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Corianna Ulfricdottir

"Stop treating me like a kid"

0 · 1,033 views · located in Tibera

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

Description

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"Okay, I'll follow you"




The Basics




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Full Name: Corianna Ida Ulfricdottir
Nicknames: Cori or Anna
Gender: Female
Age: 13
Rank/Title: Younger princess of Ostwall
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual at the moment, but might question it when older
Kingdom/Alliance:Ostwall




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color:Dark blonde
Eye Color: Brown
Height:5'4 feet
Weight: 120 lbs
Tattoos: None
Piercing: None
Scars: A small on on her ankle from an accident.
Description: Cori has a small frame and a rectangular head. Her hair is curly and reaches down past her shoulders. She usually wears it in simple hairstyles.
When possible, she chooses to wear dresses she can run and play in. She wishes that dressing like her brother was possible, but everybody tells her she is not allowed.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Intelligent, Follower, Compassionate, Warrior, Joyful }
Cori always has ideas for everything, some better than others. Even though she often just goes for someone else's idea instead. She seems to always be following someone around and Cori is extremely easily to manipulate.
She is determine to prove herself as good as her siblings. Being the youngest and a girl makes her want to prove to her family that she is more. But most of the time she is fairly joyful and easygoing.
When you grow up with a father like hers it is hard to not became a warrior at heart. She will do anything for her kingdom and wishes that people allowed her to defend it.
Hobbies:
Drawing, Swimming and Climbing trees (well she believes it as a hobby).
Habits:
Drumming fingers when nervous and Twirlling fingers in hair when bored
Oddities:
She seems to always have a cold.
Likes/Loves:(At least 5)(repeat format if more)
  • Ocean
  • Animals
  • Art
  • Playing
  • Loved ones
Dislikes/Hates:(At least 5)(repeat format if more)
  • Fire
  • Lazy people
  • Doing her hair
  • Being 'Lady like'
  • Being told she is too young




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin:Ostwall
History:
Corianna's first memory was of her mother. Planting the weeping willow with the queen has always been her fondest memory. But after that the rest of her childhood was a bit of a blur with a few significant events.
For example, here was that time that she fell out of her tree and twisted her ankle. There are always memories of playing in the gardens, her favourite pastime. The caterpillar she kept as a pets death when she was seven. Adults whispering about tension between the kingdoms. When she nearly drowned in a lake and then when her mother died...
This was by far her most devastating memory. They were close. Cori scarcely ate or came out of her room for weeks and has now only recovered.
Happiest Memory:Planting a tree with her mother.
Saddest Memory:When her mother died




Face Claim: Lucy Boynton
Lots of pictures from http://sophiesumner-rph.tumblr.com/post ... ensibility
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So begins...

Corianna Ulfricdottir'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: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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Corianna had been intently watching and imagining her sitting on the back of a horse jousting. She was dressed in armour with the colours Ostwall and you couldn't tell she was a girl. Her horse was a black and strong. Brandishing a shield she charged, but she lost. In her vivid day dream she was just falling off her horse about to hit the ground when she heard her sisters voice."Wanna come with me to get ready, Cori?" "Sure" She replies slowly, shaking off her daydream.Oh how she wanted to compete in the tournaments. But apparently none of her skills fitted and she was too young. She hated when people sad that. That she was too young.

"Bye papa!" she said cheerfully, giving him a hug as she went to walk away. Even though her father had been distant throughout her childhood, he had never done anything to make her question her love for him. After the death of her mother she began to grow even closer to him.

Grabbing on to her sisters arm while the weaved through the crowd"Can you teach he how to ride a horse Celia?" She asks her sister. Cori scolds her self for never thinking about it before. She could be a great rider now if she had started earlier. She could be practising jousting right now.

Her sigh was barely distinguishable from her heavy breathing, Cori was sweltering in all the clothes her servants had placed on her. "Miss you must look presentable" She certainly didn't feel presentable. She felt like her face was red and she was sweating everywhere. She would much rather be in lighter clothes, or armour.

