Miscellaneous Logs

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Olena: The radiant summer sun shone across the blossoming array of flowers that was the main garden of the Reach’s capital, Highgarden. Flowers of every color, shape, and size thickly scented the air with an aroma one might only dream to encounter. Surely, on a sound breeze the scent could be smelt among the villages themselves. Cobblestone paths twisted about in winding pathways, passing gracefully posed marble statues of women or mythical creatures. Seated beneath a silk-draped pagoda was the youngest daughter of the great lord of the reach, her green and golden eyes glued to the small manuscript before her, her lips mimicking the sounds of words. The cover read, “High Valyrian Vol. 4.1,” lover of languages as she was, she could often be found perched in a corner flipping through the pages of something that would enhance her knowledge of such. The lavish life of Highgarden could be somewhat monotonous, aside from occasional outings to see to the welfare of their subjects. She often sought escape through literature or reading tales of kings, queens, and knights. Her family was a very charitable lot, but they seldom gave anything without expecting something in return. Accepting an orphaned ward, though undoubtedly good, meant that said child would grow up in some sort of service to the liege; however, such also made for a profitable career for said ward. Odessa reclined back against the pillows she had arranged about her, closing her eyes and saying the words over and over, placing them into sentences. Her fingers ran across the silver embroidery of her emerald gown, tracing out the flowers and vines.

Cymedr: [size=11pxThe clang of steel colliding against steel reverberated through the courtyard while the stench of sweat attempted to dominate that of the blossoming flowers spread all throughout Highgarden. Two men danced around each other at the very center of a nearly empty courtyard save for a few servants watching the two men go at it. The taller of the two would grin, his green and golden eyes watching his opponent warily, patiently waiting for him to make another move. This young man was the youngest son of the lord of the Reach, and by far the greater of the two if it were to be judged upon his opinion. He watched as his opponent’s gaze shifted from his face and towards his waist, even for the briefest of moments, he had anticipated the attack before it had even begun. Keeping a firm but light grip on his sword he brought it to the side just in time for it to taste the steel of the blade that otherwise would have met flesh. Smirking slightly he would step forward, shifting his weight and forcing his blade to move, sparks dancing from between the two swords. Having forced his opponent to open up, Xerxes closed the new distance between the two of them in a manner of seconds, faking a swing towards his opponent’s arm which had tricked him into leaving his head unprotected. With a practiced ease he would raise his sword with a look of finality about his movements, cracking the pommel against his head and swiftly and dropping him onto his knees in a daze. Staring calmly down at the man he would raise his sword, firmly pressing the blade against his throat with just enough force to make it sting, “Do you yield?,” his voice was smooth, each word sounding as if he had chosen them with great care. The other man, shamed at his lost would nod as softly as he could without cutting his neck open. Xerxes would grin, replacing his sword back into its sheath and helping the man up, “You just need more practice. I’d suggest you get some soon, else your Father send you to the Wall.” Without another word the young Lordling would turn on his heel, making his way to what he had officially proclaimed to be his sister’s favorite place, the main garden she adored so. Upon arrival he briefly scanned the garden for the familiar locks of brown hair that associated with his family, “Odessa? Where’re you hiding?” It hadn’t taken him long to find her nestled against an array of pillows, her closed eyes suggesting that she were asleep, but her constantly moving lips confirming otherwise, “I shall never understand what it is you find interesting about those manuscripts. Nothing but boring words, they are.”[/size]

Odessa: Her mind had begun to wander, using the words to carry out an imaginary conversation with some great lord in some grand setting, but it was cut short by the familiar sound of her brother’s cheery voice. Thankfully, his passion for learning languages hadn’t extended quite as far as her own, for he’d tease her to no end given the content of her conversation if he could only understand it. A smile slipped onto her lips for this was the sibling she loved most. They were born less than a year apart from one another, and had been nearly inseparable since she could first crawl after his toddling. “ I find that they grant us the ability to be anyone we so desire, and go anywhere we wish whenever we so choose.” She raised herself up on her elbows, opening her eyes to look upon the debonair tower of a man that stood before her, who only a few years ago was multiple inches shorter than she. The scent of his sweat and musk quickly assaulted her nostrils, causing her nose to shrivel. She reached over and plucked a flower from one of the flower vases arranged all about the gazebo, taking a whiff before lowering it to her chest. “I trust you found victory in battle against the ward?” She twisted the rose about between her pale fingers, the thorns having previously been removed by the florists. She half giggled to herself thinking of the cocky lad taking on a son of Highgarden, having been trained in the art of knighthood since boyhood, head family of the region in which being a knight was taken the most seriously. She motioned toward the spot beside her on the bench with a nod of her head. Out the corner of her eye she spotted the sandy-colored head of their father entering the gardens from the great house, but he was a bit of a distance from the two of them.

Cymedr: Smiling down at his younger and most beloved sister he would raise a brow slowly upon her answer to his question, “What more could you want to be other than my beautiful sister?,”. Her near instant reaction to his scent resulted in mirthful laughter to escape from his lips, the sound itself enough to bring a new light into the area. His response was thought-filled, each word perfectly chosen to fit the situation, “Of course. Quite the arrogant boy, but perhaps with some more training he could become quite the swordsman,”. It really wasn’t a fair fight, but he had decided that the ward needed to be taught a lesson, and so he had chosen to fight. Closing his eyes for a moment he would take a deep breath, smiling softly as the smell of the various flowers invaded his nostrils, “I may need to bathe myself, though I’d hate to do so alone. Perhaps I’ll ask someone to accompany me…” With a simple shrug of his shoulders he would take a seat on the bench beside her, folding his hands over his lap casually, his green and gold orbs shifting towards the brief image of his father entering the garden. Smiling warmly he would stare at her manuscript, frowning slightly, “What shall we do today? Nothing boring, I’ll not allow you to force me into another one of your boring lessons.” Furrowing his brow while he thought Xerxes would absentmindedly gaze at the flower in her hand, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, “Perhaps we can take a trip into the forest? Maybe I can force you into one of my lessons?”

Olena: She blushed, bringing the rose up to the tip of her nose and batting her thick brown lashes at him, “Brother, you flatter me, but I might imagine myself as the beloved of some gallant knight, perhaps even a lord. Not just any man though. Anyone can become a knight, but one who has that genuine raw skill. He earns his keep, accepts defeat and learns from it, and that makes others believe in him. Despite all who may come to adore or worship him, he places me above them all.” Being a daughter of the Tyrell’s of Highgarden she’d come with one of, if not the largest dowries in the entire kingdom, and in all actuality the idea wasn’t so far-fetched—quite the realistic dreamer. Xerxes’s boasting of superiority over the lesser squire, though rightfully so, amused her thoroughly—he was as vain as any woman. He was always so sure of himself. Odessa shook her head at the mention of his bath, “You and your kitchen whores,” she chuckled. With a quick flick of the wrist she tossed the rose into his lap, tucking one of her feet beneath her and sitting up straight. The sound of their younger cousins playing and running about filled the air, servants running to and fro to finish their chores as quickly and efficiently as possible, all the while leaving the two of them to their business as the “spare heir and heiress” of the Tyrell household. Their older brother would be being prepped on the running of the Reach, and their poor widowed sister, forever in mourning, would likely be accompanying their mother in her duties as mistress of the household. “You must watch how you word things, brother, they’re likely to mistake us for a pair of Lannister’s,” she chuckled. “Although, it seems as though father has different plans for us. He’s in one of his hurries and headed straight for us.” She gave her brother a thoughtful look, promptly rising to her feet, sliding her feet back into the slippers that she had placed on the floor beside the bench. As he drew closer she dipped him a quick curtsy of respect, “Lord Father. I hope you are well.” The tall and slender man stepped beneath the gazebo, pushing a sheer curtain aside, looking directly at his daughter, and hardly acknowledging his son’s presence. His expression was unusually joyous today, much different for the smile he adorned for the crowds. He reached forward taking her hands, nearly squealing with excitement. “Odessa, my darling! I have the most wonderful news. You shall bring great honor to this house, thank the gods you were born a girl! Who’d have thought the youngest of my children would rise the highest, and a daughter at that?!?!” She was pleased to see her father in such great spirits, but she wondered that he had not indulged in some of the strong wine they typically saved for feasts. “What is it my father? What has happened?” He stepped back, looking over her like his most prized possession. “You are to marry into House Baratheon!” Her heart immediately sunk to the pit of her belly, thinking only of the widowed and heir less king Alexander. The king was a known madman, raising taxes beyond the ability of most to pay them, locking himself in rooms for fear of being murdered, and even causing his late queen so much duress that she died delivering a still-born son months before its time. “Prince Dante, Lord of Dragonstone has agreed to take you as his bride, and when he claims the Iron throne, you, my dear, shall be queen of the seven kingdoms.” She was stunned, completely at a loss for words, so much so that her heart seemed to stay firmly planted at the bottom of her belly. “Prince Dante...? Baratheon? Queen, how? There’s a rebellion?...Father…. I think I shall faint.”

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Olena: Fabric was strewn all across the room. Laces, linens, silks, and damask littered the bed, tables, and seats alike. It was a fortune’s worth that most would never live to see in their lifetimes, and yet the respective owners were unsure which pieces would make the best quality for the small woman who stood upon a stool in the center of the room. The high lady of house Tyrell, examined her daughter adjusting the necklines of the gowns and making sure the waist was taken in enough to accentuate the girl’s newly-blossomed figure. “The white silk with a lace overlay will do.” She said tapping on her chin, “Don’t you think so Odessa?” The servants brought the mirror closer as the daughter motioned towards it. “Yes lady mother, but the one with the pearls. I feel the diamonds are a bit excessive just yet.” She stepped down from the platform, her skirts brushing the lavishly carpet floor. She grabbed a goblet from the table at the foot of her bed, where she was oft served her morning meal, and filled it with the contents of the pitcher, a sweet wine from the Norther portion of the Reach, slightly watered down to suit her tastes. “We must awe the people, for certain. This moment will forever stand out in their memories; however, we must not present ourselves as too highly-risen, lest they feel we shall only be of service to ourselves.” The people of the Reach would not be surprised or the least bit offended to see one of the ruling house’s daughter riding out with a gold-encrusted frock draping with jewels, but the people of King’s Landing associated such with that of the current despot and his lot. Mix that with starvation, and you’re not likely to be a house favorite. “Have the preparations been arranged to pass out the bread and ale as we proceed down the streets? I want them all to have a full belly with a drink in both their hands, granted they have them.” Davena smirked at the growing politician that was her daughter, “You are wise beyond your years child. They shall adore you.”

