Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat โ€” the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Platoโ€™s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library »

Players Wanted: Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ูฉ( ยด๏ฝฅัˆ๏ฝฅ)ูˆ » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players » Here, At the End of the World (supernatural mystery drama) »

The Price of Blood

Tibera

0 INK

a part of The Price of Blood, by Scarlet Loup.

None

Scarlet Loup holds sovereignty over Tibera, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

1,789 readers have been here.

Setting

Default Location for The Price of Blood
Create a Character Here »

Tibera

None

Minimap

Tibera is a part of The Price of Blood.

21 Characters Here

Ronan Ulfricson [35] "If you think anyone is sane you just don't know enough about them."
Ulfric Bjornson [32] "One man's oppression is another's benevolence."
Nicholas Brigham [31] Power does not corrupt people, people corrupt power
Christoph Edwards [28] "How do we begin to covet? We begin by coveting what we see every day."
Celia Ulfricdottir [25] "Nobody has the right to choose who you are going to be. That choice belongs to you."
Alistair Lannister [25] "By what right does the wolf judge the lion?"
Rosalie Lannister [25] "Such selfish prayers and I can't get enough..."
Renly Arryn [25] "Ideals are peaceful. History is violent."
Genevieve Hansdottir [22] "I'm not some weak little girl anymore"
Loras Edwards [22] "Power resides where men belive it resides."

Start Character Here »


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

ImageImage





Image




"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: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image


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.

Image

Image


"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

No characters tagged in this post!

Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

ImageImage


Lucas had not even seen the princess shooting as his eyes had gone back to the girl. She as looking at him. She had interacted with the princes of Ostwall. Was she the lady in waiting or a noble friend? Either way it was likely to complicate anything they might want to have between each other. Why was he thinking of that already?

Lucas heard an announcement and looked down to see that the princes had jut received a perfect score. He didn't want to get in a shoot out with her now did he? Lucas smiled slightly. Wasn't the tournament over now? Tonight, he'd be stretched so thin, he'd want to just lock Nicholas away. How was he going to watch his ward when there was to be at least a hundred people in one place with all their faces covered? To be honest, the worst thing was that Lucas would be trying to protect the prince in a foreign country. He had never been out of the country and though it was nice, it was also one of the most terrifying thing in the world.

He noticed Nicholas's discomfort and knew it as over the prince. The prince was not one for death. Lucas wasn't surprised. He'd probably rather be in the Seabel castle's library. To be honest, at this point, Lucas would be there too if it wasn't for this tournament. He had hoped to sneak out to town and try to get some paints just for fun. Seabel had beautiful paint for their work. Very few people knew he liked painting.

Lucas watched the scene again and hated that he kept wanting to look over at the girl again. Maybe he'd see her at the masquerade ball tonight. He hoped he did anyway. What was he thinking? Shaking his head slightly, he took a deep breath as he shifted. He was so uncomfortable in his hot suit and really wanted to just go change into a shirt and slacks, but he knew he couldn't unless he was in his own room and he wouldn't have that for hours. Wonderful.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

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.





Image

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: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
As she rested her head against his shoulder, he gently kissed at her exposed neck. Oh, he could have stayed there for ages with her. Someone, however, was bound to come across them eventually. There was simply no privacy here. It was as if the walls themselves had eyes. "One day, my love," he cooed. "When my father is no longer, when I have taken the throne, you and I shall rule, and we shall be able to love each other as we ought to be able to."

When she pulled away, he gave a soft sound of protest. "It's just bruised, nothing more," he replied. Still, he found it difficult to completely ignore her. Ronan unbuttoned his doublet carefully before pushing the loose-fitting undershirt aside. "See?" he said softly, smiling back at her. "Hardly can be called a wound." He rebuttoned the doublet. "Perhaps it would be appreciated if you came to check on my shoulder after the masquerade. No one will be able to bother us." Still smirking, he placed one more kiss against her lips.







Image
Image
A smile tugged at his mouth as Alistair replied. Oh, how he had longed for someone to understand the truth behind war. Ronan tried, sometimes, to understand what Ulfric had been through. There simply wasn't a way for one to understand if they had never been through it themselves. To watch one's friends perish before their eyes, to feel the blood pump through your body. It was a sensation that simply could not be explained. "You are most certainly a man after my own heart, Alistair Lannister," he remarked.

