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Lucas Navigne

"You never really know a person until you've seen them grow up and read their past."

0 · 641 views · located in Tibera

a character in “The Price of Blood”, as played by Zoey26123

Description

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"Just because I look amazing doesn't mean I'm not deadly"




The Basics



ImageFull Name:
Lucas Alexander Navigne
Nicknames:
Luke
Gender:
Male
Age:
18
Rank/Title:
Captain of the Falor Royal Guard
Sexual Orientation:
Heterosexual
Kingdom/Alliance:
Falor




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color:
Dirty Blonde

Eye Color:
Light Brown

Height:
6'0"

Weight:
180 lbs.

Tattoos:
None

Piercings:
He wears a small blue gem in his right ear that used to belong to his mother.

Scars:
One right below his left eye, one running down his forearm, and tiny ones here and there from pricking himself with weapons when he was young.

Description:
Lucas stands at 6'0" and has tan skin. His hair is a dirty blonde and light brown eyes. Lucas wears a guards uniform all the time unless he is in his room. Lucas has a strong, athletic build and obviously is rather strong though he is more so than he looks. He is built for running and is in shape from all the running he does. Lucas has a strong jaw and small nose. He has a small scar right under his left eye and another one that runs down his right forearm.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Thoughtful, Overprotective, Caring, Friendly, Arrogant}
Lucas is thoughtful for everyone around him. He thinks everything through before doing anything. He will always be careful with people and is more likely to put others before himself. He is very serious about keeping everyone safe and has done pretty stupid things in order to keep the ones he loves safe. Lucas is overprotective in the way he won't let anyone risk anything. He is very caring and tries to help anyone and everyone he can in his spare time now that he doesn't have to train all the time. He is friendly and really good at cracking jokes. He is very capable of making friends and interacting though he doesn't always do it. Some days he can be very morbid and cold and though he hates when he is like this, he can't help it.

However, Lucas can appear very arrogant and vain. He is always the first one to take a challenge and has little to no self regard. He does not listen to anyone else's, advise except maybe the prince's. He usually hides his better traits behind his arrogance just because of his fear of getting too close to someone and loosing them again. In reality he can be quite gentlemanly.

Hobbies:
Reading
Painting
Fighting
Sleeping

Habits:
Runs his hands through his hair
Chews on the inside of his lip
Taps his fingers
Always early

Oddities:
Allergic to cats
Has occasional panic attacks

Likes/Loves:
  • Sword fighting
  • Bread
  • Running
  • Riding horses
  • Armor
  • Racing
  • Reading
  • Painting
  • Joking
  • Helping
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Hot days
  • Walking
  • Standing still for too long
  • Killing
  • Blood
  • Vegetables
  • Archery
  • Arguing
  • Meetings
  • Injuries




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin:
Falor

History:
Lucas was born in the castle to the captain of the guards and one of the servants. His mother was very caring and would always watch him. Lucas's father believed his mother always was too gentle with him. When Lucas wasn't in the stables working to keep the place nice, his father would pull him aside and teach him about being a guard.

When Lucas turned eight, his mother got very sick. She couldn't work and ended up staying in the stables to keep from getting any of the other servant sick. Lucas cared for her and was always there around her considering he worked in the stables. When she got too sick for Lucas to be around, Lucas's father took over in caring for her. She died soon after leaving Lucas and his father alone.

Lucas moved out of the stables and began working in the barracks all the time. He trained with the other new men and when he turned thirteen, was given the opportunity to meet the prince. The two began interacting with each other more and more and was eventually assigned to protect the prince when he was fifteen.

Lucas's father became sick when he was sixteen. The man died a few weeks later and Lucas went through a hard time. He nearly died one night when he went out and drank too much. He was attacked when he went down an alley upon hearing cries. He tried to stop a robbery from an old women and the thieves recognized him. He couldn't fight in his intoxicated state and was left to die when one of his father's best friends found him and brought him back to the castle.

Lucas was back on his feet within two month and was working harder than ever. He only trained in his spare time and hardly talked to the prince while he watched him. When Lucas was seventeen, he was promoted to the captain of the guard. There was a lot of controversy until the king died and not only was Lucas the youngest of the guards and the captain, but the youngest member of the royal family was the king.

Lucas has stepped up and tries to be a friend to the prince as well as trying to be the protector.

Happiest Memory:
Being promoted to captain

Saddest Memory:
The death of his mother




Face Claim:
Hunter Parrish

So begins...

