Two figures walked through the halls of the Red Keep, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. "My lord, today is the day that the Wards arrive. And with them will come the Arryn's Last Whore. I assume you've made the preparations to deal with her?" one man asked. Their features were hard to discern due to the choice of wearing a hood in summer, however, the man who had spoken was a good deal shorter than his silent partner. "Of course I have my good friend. Our mutual ally with tastes more akin to that of, Dorne perhaps, has already made the arrangements. I trust that he picked the right man for the job. The Arryn's will have lost an heir by the end of this moon, and if we're lucky, they'll declare war. If we're not than we'll have to continue our work in the shadows, though not for much longer." The taller man spoke with a softer voice, one that was smooth as silk. "I trust that if our mutual friend has dealt with it, then the girl is as good as dead. I'll be sure to report our success to you my lord," the shorter man said. They reached the end of the hallway, where stairs spiraled down into the depths of the Red Keep. "Here is where I leave you friend. I trust that you will secure my power here while I am away," the man said, before descending into the castle.

King Daerys Targaryen

Daerys Targaryen sat in the Small Council room, his Hand and most trusted friend seated across from him. "Jon we have no idea as to who could be leading the Knights of the Moon! We can't just run after them without a plan!," the king shouted. He and Jon Royce had been having this argument since the Knights of the Moon had first arisen. Jon wanted to squash the rebellion, and Daerys wanted to wait. "We have waited like you wanted to! But now the Knights have grown stronger! We can't just keep waiting for them to fall on their own sword!" Jon shouted back at his king, his face going red. He held a special hatred for the knights. The Vale was his home, and these rebels sought to tear it to pieces. "I'm done having this conversation Jon. The Wards will be here soon. Make sure they are all greeted and brought to their common room. Oh and make sure Illysia is there. I'd like her to forge some worthwhile friendships," the king said before waving Jon away. His friend nodded, and left without a word. The king knew that his friend was angry but he was still the king. He sighed. He'd have to recompose himself for his meeting with the Wards.

Morgan Stark

Morgan smiled as he and his party approached King's Landing. His direwolf, Winter, padded alongside him, creating a nice amount of space between him and any other riders. He and his sister had left Winterfell more than a fortnight back. And he had to say, it had been quite an adventure. When his father had come to him he'd been confused. He'd assume that Kyran would be sent as a Ward, due to his age. However, his father had sent him and his sister instead. "We both know that Kyran is a cold boy. He won't make friends like you. And I fear that we are in a time where friends are sorely needed." Morgan had gone without complaint. He had always wanted to travel and he figured this was as good a time as any. He'd loved the sights, seeing the countryside and the Trident. It had all been exhilarating. Soon, he and his sister's party had reached the city's gates. The guards saluted them before raising the gate. The Starks quickly made their way through and began the trip to the Red Keep. Morgan decided to race ahead, laughing at the looks the peasants gave him and Winter. When he finally reached the front of the castle, a servant was there to meet him. He dismounted his horse and smiled. "It's my pleasure to introduce myself as Morgan Stark, Lord of Winterfell. This here is my direwolf, Winter. Now, my sister will be here soon, as will our luggage. I expect however that you are here to lead me to a waiting spot," Morgan said, his hair mussed up from the ride. The servant nodded, his face having gone pale at the sight of the direwolf. As more men dressed in servants wear appeared in the courtyard, obviously awaiting the arrival of the others, Morgan was led up a spiral staircase to a room that seemed to be the Ward's common room. Cushioned seats littered the room, as did paintings and bowls of exotic fruits. There were eight doors on the side, which Morgan assumed were bedrooms for each Ward. The Stark boy sat down in a chair, his direwolf sitting on the floor next to it, and awaited the arrival of his fellow Wards.

