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Tyrion Lannister

"A Lannister always pays his debts..."

0 · 912 views · located in Tibera

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

Description

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"Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you."




The Basics




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Full Name: Tyrion Lannister
Nicknames: The Halfman (a nickname he rather likes) The Imp, The Dwarf. These two nicknames are usually used as insults.
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Rank/Title:
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Kingdom/Alliance: Seabel




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue with flecks of green
Height: 4' 5"
Weight: 128 lbs
Tattoos: None
Piercings: None
Scars: None
Description: Tyrion is a dwarf, he has stubby legs, a jutting forehead and often described as ugly. His hair is the trademarked blonde of House lannister and his eyes are a mixture of the blue of his mothers eyes and the green of his fathers. He ususally dresses in fine, supple leathers most often embroidered with golden lions. Most who look upon him see only the monster born to Tywin Lannister. Very few see Tyrion for the man he is but those that do see a small man that casts a very large shadow.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Intelligent, Brave, Kind, Clever, Sarcastic}
Tyrion is shrewd, educated, and calculating, but receives little respect for this from his father, because of his deformity of dwarfism, and for the death of his mother during his birth. He is capable of cruelty to his enemies, but also has great sympathy for fellow outcasts and the mistreated. Even though he is no warrior, he has instances where he shows great bravery. He has stated that what he lacks in size and strength he makes up for in mental acuity. He displays high intelligence and great promise during his dealings in the capitol helping his brother to deal with political rivals, revealing himself to be as politically savvy and astute as his father, yet receives close to no recognition for it from most besides his brother.
Hobbies:
Drinking, Whoring, Reading
Habits:
Tapping his fingers on whatever surface is nearby, sarcasm
Oddities:
Dwarfism
Likes/Loves:
  • his family, primarily his brother
  • reading
  • cripples, bastards, broken things
  • the game
  • thieves, harlots and drinking with both
Dislikes/Hates:
  • the cruel
  • the self righteous
  • bullies
  • his father
  • people who call him imp/dwarf




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin: Casterly Rock, Falor
History:
Tyrion was born the second child of Tywin and Joanna Lannister. Joanna died giving birth to him, and as a result his father blamed him for her death and hates him for that and for his deformity. Tyrion finds himself excluded from regular family life, especially by his father and by his cousins, only having a close relationship with his brother. As a child, Tyrion knew he would never be a knight, and so thought to become the High Septon instead, since that crystal crown added a foot to one's height. He delved into endeavors of the mind, sharpening it with books as his brother would sharpen his sword with a whetstone.

When Tyrion was thirteen, he and his brother Alistair rescued a common girl, Tysha, from some bandits, and thoughts of love quickly replaced those of priesthood. While Alistair went after the bandits Tyrion took care of Tysha. To his amazement Tysha liked him, and they eventually made love. Tyrion became so enamoured by her that he bribed a septon and married her in secret. Their happiness lasted only two weeks, however, before Tyrion’s father got news of the wedding. Lord Tywin commanded Alistair to say that Tysha was a prostitute whom he had hired for Tyrion’s benefit since at the time he was still a virgin. Because the “whore” had presumed to marry a Lannister, Tywin had his entire guard rape Tysha for a silver each and then made Tyrion go last for a gold coin, because a Lannister is worth more. The ordeal scarred Tyrion and has made lasting relationship with women nearly impossible. He is a constant whore monger because he cannot or at least believes he cannot elicit a womans affection through merit alone.

When Alistair and his new wife rose up in rebellion Tyrion was intrigued to say the least, curious how everything would turn out but left Casterly Rock the day he'd received the raven to help his brother. While not a warrior Tyrion helped with his mind as a strategist and councilman. Now with Alistair as king Tyrion serves form time to time helping his brother in the political arena, an area Alistair tends to lack in. Currently he is trying to unravel the mystery of his brothers deteriorating relationship with his wife.
Happiest Memory:His wedding
Saddest Memory:Learning the truth about Tysha




Face Claim: Peter Dinklage

So begins...

Tyrion Lannister's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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"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."

Alistair chuckled as he drained the last of his cups contents, a single smooth gulp.

"I've never had a hand for the craft either. Not a talent for a proper swordsman I'd wager. Fiddling with those tiny arrow shafts and fitting them on that damned string..."

Alistair paused, shaking his head as if in dismissal of the entire art of bowmanship as a passing servant arrived with fresh drinks. Once his cup was once again filled with wine he continued.

"Its too much. Give me a good, clean death any day. A longsword cuts through bone nicely. Or lance through the heart. Be over before you know it."