Lucas Navigne's Story

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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Nicholas sat, utterly bored out of his mind watching the tournament. Christoph sat to his right, Priscilla on his left and Lucas stood behind himself and Christoph. His interest in the jousting tournament was casual to say the least. Had Nicholas had his own way, he would not be wasting his time watching, but this was one of those occasions where he was required to act a certain way. The Lannisters might be the hosts, but the tradition had always lain with Falor and he was not about to let that be forgotten by being absent. His attention wandered, along with his gaze, through the crowds watching the jousting, through the nobility, the peasantry, down to the squires. He gave a half-smile, thinking that he surely had more in common with those squire boys than he did with the kings he sat among.

"I pity the man who must face that mountain of a man," he heard Christoph say, bringing his attention back to the jousting, "And I pity that horse that must sit beneath him."

Nicholas looked up to see the man known as The Mountain mount his horse. The poor boy facing him didn't stand a chance. This was one of the times that Nicholas was glad he was exempt from competing. As a king he wasn't allowed to compete. He couldn't help but agree with his brother-in-law. "He is going to die today."

Nicholas took a sip from his goblet and shifted in his seat, moving away from Priscilla and more towards Lucas, his attention on the jousting as morbid curiosity made him watch the unequal match. He stiffened slightly as a collective gasp echoed around the arena. The Mountain's lance slid up and under the young knight's armour, piercing his throat. Nicholas stared at the bloody scene, somehow unable to draw his eyes away. He looked to Christoph for some sign that this was quite a normal affair, turning to Lucas would have been to obvious an indication of his discomfort.

The tournament continued and before long the wooden divider was being torn up. The archers came out. He was surprised to see a woman among the competitors. She must be Princess Celia Ulfricdottir. He had heard talk of her, but this was his first opportunity to see her. From all accounts, she was intelligent and kind; a good woman who would make a good queen. His eyes drifted to Priscilla. True, she was pretty enough, but there was little more than air between her ears in his experience. Not for the first time, Nicholas found himself wishing Christoph had another daughter he could marry, one that knew her own mind, or was actually in possession of one. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas shift slightly. Nicholas looked up, and saw Lucas's attention was not on the archery tournament, but elsewhere in the crowd. He followed Lucas's line of sight to a girl sat reading. He suppressed a mischievous smile and sat back in his seat, waiting patiently for the archery to begin.

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: 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: 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: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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Overall, Christoph had never been physically gifted. Truly, the only physical pursuits he had been gifted in were horse riding and dancing given his lithe shape. Even at his age he continued to move easily about the dance floor. Each movement was calculated, as per usual, but to the time of the music this time rather than to his own, personal motives. Or, perhaps, this was merely part of a larger scheme as everything seemed to be to the Count. His partner, presently, was a noble woman from Ostwall. She moved about in a very ungraceful manner, stepping on his feet multiple times before the song ended.

Regardless, when the song was over, he bowed graciously to her and praised her ability. Then, of course, he moved off of the floor to take advantage of the privacy the masquerade provided. A passing servant handed him a goblet of wine which, unlike his earlier drinks, was not watered down. He would have to remember, therefore, to limit his consumption, for it would certainly would be unwise to become intoxicated so early in the night.

After sipping from the wine, Christoph readjusted his mask. The fact that it was a masquerade, while being helpful for concealing oneself, certainly would result in stress on the guards. He noted that Lucas had been on edge since he, Christoph, Priscilla, and Nicholas had entered the masquerade. In the long run, he hoped that stress would keep the Boy King alive for the night. These were, of course, quite dangerous times, and Christoph couldn't help but feel uneasy. In truth, he would not grow calm until Priscilla married the young king.

His attention, however, turned to the other Captain of the Guard, his own son. It had been, until this morning, two years since he had last seen Loras. The boy had been seventeen, not even a man, and now he was Seabel's Captain of the Guard. As the next song began, Christoph moved up behind the young man, who had entered with Seabel's royal family.

"How quickly a man grows in just two years," he remarked aloud before drinking again. "I did not have time before to congratulate you on your performance today." Christoph looked to his right, toward his son. The difference in their heights was noticeable now. "Have you seen your sister yet? I am certain she's eager to catch up with you too."

Setting

Characters Present

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

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Blasted things, parties. Celia would much rather be in her room, curled up with a book. Or better yet, at home in Ostwall. Honestly, what was the point of her being here? She could barely dance. Her father knew that. He could be a cruel man sometimes. And to make matters worse, it was a masquerade. And to go even further, she had lost her sister and Annabelle. The world just seemed to love making her life so much more difficult than it needed to be.

