* ours is the fury /

Edric Dayne was not afraid of much. Most of his life he’d spent on the road, in the wilds of Westeros. He’d fought bandits - he’d been a bandit, in a sense - and soldiers alike. He’d survived every animal that stalked the woods at night and come out on the other side, if not always whole than at least alive. Thoros of Myr had exposed him to the otherworldly, to magic, and even watching a man rise from the dead had not scared him. In almost every situation, Edric Dayne was unshakable, composed. But dragons? Dragons terrified him.

Several months since his arrival in King’s Landing and the sight of wings blocking out the sun still made his blood run cold. Today was a triumphant day, for the Targaryens and the realm, and so he supposed it made sense that their living sigil would be present at the king’s coronation. Nevertheless, the moment the shadow from the beasts’ wings hit Ned, he turned to enter the cover of the dome.

Dressed in the peak of Dornish style, Ned knew he fit in well with the gathered nobles. As the ruling lord of a powerful family, sworn to the Targaryen’s loyal Martells, he knew how others expected him to feel. Dorne was loyal to the Targaryens, had been loyal to them through rebellion after rebellion. In a way, Ned did feel the sense of triumph the crown expected of him, but in truth, he was more comforted by the relative peace that came with their victory than by the Targaryens themselves. His family’s ties with the dragon kings and queens were extensive, and though he never knew the aunt and uncle who died for them, his maesters made sure he knew just how volatile a Targaryen on the throne could be.

Lost in his musings, Edric wandered along the edges of the room, exchanging smiles and niceties with acquaintances. Feeling a jolt run through him as his shoulder bumped another, Ned stumbled, turning around with a frown on his features. “My apologies - I fear I was distracted by all this splendor,” he explained. Taking in the other figure, his frown deepened; Ned knew a Lannister when he saw one, had met the little princess once or twice during her time in Dorne. This lion shared the same look, but Ned had not realized any of the other Lannisters were present in the capital - or living, truly. Inclining his head in interest, Ned nodded. “Nor I you - I did not realize any Lannisters remained in the capital.”

and splendid it was. there was much to be admired about the structure in which they stood. a history of great depth that even tommen could appreciate. seeing it rebuilt into what could only be described as glory was a big change in embracing a targaryen on the throne once more. “ there is much to be distracted by, “ tommen muses with a softened tone. he notes the change in the other’s facial features almost instantly. it was not an uncommon thing he has been presented with. even during his time as king or if he is being honest with himself before then, his family could retract the most unpleasant reactions from the nicest of people.

there is no use in correcting him. as it was, tommen was a baratheon. despite the tall tales of lions that his mother used to recite to him and the rumors that spread around court, it was the name he had his entire life. he would not fuel the fire or give life to such claims by agreeing or disagreeing. people would always talk, this much he knew.

“i have just recently returned, my lord, in honor of the king.” the words rolled from his mouth easier than he anticipated. tommen did not grow up thinking he would ever rule the seven kingdoms. what his father lacked in wisdom, he made up for in strength. if he were a betting man, then he would have not doubted a long reign. upon his passing, it was never a question of who would take the throne. joffrey was the eldest and therefore, the odds of tommen ever wearing a crown were slim to none. the gods had an interesting way of weaving the fates; building him up a king just to render him a prisoner in his own home. 

though none of that mattered any longer. with no titles, and a pledge to the new king, it would become possible for him to turn his situation around. all he cared about now was remaining near king’s landing to look out for myrcella. her safety meant more to him than his own life. “ you’ve seen them? “ tommen inquires, hoping to transition smoothly into a different topic. “ i never thought there would come a day where i’d look upon a dragon. i almost thought them a myth. “