He said snapping his fingers as if to empathize his point. There was something about the older man that Alistair liked. Quiet and brooding sure but he had a soldiers quality to him. Not one of those preening peacocks from court or the flowery knights bogged down in vows they didn't even uphold. No, Ulfric was a soldier, a warrior. Even his lack of interest in the games endeared the man to Alistair who cared little for watching men fail at something he excelled at.

"I'm surprised to see you here rather than out on the field. Has the crown mellowed you?"

At that Jaimie chuckled sardonically. How the crown has changed him. Mellow may not have been the word Alistair had used but Ulfric was right enough except it wasn't the crown that changed him.

"Ah... If only it was. No Ulfric, it wasn't the crown that mellowed me... It was marriage."

He said with a knowing smile as he leaned on the arm rest of his chair so he may speak with Ulfric more candidly.

"The vows they make you take. I feel like I was being knighted all over again. See you and yours from Ostwall have the right of it. No need of hollow vows and promises of honor you're not going to keep some gods you don't even believe in for a swordsman to kill a man. No, we were trained to do a job and we just do it. Damn the rest. The politicians bicker and squabble and you and I will just keep on killing and eventually, they'll give us a crown."

Alistair offered the king of Ostwall his cup in toast to their united distaste of the hypocrisy of the players of this game of thrones.

"To our crowns, may their weight bend our necks. After all... It's only for life."

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"Because I know you."

He replied matter of factly. Her beauty riled him up to a point where he was willing to risk getting caught. At times he didn't even care. If someone saw them he'd kill them. He'd kill a prying bread merchant, a courtier, The Hound, The damned King himself. She was his Queen and he wanted her.

"I know your right pinky always sticks up when you're drinking something. I know you're adorably ticklish, especially when I kiss your neck. I know you have a captivating habit of biting your lower lip, a habit I think I'm beginning to pick up myself."

He said, silent promises hanging heavy in his words.

"Tonight, while your husband drinks I would visit you and...

"Is that the fabled Knight of Flowers?"

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Loras paused, nearly growling in frustration as the voice reached his ears. He took a slow, steadying breath and turned around to face, well look down upon The Imp Tyrion Lannister, brother of the king. The dwarf was always smarter than Loras was comfortable with. Not the sword wielding fool Alistair was. No, Tyrion was cunning therefore Tyrion was dangerous. He seemed to see everything and know things he shouldn't, having him here was troublesome to say the least. Loras had already devised several ways to ensure the imp has an accident before he had arrived in the city with his father.

"Lord Tyrion, it's an honor."

Tyrion cocked his head curiously as he looked up at Loras with a mischievous smile.

"Lord? Has my father died and no one told me?"

Ser Loras smirked at the Tyrion's sharpness. The term was meant as a slight disguised as a compliment. Everyone knew Tyrion would never inherit Casterly Rock since his father hated him so.

"A harmless courtesy merely out of respect, my lord."

"The respect is do to you good Ser, unseating the Prince of Ostwall with such ease. At least Prince Ronan fared better than that second fellow. The Mountain ran his lance through the boys neck, bloody business. One must be careful during exciting times like these. Never know when the next lance will come, eh?"

Loras listened to the dwarfs words and realized his hatred for Tyrion may very well rival the hatred he had for his brother. Loras clenched his jaw and allowed a mock smile to touch his lips as he nodded in agreement.

"Quite."

Tyrion smiled innocently walking around Loras to greet the queen with arms wide open to embrace her lovingly. Due to his small stature it looked as though she was hugging a small, gangley child.

"Darling step sister! You are as radiant as ever. The gods themselves are no doubt jealous of your beauty."

Stepping back to take in his step sister Tyrion looked up at her happily. It had always bother Loras how close Rosalie had been with him. They were good friends and Tyrion accepted her into the family instantly. He would certainly be an obstacle to overcome in the coming days.

"How I've missed you Rosie. You've spoiled me for the violin by the way, have I told you? The finest musicians in Casterly Rock are children with sticks in comparison to your skill. You must play for me while I'm here, I beg of you...

Tyrion pasued and turned around as if quite befuddled. He looked up at Loras looking rather surprised to see him.

"Are you still here? Oh, apologies. You can go."

Tyrion said casually. Loras wanted to take his head then and there. With a mock bow Loras took his leave fantasying about all the ways he could kill the little imp.