Huffing, Celia took another sip of her wine. It was sweet, dessert wine. Perfect for parties. That was about all she knew about parties though. The mask she wore weighed heavily on her face. True, it was made of the thinnest steel available, painted gold, carved and turned and wound for the immense detail of it, but it was still too much. She had to wonder if some of these people practiced wearing masks.

She wanted to leave. Oh how dearly she wanted to leave and locate Seabel's library. She could... If she really wanted to, but she didn't want to worry Annabelle or Corianna. She smoothed down a strand of hair in front of her face as she continued to weave her way through the crowds.

There were so many people and Celia knew it wasn't long before the crowd began to feel oppressive, especially after this next dance finished. She quickened her pace. Perhaps the balcony would have a bit more room? No such luck. Maybe the side rooms? No... She moved backwards, hoping to come in contact with the wall. She could stay there and hope that either her Lady-In-Waiting or her sister would find her. Instead, she bumped into another body. Celia spun around and dipped into a curtsey. "I must implore for your forgiveness," she said in a mellow voice. When she bobbed back up, she was met with the face of a certain young king and his apprehensive bodyguard. She blinked, but other than that, there was no sign of the surprise that raced through her.

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham

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ImageLucas woke with sunlight playing over his face in his room. He knew immediately he would be in trouble with someone. Nicholas probably wouldn't care all that much, but Lucas cared, greatly. He raced out of bed, pulling on his pants as he made his way to the door and throwing on his shirt as he was leaving the room. He was running down the hall of the barracks, slowly pulling article after article of clothing on while he tried to move quickly.

Where was his ward? Racing to Nicholas's room, Lucas knocked and upon hearing no answer, yanked the door open only to see the room empty. No, he was gone already. Racing down the stairs of the castle, Lucas nearly knocked a servant over.

He had gotten so caught up in last night with that girl. He hadn't been able to sleep, slept in, then missed being with Nicholas. Where was that boy king? Racing outside, he hoped the hunt hadn't already begun. He jumped onto his horse the stable boy had out having expected him for the hunt and took off only to see a set of tents. Perhaps Nicholas hadn't wanted to go. Lucas prayed the boy hadn't wanted to go as he raced for the larger tents.

He dismounted, passing the reins to a nearby squire without any explanation and ducking his head to look for Nicholas, smiling with relief as he saw the boy and the count. Straightening his appearance, Lucas walked in, hoping he appeared calmer than he felt, which was like chaos had narrowly been avoided. He hadn't even watched his ward last night. He could have been killed for his lack of completing his duty.

"There you are my king. Count," Lucas managed without gasping for air. He didn't like the formalities and was sure Nicholas wouldn't mind Lucas calling him just Nicholas in private, but out here, in front of everyone, well, the count could order his death should he want to.

Lucas wanted to collapse in relief but instead took up a spot by where Nicholas's seat was set. His friend would probably ask him about the girl last night, wondering how things went and where Lucas was this morning. He didn't want to face his friends questions, feeling guilty, but knew there wasn't going to be much of a choice. Besides, he kind of wanted to share his experience with the girl. He needed advice about handling relationships. Had he really just thought that?

So the hunt hadn't been attended by everyone and the count opted out as well as Nicholas, not an entire surprise, but surely a gratifying one.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards

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ImageThe conversation between Christoph and Tyrion was short lived, consisting of only a greeting exchanged between the two. When it had transpired, the Count simply turned back to Evelyne as she returned his comment. His lips twitched upward in a smirk. "I appreciate it," he replied, crossing one leg over the other casually. She was quick, quicker than most of his women had been in the mental sense at least. Very few of his women ever joined him outside of his chambers, and the majority of the kingdoms' courtiers knew this, for they eyed Evelyne curiously as they walked by.

His attention turned to Nicholas then as the young King sat beside him, replying also to his remark. "You certainly received that wit and silver tongue of yours from your dear father, Gods rest his soul," the advisor shot back, though not necessarily maliciously, or at least not noticeably maliciously. Christoph toyed with a ring on his left index finger. "I believe she will be joining us soon. It is not like her to miss the festivities."

Lucas made the party one of four as he hurried up to the group. Christoph subtly inclined his head, and one might have thought he didn't hear the guard great him had he not then focused his gaze on the slightly disheveled captain of the guard. He wanted to tear the boy apart on the spot, call him out for leaving his king alone to possibly die, but he decided it wasn't worth the effort. After all, Nicholas had the final say, and the boy still cared for his guard. He was pulled out of his thoughts yet again by another voice.




Priscilla had woken quite early that morning when compared to an average day. She had dressed enthusiastically in light ink silk, adorning herself with pearls before pulling her hair up into an intricate style. In actuality, her hand maidens had done everything, for the girl was helpless when it came to putting an outfit together or braiding her hair. Still, when she left her room, she made sure she looked alluring.
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Priscilla confidently mounted her horse, a milky-colored mare, and she only nearly fell off twice as she moved at a walk towards the small camp where she knew her father would be. Her own guards helped her from the horse to avoid any mishaps. "I can do it myself!" she protested, but she took the hand of one of the guards nonetheless. She gathered up her skirts in her hands once she had dismounted and hurried towards where her father sat. "Father!" she called out as she threw her arms about Christoph's neck, breaking a sort of silence that hung about. She had just narrowly missed the rain that now fell quite steadily outside of the protection of the tents.

Christoph returned the hug with a single arm around her waist as he cleared his throat. She remembered then, at his cue, that she was to greet her King first. She turned quickly to face him, nearly tripping in the process. "Good morning, my King," she said softly, curtsying cautiously so that she didn't lose her footing. The look of temporary panic in Christoph's eyes showed that he was worried such a thing would happen. Priscilla sat herself on her father's knee like a child and glanced about, meeting the gaze of Evelyne for a moment before looking the strange woman over with a questioning look in her eyes.

Priscilla certainly wasn't blind to Christoph's sexual habits, but she also knew that he rarely brought any woman with him besides those that mothered his children. Though Priscilla and Loras were the only two to have survived childhood, there had been more children and therefore more women alongside her father. She wondered if that was why he had brought the exotic-looking woman with him. The young woman turned to face her father then, opening her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by a horrid screech from a few of the women of the court.

Christoph looked up then, noticing a few of the royal family of Ostwall ride back on their horses with an animal carcass draped over one of the horses...but where was Ulfric? He stood slowly, and Priscilla slid off of his knee for a moment, for she watched the figures walk through the rain too intently to notice that her father was moving until she nearly fell on to the ground. "Oh..." Christoph said softly, beginning to discern Ulfric's graying hair from the bear fur of his cloak. He had never been close to the man, but like many there, he too had heard the ballads that sung his praise. He too had heard the tales from the border where Ulfric slew countless men from Falor. Priscilla's brow furrowed lightly as she looked up at her father. "Father...?" she asked, tugging gently at his arm. He watched Ronan, lips pursing, wondering how he could make this benefit him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre Character Portrait: Simon Bjornson Character Portrait: Guy Priestas Character Portrait: Simon Priestas Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards

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Simon stared at the sight in horror, feeling something like regret and guilt even though he had not killed his uncle. He listened to Ronan's story, not believing this was how his uncle died. He believed Ronan, but was in disbelieving that his might uncle would fall in such a way. "Ronan," Simon begins upon seeing his cousin growing colder by the second. He didn't like that he was speaking to Renly that way, he didn't like it when he spoke like that to anyone.


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Simon moved forward to help his cousin lift his deceased uncle, holding back the feeling he wanted to go crawl into bed and sleep forever. Simon grabbed the reins of his horse as they passed her, helping Ronan guide Ulfric's body on Ulfric's horse. Simon walked solemnly, his face devoid of any emotion. Where was his brother? Simon breathed deeply, not making eye contact with anyone as they moved forward. He hated it, he hated everything at that moment if he was going to be honest with himself.

"Ronan, have you seen Guy this morning?" Simon mutters under his breath, wanting to know if anyone had seen Guy at all. He knew Ronan and Guy had something against each other, but he had hoped the two might at least know each other's whereabouts on such a large day as a hunt.

Simon saw his uncle's arm fall off from where it had been on his chest causing Simon to turn away for a moment. The man who had taken him and his brother in, the one who had practically raised them, their father's brother, gone.

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Guy smiled as he stepped back, looking at the web with drops of dew hanging off it as if it was hanging in his window. Guy looked out to see storm clouds brewing and frowned, pulling his painting inside but keeping the windows open. He liked the humidity storms brought. He studied his painting again, frowning now as he saw that he hadn't caught the light, he had neglected the light! He'd have to start over. He sighed and tossed the half dry painting on his bed.

Guy heard a rush at the door then saw a servant barge in. "Prince Guy," He begins, out of breath and looking horrible. Guy instantly knew something was wrong, something had happened. Was the storm worse than he had figured it would be? "Is Simon alright?" He demanded, fearful his twin might have broken himself should he have gone on the hunt. Simon had figured his brother would have just stayed in bed, not go on the hunt without him. Now he wished he had gone. "No, sir, you're uncle..." The guard hesitated, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do.


