#asongofgf&bbthreads

a starter with @princeviserystargaryen00

Lucerys stared at the board. His fingers hovered over the board, but as he looked down upon the Cyvasse pieces before him, he found he wasn’t seeing just the game anymore. He looked up to the figure across from him, the fire in the hearth casting shadows across Viserys’s face, turning his younger brother’s place features into something sharper, looking like fire was bringing out little echoes of Daemon that existed within the boy. 

“All these marriages,” Lucerys said, his voice low almost to himself, returning his eyes to the board. “Jace and Baela, and now new ravens coming in of new unions cross the Kingdoms. It’s like watching prices on a board being moved by someone else’s hand. I know Jace and Baela are happy, but how much of it was choice? Did any of the others have say or where they just moved around?”

He slid his dragon forward but paused, his gaze lifting again to Viserys. It had been a while since either of them had spoken, outside of sighs or sounds of victory, as the two had been focused on the game. Lucerys knew Viserys was thinking, always thinking. It was growingly impossible to know what lay behind his eyes, so much complex and sharp then the young child that Lucerys could still easily remember. 

“Do you think they’ll decide for us too?” Lucerys continued, his voice tightening with the thought. “One day, are they going to tell me who to marry? For Driftmark, or legacy, or power.”

The words lingered, and Lucerys shifted uncomfortably, realizing that perhaps he should not be putting this worrying over the future on his younger brother, particularly one that had only known parents of a love match.  He had always known his parents cared for each other, but it was as he grew and watched his mother with Daemon that he could see the difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone. It made him wonder which kind of match he would have.

He glanced down at the board, but his mind was far from the game. Driftmark had always been his future, but there were days when questioned what that would mean. 

“Sometimes I think I haven’t yet seen even half of what I’m supposed to so I can one day rule,” he added softly. “I love the sea, but what do I really know of ruling Driftmark?”

He could feel the weight of his brother’s silence and looked up again, searching Viserys’s face for something, for anything that might hint at what he was thinking. "Do you ever wonder about your future, Viserys?" Lucerys asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What they will expect from you?”

The fire crackled behind them, the only sound in the chamber, as Lucerys’s question hung in the air between them.

(Closed starter for @black-queen-rising)

Daemon had only felt the kind of fear he had when Rhaenyra fell unconscious one other time in his life; in the long hours when all he could do was watch as Laena died after delivering their stillborn son. In the initial panic, he had quickly taken charge, locking down the Red Keep until he was certain their new Queen would not die. His wife hadn't had the chance to appoint a Hand yet, but he'd been the Master of Wars nearly as long as Rhaenyra had been Hand, and poisoning the Queen was absolutely an act of war. He spent the first few hours interrogating any and everyone who could have possibly had a hand in the attempt to kill his wife; it didn't get him very far, but terrifying the usually-simpering nobles did always make him feel better. He doesn't sleep that night, staying awake at Rhaenyra's bedside, and holding her hand as if he could will some of his own life force back into her. The Maesters said she was lucky to be alive, the poison had certainly been meant to kill, but had failed to do so after only a couple of drops managed to pass her lips.

The following morning Daemon left the bedchamber reluctantly in order to help manage what he could of The Court. He went to check on his children first, finding Rhaena and...Aemond? Dozing after spending the night watching the youngest ones. He had no idea what Prince Eyepatch was doing helping his daughter when he was no longer under orders to assist in her duties as punishment. With much more pressing matters at hand, however, he tucked the knowledge into a corner near the back of his mind and made note to keep an them going forward for Rhaena's safety...and sanity, though, at least in that moment, she didn't seem to mind the boy's presence. He found Baela and Jace next, taking comfort in one another's presence as Baela did whatever she could to assist Jace's efforts in taking up command of the Castle and Kingdom in his role as Crown Prince. Daemon filled the rest of his morning taking report from the head and deputy of the Gold Cloaks on possible suspects, though they had not gotten any further than The Rogue Prince himself had managed the night before.