Setting

Characters Present

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

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"Because I know you." he said. Rosalie looked up from the rose that settled between them, the only thing that indicated that there was just enough space between them, and met his eyes. They were even softer than before and so full of promises. Unlike Alistair's eyes, Loras' eyes really looked at her. They watched her in a way that noted that she had his attention as if they told Rosalie that they were there that they were ready to comfort her. And that's exactly what they were doing at the moment, and Rosalie dared not look away. She allowed her own eyes to pour out whatever feelings they hid, knowing that his eyes will comfort her. Rosalie hadn't looked away to see if anyone was looking at them so close together. She was too lost in Loras' emerald eyes to even care.

She looked into one of his eyes to the next, "Prove it." she heard herself whisper.

She watched as Loras swallowed. The way his jaw tightened hesitantly made Rosalie want to press her lips onto his. But she didn't. She couldn't. She loved Alistair, though she knew she felt a sudden tightness in her chest whenever Loras was around. "I know your right pinky always sticks up when you're drinking something. I know you're adorably ticklish, especially when I kiss your neck. I know you have a captivating habit of biting your lower lip, a habit I think I'm beginning to pick up myself."

Rosalie didn't resond. She didn't have to because she knew he was right. She felt the need to drink with her pinky held upright, "It is ladylike to do so," her mother would often recite on the days they had tea together. Rosalie seemed to always giggle when Loras planted soft kisses on her neck, and she even bit her lip whenever she was lost in her thoughts.

Loras knew even the littlest of things she did which told her that he had been watching her. She wondered if Alistair knew just as much as he did.

The two let silence greet them as their thoughts roamed free. Finally, he spoke, "Tonight, while your husband drinks I would visit you and...

"Is that the fabled Knight of Flowers?" Rosalie jumped at a voice coming from behind Loras. When he turned to face the introder, it was known other than Tyrion Lannister himself.

"Lord Tyrion, it's an honor." As the two exchanged words, Rosalie couldn't help herself praying that the two wouldn't start a fit. She knew just how much they hated each other, and it made her sad considering she cared for them both equally. It was until Tyrion suddenly made his way over in front of Rosalie,"Darling step sister! You are as radiant as ever. The gods themselves are no doubt jealous of your beauty," He surprised her by wrapping his arms around her as she did the same, slightly kneeling as she did so, "how I've missed you Rosie. You've spoiled me for the violin by the way, have I told you? The finest musicians in Casterly Rock are children with sticks in comparison to your skill. You must play for me while I'm here, I beg of you..."

Rosalie laughed and kissed at Tyrion's cheek, a friendly gesture. "That'll do my dear Tyrion."

He whirled around to look at Loras who stood before them awkwardly. "Are you still here? Oh, apologies. You can go."Tyrion told him. Rosalie watched as Loras turned on one heel and walked away without another word.

She bit her lip. "Mind staying here to watch Cassie? This wouldn't take long."She said to Tyrion before She lifted up the hem of her gown and treaded alongside Loras. I haven't had the chance to thank you for your company."



Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

"Should you need anything."

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

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"Of course, of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well said."

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

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

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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

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

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

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Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes you are and you look..."

Tyrion paused threw himself into a dramatic bow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Lorelle de Croismare Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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The guilt began gradually eating at Rosalie's insides as Tyrion spoke, "Yet for all the wealth and beauty none of it compared to the love of your parents. Your mother and father loved each other so very much and on that day they out shined the sun. Rarely did their hands separate, their fingers seemed permanently entangled. Constantly they whispered to each other sweetly, telling private jokes only they knew the punch lines to. Truth be told even when the toasts were made I doubt they ever heard them for they only had eyes and ears for each other." Yes, he was talking with Cassie, but there was this pull at Rosalie's chest that told her that he hadn't only been talking to her. When his eyes suddenly met with hers, then had she knew he was studying her expression to see how she'd react. Rosalie began biting at her lower lip, a nervous habit, as she let her thoughts roam about. Yes, those feelings for Alistair had suddenly changed, but it never denied the fact how she felt about him. She did love him. Always. However, with Loras around her love for Alistair always came into questioning. Alistair was her first love and will always be, but something about Loras is...indescribable. When he made love to him it just felt right. Needless to say, it was wrong that she cheated on Alistair, but her feeling for Loras is complicated. He didn't know her like Alistair did, but he knew whenever she was hurting, whenever she needed to be comfort and she adored him for that. He was her 'guard' after all, and she did feel guarded whenever he was near.

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

That was then, and people change. She wanted to tell Tyrion, but kept quiet as he continued. "Ah, but alas. I fear I've taken up far too much of both of your time and you lovely ladies have a ball to prepare for. I bid you both farewell, and I shall see you tonight." And at that, he took his leave only before turning on one heel to look back towards the two, "Oh and Cassie, before you go to the ball, come to my room. I have a gift for you." Then, he left without another word.