Amaraylis: Ah, women. To think that such a luxury would be made available to every man in this country is almost too good to be true. Or, at least, that’s what one particular Lord of the Tyrell house would say to every female that he’s ever had the opportunity to converse with. “Surely, the good lord jests,” The young maiden would say with a gentle laugh, twirling a strand of her silky, golden hair around with her forefinger, “If I am that alluring to you, then I would have been married off by now.” The brown-haired male that she had been sprawled out upon would raise an amused eyebrow, his green orbs glancing down her entire figure, before he would let out a soft chuckle. “My words are true,” The eldest Tyrell would say, his lips curving upward into a slighted smile, as he gestured for the female to move off of him, “You are the finest luxury any man can have.” At his words, the young woman would glance up at him with a hopeful look laid out across her pale face. It was evident that she had been through a lot during her time as a prostitute, but have never met someone as...as complimentary as this particular lord. Not to mention the fact that he was also rather good on his end of the bargain during their eventful night. The request was practically on the tip of her tongue. Would he allow her to stay? He certainly saw something in her that no one has before...does she dare hope for more? A good, wealthy lord like himself...taking her in? As she removed herself from the man and stepped back in order for him to rise from his bed, she would almost bring herself to speak her thoughts aloud when the sound of his voice kept her from doing so. “ And that, my beautiful temptress, is why I cannot indulge myself in you for too long,” were the Lord’s exact words, as he grabbed for his undershirt, tossing it on hastily, before smirking knowingly at the maiden, “But worry not. I’ll try and see you again soon. Perhaps in two days? I would most certainly need to release myself again.” Of course, he wouldn’t exactly say why he needed to distress himself, but he figured it shouldn’t matter. He had been working like a mule, prepping himself for the undertaking of the Reach with little to almost no time for himself. It was a miracle that he was able to see his siblings that day, due to their Lord father having been off on another important matter. One that Merek could only assume to have involved his youngest sister’s engagement to a particular crown. As for the prostitute, the look on her face after he had finished talking was one that Merek was familiar with it well enough. She looked confused and ultimately disappointed at his sudden lack of...well, concern for her well-being. He had just used her and now he was willingly tossing her back to where he had gotten her from. A brothel, to be exact. “Ah, come now, don’t fret. I have other important matters to attend to. You may see yourself out,” He’d say, bowing his head and reaching a hand out to cup her cheek, “Till we meet again.” With that, Lord Merek would peck the young maiden on the lips once, before he would grab the rest of his attire and tossing it on, while making his way into the hall towards where he guessed his sister and his Lady Mother would be. “You best make yourself look presentable, sister of mine!” Merek would say loudly in a teasing tone, announcing his arrival, before he would actually approach the door, “It has been awhile since I’ve seen you and I shall not have the patience to wait for you to let me in.”

Cymedr: The sky was clear, and the scent of blossoming flowers fell over the main garden of the Reach’s capital, Highgarden like a blanket. It was mostly empty save for a few servants scurrying about trying to finish their duties as quickly as was possible. Quite suddenly, and loudly, an annoyed shout would emanate from within the center of the garden, causing for a far too curious servant to peek their head around the corner of the pagoda. Seated in the corner with his hands covering his face would have been none other than Xerxes Tyrell, his hair which he had normally kept combed to satisfying perfection now a complete mess, while ink blotches stained his slender fingers. Various scriptures lay scattered about him, while a now mostly empty bottle of ink lay on the ground, with a small amount of ink, nowhere near enough of what was in the bottle splattered against the carpet,”Damn it..,”. With an annoyed sigh he would comb his fingers through his hair before standing up, revealing that the rest of the ink was stained into his tunic. The young servant would rush to his aid, worry set upon her features, “M’lord! These clothes are ruined, we must get you out of them!” With another exhalation of breath he would shoot her a look, his green and gold orbs reflecting his annoyance, “Yes, I can see that. Have someone clean this mess up, I need to go see my sister.” Turning angrily on his heel he would storm off to his quarters, taking care to slam the door shut upon entry, as if to emphasize his anger. Xerxes knew that he didn’t have the time to draw himself a bath, so instead he tore the ruined tunic off and tossed it onto the floor fitfully. Giving what used to be his favorite piece of clothing other than his armor a disdainful look he would grunt softly, staring down at his ink-stained fingertips, “The last time I try and study those old scripts again. They’re ancient for a reason…” Removing the rest of his clothing he would swiftly move towards his wardrobe, quickly throwing on a clean outfit. It was when he was halfway through shoving his foot into a boot when there was a knock on the door, and with an annoyed roll of his eyes he would stuff the rest of his foot into the boot and walk to the door, cracking it open slightly, “What is it?,”. The young servant boy on the other side of the door would take a small step backwards, as if the young Lordling’s harsh tone was actually hurtful,”I-I was ordered to b-bring this to your chambers Your Lordship,”. Without another word he would hold a bucket out, the obvious sound of water sloshing about inside,”Oh..,” taking a deep breath to calm himself Xerxes would take the bucket, offering the younger boy a small smile, “Thank you..,”. Closing the door he would move back into his room, setting down the bucket and removing the soaked rag from inside, carefully washing what ink he could off his hands, as well as fixing his hair as best as he could. It was only when he was completely satisfied with his appearance that the young man would leave his chambers, moving off into the general direction he assumed Odessa would be. The familiar sound of his older brother’s voice caught his attention, adjusting his course so that he was now moving towards where he figured it had come from. Not surprisingly, he could see his brother waltzing down the hall, calling out to their sister quite loudly, “Ever so bold, brother..,” he would mutter beneath his breath seconds before he picked up his pace so that he was striding beside Merek, his brow raised slightly, “Does the phrase “no shouting” mean anything to you? Honestly, brother,” grinning wryly he would clap a hand on his shoulder, “All of Highgarden doesn’t need to know you’re visiting her.”

Olena: Odessa jerked her head towards the door, hearing the sound of Merek’s voice fill the gallery outside her chambers. The faces of all the women in the room flushed to the brightest shades of red and pink. While rolling her eyes she motioned for the closest one to open the door, and it turned into the slightest of scrambles, four of them unsure which was to complete the assignment. “One at a time ladies, contrary to what my brother may enjoy, this day is not about him.” A smirk fell onto her lips as she continued about the room, looking over the fabrics and sipping from her goblet. “What is so urgent that you have decided to put all of my ladies-in-waiting into a tizzy for?” she called out, turning the faces one hue deeper. Hearing Xerxes’s voice join in a less than appropriate thought slid past her mind, causing a chuckle. “Gods, they don’t stand a chance now.  Lady Mother, I feel as though this is all your fault somehow. You made them.” Davena grinned, laughing under her breath and rolling her eyes like her daughter had. “I cannot help that the gods saw fit to grant me the most beautiful children and charming children in all of the seven kingdoms. Blame fate daughter mine.” “Oh believe me, I do.” She lifted a nearly sheer silk from off the bed. “I take it this will be the equipment by which I seize the heart of the king after he seizes the throne? We’ll have to add a ribbon in there somewhere unless you just plan to drape it over me.”

Amaraylis: Merek, of course, was the type of person who felt no shame and saw no shame in others. In his opinion, if one must do something, then they must do it proudly. What’s to life if there is no dignity and honor in everything that is done? And as he walked down the main hall of the castle, the eldest son to Lord Julian and Lady Davena would live true to his words, while nonchalantly fastening his belt around his waist with his chin tipped upward. Not a moment after he had turned a corner would the familiar voice of his younger brother arose from behind him. “Ah, Xerxes,” The older of the two would say, smiling humorously, as he shrugged his brother’s hand off of his shoulder in order to run a hand through his tousled head of hair, “ I’ve grown out of using my ‘well-mannered tone,’ in case you have not noticed, brother. Establishing a boisterous tone is what makes a woman want to hear you, ah, say her name, no?” Merek would begin to fix the cuffs around his sleeves, winking at the other, before the two of them would continue their walk down the corridor where their beloved sister’s chambers stood. Now if he had to be honest, Odessa would probably be his more favored sister due to the fact that Laurel had been slightly distant since her late-husband had passed. It was a tragedy, truly, but deaths happened and Laurel was a creature of beauty, much like the rest of the Tyrell children. She would find another suitor within a year’s time, if not sooner. Merek had assumed her period of mourning would have been over within a week, but alas, he had been proven wrong. To this day, his dear twin would remain aloft from him, much to his discontent. But, of course, there were still his other siblings. And with every moment that he spent with Xerxes and Odessa, Merek found it a lot easier to be at home, as opposed to the brothel, whenever he had free time. A few steps further and the brothers would arrive in front of their sister’s door, which would suddenly be thrown open before Merek could even bring a hand up to turn the knob himself. The older male would blink, before raising his eyebrows curiously at the red-faced maids and nod his head in greeting at them. “Lovely as always,” He’d say to each of the help, ignoring their flustered reactions, as he turned to look at his sister and mother, “And Lady Mother, beautiful children come from beautiful mothers. You certainly haven’t changed since I’ve last seen you, but I must ask, have you gotten younger?” The Lord would say, grinning, as he held up the Lady of the House’s hand and planted a gentle kiss upon it. “And as for you…” Merek would say, while his gaze moved to brush over Odessa’s features, as well as, her attire. Had he been gone for so long? It had not even been a week since he had heard of his sister’s engagement and now...he’s forced to see her mature right before his eyes. Odessa would make a magnificent bride to the future king, that he was most definitely certain of. “You’ve gotten older, I see,” Merek would fold his arms across his chest, as his lips twitched upward into his usual smirk, “Oh, how I miss the times when the four of us would run about in the gardens, using mud for play and causing mother to get worked up over our ‘ruined’ outfits.”