The journey to King's Landing from Pyke took about two and a half weeks. Unfortunately only about two days of that was spent on a ship. The rest was spent on a horse, or as they got closer to King's Landing, in a carriage. The carriage was the most idiotic contraption ever built. It was a waste of wood and horses and completely unnecessary when she could ride just fine. Unfortunately the closer they got to King's Landing, the more eyes were on them and the more appearances mattered. Robyn hadn't spent her entire life on a ship but she had spent a good majority of it, and the rest of her time at least by the ocean. Being landlocked like this was odd, however King's Landing was on a bay so she'd at least have that. If we ever get there, Robyn thought as they stopped again. She forced the door open and got out of the carriage.
“Why have we stopped again? I can see the castle from here and yet we are stopped.” Robyn was almost out of patience. She was tired and annoyed and this wasn't helping.
“One of our horses stumbled and twisted it's leg m'lady.” One of her guards said and she went over to the horse. He was on the ground on his side, and he didn't look like he would be getting up any time soon.
“Can he move?” Robyn asked and the guard shook his head. She sighed and grabbed his sword from his scabbard. She ran her hand over the horses neck.
“Shh...it's okay.” Robyn whispered, before stabbing it through the neck. The horse jerked in pain before slumping to the ground, it's lifeblood soaking the ground. She wiped the sword off on the ground before handing it back to the guard.
“Get what you need off it and then let's go.” Robyn ordered before heading back to her carriage. It was hot here. While she may not be as far north as Winterfell, the Iron Islands are far enough north and far enough out at sea, that there is a drastic change in temperature. Once they passed Riverrun she changed from her heavier dresses to the lighter one, thanking the God that she didn't wear her hair in the Northern style as some of her sisters and the other ladies of the Islands did, but rather an easy braid that kept the heat from being trapped against her neck. It was cooler in the castle, but Nagga's bones still warmed the castle enough for it not to matter.
Finally they made it to King's Landing and the Red Keep. Robyn exited the carriage and glanced at the servant in the front of the castle.
“Get everything situated, I assume you're to guide me to where the other wards are?” She asked and the servant nodded.
“Wonderful.” Robyn said, following him up to where the common room for the Wards were. The two Stark children were already there, it seemed from their dark hair and the giant wolf in the corner. Tensions weren't exactly good between the Stark's and the Greyjoy's, but she figured it would be apt to introduce herself.
“Hello, my name Robyn Greyjoy. You must be the Stark children?” Robyn asked with one more glance at the giant wolf.
“Are you the first ones here?” She asked politely, glancing between the twins again. She wondered when the rest of the wards would be here and if they'd see the King. Having this many wards was unprecedented and she wondered if how the King would explain this, if not outright say that they were there to keep the Lords in line, especially with the Eyrie under attack.

((Meant to post in OOC plz ignore))

"I look like a... a sycophant." Beregard muttered as he waddled through the streets of King's Landing in his noble attire. The young lord hadn't worn such an attire since his brother's eighteenth nameday celebration. All of the cloth, the padding, the layers... Beregard was entirely out of his element. He had ridden from Storm's End in his normal clothing, but he was required to change before even setting sights on the Red Keep.

Behind him, a sharp laugh echoed through the streets. "You look like a high-price whore," Belinda heckled, "on his way to fuck the king." The bastard of Baratheon had a spring in her step today; probably from seeing her brother paraded about like he was. Belinda herself was not dressed like a noblewoman; she wore pants, a tight wool tunic, and a leather coat. Over her shoulder was a dark bow, white engravings dancing up the sides. Belinda was the only one accompanying Bear; those loyal to the Baratheons in the city insisted he have a long list of servants and guards, but Bear assured them he needed only his sister.

"At least I won't be housed in the kennels," Bear retorted. "We don't need to announce our arrival because they've smelled you already." Anyone who observed the siblings walking in the streets would have a relatively complete understanding of their relationship; the two remained incredibly close, but their way of showing affection was... unique, at best. There was no malice behind their words, just playful banter.