"I certainly respect those who can wield a bow, but nothing is better than a sword in one's hand." He laughed to himself and shook his head almost in tandem with Alistair. He shook it, however, as if shaking off the memories that seemed to haunt his every thought.

"Amen to that. The bowman needs not run into the fray. Instead, he stands about on a peek while his comrades fall. And who returns as a hero? Certainly not the dead swordsmen."

He listened, suddenly growing solemn, as the king explained his predicament. "Neither method seems too fair. The politicians are slimy creatures, those who can not be trusted. Us warriors...well, what do we know about ruling a nation?" At least, he mused, Alistair had noble connections. Still, he wouldn't allow that to influence his opinion of the man. They may have come from different walks of life, but Alistair was not a bad man. Through war, all different sorts of men were united.

He raised his own, refilled goblet then. "To our crowns,"
he agreed before drinking to said toast. It was then that he looked down on to the field to see Celia competing. A smile crossed his face as it smacked the bullseye at 500 yards. Ulfric had to set his goblet down so that he could clap for her.

When he finally picked his goblet up again, he looked far more somber, and his brow wrinkled in, perhaps, concern before he looked toward Alistair again. "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."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image



Image




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

0.00 INK

Image





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: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image


"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.

Image

Image


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?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image

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
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
ImageImage


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
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Caille
Image






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: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image


"Ah, thank you and no, I have not but I will speak with Pricilla soon. I have missed my sister, and you father. Things at court here are so...different than how it was in Falor. So much excitement."

He paused turning to look his father in the eye, a knowing smile on his face devious as the devil himself.

"So many opportunities."

Loras Edwards was so much his fathers son. He was handsome, intelligent, and wickedly cunning. Loras had not told anyone about his plans, not even his father for he could not risk a letter falling into the wrong hands. Yet with his father here now, Loras truly felt unbeatable. He could already think circles around that fool King Alistair and even with that troublesome imp sniffing about what was there to fear when his count father here to help him. Loras could finally have everything he'd ever wanted, it was in his grasp he needed only reach out and take it. As for those thinking to stand in his way, the Edwards family united would strangle any opposition like growing vines up an old, gnarled tree.

Loras flicked a gaze at the crowd dancing and drinking and enjoying the ball. Confident no one was watching he turned to leave and nodded for his father to follow.

"Might we walk a moment, father? I could use your help with something."

Image

Image


"I hate these fucking parties."

Sandor's voice was as rough as mountain rock. Alistair chuckled at his fearsome kingsguard as he entered the hall, late as he'd intended. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to get all dressed up and put this damnable golden lion mask on. His father had brought it all the way from Casterly Rock, freshly forged from some of the finest goldsmiths in Lannis Port. He felt like a damned fool but as was the way so often these days, it was expected of him.

"You hate everything."

Brienne replied as she walked on the other side of the king, her armor was polished brilliantly which was is such stark contrast to the thick, ugly, black steel plate The Hound wore. It was odd to look upon Sandor Clegane, with that ferocious looking hound helm he wore it almost looked like he was here for the party if it wasn't for the massive great sword affixed to his back. Alistair was about to shoot his favorite surly guardsmen a quick remark when he caught the sight of something that stopped him cold.

Golden hair cascading down her back in unbound tresses. Her body, draped in the finest fabrics making her appear to float on the dance floor. Such grace she possessed Alistair struggled to fathom a human being with such effortless elegance. The mask she wore made him smile for he remembered giving it to her during their first year of marriage. His wife stirred his blood yet shame touched his heart and made him shiver. A saddened hope for what once was, he could not look away and instead just stood there in awe of her beauty and poise. Gods, he missed her. He missed what they had. It was if he had been living in a dream, and woke up to find his real life was closer to a nightmare. He hated it, and the life he had now and all he wanted was to fall asleep, and dream again.

"Wait here."

Alistair said suddenly, his voice hard with determination as he strode away from his guards towards the dance floor. Rosalie was kindly dancing with an old lord whose name Alistair didn't know. The kind old man seemed overjoyed the queen would be generous enough to grant him a dance. As the couple spun Rosalie twirled effortlessly and collided right into the chest of the man she'd sworn her heart to under sacred vow. Alistair caught her as if he'd done it a hundred times, one hand around her waist and the other finding her hand as if they were made to fit together.

Their eyes met, behind masks but it didn't matter. They knew each other, they would always know each other. Even in the coldest winters their fires would call to each other.

"You look beautiful tonight."