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: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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To a man who had spent his entire life fighting, merely watching others pretend to fight would seem, at the least, mundane. But really, Ulfric believed they were nothing more than a mockery of real battle. Obviously, that was what they were intended for, but while the others watched in excitement, Ulfric spent his time sampling the various beverages that were being passed about. His overall lack of interest, therefore, resulted in his lack of interest when Ronan returned. He had certainly seen the young man fall from his warhorse, but had he cared? Certainly not.

He bit back a remark he nearly made in response to Ronan's comment about his horse. It wasn't worth it, though. Tensions were already running to high. Ulfric simply downed the ale in his goblet. Perhaps it appeared that he was absorbed in the match. Instead, he was absorbed in his thoughts. He heard Celia speak then, however, and smirked to himself as he heard her response. If only she had been a male. She would have been a worthy heir, one to finally modernize Ostwall.

"Of course, of course," he replied, nodding as she leaned in front of him. There was more he could have said. He could have wished her luck. Told her he loved her. He didn't though, for he was a man of very few words. His other daughter flung herself into his arms, and he pressed a kiss into her temple. Sweet Corianna, also a woman trapped in a man's world. "You look out for your sister," he called, unsure whether either heard and also unsure which was looking out for the other.

He kept himself out of the exchange between the Lannisters and Christoph Edwards. He didn't even know what he would say if asked to join. Instead, he finally looked toward his wife and his son. She had certainly grown to love him, and he was glad to see that. The boy had been torn apart with Freya's death. Even his daughters seemed to accept the young woman as a mother.

Ulfric was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden gasp to his side as blood began to spray in the field. It had happened so quickly that the king hadn't even had the chance to react or cover his wife's eyes as he ought to do. Instead, Ronan suddenly stood and pulled Genevieve up beside him. "That certainly isn't a sight for one so fair as yourself," the prince said to her as they walked past. Ulfric paid them no mind. Instead, Alistair began to speak to him, and he turned his attention to the younger king. "Oh, yes. She's always had quite a love for it. Don't know where she gets it from, of course. I've never been good with the bow." A passing servant filled his goblet, and he sipped from it thoughtfully before adding his own remark"I'm surprised to see you here rather than out on the field. Has the crown mellowed you?"




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Almost as soon as they had disappeared out of sight, Ronan drew his arms about her and planted a heated kiss on her lips. His hands, rather than holding her hand, now cupped her face as he pushed her lightly into the wall behind her. His shoulder throbbed horribly, but he continued to kiss her until they both felt obligated to pull away for breath. "I want nothing more than to take you back to my chambers," he breathed, drinking in her scent as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"It's absolutely maddening to have to sit beside you without being able to profess my love to you." Again, he kissed her passionately. "We'll have time together at the masquerade though. Father dislikes dancing." His arms wrapped around her waist for a moment, holding her close to his body.

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: 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: 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: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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Corianna fiddles with the fabric on her dress. She was dressed in a black and white dress with a black mask and felt thoroughly ridiculous. Her hair was pulled up so tight that it hurt her head and her dress barely gave her room to breathe. She wished she had the guts to tell her servants to respect her wishes more because her dresses today had not impressed her at all.

She had no idea what to do. Her place at parties was usually sitting next to her mother and watching the dancers and looking "like a princess". But now that was not an option. So she just watches the dancers for a while. They looked so elegant. She wanted to dance, But who would dance with a thirteen year old? Maybe her brother, but he would most probably be busy. An exasperated sigh escapes her mouth. This was not how she wanted to spend her evening.

She watches her father dance with Genevieve. Corianna didn't dislike her, but did not like her. She would never consider Genevieve anything like her mother. Corianna was polite enough to her and she planned to stay that way, even if she was carrying her new sibling. That was exciting for her, but she always wondered if her father thought it strange that he was with someone nearlly the same age as his daughter, but that was none of her business so she dare not ask.