                  no  part  of  him  wants  to  take  place  in  the  festivities.  though,  knowing  his  position,  he  has  no  choice  if  he  wants  to  avoid  waking  the  dragon.  it  is  in  his  best  interest,  and  his  siblings,  that  he  behaves  himself  and  appears  as  the  proper  hand  of  the  king.  he  won’t  participate  in  the  tourney  or  the  competitions,  merely  watching  on  as  others  bet  for  their  hand  at  winning.  in  another  time,  another  place,  perhaps  he  would.  though,  with  him  desperate  to  be  elsewhere,  he  can’t  see  himself  indulging  in  any  activities  without  there  being  a  consequence.  instead,  he’ll  drink  fancy  southern  wine  and  watch  as  others  make  fools  of  themselves  or  speak  too  loudly  of  things  they  should  not  mention.  at  the  very  moment,  he  finds  himself  in  the  dragon  pit,  admiring  the  work  that  has  already  gone  back  into  the  building.  he  figures  the  dragons  will  be  housed  here,  though  he  wonders  if  they’ll  stay.  something  tells  him  they  won’t  be  chained  up  like  in  the  history  books.

                      even  in  the  unfamiliar  heat,  robb  finds  himself  adorning  northern  leather  and  his  house  sigil  on  his  sleeve.  with  every  piece  of  clothing  he  wears,  he  lets  it  represent  where  his  true  loyalty  lies…  despite  the  hand  of  the  king  pin  attached  to  the  leather  vest  he  wears.  the  only  thing  different  is  that  his  undergarments  are  a  brighter  color  than  usual,  a  pale  blue  that  reminds  him  of  winter.  it  reminds  him  of  their  words  —  winter  is  coming.  aye,  the  harsh  winter  winds  would  come  again  and  hopefully,  by  that  point,  he  would  be  returned  home.

                      he’s  not  paying  attention  when  someone  bumps  into  him.  the  eldest  stark  expects  to  shake  off  the  stranger  and  go  about  his  way,  but  when  he  comes  face  to  face  with  the  previous  king  of  the  seven  kingdoms,  he  has  no  desire  to  flee.  it  almost  disgusts  him,  how  much  the  boy  compares  to  his  mother.  he  can  see  cersei  in  his  eyes  and  it  almost  angers  him.  then,  he  remembers  what  he  promised  myrcella.  how  could  he  forget  ?  if  she  is  a  woman  of  her  word,  then  tommen  is  nothing  like  his  parents,  like  cersei  and  jaime  lannister.  he’ll  see  of  that  for  himself.  the  both  of  them,  once  kings,  now  prisoners.  he  suspects  the  other  has  it  worse,  having  to  renounce  his  titles  and  bend  the  knee.  hopefully,  he  thinks,  viserys  won’t  punish  him  now  that  he’s  submitted.

                      ❝    no  apology  needed,  my  lord.    ❞    robb  tilts  his  head  out  of  respect,  out  of  a  movement  that  will  lead  to  an  offer  of  alliance.  if  viserys  knew  there  was  the  possibility  of  that…  the  thought  causes  him  to  clear  his  throat  and  turn  his  shoulder  to  block  out  the  view  of  others.  was  he  still  a  lord,  after  everything  ?  he’s  unsure  how  to  properly  address  him  now.    ❝    how  have  you  been  faring  with  your  return  to  king’s  landing  ?    ❞    it’s  not  the  right  place  to  have  this  conversation,  but  he  progresses,  keeping  his  voice  low.  robb  hasn’t  seen  tommen  since  they  were  both  boys,  in  the  north  when  his  own  father  was  being  declared  as  hand  to  the  king.  much  has  changed  since  then.    ❝    i  hope…  you’ve  been  treated  well.    ❞

it is not lost on tommen who he is speaking to. the king of the north       now hand of the king       robb stark. perhaps that is the most startling change between the kingdom that he grew up knowing and the one they live in now. the irony of his position is a connection he makes instantly, and he figures he is not the first one to make it. lord eddard stark had been an honorable man. his mother used to proclaim that sentiment with such disdain; as if having honor was a sin the seven gods looked down upon. he did not know lord stark well despite living within the same castle as long as they did. most of the time, tommen was kept in his chambers, learning the names of lords and ladies and their homelands at his grandfather’s request. he never wished anything ill upon the stark family, making it safe to say he hopes this overlap from history turns out differently than the past. 