Olena: She cocked an eyebrow at him, resting her free hand lightly on her rounded hip, “Older? By which I hope you mean matured into a devastatingly beautiful /young/ woman.” She pushed the dark brown braid back over her shoulder, and gracefully sat herself down into the char near the table from which she had poured her wine, refilling the chalice and motioning towards it for her brothers. Her eyes took them in, two of the most handsome men in all the seven kingdoms, they would likely impregnate half of King’s Landing within a week, and they meant the world to her. Bringing them both to the capital, per her father’s instruction, put their lives at risk just as much as it did her own. Xerxes would join the Kingsguard, and judging by the contract she had signed, Merek would be the King’s new Master of Coin for the small council—‘Prince Dante agrees to make a Tyrell Master of Coin as soon as he forms his small council.’ She would have to do all that was in her power to keep them safe. Her family meant everything to her. Having already spoken with her father on the matter, a group of their Roseguard would be offered up for the purpose of guarding her person and that of any royal offspring. She’d not leave the safety of herself and possibly her children in the hands of a group of selected men she hardly knew and trusted only as far as she could throw, save for her brother. “We are having your attires prepared for the wedding and coronation to follow.  Green silk doublets with embroidered roses, and long golden capes. There must be no doubt in the king’s mind who he is marrying, or how thick the garden of roses shall be surrounding his herd of stags.”

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Sunnae: Home has never felt less homely to a man like Merek Tyrell - especially, after a long and rather annoying night due to his mother’s excessive demands, telling the help which way to go and what to clean. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that a wedding was in the near future, of course, and it was also very clear that Davena Tyrell was going to make sure everything goes right for her daughter’s matrimony to the Mad King’s banished brother. And as much as Merek adored his youngest sister… It was annoying, to say the least. But it was all in good favor of business and for that, he would endure. “Pardon me…” his words were light but his expression showed otherwise, considering his lack of sleep the night prior. “Ah, you. With the golden hair.” Lifting a simple hand, he’d pause in his trek down the lengthy hall and turn his green hues onto the woman who had paused upon hearing him beckon for her. She was youthful - about thirty at the oldest and he found it odd that he has not seen her before that day. Merek would make a mental note of getting her to help him with his bath later on in the evening, since he currently had a different matter to address while she was in his presence. “Lady Odessa. Is she around here?” He was curt but as he continued to eye her expectantly, Merek couldn’t help but lay a hand on the maid’s shoulder, running his thumb over her bare collarbone just briefly - temptingly. The girl, whose name he had failed to even ask for, would visibly gulp and nod towards where his sister’s chambers stood. “Lady Odessa is in her room, my Lord. But she is wi-” “Confirmed. No need to say anymore.” Merek was quick to interrupt and without much more than a brush against the maiden’s chin - the eldest son would be off towards Odessa’s bedroom, completely unaware of their present house guests, though his excuse would be that he had overslept until late. “Sister of mine,” he’d call out, voice booming casually but loudly along the walls. It didn’t take him long to arrive in front of her doors; however, and with only a mere two-beat knock to announce his presence - Merek would then choose to allow himself entry instead of waiting for her to give him permission to. It wasn’t like he had never seen her naked, after all. “What is this? Mother’s nagging’s got you hiding in your- ….” Curse his boldness. This certainly was not the sight he had been hoping to see, but it was what he had received nonetheless. And so, with grace, Merek Tyrell would nod his head in a show of respect. “I didn’t mean to...intrude. Your Highness.”


Olena: She glanced over at the busy women, scattering about the room with their previously assigned tasks, one being to prepare clothes while the other was to be sure that the attraction between their lady and her royal intended went no further than her touching him as intimately as possible without really ‘touching’ him at all. All a part of her lady mother’s plan to make him want his future bride as badly as he wanted whatever awaited them in King’s Landing—the peace of his people. If there was one thing the women of The Reach knew how to accomplish, it was to take innocent desire and turn it into a burning lust and or passion that could last a life-time. The young prince wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore come the eve of their wedding, and if Odessa survived that ravaging of her body, she’d not leave the Reach a newly-established family of two for long. Although, this plan seemed to be going both ways for the unexpectant lady Odessa, who was using all of her own will-power to keep her mind on the task at hand. After he had protectively reached out and brought her to his side when she found herself unsteady she felt every follicle on her body stand on end. If it were not for the multiple layers of clothing ladies wore, she’d find herself seemingly embarrassed for the tautness of her breasts. As she stood before him, awaiting his question, her eyes lowered if only for a moment as she twiddled the ring on her finger, and she caught the briefest of glimpses of a noticeable pressure in the front of his trousers. Her eyes immediately shot back up to meet his own, which did nothing short of deepen the crimson that had already seized her once-glossy rose complexion. His suggestion of stepping outside came as a bit of relief. “Yes, I think some air would be..” The doors to her chambers swung open and in-stepped her oldest sibling, the heir to Highgarden himself, Lord Merek Tyrell. “Merek!” she startled for a moment, dropping him the briefest of curtsies, given his station was not far enough above her own for her to dip much further than a slight bend of the knee. All the ladies sank to the floor to acknowledge the future Warden of the South. “Dante, may I present to you my brother, Lord Merek, oldest son and heir to Highgarden…your master of coin. Merek, I give you his Royal Highness, Prince Dante Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, my fiancé.” She lifted her chin high, giving him an ‘if you /ever/’ look, but knowing fool-well she’d best expect it for the remainder of her days, given the correct company.


Pre-wedding Excerpt


Olena: The servants had been given orders to fill a bath with warm water in the chambers of the Lady Odessa, lining the silver tub with linens to prevent her slipping or her skin being bare against the metal. Precious oils were placed in the waters, and petals from the golden roses set to float atop, all to soften and perfume the skin. Before the bride would be dressed for the midnight ceremony, which differed from most weddings in the faith of the seven that took place around high-noon, she had to be made ready and fresh for her lord husband. The oils therein would serve to enhance the desire of a man, causing his blood to rise at the scent. She arrived back at her rooms, and her ladies motioned her towards the tub which sat in a side room before a balcony, sheer silks blurring the view for anyone who might look down from another part of the castle but letting in light and granting the ability to see out across the castle grounds. Odessa’s gowns and jewels would be stripped, her hair freed from its braid, until she stood before Arylsse and the other two ladies that had accompanied her therein, but such was nothing new nor had it ever bothered her. Her lady would hold out a hand for her to hold as she stepped over the side of the basin, in case she were to slip. The ladies would step out and serving girls clothed in light silks would take their place. They’d begin to rub the oils against the young lady’s skin, washing her back and other areas that might sweat or produce an odor. Another would pour a pitcher of water over the long brown waves of hair, also pouring on oils to wash it, then wrapping the crown of her head with a linen cloth to let it dry and prevent it from curling. Once they had finished she waved them off so that she might soak for a moment longer, and they stepped to the other side of the room, wrenching out their rags and such. Then, there was a light knock at the door followed by the appearance of her lady mother, Davena. The lady of Highgarden looked to the servants, saying “Off with you, I’d have a word with my daughter alone.” They’d sink into low curtsies and scurry from sight at once, Odessa bowed her head slightly to her mother, who had walked closer to where the sheer curtains hung to shield the balcony. “My dear, it is time I give you the talk all young ladies receive from their mothers on their wedding day; although, it seems that your wedding day and night shall all be joined as one.” She trekked back over, pulling up a chair closer to the wash-tub, an action she’d never have taken with lesser present. Odessa muttered not a word, knowing it was best to let her mother talk, as she would expect from her own daughter(s) one day. “There is no real way to best prepare you for what it to come, and you know well-enough what part of this night I am referring to—the consummation.” She sighed, “It is seldom a process that we as noble ladies come to develop much real liking for, especially on the first go-bout. However, you must show great restrain. When a man thinks he pleases his wife it boosts his ego, and it boosts him amiability towards her, which brings much more to be desired—power. It is not the crown that sits on a man’s head that guides him, no. Not even in the strongest of men. It is the cunt that rides his cock that he will follow. Some wives cannot be bothered with such, and thus they resign themselves to their children; meanwhile, some whore beds her Lord husband and he elevates her station. She has his cock, and thus she has his ear….He will still be obliged to bed his wife, but the visits will be few and far between. He will force himself on her and then flop around until she is pregnant with his heirs, and then he will return to the whore’s bed and she will tell him what rooms of the castle his lady wife will give birth in when the time comes, and who the child shall be betrothed to in her own family before it ever rests its head in the cradle.” She stood once more, reaching for a sheet and spreading it open before her. Odessa rose from the water, and let Davena rest the linen over her shoulders, drawing it about herself to dry off before her skin wrinkled. “It shall hurt immensely, and you’ll learn to endure this torture for the rest of your days, but mind you do it well. Someone else will gladly do it for you.” She rested her hands on her daughter’s shoulders from behind her, “You’re a beautiful woman. If you were able to entice one Baratheon you’ll be able to seduce another, and the way he was looking at you before I imagine it won’t take much. This is your opportunity for greatness Odessa. You’ll not marry some pompous nobleman, no. You’re marrying a prince—a king.” She’d then whisper in her ear, “Be his whore and he’ll make you his queen.” She’d press a kiss to her cheek and then walk to the doors, where the ladies waited with their sewing. “Go in now. The Lady Odessa is ready.”

---

Olena: Odessa faintly remembered hearing Dante whisper something to her about ‘Wise’ in her ear before feeling the warmth of his body depart from her own, but she had soon enough drifted back off into her dreams. The young princess and lady of Dragonstone was rather exhausted from the events of her wedding night and could hardly tell the difference between her massive husband and the feather pillow that had taken his place, wrapping herself around it. She roused only momentarily when light peered in through the curtained windows across the room, but she moved her head so that the beam of her bed blocked its view and continued to lay there in light slumber. She would not rise until the servants had come to inform her that everything was prepared for her to break her fast and go to prayers. The ivory blanket lay at the foot of the bed, pushed down from her typical constant motions of tossing and turning. She had never once woken up in the same position she had gone to sleep in, save for this night when she lay against her husband’s chest, but now that he was not lying beside her there was precious little to stop her. The only thing that covered her pale form was the silken sheet, coming up mid-ways over her hip, her breasts and face pressed into the large pillow. The only ones who would be granted permission to make their way past the guards would be her lord husband or one of her maidservants to inform her that someone would like to request an audience with her now-royal person. She was no longer bound subject to the rules that governed the nobility, granted her marriage had elevated her station to the ruling class. Although, it then occurred to her that she and her siblings had entered this chamber many times to play despite the general rule that the royal apartments were off-limits. There were secret passages all over Highgarden.