Later that afternoon, Maester Gerardys' lead assistant came to inform him his wife was awake but Daemon doesn't even hear the rest of the man's words before he's darted off towards their rooms once more. As he walked through the door he heard Rhaenyra arguing that she had to get dressed and start tend to responsibilities the Queen herself was fit to oversee, he couldn't help but smile alongside a small shake of his head, at least it seemed her personality was perfectly intact. The relief on her face when she sees him is immediate and he could feel his own expression shift to mirror hers. He toes off his boots, and immediately climbs into bed with her, wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her against his chest without a moment's hesitation. He didn't care that there were other people in the room, he needed to hold her, needed to feel her heart beating against him, everyone else was irrelevant.

Rhaenyra looked up at him with a smile and he returned it before pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Please don't scare me like that again, I don't think I could ever handle losing you." He admitted, his throat tight with emotion, "Our son has done a wonderful job holding things together in your stead, you would be so proud of him. It's only furthered my belief he truly is the best of all of us." Daemon added in an attempt to redirect the conversation, then lets her speak, before inquiring further, "Did you dream at all last night?" Their family was famous for its Dragon Dreams, he had never had one, but his brother had at least claimed to many a time, and he couldn't help but wonder if in all this chaos, something had been drawn from the corners of Rhaenyra's own mind.

Alysanne had arrived at the royal court with a mix of trepidation and excitement, her eyes and ears taking in every sight and sound as she walked the halls of the Red Keep. She knew that this was not going to be her permanent residence, as she was soon going to head off with the Hightower branch of Targaryens to Dragonstone, but she figured it was good to take in what she could while she was here. 

She was already a little late to her planned meeting with the Princess, but she had been distracted by her personal quest to visit the Godswood and its Weirwood tree. Back in Raventree Hall she liked to visit the Weirwood at least once a day, to pray and listen to the cawing of the ravens that filled its branches. She may not be planning to be in King’s Landing for long, but she would continue her habit of visiting the weirwood and leaving offerings of seed or shiny pebbles for the raven’s of the tree. 

Her visit to the hearttree definitely made her more calm and centered, but had also made her late, which was why she was not quick walking the halls as fast as she could while staying in the realm of acceptable lady behavior. If she was in Raventree her skirt would be hiked and she would be full running at this point, but the look on her brother’s face before he left kept her skirts in place. She was sure that her brother would get a letter about her behavior at some point, but perhase not her first day she arrives. 

As she turned another corner she saw an ornate door with two knights cloaked all in white standing at attention. Alysanne paused her rushing feet into a more respectable walk and changed her face to one of worry into her ‘good lady face.’ She approached the door with an introduction, the knight on the left smirking only a little after clearly seeing her sudden change of  to the Kingsgurad before being let in. 

The guard pushed the door open and Alysanne stepped into the chamber, her gaze immediately drawn to the woman seated by the window. Princess Helaena was bathed in teh soft glower of the afternood sun, adding an extra layor of warmth to the woman already dressed in yellow like a welcoming sun. The princess did not seem to notice her entrance, focused as she was on the embroidery in her hands. 

“Your Grace,” Alysanne dipped into a curtsy, her voice steady, “I am Lady Alysanne of House Blackwood, it's an honor to serve you.” She stayed low, waiting for a word, command, or acknowledging hum, but head nod. Eventually, Alys looked up from the floor to see the princesses’ eyes on her, filled with kindness and wonder. 

“Ummm,” At the continued silence, Alysanne rose and held her hands together to stop any awkward fiddling. She had never been a Lady in Waiting, and Raventree Hall had not had a Lady in Waiting since her mother’s passing, so she was not quite sure what she should or should not be doing. “Is there anything I should do Your Grace?”

A Roleplay Blog within @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

(Closed starter for @goldenclarice)

One Moon Ago; The last day of the fourth month, two days before King Viserys’ death

“The Lady-Regent is of House Rowan by birth, gentle, intelligent, and sociable, everything a young Lord-Paramount would be lucky to find in his consort, and that is to say nothing of her connections.”