a moment passes before he acknowledges the tilt of head. with hesitance, tommen returns the gesture. after all his family has done, there is no reason for the hand of the king to offer him anything but a passing glance. instead he offers kindness. a welcomed surprise, to be sure. a small, passing smile flashes across his lips before promptly disappearing. his return to king’s landing was no easy feat. standing in this room struck at every nerve within his body. he lost count of the days that he spent separated from his sister, though he was assured she was safe in the court. or, at least as safe as one could be in the presence of a dragon ( and he isn’t thinking about the ones flying overhead ). 

❝ i was born in king’s landing, ❞ the blond begins, eyes momentarily drifting to the doors that led back outside before his attention returns to robb himself. ❝ for most of my life, i knew nothing else. this place was my home. ❞ if he were walking through the halls of the castle, he could pinpoint a dozen spots that held memories to him. he used to count every building that his eyes could see from the window of his room, wondering if he was doing better for the people inside than his brother before him. much had changed, indeed. ❝ and yet i feel like an intruder. i don’t quite recognize much anymore. ❞ tommen knows admitting this in the wrong company could mean life or death but he did not fear the man before him. 

she hated this building.  it was among the problems that had lead to the decline of her house.  it was built to house the royal dragons , as decreed by maegor the cruel.   those that were raised in her never again grew to the size of the conquerors’ dragons ; balerion , meraxes and vhagar.   and her children had naturally found the place.  they roosted where their own ancestors had.  but they were free to come and go ,  for now.  still , she wonders if viserys only rebuilt the place for it’s significance in his coronation , or if he had lasting uses for the building.  

at the first mention of it’s reconstruction , she found herself resolute.  her children would not be locked away.  

such dark thoughts came to her as she entered the building.  but high above they were stretching their wings.  their calls to each other , and perhaps their mother , could still be heard as she crossed the threshold.  

they all turned to her as she appeared.  clad in red and black , with dragons overhead , she was sure she appeared the visage of a true targaryen.  a nod and reluctant smile was given before she dived into the crowd.  

for now , she was mingling.  until her brother appeared the the event was set into motion.  she was talking with a friend , an ally , when another bumped into her.  she turned to see golden hair and lion sigils.  tommen baratheon , the should-be king , had she and her brother not stolen it from him.

❝    ah  ,   nor i you.   ❞    those who’s lives her brother ripped away seemed to be everywhere.  no , not her brother.  she’d ripped them away. 

the perfectly constructed mask made of stoicism and civility abandoned his features. while he had prepared himself to be in the presence of the targaryens ( he means to do nothing more than pledge his fealty to the king ), the reality of standing before the mother of dragons was a feeling like no other. 

❝ i apologize once more, princess. ❞ he murmurs with a bow.  ❝ my mother would always reprimand me for having my head in the clouds. especially at events such as these. ❞ for a moment, he could reminisce without any thoughts or emotions of loss. as wicked as cersei lannister could be towards him, one could not doubt her love.

a deer in a lair of dragons. how would that turn out? he turns to the men who guard him, knowing that their allegiances overall aligned with the princess. a prisoner of the reach was far less valuable if the royal family wanted him dead. ❝ i know it must be a surprise but i mean you and your brother no disrespect.       i am here to bend the knee. ❞ he wondered if she had an idea of this information or if it was merely gossip among the people of king’s landing. 

Part of Rickon just wanted to ditch the whole ceremony and stay as far away from the new King as he could. The other part though, wanted to be around his family, the protective side of him hitching to keep his family safe even though he knew there wasn’t much he could do here, if the King decided to turn against them. He knew Robb was the Hand of the King but that didn’t really mean anything, he wouldn’t be the first one to be executed by the King himself. And the Stark men didn’t seem to be very lucky whenever they were named Hands. 