RayWolf276: Lysander laid on his bed recalling what had happened yesterday. The events of the wedding played throughout the mind of Lysander, he was very happy about the fact that his younger sister, Princess Odessa, had finally wed. The lordling was aware of Lord Dante's complicated relationship with King Alexander. Lysander hoped that marriage to Prince Dante of House Baratheon not only proved beneficial to her family but to also his sister. He knew the marriage would elevate her status among the ruling class. The young knight decided to rise from the bed he slept. He stood with his slim yet muscular form being visible to anyone who happened to walk in. He preferred to slumber in a way that he felt comfortable. Lysander admired his own form, and felt he should not be ashamed of it. His green orbs, that possessed a hint of gold, looked towards the curtained windows that were blocking the pathway of sunlight. Lysander then moved towards the curtain to allow the beam of light pour into his chambers. "Ah. Quite a beautiful morning it is." Lysander said to himself as a cheerful smile formed on his face. The then made its way to his bare chest. The warmth of the light seemed to be making him livelier. It was then he began to ponder what he should possibly do on a day such as this. Perhaps Xerxes and he would come up with an idea together. After a while of preparing himself in his room, Lysander Tyrell made his way into the lengthy halls. With his green orbs he discovered two young women who looked as if they could have possibly been maid servants. They could have possibly been one of his sister’s servants. They were quite pleasing to the eye. Lysander made his way towards the maid servants, giving them a warm but flirtatious smile. "Has Her Royal Highness risen from her slumber?" Lysander said with a tone of curiosity. He was interested in seeing his sister was faring after her wedding night; however he would have to request an audience to speak to her. Unless he could sneak into her room. It was then that Lysander's smile grew with a little bit of excitement much to the confusion to the two maid servants infront of him. "Pardon me." Lysander said as he began to walk away. He made his way to a secret passage that he and his siblings used quite often. Lysander looked around to make sure that he was not seen before entering. He began to make his way towards Odessa's room. The idea of constructing a playful prank formed within his head. However he decided against it as he wasn't sure what she and her husband, Prince Dante, could be doing. Finally after arriving to her room he made sure to knock before entering.- "Good Morning, your highness." -Lysander said with a warm smile as he bowed.

Cymedr: Lord Xerxes was many things, charming, manipulating, mischievous, but one thing that he certainly was not was the kind of person that enjoyed being woken up by others. Especially so if it wasn’t an important occasion. Pushing himself into his best attempt at a sitting position with his arms holding his body weight up, Xerxes would offer the door to his chamber a glare, the sounds of the servants bustling about in the morning likely being what woke him up. After untangling himself from his sheets the young man would swing his legs over the side of the bed, his toes curling as he stretched out not unlike a cat would. A few moments passed before he began to wonder how his dear sister was faring after what must have been quite an enjoyable night. It was strange, thinking of his younger sister as Princess Odessa, yet he was utterly overjoyed. With her marriage to His Highness Dante Baratheon, the now Princess Odessa had elevated herself to a position among the ruling class, something that would be incredibly beneficial to their family. His sister’s happiness was a must, of course, but it was only one of many incredible things that would come from her marriage. Pushing himself out of bed in one fluid motion Xerxes would then make his way towards his wardrobe, each step he took smooth and carefully thought out. He took his time in choosing an outfit, thinking of what would be appealing not just to himself but to the people as well. It was his duty to be presentable at all times, and it never hurt to be ogled by the maid servants from time to time. When he had finally chosen something that boasted both style and comfort, Xerxes carefully examined his reflection in the mirror for any imperfections. There were none, of course. After tousling his hair to unkempt perfection Xerxes would leave his room, immediately replacing the scowl he had been wearing when he had woken up with a wide smile. He took care to pay just enough attention to the servants that they felt appreciated, but never going too far as to make one feel more special than the others. As he walked Xerxes wondered if Princess Odessa and Prince Dante had awoken yet, something he decided quite quickly that he would investigate. It wasn’t as much of him being a protective older brother than it was he was merely unoccupied at the time and was in dire need of some form of entertainment. Knowing quite well that he would need to first request an audience to speak with his sister, Xerxes carefully made his to a passage that had been kept secret from nearly all but his siblings and perhaps others curious enough to search for them. From what he could remember, the one he had carefully snuck into lead directly to the royal guest chambers. He was not entirely surprised to see that his brother appeared to have had the same idea as him, as the two of them tended to share similar thoughts a fair amount of the time. Taking a step back he would sink into a bow with practiced ease, addressing her only after he had done so. “Good morning, Your Highness. Are you faring well?”

Olena: One after the other, no sooner than the thought taken place in her head had her brothers appeared at the foot of her bed, already addressing her with the new style, likely at the strict instruction of their lady mother, Davena. This, however, could only be while they were in The Reach, for once they reached the capital she would resume being referred to as a lesser member of the family until Dante had officially seized the throne from his brother. It was treason for a royal or a member of a senior noble family to wed without first having obtained permission from the crown, and they were both. Perhaps that along would be enough to stop the mad king’s heart from beating? Not likely. It would be so much simpler if Dante could simply inherit. Even if Alexander were to name another successor, which he knew full-well that he couldn’t, it seemed that his younger brother harbored enough support to block another claim, if not from her own house alone. Odessa’s hand quickly reached for the sheet to pull up about her, hiding her naked body beneath the silks, startled by the intrusion. Despite years of being in their company, and even anticipating exactly what actions they would take before they took them, they never failed to alarm her. Thankfully they were not so loud as to alert the guards at the door, who might come bursting in to defend her from some intruder sent by Alexander’s spies. The thought of which sent a chill down her spine, with her noble rank went her safety net. Power on that level brought a whole new level of attention, and the crown was notorious for not attracting the most positive at times—Alexander for example.   She sat up on the mattress, one hand to hold the sheet over her chest, the other to support her position. “Have you two lost your minds? Was seeing me lose my virtue not enough for your eyes to behold within a twenty-four hour period? Really.” She’d chunk one of the many small decorative pillows in their general direction, hoping to hit at least one of them; although, her momentary anger, brought on by being startled, faded with a twinge of amusement. “They might confuse us for Lannisters,” she giggled, muffling the sound of her laughter with the hand that had supported her and she fell back into bed once more. “To answer your question, I am well. I see why you men talk about it so much. It’s quite the riveting experience.”

---

---

Biird: Xara had been the first out the door behind the Little Lord of Storm’s End when he had been dismissed to find his uncle. Even though she was not terribly excited to be in the hulking presence of Kainen Baratheon there was one absolutely wonderful thing about following Rhaegar when he sought his uncle – Greyson. Greyson Wylde had been a prominent feature in some of her dirtier dreams since she’d crossed that threshold of girlhood into womanhood. Before crossing that threshold he had still been the object of her childish day dreams. There was something about his character, the way he carried himself, the way his features went from old to young and handsome depending on the company he kept, that Xara was completely and utterly infatuated with.

Ever since, Rhaegar learned to run, Xara had been one of his principle caretakers when she wasn’t in the care of his mother. Of course, Rhaegar had his own set of ladies and servants but he went through septas the way kings went through whores and in those interludes between septas, either she or Padme often kept watch over him. Like many in Rhaelle’s core group of people, Xara loved Rhaegar and she suspected he loved her as well, in his own way. He loved her lavish, colorful storytelling that was for sure. It was a stark contrast to his mother’s flat truths.

Xara followed quickly beyond the little bullet as he darted down the hallways toward his uncle’s chambers. She had turned the corner when he ran headlong into Greyson and doubled back to straighten her simple blue dress and veil. Even though she was sure that Greyson had no idea she even existed, much less had any sort of fancy for her, Xara still made a point to be at her best whenever she even suspected he would be around, preparing for the day when he would actually acknowledge her existence. How was she going to cause him to fall madly in love with her, if she looked a ruffled mess? Taking a deep breath, she turned the corner with the other handmaidens assigned to Rhaegar and his two guards, following slowly behind as Greyson led Rhaegar to Kainen’s room. She and the maidens would wait in that large foyer of Kainen’s chambers while Rhaegar assaulted him then tricked the great beast into waking up.

While the child was thoroughly distracted, Xara stepped up closer to Greyson and parted her lips. His back was to her, strong and broad from his spars with the Demon Stag, and then suddenly he turned, giving her start and causing a blush to flood her dark cheeks, hazel eyes glittering flirtatiously. Her heart sank as he brushed right past her and went back into the hall following the sound of a female voice, leaving her playing stupidly with her fingers and feeling foolish.

A few moment later another person burst into the room, and she too gave Xara a start. Rhaenyrs Baratheon had left the company of her family when she was ten to court the young Greyjoy boy that would be her husband. The dark cloud that had passed over the family in the wake of her disappearance shortly thereafter left a sour line between the Baratheons and Greyjoys and the family mourned for nearly a year the loss of their youngest daughter. Yet, there she was, breezing happily by to jump into the bed with her brother as if not a day had gone by. Xara had to smile.

Grimm: The sight of most of the Baratheons in one room caused Greyson to smile as his arms folded across his broad chest. They only missed Lady Rhaelle and Lord Azaroth now, one of which was still in her own room as far as Greyson could tell and the other, well, as far as he knew was still within Highgarden, although with what was about to happen, he could not be 100% sure. but he was sure Azaroth would turn up eventually and safely despite all obstacles, it seemed to be a Baratheon trait.

Being the only one of the appointed guards to stay by Kainen's side as he transitioned from young Lord to Lord Paramount, Greyson knew more that went on within Storm's End and beyond than most guards or wards could ever dream of knowing. As such he always seemed very closed off, careful of every word spoken and phrase uttered. Walls surrounded him even more than would a normal noble, but it was always what Greyson prefered.

Behind Greyson stood the guards that always ran after little Lord Rhaegar and a couple handmaidens. Rhaegar was just like his uncle, only in his case it was handmaidens and with Kainen it was guards, none ever seemed to be able to keep up and as such Greyson saw no need to get to know any beyond a polite greeting every now and then. This day, however, be it his calmer nature than normal, perhaps the walk had cleared his head enough to notice a particular handmaiden dressed in blue. Hazel eyes drew across her features which were different to most that ventured this far north from what he guessed was Dorne, but he could not be sure.

The females dark skin caused his brow to raise, her long wavy hair that matched and green eyes he guessed as he could only see the corner of them as he tried not to make it too obvious he was staring at her. After a moment of taking in her features, he rose his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, eyes returning to the room as his arms folded once again. For the first time since, he could only guess was his first venture to a whore house, Greyson actually felt a strange nervousness shiver up his spine. Rolling his shoulders he tried to ride the odd sensation and nodded to the room before speaking to the woman about his indication.

"It is good to see the Lady Rhaenyrs back safe and well."

Greyson's eyes shut tight for a moment, feeling almost foolish in his choice of conversation starter. Of course it was good to see her alive, what kind of stupid thing to say was that. It was bad enough he had to pick and choose his words with Kainen, but he thought he had enough experience that when it came time to do it in another situation that he wouldn't look like an idiot. Inwardly sighing, he looked back towards the dark skinned handmaiden, just to make sure she knew it was her he was speaking too. The words were already out, might as well see how much of a carriage wreck it would turn out.

Biird: Having been marking his every motion since childhood, Xara knew the exact moment when Greyson’s hazel eyes fell on her. Lowering her own lashes nearly to her high cheekbones was all Xara could do to keep her inward squealing from spilling out. Gently, her fingers played at the edges of her dupatta, lifting it across her lips to hide the smile that was forcing its way across her features.  Her brain was screaming, her body on fire – this was the moment! A good moment too. Her dress was smooth over her lithe little body, not single hair of hers was out of place and her silken headdress was pinned perfectly. The soft glow under her dark skin was purely because of his action, but whatever helped her look more appealing him the source didn’t matter.

When he spoke, dear gods, old and new, help this woman. If she’d been wearing panties they would have dropped in a soaked PLOP to the floor. Instead a shudder ran across her nerve ending forcing her to release the edge of her headdress before it tore in her grip. Like petals on the wind, her hands fluttered down in front of her, one set of fingers gently laying over the other. That familiar stirring her body that arose when she merely thought of him was tenfold to feel his voice tickling across her skin.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, his words finally managed to make sense in her mind, becoming more than some sort of sweet caress and once more her heart sank. Inwardly she was flinging herself upon a pile of pillows and sobbing. He hadn’t noticed her at all! He was just making small talk! She was no body, nothing! … On the other hand, small talk could be good. They’d never exchanged words before. What did it matter what words began their conversation only that it began!

Renewed, but trying to remain poise and seductive not love struck child, Xara nodded, “Oh yes. It is quite lovely… Ser Greyson.”

Grimm: There was a tension in the air between them, so much so that the guards and other handmaidens behind them was glancing back and forth between Greyson and Xara with a slightly puzzled look on their faces. It wasn't an obvious tension and they really couldn't pinpoint just what was going on, but there definitely was something. Shifting in his stance, Greyson tried his best to keep his eyes forward, directed towards the room until his composure returned, but it was quickly stolen again when Xara spoke. There was a lilt to her voice that tugged at him, both within his chest and his pants which almost caused him to want to lean forward and adjust himself. This was all too unusual for Greyson, surely this woman had been around before, yet he never noticed her until this moment as she was having such an effect on his that he was almost loss for words.

Within the room, Kainen had laid back down on the bed again, Rhaegar pushing at his chest to urge his uncle to raise so they could go get into some kind of trouble though laced with the promise of food. Even with that promise, Kainen would take a while to rise fully and dress himself. Outside the room, Greyson stepped towards the door and pulled it closed before turning to the guards and telling them to take up a position at both sides. It was obvious the guards were scared of such a simple order, no one ever really wanted to guard Kainen's door, even if they were only really there to watch Rhaegar. The handmaidens on the other hand, he didn't really know what to do with them. Well, he knew what he suddenly wanted to do with one of them, but he'd save that for some time he was alone. Without saying anything, the handmaiden went into the room to care for Rhaegar and make sure everything was okay, but before Xara could follow, Greyson held his hand out, pointing down the corridor.

"I'm sure Kainen will take care of Lord Rhaegar. Do you wish to walk?"

It was not exactly a normal thing, for a ward, even if he was a Knight, to pull a handmaiden away from her duties, but Greyson did not much care in that moment. With all the years he had served the Baratheons, he knew when he could skirt the lines of protocol, not that any of the actual family other than Lady Eirlys was really all that interested in the norm of court or noble etiquette. It was definitely one of the things Greyson did so enjoy with serving under his Lord.

Hoping she would follow, Greyson stepped past her, his pace slow so she could think on the offer and still stay in step with him. Always enjoying his walks alone, with what was to come, Greyson thought, perhaps the company of an intoxicating and exotic female he had only just come to find existed within the house he served, would be a most welcome change. Life was short, even more so in dangerous times. One needed to seize all special moments they could, though he definitely needed to keep his wits about himself and keep his seizing to a minimum when they were walking alone.

Biird: As the others made moves to remain near young Rhaegar’s side Xara did so too, begrudgingly and luckily enough for her Greyson stopped her, motioning outside the room. His question startled her, making those already large almond shaped eyes go even wider for a flicker of a moment. She hesitated. Inside – SQUEAL. SEVEN HEAVENS GREYSON WANTS TO WALK WITH ME. NOT JUST WALK WITH ME, ALONE WITH ME.

Her heart fluttered. Her hands went cold for a moment and yet some clear part of her brain had yet to allow her to run into those muscled arms. Rhaegar. Her duty was to Rhaegar and her Lady Baratheon…but… Xara glanced at the room. The doors were only half shut. Rhaegar had more than enough attendants and his uncle and his aunt! She could very well drift down the hall and back before any real trouble began. Couldn’t she? Only one way to find out.

“I think you’re right, Ser Greyson.” Xara almost purred as she stepped into pace with him.

‘Don’t lose your maidenhead. Don’t lose your maidenhead. Don’t lose your maiden.’ Her brain chanted. There were a plethora of things Xara could do to that man, bringing him to heights of passion without ever actually allowing him to penetrate her, but the mere thought of being alone drove her mind directly to the ultimate peek. ‘Gods be with me.’

Her knees felt weak but she managed to stay upright and looking dignified beside him as they crossed the threshold of Kainen’s chambers and hallways opened up endlessly possibilities and not merely of places to go, but so many shadowy little nooks to have a panting gropefest.  ‘Focus on something else you fool!’

“It is nice to be out of Storm’s End for the Harvest Festival. This harvest we will see sun and feasting, not rain and feasting as in our homeland.” There. Nice and even. No hints of salacious desire or tittering timidness. ‘I can do this… mm and so much more.’

Grimm: Other than the fall of their footsteps on the stone floor, the two walked in relative silence through mostly empty corridors. There was little need for guards within the guest quarters of the Red Keep for all that stayed always had their own entourage. Those guards of the Keep were mainly stationed within the main section of the stronghold or closer to the King. Placing his arms behind his back and laying one hand over the other, Greyson tried his best to keep his eyes forward, keep his mind on just walking and placing one foot in front of the other and not assaulting her with his eyes and undressing her completely to see just what lay beneath that blue dress.

Once or twice he had to shake his head to dislodge such thoughts and images that were making it rather uncomfortable to walk normally in his tight pants. If he didn't know any better he would swear he was a virgin and this was the first female he had ever spoken too. Had he been alone he may have punched himself on the forehead for his foolishness, though straight afterward going about living the fantasies his mind was so easily concocting within the solitude of his own room.

When Xara finally spoke and the silence broken, Greyson almost tripped over his own two feet. Her voice had a pull too it that caught him off guard, again, the first time he was standing still thankfully and this time he hoped his misstep was not noticed by her at all. When he finally made sense of her words he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I am sure you are more use to the finer weather of King's Landing than that of Storm's End. I am not a fan of the rain myself, far too gloomy and miserable. Although I do not get much time to think about such things when Lord Kainen is on the move."

Again he chuckled at his own words. If this woman was indeed serving in Storm's End, she was well aware of Kainen and his antics. Although her words caused him to frown after he gave them more thought. This handmaiden came with them from Storm's End. She was not someone they had just picked up in King's Landing to help with Lord Rhaegar. Was Greyson really that blind that he had never seen her before, and even more so he had no idea what her name was, though the last part was unsurprising with how quickly handmaidens came and left Rhaegar's company. Still, in the few moments he had seen this woman, she had captivated him so much he was somewhat angry with himself for being so closed off to never have noticed her before.

"May I ask your name?"

Greyson offered her a slight nodded bow as he inquired, not wanting to seem so informal and disrespectful. Even if she was a handmaiden, she was still a woman and deserved such courtesy. One thing the latest generation of Baratheon's learned was not to judge someone based off station unless they insulted you in some manner and it was something Greyson adopted into his own way of thinking.

Biird: Her head was swimming as though she’d just spent a night with Rhaelle. The Lady Baratheon was quite the drinker and also quite the lover, often leaving Xara in a drunk euphoric stupor, must like what she felt now only Greyson had yet to lay a hand on her. His voice, however, was tickling her in intimate places and sent her mind reeling with happiness. Inside she was hopping around, jumping for joy like a child with a new toy. Greyson was talking to her! Alone! However would she get over this moment. It was all so perfect in quiet hallway with no one around to bother them and the sounds of his voice bouncing off the walls, assaulting her from all angles.

Xara gave a coy smile when Greyson mentioned Kainen. The man was indeed a damaging force. He was fearsome to behold and the realization of how much destruction lay in his wake when he wasn’t paying attention was enough to frighten any smart man with notions of what he could do when he was set on your particular warpath.

Xara slowed her steps slightly, that drunken feeling of happiness fogging away at her brain as she replied, turning to face Greyson,”Oh but they aren’t gloomy or miserable at all.”

Before she could contain herself, Xara started to close the small gap between them, her eyes locked on his, the timber of her voice shifting toward something more seductive than coy. He was tall enough that she could tilt her head, and gaze up at him through the shield of her lashes. “There’s something beautiful in the wild abandon, in the chaos that makes your heart race.”

She was half an inch away from him when her eyes lowered to the floor and the fog began to clear. Her sexual training on Koj was taking over in that moment, helping to preserve whatever control over her own body that there was left to have. His scent filling her nostrils, Xara took a step back and allowed the fog of this surreal euphoria to take her once more before answering his question. Slowly her eyes rose to meet his once more, “My name is Xara Xaq, Ser Greyson, from Koj in the Summer Isles.” Her accent would attest to that,”I am Lady Rhaelle’s lady-in-waiting.”

Just then, a cache of about five gold cloaks came bounding around the corner. They paused beside Greyson and Xara, one of them pointing, “You there! Have you seen a man in a naval uniform?”

Xara wanted to laugh, but only smiled,”Yes, ser, I have seen many.”

Grimm: A small part of Greyson thought the girl was mad. Not gloomy in Storm's End? Where the damn storms never ended? Even he, who had grown up there all his life found the place miserable more often than not. Even if the weather was hot during the summers, it still had those damn storms. Greyson prefered a dry heat, rather than the muggy humid weather he grew up with. His mind however, was quickly stolen away as she drew closer to him, the air about her shifting to a far more alluring nature, something Greyson didn't even think was possible as he was already infatuated with just her walk and casual speech. It almost made him want to punch himself even more for never noticing her before.

The words she spoke, the look on her face as she gazed at him through thick lashes, an enchantress by unaccountable measures, but all Greyson could do was stand, frozen, barely even able to formulate a coherent thought in his mind. His heart was definitely racing and if were not for the fact his body did not wish to listen to his desire, he'd have grabbed her by the arms, pinned her against the wall and done things to her that those in a whore house may have blushed to witness.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at the situation, she stepped back and air quickly escaped Greyson's lungs, his body moving again as his shoulders sank and arms hung limp by his sides as if they were made of jelly. Her name filtered to his ears through the haze of lust he had almost succumbed too. Xara Xaq, Lady Rhaelle's Lady-in-Waiting. Perhaps it was a good thing his body froze, the last thing he wished was to upset his Lord's sister, especially when that sister was Rhaelle. Being a Lady-in-Waiting caused his brow to raise however. He had gotten a certain air about her, beyond the seductive enchantress with curves that were really starting to affect him on a level that was becoming more and more difficult to hide. She had very prim and proper features, mannerisms and tone to her words that caused Greyson to think she was above even his noble station, though it was not something he wished to pry into moments after meeting the woman.

Before he could return a word to her ear however, gold cloaks came about the corner and demanded information. There was little thought in his actions as Greyson's teeth gritted together when one cloak pointed so brashly to Xara demanding information and as he did, Greyson's hand launched and gripped the soldiers finger, bending it backwards with a growl. The man bellowed and the other four had hands quickly on swords.

"Is that how the soldiers of the capital speak to women?"

There was a hesitation in the men's actions for they knew who Greyson was and whom he served. Both were not people any of them wished to tangle with, even if they outnumbered Greyson five to one. Releasing the man's finger with a slight shove, Greyson sent him back a step and nudged his head back the way they came.

"Leave, no-one of your description has been this way for the past hour."

Begrudgingly the soldier nodded to Greyson. "Ser Greyson." With that all 4 quickly turned and went down another corridor in search of their quarry.

Still Greyson lingered on the edge of irritation as he turned his attention back to Xara, though it was quickly beginning to melt away. She was not hurt and she had smiled to the guards, one that seemed quite contagious to the point Greyson now found himself smiling.

"Are you okay, Lady Xara? It seems even with fine weather, fools are the same no matter you travel." Greyson sighed as he regarded her for a moment, reveling in her beautiful and exotic features. This was not going to be a woman he would easily let from his mind. All he could really hope was that he still remembered how to breath when they were apart.

Biird: In a flash the guard who addressed her was on his knees. Greyson had him by finger at a very painful angle and it made Xara want to squeal at the sheer manliness of it all. She stood behind him and gave herself a little fan with her hand. What. A. Man. Oooh, what a man, what a man, what a MIGHTY man. A shiver ran up her spine. The feeling of panties wanting to drop assaulting her again. If this kept up, she’d be dehydrated before long. Oh to be out of these clothes. To be naked and tangled in his limbs dressed only in a sheen of sweat. Her knees were weak.

When he turned to address her state, she was smiling still but not from speaking to the guard, oh no, that had long since faded from her mind and been taken over by much, much dirtier thoughts. Fluttering her lashes, she nodded. It was all she could manage because her voice had completely escaped her. The waft of a cool breeze was an all too welcome occurrence in that moment even if it came with the smell of shit and filth, because the back of her neck was hot and surely her cheeks were flushed as well.

Xara couldn’t move. She was afraid to move. Afraid to push him against the wall and cover his mouth with her own, which would never had stopped just there. There could not be only just one taste, not when she’d waited so long for him to simply realize she was even there. Oh no, she would devour him if she wasn’t careful. In this particular moment it was not appropriate to do so, but the gears of her mind, behind the fog of this euphoric moment of their initial meeting were working. She needed more alone time with him, more reason to be with him openly as well, anything to cultivate a relationship of some sort.

Brushing the strands of her thick chocolate hair off her shoulders, Xara shifted her weight from one leg to the other, rested one hand on her hip and crossed the other arm over the front of her body in order to lay her hand over the other. “Ser Greyson, you flatter me with such quick movements towards the protection of my station. I should hope you won’t be depriving all the women of the capital of such prowess by not entering the tournament games.”

Grimm: There it was again, that flutter of her lashes, the seductive look she gave as she did not quite tilt her head back enough to look him directly in the eyes. Even if it was not meant as any sort of flattering movement, it sent another electrical shock through his spin, the hairs on his arms standing on end and goosebumps to line his skin. It was one of the few times he was glad he wore long sleeves. Whatever was going through her mind, he could not read on her face, most likely because he was so lost in his own fantasies of what he hoped she was thinking of him to actually notice any sort of real, physical queues. No one said Greyson was as smooth with the females as he was with his sword of steering Kainen away from destruction.

What she happened to say finally though, when her compliments came to an end, about the other women and the tournament, had his mind clear for the briefest of moments. To be perfectly frank, he cared little for the attention of other women when standing in front of Xara and it also gave him pause to think back on his thoughts earlier that day. Greyson did not wish for any sort of relationship with a female beyond a whore houses' door. With how his life was playing out, such a road seemed impractical. But as he stood before the beautiful Xara, such a road seemed promising and inviting, something he wished to pursue, travel and conquer in the most animalistic of ways.

Greyson's hand quickly rose to his mouth as he cleared the final thoughts with a quick cough. Focusing his mind once again on the last section of her statement, he considered the idea of the tournament. In the past Greyson had partook in a few displays of combat for numerous reasons, but most were located within Storm's End. The idea of leaving Kainen alone for long enough to fight did not sit well with the Knight.

"Unfortunately I do not think I will be taking part within this tournament Lady Xara. Although, we shall have to see what the future holds. Surprises seem to sneak up on us in the strangest of ways." The last sentence was punctuated with a smile and a nod in her direction.

As the moments ticked by, Greyson wanted nothing more than to spend even longer with Xara, but such would not be permitted as he needed to check on Kainen and the guards he had left outside of his Lord's door. Holding his hand out, indicating back down the corridor they had come, Greyson offered a small nodded bow to Xara.

"I think it time we check on our charges before they wind up in enough trouble to get us both locked away."

The idea of such actually knotted in Greyson's stomach. The thought of being forcibly kept away from Xara, even if they had only spoken for the first time mere moments before, played images in his mind of cutting his way through both King's Landing and any house in his way to get back to her side, to be wrapped in her exotic scent and bury his face in her full chocolate hair. Blinking himself back to clarity, he smiled at her again as once more, a shiver of lust coursed through his body.

Biird: It was not normal for a mother of a noble house to rouse her children from their sleep, but Eirlys adored her little brood of Stormbeasts. There were some mornings when they were roused by their personal attendants and only saw their parents once breakfast had been served. On those days, Arsen always looked quite pleased with himself and his wife looked exhausted but happy. This morning, her hand sifted slowly through the long dark locks of her youngest son. One of the attendants pulled the heavy curtains back from the tall windows letting the early morning sun flood the room. "It is time to rise my son. Come along now. You promised not to give me any trouble if I let you stay up with your father and I intend to hold you to that."

Brute: The rise from sleep was gentle and comforting as he felt her fingers passing through his dark strands, that sign alone was enough for him to know it was his mother at the side of the bed and not his usual attendant. If it had been his usual wakeup call he’d have been shaken softly on the arm or perhaps the covers tugged at but his attendant would never do the same actions as his mother. Even before his eyes opened he sat up in the bed, her words still registering in his mind as his eyes opened and bright blue hues moved to her. “Then I too shall hold you to your word, mother.” As he spoke the young Baratheon wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist, it wasn’t like her waking him was an uncommon thing but it was always welcomed. After a few seconds of embrace he pushed the heavy covers off his body and moved out of the bed with a slight jump before hitting the rugged floor. Azaroth’s current attire was similar to his father’s and brother’s, only much smaller to match his form, a heavy dark cream coloured nightgown fell the length of his body as he stepped closer to his mother and lifted his hands in the air knowing that either his mother would assist him in removing the heavy cloth or one of the attendants would. “I can’t pull it off by myself mother! It’s too long!”

Biird: Smiling, Eirlys wrapped him in her arms as he attached to her waist in his usual fashion before climbing out of his bed. Most, if not all things in Azaroth's possession had be handed down from his brother and at times his boy-like sister. The night dress that he wore had fit Kainen all to snuggly before his seventh name day and thus been given to the child born two years after him. Rising off the bed herself, a subtle flick of her fingers as her hands were folded before her, kept the attendant from undressing the child. Instead Eirlys stepped closer to him then knelt, gathering the night dress at the sides under his arms. "You can do this yourself. I am sure if you tried, you would figure it out. It does not much matter however as a Baratheon you would always have assistance." Handing off the night dress, Eirlys stood and placed her hand on his head, turning him toward the bathing room. "Quickly now or there will be nothing left of breakfast after your father and brother."