There was a hesitation between husband and wife, holding each other on the dance floor. Surprise mixed with joy, fear and apprehension. Alistair could feel the butterflies in his stomach as if he were little more than a green boy nervous around girls, ironic the woman making him feel this way was his own wife.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Annabelle Waldorf Character Portrait: Lucas Navigne Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Renly Arryn Character Portrait: Priscilla Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

ImageImage[


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: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image


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.

Image


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

No characters tagged in this post!

Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

ImageImage


Lucas smiles slightly as he trails behind Nicholas. "I'm allowed to have fun, but you know as well as I do that I am horrible at socializing," Lucas says next to his friend. He really did enjoy parties except for how he had to be so uptight, he just didn't like being in an area he didn't really know. His mask wasn't uncomfortable. He liked it really, it gave him a sense of security, even if it would do nothing should a fight come. When Nicholas mentioned the girl, Lucas felt like a blow had hit him. His friend had noticed. "Your highness..." Lucas groaned slightly, "Let's keep this to ourselves..."

When someone bumped into Nicholas, Lucas saw who it was and wasn't concerned. It was princess Celia, not someone to be fearful of killing Nicholas, at least, yet anyway. When he heard another voice however, one that belonged to another girl, Lucas looked up and froze. It was the girl from the tournament, and she was there. Lucas didn't hear what was said and hardly heard Nicholas. When Nicholas disappeared into the crowd, Lucas nearly called after him before realizing it probably wouldn't be appropriate. Turning back to the ladies, he gives a smile that shows he isn't entirely easygoing. Lucas would kill the young king once he met back up with him later.

"Ah, hello," He says somewhat nervous. He could handle being around Celia, it was this other girl. Her mask didn't hide her features and he was glad. Her hair was down and her dress a beautiful purple. He wore what a lord probably would have worn though he was no such thing. He stood for a few moments, staring yet again before realizing it. He figured the girl was Celia's lady-in-waiting since she seemed to be a shadow as well. He wondered if he could steal a dance...

It would make Nicholas, and himself, rather happily. So why not? Because if someone recognized him that might be bad, but he was wearing a mask and figured it wouldn't hurt too much. Right? "Ah, I'm sorry for my staring. Um... Care to dance?" He asks, wanting to ease a bit of the awkwardness his staring had caused. He really did get tongue tied around girls didn't he? He was supposed to be arrogant. Not shy. "Hello to you too lady Celia," Lucas adds, far more smoothly, as an afterthought.

Lucas offers his hand to the girl with the beautiful dress and hair as he finally regains his composure, thankful he wasn't still a mess, or worse, a puddle on the floor from the melting he thought he must be doing. What if she said yes? What if she said no? He wasn't sure which would be better, just that he wanted an answer so he could stop agonizing over these seconds that stretch into years. He could dance, fairly well. He had picked it up over the years and though he was graceful, he could get very bored with slow music if his partner wasn't particularly, well, this exact girl in front of him and since he'd never danced with her before, well, he always got bored.

"Pardon my asking, but I didn't catch your name," He whispers softly, now closer to her than he thought possible. He wouldn't share his unless she asked which he really kind of hoped she wouldn't.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
Ulfric looked truly and utterly out of place in the midst of the masquerade. Following some unspoken custom, he had made it his priority to dance with Genevieve for the first song. Unfortunately, he had never been a talented dancer. He moved about in a cumbrous way, most likely stepping once of twice on her trip and perhaps tripping over them more than that. In reality, he hadn't paid attention to the dance. Even though he was not a fan of the dances, he certainly was not that crude. No. Instead, he pondered his life for a moment. It seemed to him that he had grown more philosophical as the years went on. Perhaps that was what happened to one who had a kingdom to preside over, who had to make severe decisions.

His conversation with Alistair seemed to come back to haunt him. For a moment, he felt much like a caged bear, trained and dressed to entertain the wealthy humans who stood around him. He was a warrior, not a king. His eyes darted about behind his mask, and it caused him to nearly lead Genevieve into a nearby couple. The song ended then, however, and he quickly blinked his eyes as if focusing them. Lightly, he gripped her hand in his and raised the pale flesh to his lips. "If you will pardon me now, my love..." he said, cutting himself off slowly. "Sitting down all day made my legs a bit stiff. I'll be at our table if you...want to dance again." He almost didn't dare offer to dance again, but that was a loving thing to do, no?