"I just don't get it," Bear confessed after a few more blocks of silent waddling. "My mother has me trained from near birth by her secret lover - the father of her bastard - and then sends me out of the continent for most of my young life. And, what? This is the endgame? Being a hostage of a King whose name I really have trouble remembering? Am I supposed to teach King Daemon how to stop being so foppish?"

"Our mother sees things different than most," Belinda said quietly. "As did my father. Everything they do, they do for a reason. And I told you never to question that while we're here." Bear just pouted, and the rest of the walk was silent.

When Bear finally reached the gates of the Red Keep, he sighed in exasperated relief. "Thank God! You there!" He hollered to the nearest guard. "I am Beregard Baratheon, son of Osyra Baratheon, Lady Paramount of the Stormlands. I have this sigil, here," Bear pointed to an empty spot on his chest.

"It's pinned on your cloak," Belinda offered.

"Here then," Bear spun around and showed the guards the silver stag, the official seal of House Baratheon. "I think that does it? If so, please take us to King Daenor."

The guards exchanged a curious glance before stopping Beregard from proceeding. "Who's the woman?" One asked. "We can't let someone like that into the keep."

"I am Lady Fuck You, personal guard to Beregard Baratheon. Now, we're on order of the king. Let us pass or I will deliver your disloyal heads at his feet when I meet him."

Beregard nodded. "Yeah, she's with me."

The gate swung open, and the Baratheons entered the Red Keep.

"Raise the gates!" The cries of the guards went up followed by a low sound of gears shifting as fifty raised lances came into view just above the horizon. Most of them bore flags of falcons upon a field of blue but others flew the banners of lesser houses of the Vale. As the view of them increased, the guards spotted fifty heavily armoured knights and even more lightly armoured men. Whoever it was, the Knights of the Vale had turned out in force. When they neared the gates, the lightly armoured riders fell off to the side, splitting away from the main body of shining steel - the streets of King's Landing were much too narrow for them to be of any affect so they split into two parties at the front and back of the main party. As the column of knights passed under the large gates, the guards raised a quick salute before converging and watching as the massive party made its way into King's Landing. They knew there were rumours of the Arryns being in danger but the detachment seemed like a tad overkill.

As the knights made their way through the streets, most stopped their daily activities to stare at the advancing column. Although the sight of who they were actually protecting was limited, some caught a few glimpses of splays of ginger hair partially hidden by a sky blue cloak. The lone rider in the centre stood out from the thick walls of steel and horse around her but her head was lowered, stopping the crowds from garnering a peek at the young heiress of the Vale.

Finally, they reached the gates of the Red Keep. The guards there didn't have to ask who they were - the show of sheer, unbreaking strength along with the falcon banners gave them all the information they needed. The gates were opened in no time but the column split in two down along the middle, revealing the lone rider in the centre who tapped her horse into a trot towards the gate. "Good luck, my lady." One murmured to her - Ser Roy Hunter; a friend of her fathers who had trained her as a child. She extended a simple nod to him as she moved from her overly flashy guard and entered the Red Keep. The whole procession had been too flashy in her eyes but she had already been told that they needed to strike an image of unrivaled superiority to their enemies undoubtedly hidden in the snake pit that was King's Landing.

As her mare trotted forward, she stopped it as she took notice of a servant standing waiting for her. Unaided, she climbed down from the white horse; she had donned riding leathers for the entire trip. That was one thing that Alyssa insisted on - she would go to King's Landing but they would have to summon the might of the Seven themselves if they wished to put her anywhere near a dress. "I am Alyssa Arryn, Warden of the East and Protector of Mountain and Vale. I bid you good day." Despite her rather stoic introduction, the girl didn't stand an inch above five foot three and when she pulled her hood down, she exposed a flurry of gentle, copper curls. If it wasn't for her clawed gauntlets and the sword at her side, she would look, daresay, innocent. In fact, her contrasting appearance drew the attention of most other servants awaiting their charges. Raising her sky blue eyes to meet their stares, all of them buckled under her unrelenting gaze, looking away with awkward coughs. "Lead the way." She murmured softly, her voice sounding a tad too girlish for her own liking.

Alyssa was led up to some sort of common room. It was lavishly decorated and all manner of fruits from the Southern Kingdoms were placed in bowls all around the room. Some of her so-called companions were already there and their presence didn't seem to bother her outwardly but inwardly was another story. As she watched her servant disappear back down the stairs, she sighed gently. In the Eyrie, she had some power and she could actually order the other children to leave her alone but here, most were her equals and like it or not, she simply couldn't order them to clear off.

It was in that moment that Alyssa realised just why that fool of a king Daerys had amassed them all there. It was a test. They were all the future leaders of their respective kingdoms so gathering them together would expose their shortcomings and their relationships with the other future leaders. And of course, the ultimate reason was an easy equation for the calculating, small girl - they were young and not so secretive, they would expose their weaknesses. Daerys would win any future rebellions simply by gathering every last potential rebel and seeing what made them tick. It was a genius ploy, if Alyssa did have to admit it herself.

Casting her eyes around those already present, she picked out a few faces. Starks and Baratheons were already present. She didn't know the other girl but she didn't particularly care. "Wolves, stags and whoever the hell you are. Fun." She yawned, crossing her arms, kicking a foot back against a wall and leaning back into it.

Manasa Stark

The young woman thought back to the day she'd been told they were leaving for King's Landing; she had been alone in the Godswood with her companions, sitting high in the branches of the Weirwood tree in all it's ominous glory. Few found the tree as welcoming as the odd daughter of the Starks, and never did anyone sit high in her branches as Manasa did on a regular basis. She had worn her cloak, red and dark, the fabric matching the shade of the leaves of the ancient god tree that her faith followed and spoke to in times of need. They thought of the Old Gods before the New; before Ra'llor had come to show himself in Westeros; before even man had come to these lands the Old Gods had watched over the Children who were here before. She sat with her back against the trunk of the tree, looking back into the past of this place before the Andals had invaded and begun their great slaughter of the Children. The sound of feet in the leaves and the rustling of branches had woken her from her Green Sleep and her brother had come to tell her the news; the twins were going to King's Landing to make nice with the other lords children. She had wanted to refuse; they did not have a Godswood there, or a place she could allow herself rest from them.

She slept the vast majority of their journey she had ridden the back of her large female direwolf, the animal guiding the way behind her brother's horse and brushing coats with Winter as they moved. Manasa had been in a trance, listening and watching through her direwolves senses until they had reached the capitol and had passed through the gates. She opened her eyes to see the peasants around them watching the wolves apprehensively and quickly skirting out of the way. "Brother; there is a place I must visit before I go inside." She said to her brother quietly before the direwolf followed her mental command and the two females turned the corner with a linx in tow. They found the child alone in an alleyway where Manasa, dressed in all her red and black, fur and glory. "Child; I cannot say what it is you will be but I must say now; go North to the Wall. The Night's Watch will need you in the years to come." Why that child specifically, she would never be able to tell. It was an impression and a face, given to her by the Greensight she was born with.

Turning back around they made their way to the red Keep, arriving shortly after her twin brother just as their carriage of luggage had arrived. They would be here for possibly the next several years and they had little they would need so where the others would have had trunks of dresses and armor, Manasa herself owned only a single trunk of clothing. She would make her own if the need arose, or hire a tailor to create a new dress for a feast. "Manasa Stark." She said to the guard though the man recognized her features as those nearly exactly like her twins, if not more feminine and refined than her slightly older brothers. He had gone above, into a tower where the common room of the wards was. The young woman slid off of the small horse sized animal and stepped forward to follow the servant. It was a fair amount of stairs, but nothing that she wasn't used to though the weight of her dress was slightly more than that of the average lady though she was born in the frozen reaches of the North.

Upstairs the young lady walked into the room to be greeted by no one but her twin brother and she smiled at him, her deep green eyes reflecting that happiness though they both knew that neither of them would enjoy being here. It was like their great great grandfather Eddard Stark, here for duty while our heart rested in the snow. "Morgan; there was a child. He had such a difficult future." The girl walked over to the small couch where he was sitting, his direwolf by his feet and pulled off the cloak from around her shoulders to lay it across the back of the plush seating before sitting next to him as if the two of them were only two halve of a single whole. For a long time when they were younger they had never left one another's side, even in the bathe or when taking lessons and in turn he had learned what difficulty needlework was and she had begun her first lessons with a sword. Now, where he wore their family greys and blacks, Manasa wore shades of red and black that made her dark green eyes look all the darker.

With the arrival of one ward after another she had not heard any of them speak until one walked right up to them with a wary glance at the two wolves laying in front of them and spoke, frank and deliberate. "Yes." Her answer was short and blunt, answering the both of her questions with a single word answer that would bring understanding to all who were not idiots. After the blonde was looked upon by the distant and unfriendly Warg, when another walked in; he was a Baratheon clearly. After him was another girl, orange of hair and small, clearly an Arryn. She was rude when she spoke though and, sensing her agitation, both Winter and Echo lifted off the floor to snarl silently at the smaller girl. Dragons were dangerous most outside of the walls, for they were too large for the areas man traversed, but inside the wolves were the danger to them and neither would stand for the anger of their warg to go unsated. Her message was the snarling of the powerful wolves, and the stare of the linx that sat upon the back of the small couch. Manasa stared for a moment at Alyssa, watching her before returning her gaze to her brother and smiling while the two wolves settled back down on the floor.

"Perhaps the capitol was not such a good idea Brother. Remember what happened to Sansa?" Her voice was but a whisper, directly in her twins ear and her worry was clear in it though her expression betrayed nothing but love for her brother and excitement for being here with the others. She had never interacted well with the children of the families outside of the North, and still she had gone to their gatherings when invited or asked by her parents and never had she gone home happy.

Artoran Sand, or Prince Artoran Sand (as Toran so enjoyed making known to stuffy nobles, and the looks he got in return) had arrived at King’s Landing three days prior to the day the others were to arrive, due to unexpectedly good weather at sea. After about two and a half weeks on a ship, Toran had welcomed King’s Landing like an old lover, and was happy to have returned.
This visit was odd, though; Toran and his family normally made twice to thrice-yearly trips to visit his aunt, and his father and all of his siblings would accompany them. This time, though, it was a stretch even for Toran to be welcomed as a ward (his aunt had needed to do some… Convincing with the king) and his siblings certainly couldn’t come. Not even his father, Prince Mikael, was able to visit - something he was sure his father was sore about. He and his sister were close, after all.

In any case, he was here now, and not even in his usual chamber. He had to hand it to his uncle; he’d pulled every string to make the wards interact. In fact, in all his playing in the Red Keep, Toran had somehow never found this common area, or its branching bedrooms. The accommodations were good, though. His room was as spacious and lush as he would expect, and he’d been enjoying himself for the past few days.

In fact, at the very moment the first wards were to arrive, Toran was already in his chamber, lounging in the sun on a lush velvet window seat and in an… interesting condition with a particularly interesting lady. His companion sat behind him, rubbing oil into his bare shoulders and chest as he leaned back into her, dissecting a pomegranate into a shallow bowl. She was regaling a tale of one of her customers, a senile bard who’d tried to pay her in grapes.

Toran glanced out the window, fixing his eyes for a moment on the parting sea of blue falcon banners so far below. Even from this height, he could see the display of Arryn power clearly. Laughing, Toran finally turned away and asked, “Well, what did you end up doing with him?”

The woman, a shirtless twenty-year-old beauty with thick auburn hair and dashing blue eyes named Lana, smiled cleverly and waved a hand. “Oh, we stole the poor bastard’s rings - he had at least two on each finger, and yet still dressed like a gutter whore - and sent him on his way, grinning like he’d fucked the queen.” They both burst into chuckles, and Lana traced her fingers over his shoulder and up his neck, tracing the rough, discoloured skin on the right side. “Oh my, this must be why they call you the Scorched One…” Her voice was a mixture of nonchalant interest and odd admiration.

Toran’s gaze hardened, but he grinned nonetheless. “My dear, if you didn’t have me in such a vulnerable position, you’d be regretting the moment you said that.” He hesitated, then chuckled once, low in his throat to dismiss the threat, if not announce some displeasure. It obviously hadn’t been the first time she’d noticed; the girl had him out of his shirt an hour ago, and almost out of his trousers by then. She must have been kindly ignoring them until she thought she had him in good enough a mood, and wanted to make sure she was with who she thought she was. He knew how whores operated: Brothels were home to rampant competition, and every girl wanted to come back saying they’d fucked a more famous man than the one before.

“So…” she purred, digging deeper into his flesh, “You really are the bastard Martell Prince.”

To this, Toran sincerely smiled. He reached back and patted the girl’s face. “Tell your friends, my dear. I’m sure at least one of them knows me.”

A few minutes passed before Toran decided it was time to put Toruk away while he was… Busy. But when he reached for the viper, formerly lounging on a lattice in the evening sun, he found only an empty lattice.

Toran shot up, nearly spilling a bowl of pomegranate seeds onto his guest. She looked shocked, but Toran ignored her; his missing pet was of much greater importance. While Toran knew he wouldn’t harm him, he was concerned that the snake would get spooked by the guests and bite one if he got loose. The Prince tore the room apart in a matter of moments, tossed a few gold dragons to Lana and told her to get dressed and leave through the servant’s door of the room immediately. He whistled a few times - he always whistled when he was about to feed Toruk, so he normally came ‘running’ at the sound - but got no response. Heart racing, he threw on a silk shirt with an open chest and billowing sleeves and dashed toward the common room.

While Toran searched, a small dash of red and black crept unnoticed by the guests in the common room, camouflaged against the colourful, torchlit floor coverings and up the leg of a suit of armour near the entrance. The snake disappeared in time for another to enter, storming in in a flurry of sky blue and riding leathers. She noted her displeasure at present company and leaned against the wall, near the snake’s hiding place.

Toruk didn’t like her attitude, and she encroached on his space, no less! No no, this wasn’t to be taken lightly.

And she was so infuriatingly, tantalizingly close. All the viper had to do was slither out of the elbow joint of his armour, close enough to the girl’s own elbow to reach with relative ease, even for his small stature. He bore his fangs, rearing back while she wasn’t looking, and-

Suddenly, Toran came running. having burst out of his chamber, scanning the room for the snake’s favourite spots. Sure enough, he’d been hiding in his favourite suit of armour, and Toran barely managed to push the girl, rather ungracefully, out of the way before the snake decided to strike. Instead of his planned target, Toruk’s fangs his Toran’s forearm, and the snake was promptly grabbed and held secure by its master. As always, falconry leathers protected Toran’s arms under his sleeves, so luckily, the bite did no harm.

Breathing heavy, Toran eyed the snake, which seemed to become eerily calm under his gaze. He gave Toruk a stern shake of the head and a Dornish scorn and let him go to wrap around his upper arm and rest his head on the Prince’s shoulder, eyeing the red-haired girl as if she’d offended him.

Toran regained his composure immediately, casting a disapproving glare to his pet before offering his hand to the upturned maiden. “My sincerest apologies my lady,” he quipped, his thick accent soaking in to every word, "I think you scared him.”
He gave her an apologetic grin, using his free hand to run over Toruk’s scales to calm him. In his silk undershirt and lounging pants, Toran’s far-from-formal attire contrasted starkly with the others in the room. Nothing he wore bore his sigil, and in his simple dress, one might even mistake him for a servant.