“Which are?” Rhaenyra’s eyes flitted over to the tall, lithe, and dark-blonde haired woman who stood opposite her in front of a map of The Reach and its borderlands the pair were surveying as she spoke. Lady Willow Fossoway, the eldest child of one of the Tyrell’s strongest banner men, had served as the new Queen’s lady-in-waiting for a decade; she was a stunningly talented musician and composer, so much so that the skill alone was more than enough to keep her in Rhaenyra’s employ, shielded from marriage to a man she would surely find no joy with, and lavished in the company of beautiful but lonely wives and gorgeous, self-abnegating eldest daughters. But the justification was only that, because the true purpose of Lady Willow’s service was as her liege’s principal spy, and spy mistress, in the kingdom’s wealthiest region, the place she was least likely to find allies of her own, the beating heart of The Faith, The Maesters, and the will to see Westeros’ first Ruling-Queen fail.

“The Shield Isles, to begin, she is one of thirteen children, and their Lady-Mother has seen them married despicably well.” Willow laughed shortly, “The eldest three girls all married the now-Lords of the islands, except Southshield, the Serrys are Lady Rowan’s maiden house, their alliance was never in doubt. The heir is my good-brother through Alysanne.”

“The second in your circle?” Rhaenyra questioned, clearly impressed, and Willow nodded satisfiedly.

“The very same! The spare is married to Lord Caswell’s eldest.”

“Wed to a woman set to inherit her father’s fortune, is that not the dream of every second son?” It was the Queen’s turn to laugh, then, and her lady hummed in amused agreement.

“The middle girl is married to the newly inherited Lord Tarly, and the Lady Regent’s closest older sister to the heir to their vassals, Petty Lords by the name of Hunt. As far as anyone can tell all to spurn her mother and the late-Lord Tyrell, which I imagine would’ve made a much larger statement if her sister had not married him herself less than two years later.”

“And the younger ones?”

“The youngest daughter recently came of age, it seems Lady Rowan will settle for no less with her than the heir to House Redwyne, there’s two younger boys as well, it seems they’re waiting in the wings to sure up alliances wherever they’re needed most. The second-youngest girl has accompanied Lady Tyrell to court though,” one of Willow’s perfectly manicured eyebrows raised as she concluded, “They aim high and higher, Lord Cedric and Lady Selyse, and you can be sure there’s soon to come great offense at the match of Prince Joffrey and Lady Alannys. With no marriage pacts to offer and Lord Greyjoy sitting on your council,” she bit the corner of her lip and sighed before concluding, “There may be no true leverage you hold to sway this faction to your side.”

“And their alliances with Oldtown?”

Willow laughed again, but far more harshly than the first, “None to speak of, Your Grace, though certainly not for lack of trying. You mustn’t allow yourself to fall into the trap of seeing these matters as black and white…or even black and green, the late-Lord was no true friend of the Hightowers either, but we will be played for fools if we rely on that simple neutrality.”

“And the late-Lord Tyrell, Lorence, right? Do you know the truth of what happened to him?”

“A skirmish in the Dornish Marches, it was seen by a dozen, and the wounds that caused his demise by thrice that.”

“I see,” Rhaenyra swallowed hard at the feeling of her stomach twisting; the Dornish envoy arrived not a week before, how could she accomplish anything, if she could not even put a stop to this meaningless fighting?

Now; The last day of the fifth month, one week before Queen Rhaenyra’s coronation

The meeting was to be held in the Small Council Chamber, formal introductions had been made on the Iron Throne before her father’s funeral had even come, but this was a conversation between allies, not a missive from a ruler to her vassal. Rhaenyra dressed in gold, daring to hope it would be taken as the show of good faith she intended; what was her reign if not the product of a decade, or three, spent making such gestures.