Occasionally, it pained him to be unable to provide for Genevieve the way he had hoped he had provided for Freya. Still, she seemed happy enough. She seemed to have found a friend in each of his children, a thing he had certainly worried about when she first arrived. In fact, he had highly doubted she would be as friendly with any of them, especially Ronan, as she was now. But Ronan was an enigma, and Ulfric knew there was little point in analyzing it. He smiled quickly at Genevieve, but it was easy to tell it was partially forced.

He retreated to the head table where Alistair had promised to place him and his family. He was the only soul at the table until a servant gave him a goblet of wine. He would have certainly preferred ale or beer, something to remind him of home in the midst of the festivities. Still, the wine was good enough. Anything to ease his anxiety.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image


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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image

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

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

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

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

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Renly Arryn
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
๏ผฒ๏ผฅ๏ผฎ๏ผฌ๏ผนx๏ผก๏ผฒ๏ผฒ๏ผน๏ผฎ
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

Image

โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

"Love is essential, but
gregariousness is optional."

โ€• Susan Cain

โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
The air was alive with chatter and laughter, and casual conversations and introductions were forgotten on the spot between enthusiastic maidens who never really knew each other's names. Laughter was easier minute by minute, spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word. The groups changed more swiftly, swelled with new arrivals, dissolving and forming in the same breath. The fruits they nibbled on were so ripe they exploded in your mouthโ€”melons, peaches, fireplums, most had never tasted such sweetness. Tables lining the stone walls were laden down, practically bursting with food and summerwines so expensive and so good that one could get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone was fat and drunk and rich, well everyone that was someone. People that lived worlds apart from Renly Arryn.

A nobody like Ren had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes, and he didn't miss a beat now. His King was observing all the courtesies, but there was tightness in him that Renly had seldom seen before. Ulfirc said little, looking out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Perhaps balls, galas, and masquerades were not enjoyable affairs to him; they certainly weren't for Renly. Ren hovered around the desert table awkwardly now, a wine goblet in hand, trying his best to look occupied, swaying in time to the music. He wasn't sure why he bothered, it wasn't as if anyone was going to approach him...unless they mistook him for someone important. With that thought, he lowered his mask, which was plain and black--lacking any ornament, so everyone could ascertain for themselves, that there were other people more worth their time. Not that he was antisocial...he was just not in his element, more rather ill at ease among swirls and eddies of people he didn't know.

The royals in attendance were great disappointments to him. The castle servants back in Ostwall spoke of this group often: the peerless nobility, the fiercest warriors of the realm, giants among princes. Ren saw only fat men, red-faced under their beards, sweating through their silks. They waltzed like they were half in their cups; old men pushing young girls backward in eternal graceless circles; holding each other tortuously, fashionably, and keeping in the corners. Their partners weren't much better. The women had their hair so tightly pinned, and dresses so far cinched, that he wondered at how they could move at all, let alone dance. He didn't find it attractive, but judging by the hungry look on the gentlemen's faces, everyone else must have.

Renly chuckled openly as one couple just barely avoided collision with another, drunken apologies murmured as they spun away to a less cluttered part of the dance floor. In truth, He had two left feet, so he couldn't judge. Ren had never been a dancer, his limbs were too long and spindly and tripped him up at every available opportunity.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image

Genevieve smiled through the entire disastrous dance with her husband, properly - although reluctantly- playing her part for Ronan despite how much she just wanted the bloody deed to be done. But she knew there was still plenty of waiting and acting to still be done. She was thankful for her eyes beneath her mask feigning happiness, even though she knew Ulfric wasn't smart enough to be able to tell her faux emotions from the real. As Ulfric excused himself and walked off, she waved with a smile and sighed in disappointment once he had left. She lifted her head to peer over the crowd, searching for Ronan until she felt a calming warmth behind her. Her face lit up with joy and she giggled at his query, turning and instantly being pulled into the next dance.

"Of course." She purred, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder as if it wer almost hovering, staring at him beneath hooded eyes. "You look so handsome tonight." She stated playfully, making it still sound like something a mother would say to her some from an outside view. It was so much more relaxing to be close to Ronan, it took much more effort than it should to remain calm without him near. But, when she was with him all of her problems seemed to melt away. It was funny though, because when she was with him she actually had more trouble than ever. There was the danger of being caught, and of their plans falling through, and others catching on to their romance. Genevieve pushed the thoughts from her mind, moving her hand to the meeting of Ronan's neck and his shoulder, running her thumb along his jaw slowly.