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"Well?" Guy presses, moving to grab his vest. "You're uncle... you should come see him," The guard finishes. Guy nods, pulling on his boots and grabbing his cloak as well as Simon's. He had left it in Guy's room after their ride outside yesterday. Guy followed the guard, walking quickly. What could have happened to his uncle that had caused such behavior? He probably was just sick or had pulled something, wanting to have Guy around just so that he felt a little better.

Guy followed the guard until they were outside where the guard pointed to the tents. Guy saw his brother, his shoulders hunched, looking rather unhappy. Frowning, Guy accepted his horse from a nearby squire he looked relieved to be going back into the stables. Guy felt bad for making the kid stand outside for so long, but dismissed it as he mounted and rode towards his brother. He saw something on Ulfric's horse, perhaps his cloak. As Guy rode closer, he slowed, seeing people were crying or staring at Ulfric's cloak. "Simon... What's wrong?" Guy asks as he dismounts, approaching the small procession where he spotted Renly and Ronan as well. Simon's head sprung up, staring at Guy with something Guy had rarely seen from his brother.

"Where were you?" Simon asks, staring at his brother. Guy looks at his brother with surprise. "What do you mean? Simon what's wrong with uncle?" Guy asks as he walks forward, offering Simon his cloak.

Simon takes it only to throw it on the ground, furious at his brother. He needed an out, he couldn't let it out on Ronan or Renly and there was nobody else around that could take his anger but his brother, even if it was a little hard now. Simon looks around incredulously, then walks forward to grab his brother by the vest. "Don't you get it? How can you not see it? That's him, that's him right there, Guy. He's gone," Simon declares, pushing his brother towards Ulfric's body before turning and leaving, having a hard time taking the horror.

Guy looks at what he thought was Ulfric's cloak but catches sight of his uncle's pale hand. "Oh my God," He whispers, looking around and realizing what had happened. He wanted to fall on his knees, but withheld, staring at the body, then Ronan on the other side of the horse, then back at Ulfric.

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Lucas noticed the disapproval from the count and his friends. Lucas nearly ignored Christoph altogether had it not been for Priscilla coming over. He couldn't believe the girl was sitting with her father, in his lap. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat in his father's lap, he couldn't remember the last time he had talked to his father about something like that.

His attention was caught when he spot the king of Ostwall was shown to be dead. He moved closer to his ward, standing right behind him. They had been apart too long, he was afraid now more than ever that he wouldn't be able to keep Nicholas safe, especially when one of the strongest king through the world was found dead, killed.

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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards

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Lucas had been watching for the girl, yet he hadn't seen her again, not since that night he had asked her to dance. He sighed softly from where he stood in a small alcove behind where Nicholas sat. He would much rather prefer standing, or sitting, next to his friend and talking to him rather than pretending his only care was keeping him safe.



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Lucas stood, watching Priscilla and Christoph with contempt that was only visible to people who knew him really well, in other words, Nicholas. His gaze floated to the recently made king. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man. It was clear to Lucas that he wasn't all he seemed to be, and that his wife probably was already in love with him before his father died, either that or he took in a widow for his father, though Lucas couldn't help but doubt that.

Lucas had his hand lazily on his sword though he was more alert than any of the surrounding guards. He could appear lazy but be taunt as a horse during a gallop. Lucas watched the crowd, growing more and more tired of his task of watching the crowd than ever before. He wondered if Nicholas would be kind enough to come save him from his duty by going to bed. How wonderful that fantasy sounded.

Lucas thought back to a happier moment to distract himself. He was standing on the packed dirt that served as a training grounds for squires though Lucas was using it as a guard by the age of fourteen, a young and bored guard, but a guard nonetheless. He was training with an older guard, perhaps his current age. The older male was not going easy on small Lucas and Lucas would walk away with many bruises and cuts, yet he was easily holding his own against him. His task for the day, appearing like he was trying his hardest while throwing the match. His most recent teacher had wanted him to practice his hiding his abilities and it wasn't all that difficult.

The older fellow seemed to smile as his saw an opening Lucas had left open on purpose. He took the shot and Lucas pretended to nearly miss deflecting it before falling down and ending with the sword at his throat. It had been a great day since he had successfully completed the task in his mind. His master later chastised him for not being good enough, but the original pleasure of the memory held within Lucas's mind.

He turned his full attention on Nicholas again, finding that he couldn't help but continue to think of that girl from those many months ago either. He had been embarrassed about staring, yet had truly been happy to see her during the ball, and work the nerve up to talk to her after being abandoned by his ward. A strange situation yes, but still, it had worked and he had gotten to talk to the beauty that had captured his attention.