Slowly she made her way over to her families table and sat her self down carefully.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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Since his father had taken the opportunity to dance first with Genevieve, Ronan was left alone. Or, at least, he had been left alone until he came across Corianna. It had been quite some time since he'd had a chance to speak with his younger sister. A smile crossed his features as he approached her and crouched slightly. "May I have this dance, my lady?" She almost didn't manage to get a response out before he took her hand and led her out on to the floor behind him. Quickly, Ronan adjusted his mask. There was a height difference of about ten inches between the two siblings, but once they began to dance together, it was easily disregarded. His gaze moved about for a bit before he finally looked back at Cori.

"You look like Mother tonight," he remarked, smiling down at her. "You'll soon have every man in Ostwall, and perhaps further, vying for your hand." He laughed to himself before spinning her about. "But you probably won't want to have anything to do with them." They spun together now, and he lifted her briefly off of the floor so that the spin moved more smoothly.

The song slowly came to an end, and Ronan kissed her hand properly before they parted. Looking up now, he could see Ulfric doing the same to Genevieve. The older man then turned and moved toward the table, leaving her available for a dance."Stay out of trouble, Cori," he called over his shoulder as he left her. "And do leave some room in your busy schedule for another dance with your big brother."

He approached Genevieve from behind and leaned over her shoulder slowly. The urge to kiss at her neck nearly overwhelmed him, for the perfume she had applied earlier that evening was intoxicating. Ronan couldn't, of course. Not here at least. "Care to dance?" he asked, pitching his voice just above the music. When she turned to face him, he was already prepared to take her hand in his while placing his other hand on her waist.

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: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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Ulfric looked up slowly from the goblet of ale he was nursing. He couldn't remember how many this made, but it didn't matter now. Either way, he knew how to hold his alcohol. These parties tended to upset him, sending him into what could be called a temporary depression. These days, however, this depression tended to drag out. He thought back to his conversation with Alistair. All of these fake kings. Fake nobles. They failed to understand what true leadership took. With experience in combat, how is one supposed to know how to truly lead others? They simply don't.

No, he had never been a benevolent leader, but that's not what Ostwall had needed. Ostwall needed a figure to hold together various clans of nearly-wild men. In that respect, hopefully, he would be viewed as a success.

Thinking of Alistair caused him to wonder where the King of Seabel had gotten to. Years at these gatherings had told him that Alistair would simply be lurking about on the sides, without a want to dance. Ulfric had assumed the younger monarch would have joined him by now, having made him a guest at his own table, but he was nowhere to be seen until he looked toward the throng of dancers again. A sense of betrayal struck him then. Alistair had claimed to be one of Ulfric's "kind", the warriors who had been made into kings. But he danced with an elegance that Ulfric had never known.

At the same time, however, he could remember dancing with Freya back when she had lived. He could remember the smiles and exchanged laughs as he trampled over her feet. Perhaps Alistair was still a warrior. Perhaps he still had some fight left in him. Ulfric certainly hoped so. This realm could not survive on just one warrior monarch.

Another coupled caught his eye this time: Ronan and Genevieve. Whereas she had not so much as smiled when she danced with Ulfric, Genevieve now beamed up at Ronan in a way quite similar to how Freya had beamed up at Ulfric. His jaw tightened. No. He clasped his hands together before him and pressed his lips against the knuckles. It couldn't be. But it only made sense. It explained the long periods of time they had spent in the gardens, the nights she had left him to wander about. But he was not angry at her. He couldn't be when he failed to provide for her what she deserved: a husband her age. No, it was Ronan's fault.

But Celia joined them then, and he was torn from his thoughts as he listened to his daughters talk amongst themselves. Celia's wisdom was something that, even almost twenty years after her birth, continued to shock him. It was something he had never possessed, had never been able to possess, and it gave him hope. Again, he wished he could name her his successor, for Ronan certainly did not possess her skill.

"Aye," he said softly, entering their conversation without being asked to. "But at these gatherings, people often replace those masks they wear everyday with ones that are more truthful."
He was surprised at this remark, but perhaps it did contain some truth, for people often believed the presence of a physical mask provided them protection from their actions, however despicable they were.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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Corianna was getting lost in yet another of daydream, this one more extravagant than usual. Everybody appeared to be dancing in their underwear. She smiled to herself when her sister walked over, she looked oh so graceful."What is it about masques that makes people so happy, Corianna?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." She opened her mouth to reply, "I.." but then her father joined in. "Aye," he said softly "But at these gatherings, people often replace those masks they wear everyday with ones that are more truthful."

She became confused, what did they mean by masks? With a bit of thought she figured that they were implying that everybody was faking who they truly were. But why? She never quite understood the politics between the kingdoms, and she preferred to stay out of it. Sure she knew that there was tension but did this go deeper than she thought. She fidgeted with her fingers "I don't quite understand. Are you saying everybody is hiding who they really are? Why would they do that?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Guy Bjornson

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Corianna was about to respond when Ulfric spoke. "Aye, but at these gatherings, people often replace those masks they wear everyday with ones that are more truthful."

"I don't quite understand. Are you saying everybody is hiding who they really are? Why would they do that?"

Aha! So they were actually interested in the truth of the world. Corianna might as well learn now what it meant to be royalty. "That's a good question, Cori. Let me ask you: how would you react to someone holding a dagger up to your face rather than someone offering you a cup of tea? Undoubtedly, you would feel more comfortable with the person offering you tea. They have that warm smile and they look trustworthy, so you take the cup. However, when you drink from the cup, it is the last thing you ever do because it was poisoned. Now, was the person offering you the cup trustworthy or were they wearing a mask? What was their intention?"
Celia was surprised she had so much, but she couldn't only tutor Corianna in skills like riding and archery. She needed to learn the politics of the world as well, no matter how young she was.

Before Corianna could respond, Celia's cousin walked up. She didn't know which one it was and frankly, she didn't care much. "Hello uncle, if I could just steal a moment, I wanted to ask you about the hunt tomorrow. Do we need to go?"

She blinked at him and looked to her father as he answered, "It would be rude to not attend, Guy. It is a sacrifice I am certain you and Simon can make for the day."

A hunt? Well, that sounded fun. Once again, she longed for home. There, she could hunt to her heart's content. Here, it was improper. Ah well. She was teaching Corianna to ride tomorrow anyways.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir

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"That's a good question, Cori. Let me ask you: how would you react to someone holding a dagger up to your face rather than someone offering you a cup of tea? Undoubtedly, you would feel more comfortable with the person offering you tea. They have that warm smile and they look trustworthy, so you take the cup. However, when you drink from the cup, it is the last thing you ever do because it was poisoned. Now, was the person offering you the cup trustworthy or were they wearing a mask? What was their intention?"

It took a while for Corianna to process this. She then gathered that she meant that all of these people were hiding their true selves in order to look good in front of all the other kingdoms. "They were... Always going to kill you, even if it did not appear so." She said quietly and slowly, scrunching her eyebrows. Corianna then looked around at all the others in the room. Would it one day come down to killing each other? This was all very confusing for her.

After the ball she went to her room. It took her ages to fall asleep. She was still thinking about what Celia said. Was the Ostwall in danger? Was her father and siblings in danger? Was she? She had to count herself to sleep so her brain would slow down. "1...2...3...4...5" She continued quietly until she fell asleep. Corianna would ask her father soon.

*

When she awoke she got up and stared at her trunk. What would be suitable for horse riding? She wondered. After eventually picking something out, and quickly getting dressed before the servants came, she sat on her bed and fiddled with her fingers until Celia awoke and for the time being forgot about what she had learnt yesterday.

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.