Rickon was pulled away from his thoughts when he felt a shoulder bump into him. Turning his head to look at the other, he spotted a young looking man, along with a trail of guards behind him. Well, that was different, Rickon wasn’t sure who this was but it either was someone important or someone who was dangerous, or at least someone the King saw as dangerous. “Do not worry, my lord.” He said, shaking his head. “It is quite alright, it seems many of us are lost in thoughts now a days.”

a familiar face comes into view though tommen is unable to pinpoint why he senses they have crossed paths before. people came and went from the capital more times than he could count. a young mind could only holster so much information at once. he nods in a placating manner, hoping to draw away from the hint of embarrassment that lingered from his actions. the last thing he wanted to do was bring any attention towards himself. if all went well, he would be in and out within the hour. wishful thinking.

“ there are times where thoughts are a better place to be, “ tommen agrees, lips pressed in the semblance of a polite smile. 

“ you’re from the north, aren’t you? “ the accents always gave them away. there was nothing subtle about the northern people. it was a trait the young man could admire. “ you’re a long way from home. “ though the two of them knew there weren’t many other options to choose from when a king holds a coronation. 

as early as he could remember, his family held the power of the seven kingdoms. his father, his brother, himself; even his mother and grandfather had a hand in the cards that were dealt. growing up in king’s landing, tommen baratheon had experienced things of the grandest nature. he never expected just how differently his home could look under a different king. dragons were merely tales of a time well in the past; personified in a black and red sigil with three heads. he could not recall a moment where he was genuinely struck with awe. a single glance in the sky revealed a cluster of large shadows, shaped in the very creature he heard so many stories about. despite the amount of people gathered outside of the renovated structure, tommen ventured into the building (as if it were safer than the alternative); a trail of guards watching his every move following a step behind him.

the atmosphere was nearly enough to fool him. lords and ladies from each and every kingdom dressed in their finery. drinks and foods of all kind being passed around. it nearly fooled him into believing his life did not currently hang in the balance. he had heard of farmers who set their animals up comfortably before slaughtering them and wondered if this picture before him held any semblance to that thought. of course, tommen had made his intentions known prior to his arrival in king’s landing. declare yourself void of any titles and bend the knee. it is the one chance you have at saving your own life. 

as he takes a glass of wine that is handed to him, he thinks his mother would be filled with fury at the thought of his submission. her words could cut like glass and a part of him was fascinated by her; a bigger part frightened by her. still, he could not help but think he could use her guidance now. he inhales deeply, emerald eyes lifting from the floor at the same moment his shoulder bumps into another. 

“ forgive me, my lord/my lady/your grace. “ it was once his duty to be familiar with the faces of those who resided within the seven kingdoms or at least of clues that could hint to who stood before him. “       i did not expect to see you so soon. ” 

i just want to start off by saying hey, i haven’t been in a proper rp in years so please forgive me if it takes me a hot minute to catch up with the trends. but i am super excited to be here, my got rewatch has me inspired. if plotting is still a thing or you think there is something you want to clarify between our characters, i’m more than willing to talk things out! 

name: tommen baratheon  titles: rightful lord of storm’s end (or so he believes) allegiance: publicly, he is aligning himself with the targaryens. however, due to the recent events, he is a bit cynical and his overall allegiance lies with himself and his family. but if he is to survive then he knows he cannot trust everyone with that information.  religion: faith of the seven. relations: for the time being, tommen believes he is the son of robert baratheon and cersei lannister. he knows of the rumors concerning his mother and his uncle jaime but as a follower of the seven and previously being on the throne, he did not want to entertain the idea then or now. 

the reason tommen is in king’s landing is because he believes his only chance of survival is to denounce himself of any and all titles (this would be his right to the throne and storm’s end), bend the knee and pledge his loyalty to king viserys. 

his mother and uncle are missing and while he prays that they are alive and well, he hopes they do not turn up in fear of what could happen to them.