Rosalie waited until she seen Tyrion disappeared around a corner before she grabbed her daughter's hand. "Now, shall we go get those pops?"





Rosalie was nearly finished pinning her blonde hair into a well-arranged braided crown. Now she was getting her corset laced by her Lady-In-Waiting, Lorelle. "As I was walking back from buying a loaf, I noticed you talking to that boy- what was his name again? Oh, yes, the dear Count's son, Loras Edwards." she said matterafactly. Rosalie found herself smiling at his name as her thoughts pondered back at their conversation, at the rose he'd given her. She had stored it safely in her Jane Eyre novel as her very own personal book mark that she'd be able to look at in pleasure. In addition, she never denied to Lorelle the fact that Loras was now in her life. She trusted Lorelle with every bit of information, she was her one and only close friend she had, and she very well kept Rosalie and Loras' secret. At twenty-eight, Lorelle came in handy on advices as well. "Ah, yes!" she beamed. "Such a honorable man he is. He even was kind enough as to present me with a little gift."

Lorelle was quiet as she knotted the laces. Until she had finish. "I'd be careful with that man, Ms. Rosalie. Something about that one seems off to me."

"Oh, stop it Lorelle," she rolled her eyes. "He is a fine man. You and I both know that."

"Yes, I understand that madame, but-" Rosalie interjected. "Creame satin, or blue cutton?" she said, helding up two ball gowns.





"Mr. Quincy, you are such a charmer." Rosalie laughed at the man's witticism as they danced at the sound of the music playing. The man was near forty, but even behind his mask he looked rather handsome. "I am quite sure Evangeline would be admired."

"I'm sure she would be"- he twirled Rosalie in unison-"but then again, I am barely visible to the woman." Evangeline, a woman who's caught Quincy's eye since the moment the masquerade began, and he's found no intention on talking to her. Rosalie knew that he fancied her and she felt the sudden urge to set the two up.

"Tell her a story you have once told me, I'm sure she'll find it humorous. Infact, I believe I see her over there at the buffet." At that, Quincy released Rosalie to take a glance at a woman whose long black hair cascaded behind her back as she nibbled at a deviled egg, careful not to make a mess on her purple ball gown. Rosalie smiled at Quincy lost in the woman's beauty, and began pirouetting away from him until suddenly she knocked into another man's arms. "You look beautiful tonight." he said.

It was Alistair, and she was sure of it. The way his eyes met with hers, there was no need to release their masks to be sure of it. She knew him as a mouse knew not to be caught in a cat's attention and she was grateful of that, that she poised her hand one his broad should as the other slid in his hand. "And who might this man be who I am dancing with?" she smiled.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister

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

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

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre

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The hunt had been delayed following a rain storm that had lasted far longer than anyone had truly expected. The sky, however, had reverted to a light blue and the sun had begun to show itself a little after noon. The only sign that remained of said rainfall was the softness of the ground beneath the hooves of horses and the feet of nobles. Now, however, the sky was once more graying. Though there was still a substantial number of royals and nobles atop horses, preparing for the hunt, others had chosen to stay beneath tents that had been pitched over ornate carpets.

One such noble was Christoph. He had had every intention to join the hunt that day, but frankly, he cared little for riding about in such dismal conditions. Instead, he had merely ridden his horse out to the site of the tents to avoid wetting his shoes as most nobles chose to. Behind him, his dogs had trailed, and presently, they sat by his feet and watched the unknown people milling about under the tents. Christoph had taken a seat, as had quite a few of the nobles who were not busy mounting horses.

To his left sat Evelyne, for he truly hadn't wanted to leave anyone in his room without the dogs there to guard his belongings. Besides, she was entertaining company to keep in the midst of what was often dull conversation. Occasionally, he would whisper hushed remarks about the various nobles in her ear. Currently, he noticed a man who far too old to walk, let alone ride a horse, attempting to mount a well-bred stallion. Christoph's lips twitched as he leaned toward Evelyne. "I do hope someone puts me out of my misery if I'm ever that daft," he remarked.

He looked about for another victim, and his eyes fell upon Tyrion, the Imp. He stopped himself, however, before saying anything to Evelyne, for as much as he wished to say something about him, he knew Tyrion was a good ally to keep. "How are you on this fine day, Lord Tyrion?" he asked, cocking his head subtly. "Will you be joining the hunt?"