Brute: Even with his arms raised in the air his eyes watched his mother, her hands neatly folded in front of her as they always were, waiting to see if she would step forward to help him or if another would do so this time around. When she knelt before him and gathered up the lower half of the gown Azaroth’s focused moved to his sides, his head going from left to right and then back at his mother before he spoke once more.” But why do I have to do it if I’ll always have someone to do it for me?” He didn’t understand, however his mother had faith in his ability to rid himself of the oversized piece of cloth and so he would try. Using one hand to hold onto the sleeve of the opposite he pulled his arm into to his chest leaving one part free of the material and then pushed on it while pulling the other hand inwards, now his head was the only part sticking out and he started wiggling as he pushed upwards and upwards, shaking his form when it seemed the gown was resisting the change. When it was finally off and he was free of the burden her hand found his head and he looked to her with a smile from ear to ear, he had indeed done it himself and it hadn’t even been that hard, but still the question reeled in his mind, why must he do it when someone could do it for him, as they did his siblings and parents. As she turned him and spoke he took off from the spot and rushed towards the bathing room, his stomach was already grumbling from want of food and too many times he had to wait till the cooks made new dishes because of his father and brother. “It won’t happen this time mother, I’ll beat them to the table for once and I’ll eat EVERYTHING!” It didn’t take long for the young boy to clean himself, water splashed across the parts of his body that he had been taught to wash and even though he wasn’t one hundred percent dry when he came out from the room he was prepared to put on the fresh clothing that was usually waiting for him on his bed by this time.

Biird: While Azaroth washed himself, Eirlys dictated his outfit for the day according the the lessons he would be taking. She also had the boys' room cleaned and it was about time to change all of the linens and rearrange the beds, but all of that would be done once she and the youngest were gone. Another attendant brought in Rhaenyrs just as Azaroth came out of the bathing room dressed and ready. His younger sister would be dressing in a long gown, similar to his bathing gown, with a bonnet on her head and she would be wrapped in a furlined coverlet. Eirlys took the child into the crook of her arm and held out her hand for her youngest son. "When you ask questions, little one, you should allow others to answer you before stealing away. Now, " She went on as they moved out of the room and toward the hall where they broke their fasts as a family,"It is important to have independence. As a noble you should have an idea of the basic requirements for everything in your region, such as dressing or undressing yourself. Understand?"

Brute: It didn’t take long for Azaroth to dress with the help of his attendant, though with his mother present and after what she had said about the gown he did more to dress himself than he normally did. When he appeared and his sister was in the arms of his mother he looked up to them both and stood at his mother’s side as he watched the baby in her arms. He tried to stay away from holding his younger sister, after all she was much smaller than the rest of the family and at times he would see his father carrying her, throwing her up in the air and he couldn’t help but wonder just how the baby hadn’t been broken yet; but it wouldn’t matter as his parents seemed to like making them as they already had four. Taking his mother by the hand he walked with her through the halls to the dining room, he listened to what she said about running off after asking something and his eyes narrowed for a second before he nodded. “Sorry mother.” As she went on about how it was important for him to have independence and knowing the basic requirements for everything in his region Azaroth stopped in his stride and looked up to her, perhaps even his halt had stopped her considering he was still holding onto her hand. “But the region is father’s and then it will be brothers…Why do I have to know about it if it’ll never be mine, mother?”

Biird: When he stopped, she turned to him, still holding his little hand. A sea of attendants parted around them as they stood in the middle of the hall only a few feet from the dining hall. "In truth, no one man rules alone. The king keeps the council and the council of his noble lords, but above all he keeps the council of his brother. Some day your brother will open an ear to you. You may share many things, but you and your brother do not view the world the same way just as many in our region and beyond have different views. We can not please all, "there she gave his hand a small tug and continued to walk again,"but as rulers we do what is best for most." Entering into the hall, Eirlys ushered him to the seat beside his father, and as she passed the table her hand passed in front of Rhaelle catching some bit of pinked meat she meant to sail into the gaping maw of her elder brother. "Behave. Eat what is on your plate, not that of your sister's." Eirlys crossed behind her husband, kissing his temple and then placed young Rhaenyrs in small chair built for a child her age as she sat at the opposite end of the table.

Brute: As they stood there in the middle of the hall her words wrung through his head and he paid as much attention to them as he could, the part about not being able to please everyone caused his eyes to narrow and his face to scrunch up slightly, after all he had been alive for four name days and so far he had managed to keep both his parents happy and he rarely fought with his siblings; so far he could please everyone so why must that change? He was tugged at lightly and the walking continued as they entered the hall her other words ran through his mind, must do what is best for most, at this he nodded slightly as he was ushered into the chair beside his father but even that didn’t last long. As his mother moved around the rest of the table and spoke to his sister while placing the baby Rhae into her own crafted chair Azaroth jumped from the space beside his own chair at the right hand side of his father and leap onto his mountainous body, arms wrapping as far around his neck as possible as he tried to hold on with the embrace. “Father! Mother said we can’t please everyone so we must do what is best for most, but what if the King doesn’t think your idea is best for The Realm, then do we need to fight? Because I can fight, I’ve been training!”

Grimm: Kainen sat devouring everything that was placed in front of his face while his sister sat opposite him throwing pieces of meat across to her starving brother and the only thing their father could do was laugh as he took tore strips of meat from a bone of a well cooked animal. The laugh was booming, kind and warm though most of all it was loving for none held a place in his heart like his children did. Well, all bar one of course and that one person who could sooth a raging storm with naught but a couple words and a simple touch came into the room with the rest of his sired line. A massive arm wrapped around his wife's slender waist as he smiled beneath her lips. Rarely words needed to be shared between the two for action alone spoke louder than any spoken sound could. Releasing his love from his embrace, Arsen was quickly set upon by his youngest son though moments later which caused his laugh to return as not only was he bombarded with form but also with question. "Such questions from someone so small, and so early." Azaroth was anything but small compared to others of his age, but then in Arsen's arms everything looked small. "We do what the King wishes little stag, not everything is settled by war. Words often get more done than a sword." Picking up a piece of meat, he placed it within his son's hand as his gaze cast across the table to his wife. "And if that fails, we can always send your mother to scold the King. I doubt even your uncle is brave enough to say no to my Heart of the Storm." And once again, words were coupled with laughter.

Diitzy: Rhaenyrs reached for her mother’s embrace the moment of seeing her. She was practically glued at her mother’s hip being at the age of three. While crossing the dining hall with her mother, Rhaenyrs reached trying to grab each chair as they passed each one. As if she had the choice to pick her own seat. Her face lit up the moment her elder sister and elder brother came to view. “Hi sister! Hi brother!” Her words beamed from her tiny mouth as she waved to them as they passed them. When her mother, Eirlys caught the piece of meat Rhaenyrs began clapping while wiggling through her mother's embrace trying to grab the piece of meat. Hearing her mother’s voice and commenting towards her eldest brother made her break out into laughter. Unable reaching for what her mother caught in the opposing hand she averted her attention to their father. She waved her arms trying to latch on to their father. “Father!” She struggled with her reach and was unable to break free from her mother’s grasp. Being placed in her chair on the opposite side of the table. She reached over to the table's ledge as she tried to pull the table to her with all her might. She glanced up with her bright blue eyes at their mother as her head turned over to the opposite side of the table to their father and her brother Azaroth as she stared hearing words but not as much comprehending the topic. Instead her attention was towards the shiny plate before her. She tried to reach and grab for it several times before coming up with the idea of trying pull herself up to stand on her seat.

Biird: No longer allowed to continue their game, Rhaelle got up from her chair with her plate and moved down the table to sit next to her younger sister. Dipping her finger into the custard tart they laid out before Rhaenyrs, Rhaelle tipped her nose with the cream then began to piece up the strips of bacon so Rhaenyrs would be able to eat them with her fingers. "If we all tried together, we could not pull father this way or that." She said absently while little Rhae pulled table. Without looking, Eirlys sat Rhaenyrs down as she stood up and pushed her plate closer, wiping her nose off of her sister's wickedness. She sucked her teeth at her husband but could not help but smile at his flattery. "Do not say such things, Husband. Filling his head with nonesense." Just then a small page arrived at Arsen's side but remained quiet until he was acknowledged.

Brute: It didn’t take long for his father to answer his question and afterwards he handed him a piece of meat fill his belly. Azaroth dropped from his father’s form and landed on the ground with a slight thud before placing himself into the set beside his father only to listen to him continue speaking of the King and sending his mother there to speak with him. Azaroth’s eyes moved back and forth between his father and mother and then towards Rhaelle who was playing with the baby while speaking, she didn’t think they could pull father in any direction but that didn’t make sense to the young boy, it wasn’t hard for him to get what he wanted when he asked for it, rarely did he ever have to complain or whine before he’d be granted access to what he wanted. “But Father always lets me do what I want. He lets me watch the guards practise in the training yards and once he even let me swing a sword at one of the dummies…” Perhaps Rhaelle meant it in a more literal way, after all their father was a beast of a man, the tallest he had ever seen aside from his uncle who stood around the same height. “ Azaroth pulled pieces of the meat off with his teeth and chewed on it slowly still thinking of what both parents had said, what nonsense had father spoken? Could all things be settled in battle because Azaroth had no doubt that even the King would bend to the will of his mother, because his father dad and he was the most powerful man Azaroth knew. “When the Dragon Lords took what belonged to King Robert he killed them all and took the throne as his prize. When the Lannister Queen and her bastards sat on the throne King Edric swept through the lands and lay waste to the Lannister name, what more could have been done by words than by the sword?” His question was posed to both his mother and father as he was still moving his gaze between them both, even as the small page stood beside his father patiently waiting.