"Don't you think that we should make sure your shoulder isn't hurt too badly?" She inquired, lifting an eyebrow as she placed her hand back over it and frowned with concern.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image

"We both have missed you greatly too," he replied, smiling up at Loras behind his mask. Christoph watched Loras closely as the young man spoke, as if analyzing him, trying to discern something about him from the way he spoke and moved. There were small quirks in the man's actions that he could tell had come from him. Others, Christoph observed, were either of his own making or had been adopted from someone else. "I imagine it is exciting. The forging of a new kingdom is never a boring task. Still, Seabel seems to have come along well. She has a good Captain of the Guard to help her along."

The smile that Loras flashed him brought a smile to the older man's face. Again, it was almost shockingly similar to one he might have given. "A wise man such as yourself will find a way to take advantage of many opportunities." Under certain circumstances, it might have seemed suspicious for the Royal Adviser of any nation to speak so closely with a member of another nation, especially when that was the Adviser's son. Only a fool did not know how dangerous family ties were.

At his son's beckoning, Christoph nodded and followed at a slightly quicker pace until father and son moved in tandem. [b]"What is on your mind, my son?"[/]b] He did not look up as he spoke. It would appear too intimate, and Christoph could tell from Loras's tone that this was a sensitive subject.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Lorelle de Croismare
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK






Image




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: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image


She was funny. He'd forgotten. It had been so long since he'd laughed due to anything other than spite or bitter hilarity that he'd forgotten she made him laugh. It was one of the many things that had first attracted him to her. So many noble women were so concerned with playing their damned game of thrones that when he had met her and they'd had fun together, actual fun, it was as if he'd discovered magic in the world. That magic, he'd later learned to be love. Love that he'd become addicted to, and like any addict once you take the object of their addiction away, they die.

He laughed, chuckling behind his mask as he shook his head. His eyes held hers and the hand that was around her waist pulled her just a little closer.

"I'm nobody, just a swordsman who thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. A swordsman who selfishly requests a dance."

Holding her in his arms he wanted to forget, he wanted to dream again. As the music started and the dancers began to move to the slow, almost sad music Alistair's heart bled. He moved in rhythm with his wife, the woman who still after all that's happened held his heart. As the husband and wife danced they did not speak, he allowed her head to rest on his chest as he held her through the song. He wanted to dream, dream of a time before. When he was happy and she still loved him. Of a time when he wasn't a king and she wasn't a queen and they still had each other. He let the music take him away from his throne, and the war, from Lorelle, and Rosalie's brother and all of it. There was him and there was her and it was perfect.

Cruelly The Rains of Castamere was a short song and they came to a stop. She looked up at him and he realized he hadn't let her go. He still held her there as if they were the only two people in the room. His eyes locked on hers, they drifted to her lips and he could desire nothing more than the gift of her kiss.

"I..."

He began, his voice weak and shaking. He put his hand on the side of her face, brushing a stray strand of her golden hair away from her ear with all the tenderness of a spring breeze. I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry. I've been a fool. All these things filled his mind yet as he opened his mouth, he had not the words nor the strength to speak them.

"Thank you."

Was all he could muster before he kissed her hand and bowed to her respectfully as any good swordsman would bow to a lady. As he turned away and left Rosalie he was grateful for the mask, it masked the pain on his face perfectly as well as the tears on his cheeks.

Image

Image


"The Queen, with increasing regularity."

Loras was never a man who shied away from the shock value of information, it was one of the reasons he enjoyed playing the game as much as he did. It was one of the things that made him so good at it. He never got tired of deciphering the secrets of his enemies, storing that information, then letting those whispers step into the light at the opportune moment. In this case it was the mere surprise of his candor that drew the response from his father that put a smile on Loras's face. He smirked proudly as he walked by his fathers side. He had no idea what his son had been up to and now he did and all that would come of it.

"She's grown rather attached to me of late. I think... if I'm careful, and smart, I can use that. Get the girl, the throne, whatever I want. Certainly there are a few lions in the garden but I figure between the two of us, those big cats won't be much of a problem."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrion Lannister Character Portrait: Cassandra Lannister
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK



Image



A blush rose in Cassandraโ€™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 wasnโ€™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.

โ€Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!โ€ 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. โ€I have to show Mother and Father!โ€ 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.