Alerie Tyrell

Alerie's journey hadn't been particularly long. Little over two weeks but that didn't phase the girl. She'd had every luxury on th trip to King's Landing. Right now she was sitting on a cushion in a light, green dress, waiting as her carriage plodded along. Currently she was practicing her needlework, sewing the Tyrell rose onto a patch of cloth. She heard the gates open and then, the commotion in the streets. She looked out her window as peasants bustled about, haggling and shouting at one another. Oh I don't envy the peasants one bit She thought as the carriage went through the streets. When it arrived in the courtyard she gracefully descended, quickly followed by her handmaiden, Melessa. A servant greeted her and she smiled at the man. "I am Lady Alerie Tyrell of Highgarden. I assume you are to show me to my room. So be it," she said, following the servant up to the common room, where she noticed that many of the Wards had already arrived. "Well you all are quite the raucous bunch aren't you?" She wasn't used to all the commotion that was going on in the common room. Nor was she used to people keeping wild animals as pets, though she guessed that she was to be here for a while, she'd have to learn. Still, she couldn't help but cast a disdainful look at the lynx, and the two direwolves that sat near what were quite obviously the Stark children.

Morgan Stark

Morgan smiled at the blonde girl before standing up and bowing. [color=silver]"Morgan Stark, at your service m'lady. Based off of the faint smell of the ocean, you must be Robyn Greyjoy," he said, smiling. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a boy and a particularly wild looking girl entered the common room as well. "Well you must be Beregard Baratheon. You however have me at a loss," he said, before a rather attractive, ginger girl dressed all in riding leathers entered and, in a rather rude tone, made a snarky comment about wolves and stags. Her nature caused Winter and Echo to snarl, although Morgan waved Winter back down. He went over to the girl and smiled. "Alyssa Arryn I presume. A pleasure." He then made his way back to his sister, where she whispered her worries in his ear. The two had always been thick as thieves, and they shared everything together. However, where Morgan found himself at home with others, Manasa was not so welcoming. "Sister, you worry too much. We'll be fine," he whispered. Suddenly, a tan boy came running from a room and knocked the Arryn girl aside. He smiled as the boy took a snake out from a suit of armor. He was dressed quite simply, and if Morgan hadn't taken the time to study who was going to be his fellow wards for the next few years, then he might have mistaken him for a servant. However, Morgan knew otherwise. The discolored skin only confirmed his theory. "And to everyone who doesn't know, this is Prince Mikael Martell's son, Prince Artoran Sand," he said, offering a smile. He figured that most would be shocked to find that they had been grouped with a bastard, though Morgan wasn't so easily angered. He judged people by actions, not by names.

Robyn raised an eyebrow at the Dornish Prince when he burst into the room. His state of undress nor the snake fazed her, since she had prepared to come here. Neither did his bastard state. While less known than the Dornish, the Iron Island kept their fair share of concubines, or Salt Wives as they were called there. Robyn was vaguely aware of having several salt brother and sister, but since she was born legitimate they did not hold a position to take her place, even if her father did legitimize them, and therefore she didn't really care.
"And this must be Alerie Tyrell of Highgarden." Robyn commented glancing at everyone in the room. It seems that house Tully and house Lannister had yet to make an appearance, as well as the Targaryen children but they had their own lives and Robyn could honestly care less. She was pointedly ignoring Alyssa Arryn and instead turned her attention to the Dornish Prince.
"So, are the rumors of your tolerance to venom true or should one of us rush off to find an antidote from the Grand Maester because I truly feel that the Queen's cousin dying in a room full of his enemies would not make for a wonderful start." Robyn asked politely, even as she itched to leave this room and dive into the bay. She observed him with the snake and the two direwolves and the lynx and she longed for her own companion even though she knew he was still deep in the ocean.

Past seventeen days...