The Lady Regent is one and twenty, her son, Lyonel, just two.

The reminder bounced around her head, hitting a hundred sore spots on its path. Jace is twenty, Clarice not even a full year older, Rhaenyra herself already had two sons by that age, Joffrey would come before the year was out, she had been ruling Dragonstone nearly five years then. But the memory most in prominent in her mind remained how desperately lonely she had been...and how thoroughly trapped she had felt in the only tangible proof of her father’s love.

She has a mother, a father, half a dozen older siblings too, all supporting her, stop fretting over mothering someone who is not a child, and neither needs, nor wants it…

What would you not have given for the ally you could be to her in this Court? Where would you be if you hadn’t promised yourself so many times the Court you created would not be built off the backs of broken girls?

The battle in Rhaenyra’s thoughts did not cease until the guard outside the door announced, “The Lady-Regent Clarice Tyrell, for you, your Majesty.”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra stood to greet her guest, golden silk swirling around her as silver-gold curls hung elaborately around the Queen’s face and down her back. She was met by a girl with large, dark eyes, wearing an equally lavish gown, who upon closer inspection, could pass for even younger than already apparent youth. Her stomach twisted as the thought intruded into her already fraught mind; the girl you wished so badly for Jace to be…she’d look just. like. her.

Rhaenyra forced a dazzling smile, charm was a skill so practiced in her life she could fake it with an ease most did not even have when operating on intuition. “My Lady, it is a pleasure and a privilege. You have my thanks for making the time to speak privately and I am glad we’ve gotten this chance to acquaint ourselves with one another properly.”

Alysanne’s fingers deftly nocked an arrow, her focus unwavering as she aimed at the distant target. The training yard of the Red Keep was quieter than usual. Alys had become used to the hum, whispers, and sidelong glances she normally received during one of her training sessions, but today was quieter than usual. She drew the bowstring back, her muscles straining with the familiar, comforting tension. With a breath out, she released, watching as the arrow flew true, embedding itself just off the center with a solid thud. 

“Ah fuck.” She said with a sigh before remembering that her brother was very clear that ‘ladies in the capital do not swear.’ Alys took a pause going to retrieve her arrows to take a look around and see if her slip was heard. 

She turned, her eyes scanning the yard until they landed on a vaguely familiar figure leaning casually against a pillar. It took her a moment to scan through the faces in her mind until she landed on a name, Lady Sabitha Frey. The two had met in passing, both being noblewomen from the Riverlands, but nothing more than bows and introductions at crowded Riverland gatherings. But Alysanne was not deft to the rumors of the Lady Frey and found herself breathing out in relief, as she was confident the lady would not be as taken back at her brash language as other ladies might. In truth, the sight of Sabitha Frey brought a small smile to her lips. Perhaps there was someone who might understand the restlessness she has felt since being shipped off to the Red Keep. 

Sabitha stood there, arms crossing and what seemed to be a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. Her presence was a stark contrast to the rigged courtly airs that surrounded them, a reminder of the wild freedom Alysanne missed so dearly. The structures and expectations of the Red Keep felt suffocating at times, a far cry from the forests and open fields of her home where she could ride and hunt to her heart’s content. 

The grandeur and intrigue of the city were both exciting and overwhelming. She enjoyed the company of Princess Helena and her children, but there was still a sorrow for the life she left behind for the sake of ‘being a respectable lady.’ Not to mention, the gossip and sideways glances when she practiced in the training yard were starting to wear on her. It was not so much that she minded, it was just distracting. She missed the familiar comforts of home, of her actions not being constantly questioned by those around her. 

Lady Sabitha’s presence stirred something in her. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she too was known for her unconventional ways, or maybe it was just the comfort of seeing a familiar face from the Riverlands. 

Taking a deep breath, she decided to reach out.

“Lady Frey,” she called out, lowering her bow but keeping her stance relaxed and open. “Care to join me, or are you content to just watch?”

A Roleplay Blog within @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood