read the more he'd decided he would visit there someday.

The door opened to his room and in walked his niece with the biggest smile Tyrion had ever seen. He was powerless not to let her excitement infect him as a smile grew on his face in return. Cassandra was all dressed up for the masquerade ball, wearing a pale lavender gown with cream ruffles to accent it. Tyrion hopped off the chair, quite accustomed to the little jump he needed to get down from a chair that was quite average size for average sized people. He made the short walk to stand in front of his niece who was nearly the same size as he was and gave her a warm smile.

"I'm here! Just like you asked!"

"Yes you are and you look..."

Tyrion paused threw himself into a dramatic bow.

"My lady, you are truly a vision in that gown."

He looked up with a playful wink before embracing his niece with a chuckle. Taking a step back he waved for her to follow him as he led her to the seat he'd been in.

"Come on Cas, sit. Right here. I have something very special for you."

He said casually patting the seat. As Cassie took her seat Tyrion went off to grab her surprise. Imported all the way from the very country he'd just been reading about Tyrion went around the other side of his bed were a large basket was sitting and in it was a mass of soft blankets that radiated warmth. Tyrion carefully picked up the basket and brought it over to set it down in front of his niece. She nearly leapt out of the seat and tore at the blankets but a calming hand from her uncle stilled her for the moment.

"Woah, woah, easy now. Before you open it you must listen me."

Tyrion took one of her hands and held it in his as he looked his niece in the eye with a mild amount of sternness.

"You're getting older, which means more responsibility. I wouldn't have given this to you a year ago or if I thought you weren't ready but, you are a proper lady now and I think you can handle it. Now, this is not a toy or something you can get bored with and ignore, it will need your constant care, attention and supervision."

Smiling he reached down into the mass of blankets and withdrew a squirming bundle of fur and whimpers. The little pup had been sound asleep but as soon as Tyrion set it down on the floor it yawned and let loose the tiniest howl in protest of being woken up.

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His niece looked ready to burst from excitement which warmed Tyrions heart immensely.

"This is no mere kennel hound. This is a dire wolf, all the way from The North. They are the companions of kings where they come from. They are incredibly intelligent and build strong bonds with the people who raise them. This little lady will grow twice the size of a normal wolf when full grown. She'll be a lot of work but I believe you'll prove equal to the task."

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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A blush rose in Cassandra’s cheeks as Tyrion bowed before her. Often, she had seen the same formality performed toward her mother and father, but few bowed so deeply before her. A childish giggle escaped between her lips, turned upwards in a gleeful grin. She embraced him quickly in return. Her arms, still slightly pudgy from childhood, wrapped around his neck. He still stood above her, so her weight pulled down on his neck. Still, it wasn’t long enough to harm him.

She nearly bounced into the seat, for her eagerness began to consume her. She truly believed that she might burst if he did not reveal the surprise to her. Her legs kicked back and forth in anticipation. When her uncle brought over the basket, her smile only grew wider, if that were even possible at that point. She was smart enough to know that small animals were kept in baskets. Baby animals.

Cassie was still a respectful child. With great reluctance, she settled down in the chair once more as her uncle explained to her the responsibility that came with growing older. She wanted to pay attention. Truly. But she was also so terribly excited and absolutely overwhelmed.

When Tyrion finally set the pup on the ground, she almost screamed with the built up excitement. Oh, she was perfect! Absolutely perfect in each and every way possible! Words could not express her joy. For a moment, she looked to Tyrion as if to ask if she could finally pet the pup. Whether or not he gave a confirmation, she suddenly dove to the ground before the pup and gathered the pup in her arms.

”Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she finally called out. The pup squirmed for a moment, startled by a combination of the new set of hands and the shout. Cassie let the pup fall into her lap, cradled by the fabric of her dress. ”I have to show Mother and Father!” For a moment, she made an expression of consternation. "But perhaps I ought to wait..." She knew she'd like to participate in the festival, and how would she do that with a pup in her arms? She gathered the pup up in her arms once more, holding it over one shoulder like a mother might a child. Like a mother, she held the pup carefully as if one wrong move might harm it. Cas made a move as if she were going to run out of the room, but she stopped suddenly to hurry back toward Tyrion. The young princess placed a quick kiss on his cheek, for she had no arms open to hug him. "I'll see you at the ball!"

Cassandra carried the pup back to her room, cooing to it as she walked. When they reached the room, however, she was extremely reluctant to leave it. "You be a good girl, alright?" she asked, as if they hound could understand her words. With that, she placed the pup down on the carpet and hurried down to the masquerade to join in the festivities.

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.