Grimm: Leaning back on his seat, Arsen rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and perched his chin atop as the other rested upon the table and his fingers drummed across the thick wood. The page had not gone unnoticed but his son was asking questions that had actually caught Arsen somewhat by surprise. The boy was young, yet very inquisitive, unlike his older brother that was more interested in his combat training than his studies and his sister that was a cynical as an old wise woman and incredibly smart. Azaroth seemed to hold onto both of the qualities of his older siblings but lacked something that Arsen was not quite able to put his finger on yet. Listening to the boy speak, Arsen's eyes narrowed a little though he kept his appearance as lax and open as he could, not wishing to smother such an inquisitive mind under a blanket of fear and wrongful intimidation. "The past is there as a guide my son, not as a means to justify needless bloodshed. Your ancestors were proud people, as is every Baratheon including ourselves, but that does not mean what they all did was for the good of the people and not for selfish reasons. Though both were motivated differently, both did what they felt was right in their own mind." Arsen lifted his head from his hand, straightening himself on his seat and looked to his wife with a smile. "Sometimes words will not fix everything and it is then a sword is needed, or perhaps the situation will never allow the exchange of words." Turning back to his son, Arsen leaned towards him, both arms resting upon the table. "But such times are hard to foresee and harder to anticipate my son. The only thing we can do is pray to the gods that our council is true and what we hold in out hearts is strong enough to see us through any course that is layed before us." Arsen pressed his hand against Azaroth's chest, then tapped the boy on the head. "Always fight with your heart my son, but always think with your head." Taking his hand from his son, Arsen held it towards the page and ushered the boy closer as he sat back in his seat once more.

Diitzy: Rhaelle took a seat next to Rhaenyrs as she tilted her head back looking up at her sister at her side. Watching her hand motioning to the custard and then towards her face. She reached for her hand trying to aim it towards her mouth for her to suck the custard off. Instead Rhaelle poked her nose leaving custard. She blinked confused but then broke into laughter as she tried to lick it off of her nose instead. Suddenly a cloth masked her face from her mother wiping her nose. Once she opened her eyes she saw the plate magically moved closer as she immediately picked the shreds of bacon shoving fist full in her mouth while staring at her reflection on her plate. Clapping excitingly, she mumbled to herself first. “Magic!”. Seeing her face in the plate’s reflection she slammed her hand on the plate trying to pull the image out of it. “Looks just like me! It’s Magic!” She smeared her tiny fingers over the plate and glanced over at her mother with a cheeky smile and then tossing her head back at Rhaelle lifting her plate up to her sister. “Sister! Look Magic!” She pokes at the reflection image showing her sister then pulling the plate back from her sister’s view placing the plate in her mouth. After realizing it’s not eatable she drops it and reaches for more bacon.

Biird: Eirlys remained serene and distant while her youngest boy and husband spoke and her youngest child bang and clattered at her side. With her sister there to feed her, Eirlys focused on her own meal. Rhaelle laughed watching her little sister with the plate and shook her head. “It is your reflection. That is you. That is what you look like to everyone else.” The plate clanged as it hit the table again and was promptly filled with more meat and some cheese for the littlest Baratheon. "Father forgets one thing." Rhaelle said promptly after her father finished speaking. "The war of Robert Baratheon was over a woman that did not even want him." She wagged a half eaten bone at him. "Women do not belong to men. People should not belong to anyone. I will never belong to anyone." She finished with a scoff. Daintily finishing her mean, her cutlery folded over the plate in a silent signal for the servants to take her plate, Eirlys dabbed the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin, before folding it over so the part that cleaned her mouth was folded inward when the cloth touched her lap. “That is why you are still here, willful girl, and not yet sent to be with the man you were betrothed too.” Rhaelle folded her arms at that, “I’m never going. I hope he becomes wise and stops waiting.” Eirlys didn’t respond or even look at her daughter. The truth of the matter was when the family took one look at Rhaelle’s perpetual scold and frightening eyes they’d called off the whole thing. No man of standing or would be standing wanted a wife that had defeated them in the play of wooden swords either. Meanwhile the page stepped forward when summoned and leaned in so that his Lord could hear him well. “My Lord, you have a visitor. He begs me tell you not his name but that you have shared many nights on bloody battle grounds arguing of which…” his pale green eyes flicked to the lady of the house then down, lowering his voice,”of your wives was better in bed.” The last of his speech was hiccupped and he quickly stepped back and out of reach should his message upset Arsen.

Brute: When his father spoke it gave Azaroth a lot to think about, the words he said made sense but they never really answered the questions he thought he was asking. His ancestors did what they thought was right in their own mind, but they killed in doing so and if that were wrong then even what they thought was right, was still wrong, yet that didn’t seem to stop them doing it for their beliefs or wants. Azaroth’s eyes narrowed onto the plate of food in front of him as he slowly chewed on meat while Rhea spoke of magic and Rhaelle instructed her of the reality. Rhaelle continued on and added further information into the stories he had been told and read about, only to add her own truth into the mix at the end of it. As the conversations continued Azaroth peered to his sister, the claim of never belonging to anyone made sense in some form but not in others; perhaps their definition of ownership was different. As the page stepped up to whisper to his father Azaroth kept from speaking until the moment the boy moved away, it was only then he spoke with his words aimed for his eldest sister. “We belong to our parents, they teach and feed us, cloth us and provide for us, if father really wanted you to marry your betrothed then you would truly have no say in the matter because he controls the Stormlands and even the mountain people listen to what he says. My attendant says that the things we own we must look after because that is our duty, isn’t it father’s duty to look after those he is in control of, the people who belong to the Stormlands? Just like how I should be careful of dirtying my clothes or tearing them?”

Grimm: The combination of the page's message and what he had heard from his oldest daughter had Arsen's head tilting back and his booming laughter once again echoing around the stone hall. Waving his hand at the page, Arsen tried to control his outburst as he managed to utter a few words through hiccuped chuckles. "Bring him to us boy." The page quickly bowed and scurried back to the unknown guest as Arsen brushed a finger under his left eye. "You are correct my daughter and thus, the selfish reason to my answer." Winking at his wife when her and Rhaelle's little disagreement came to a quiet halt on her dismissal of the subject, Arsen placed a hand upon Azaroth's shoulder. "The world is long black and white little Stag. People are not property. How you view a person should not be with the same eyes you view a piece of cloth. The people of the Stormlands, my people, your people, they are not pieces of cloth, they follow because they love us and trust we do what is best for them. But make no mistake my son, should I stray too far and dishonor the loyalty they have given our house and Storm's End, they will be quick to voice such." Arsen grabbed his goblet and took a large gulp from the liquid contents before placing it back upon the table again. "Show the people you have their best interest in mind and they will show you their faith and their trust."

Diitzy: Rhaenyrs frowned to her sister’s comment as she mouthed the word ‘reflection’. “Reflections could be magic too.” She glanced down at the plate with frustration. If she had the chance she’d drop the stupid plate again for deceiving her into believing such thing as magic. Though now it was filled with mountains of more meat and cheese which took tiny Rhaenyrs’ attention as she shoved handfuls of food in her mouth. This kept her quiet for a moment as she started up at her sister while she spoke to their brother. She tossed her hands up and reached for their mother. “Mother! Will I be betrothed? Or am I gonna stay here with sister forever?” Her eyes grew big with anticipation for her mother’s response as she glanced over at her siblings.

Biird: The sound of her husband's laughter rocked the keep but sent a shiver down her spine. It had done so from the moment she meant him though it was years before she would admit it. Once she had, however, their relationship had blossomed into four beautiful children, one nearly right after the other. The Stormlands seemed to blossom right along with them. However the reign of King Rux was a direct reflection of the brothers’ boisterous and lively relationship; the regions enjoyed as much peace as they could stand and feasting in the name of the king was everyone's excuse, and he loved it. Reaching under Rhaenyrs' chin, Rhaelle untied her bonnet and let her long dark hair flow free. "Magic is much bigger than a reflection in a plate, little sister and I would fling myself from the tallest tower if father forced me to do anything but not until I had maimed him in some way.” Rhaelle practically snorted. She opened her mouth to continue but her mother had shot a look warning against just that. “That is quite enough. In front of your sister. Shameful.” Rhaelle saw the world quite clearly. She had for some years now, despite her age, however she had a hard and flat way of answering questions, which was helpful to her brother but seemed to snuff the life of her sister’s imagination. She was cold and hard and would be extremely hard to marry off. As Rhaenyrs stood to address their mother, the page returned with a man of average height, who was clearly war-torn and hardened like any man of the Stormlands. He came up behind Arsen and bowed to the Lady Eirlys before clapping a hand on Arsen's shoulder. "Brother in arms!" Meanwhile, Eirlys rose from her place at the table and lifted Rhaenyrs from her chair, "You will be bethrothed my dear. I will not allow you to turn into the old maid your sister wishes to become." Rhaelle let out a loud noise created by her tongue being caught between her lips and flapping with forced breath, which caused her mother to suck her teeth and wag a finger. With Rheanyrs now on her hip, Eirlys gave a curtsey to their guest and addressed him formerly before turning to her eldest son, the shining example of her strength as a woman by simply birthing the mammoth boy, “Kainen, be a dear and do not knock over your maester today. He has not quite recovered from your last encounter. The young Greyson should be arriving soon, play easy with him as well.”

Brute: Arsen’s words touched a chord inside the young Baratheon, the more he went on about the people of the Stormlands and showing them you had their best interest in mind the more Azaroth moved off the idea that people were like objects, though it turned his thoughts into many other new questions about people and their interests. Rhaelle spoke with the harsh truth of her freedom and value of it, it was clear his sister would rather die than belong to another but how many women could say that? How many would actually go through with the threat she had just promised? Azaroth’s eyes moved above his father as another man approached, the moment he spoke of Arsen as his brother in arms the young stag’s eyes lit up even more than their normal bright storm blue, if this was to be a conversation between his father and a man who fought at his side Azaroth wanted to be there, to hear them recall the past adventures. As his mother picked up Rhae, sucked her teeth at Rhaelle and ordered Kainen to be more gentle with his maester Azaroth pushed his chair from the table but remained at beside it, his gaze still plastered onto his father with wanting, pleading eyes; it wasn’t often that his father would send him off and not allow him to listen in to conversations, but it happened and when it did those were the worst of times.