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Alongside the other nobles, Ronan finished adjusting the saddle on his ebony warhorse. The stallion fidgeted beneath unfamiliar saddlebags that, in turn, hit against his flanks with more fervor. He gripped the saddle and lifted himself on to the horse just as a rain drop fell on to the crown of his head. The rain, however, had never bothered him much either way. There was still a dull throb in his shoulder, and it brought about a wince as he yanked himself upwards. Once he had settled on the saddle, he gathered up the reins and looked about.

Ulfric, a little ways off, hefted himself into the saddle of his dun mare. She was much older than most of the horses gathered about, but she was a loyal mount. He'd ridden her for years now, since he had taken the throne, and not once had she failed him. As he settled himself on the saddle, he looked about and met Ronan's gaze. They would have to speak, for now Ulfric found it difficult to tell what was true anymore.

Clicking his tongue once, he walked his horse towards Ronan and then stopped so that their horses were only a few inches apart. "I was wondering if perhaps you would be willing to split from the group with me and hunt on our own," he said, reciting the line he had practiced that morning. "It'll be difficult to hunt with so many in the party."

Ronan blinked for a moment, then two, as he tried to determine how to proceed. That wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Nevertheless, he would work with it. He had to. "Of course, father," he replied, nodding to Ulfric. His father turned the mare around and began to move her past the camp and towards the woods. With a final glance over his shoulder, he caught Celia's gaze. "Look out for you sister, Celia," he called before kicking his horse into a canter.

Ronan looked toward his sister simply because Ulfric had mentioned her, but then he looked to Genevieve. For a moment, he simply watched her, waiting for something and then he nodded once to her before following Ulfric at a similar pace.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre

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Nicholas rolled out of bed, his good mood dampened only by the fact they were going on a hunt today. If he saw Renly during the hunt, he would have a lot of explaining to do. Not that he didn't want to see Renly. He did, very much so. But he would just like to be prepared before he saw Renly again. And this, he reminded himself, is why being King was such a nuisance. You find a...

Nicholas sat up straight. What was Renly? They were certainly more than mere acquaintances, and yet 'friend' did not seem the right word for what they were. Nicholas fancied he could still feel the warmth of Renly's lips against his own. No, 'friend' was certainly the wrong word to use and yet Nicholas could not think of a suitable word to describe his relationship with Renly. 'Paramours' seemed too grand and romantic. He doubted a small kiss was enough to grant such a title. Anyway, when you were king and found a new companion, there was always the little voice wondering if they just wanted to get close for the power that came with being favoured by the king. If they didn't know he was a king, as was the case with Renly he assumed, then that doubt faded but there was the inevitability of being discovered.

Nicholas shook his head, clearing his thoughts, though thoughts of the taller boy lingered. He looked out the window and saw raindrops trickling down the glass. And they were still going to hunt in this? Perhaps it would clear up. That wouldn't be so bad. It would be a little muddy underfoot, but Raiden could cope with a little mud. Nicholas dressed himself and headed down to the stables to collect Raiden, collecting an apple from the bowl in his room before he left. If any of the people he saw on the way to the stables found it odd for the boy king to be so fine a mood, they didn't say. Nicholas found Raiden already saddled. He stroked Raiden's face before mounting the stallion. Riding out to the hunting tent, he found that the rain had indeed cleared. The scent of the damp grass was hanging in the air as Nicholas rode down to the hunting tent.

Reaching the tent, he dismounted, handing Raiden's reigns to a nearby servant. Seeing Christoph, he headed towards his advisor, curious as to the identity of the woman sat beside him. Nicholas couldn't recall seeing her before.

"I do hope someone puts me out of my misery if I'm ever that daft," He heard Christoph say.

"Well, that shouldn't be too long then Christoph," he laughed, taking a seat beside him as Tyrion passed by. While Christoph spoke to Tyrion, Nicholas let his eyes wander, searching for Renly. He was disappointed when he saw no sign of Renly, and Priscilla was notable by her absence, "Is Priscilla not joining us?" he asked Christoph.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre

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Evelyne watched the skies as her horse walked forward at a relaxed pace, the scent of freshly soaked earth surrounding her, as she hummed an old song under her breath* it brought a sense of ease to her, as she shifted her eyes towards the various Lords that Christoph brought attention to, until her eyes landed on the elderly man he referred to now. She chuckled at his comment, before turning to him, "I'll make sure to see it happens." she teased gently, under her breath with a smirk, before Tyrion approached them. She watched Christoph and the Imp exchange words for a moment, before Nicholas Brigham approached.

Evelyne bowed her head as he upon herself and Christoph, before watching her Lord, and the King converse freely.

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(*For those curious, the tune was to that of Rains of Castamere, but with whatever the equivalent wording would be here in turn)

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.