The voyage to Kings Landing was uneventful. Her traveling party was on the smaller side, plain and modest as her father instructed. Alianne was accompanied by a handful of knights, her handmaiden Catelyn, her tutor Ryndel, her uncles sellsword Aeryn, and her pet rabbit Romilly. Over the 17 day journey she had been sitting in the carriage contemplating her new situation. She was getting bored of embroidering patterns on cloth, taking naps, and re-reading the same four books over and over again. Traveling was not something she had done often, and the expectations she had had about her adventurous journey were crushed as each day was filled with bumpy roads, boredom, and no baths. Travel had never been more dull. Catelyn was good at keeping Alianne distracted from her thoughts, but there was only so much one could take of idle babble, card games, and stifling heat. By the fifth day she was already missing her family dearly, and spent the next three nights silently crying her self to sleep. She had never been much of a crier, but she wanted to get it all out of her system before arrival, and by the twelveth night on the road she had.

She had only been to Kings Landing once before, back when she was seven years old. Her father had been invited to the crown prince's 8th name day, and after much pleading Alianne was allowed to go to. It had been a magical time, and her innocent memories of the castle were full of playing in the gardens with the prince, and princesses. It was the place she saw fireworks, and dragons for the first time. A place of nostalgic memories, and ignorant bliss of childhood adventure. She would soon be fifteen, and in her eyes she was not a child anymore. She had breasts, she had bleed already, she was more reliable then her own parents, and maturity was something that came naturally to her. The fact was she would likely be married off in the next five years or so. And the fact that her uncle also considered Alianne to be as capable as himself just amplified her belief that she was no kid.

Her thoughts drifted to the conversation she had with her Uncle Emerson. He had come to her home in Riverrun over three weeks ago to speak to her about her upcoming role as ward, and what was expected of her while she spent the next few years of her life living in the red keep of kings landing. It was a long conversation, and by the end of it Alianne's mind was reeling. She knew how to behave, and what her duty was as heir apparent of house Tully, but after the long conversation with her Uncle, she was now under the impression that her time in Kings Landing was not to be a simple one. She had re-read the letter her uncle had handed to her the morning she left, more then a dozen times. The letter was now creased, and some of the ink was smudged from a few of her tears that had landed on the paper, but the words were still reassuring as ever.

Dear Alianne,

I trust that everything was prepared accordingly, you arrived safely, and are well in your new residence. As you are now a ward of the King, and joined under the same roof by the heirs of the great houses, I expect you to behave accordingly, and find those few allies, among the many enemies that haunt the red keep. I believe you will do our family proud, and bring honor to your house, as long as you remember our words, and that this new place is not your home. My good friend Grand Maester Cerwick, and Lord Mace Redwyne sit on the small council as I used to. They have both assured me that they will keep an eye on you. Mace is also your uncle as you know, and it would be best to trust him with your private letters from now on, as we discussed.

You represent the Tully family, and I'm thankful that your father made sure to send you as the ward rather than one of your younger sisters. The memory of Serena's idea of a practical joke still haunts your Aunt Doline. Your cleverness and high tolerance will keep you safe while residing there. I believe you know your father and I's hopes for a royal marriage, one to join our house with our friends the Targaryens. A royal match was promised long ago, and whether it be you, or one of your sisters, a betrothal to the crown prince is underway. Though, your father would settle for a match between one of my sons and the young princess, but as you know he lacks a broader picture.

Make nice with the other wards, and keep yourself in check. I know you have no problems with being sensible, but the red keep has a way of bringing out the best and worst in people. During my time a Master of Ship I've have gained many friends among the court, as you will now do. I have sent for a Septa as you asked, and once she arrives in Riverrun she will take over as governess to your sisters, so you need not worry about your mothers moods. I would advise you to write to your mother as much as you can, so to keep her cheerful. Lady Doline has sent you a gown, and a pearl snood as a gift, she hopes you would wear them on your upcoming name day. They should be in you chambers when you arrive. Remember your place, and what I have relayed to you. As the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Keep in mind everything we spoke of before you left, and never forget -Family, Duty, Honor-

Yours Truly,
Ser Emerson Tully, Your Uncle and Confidant.

-present day-

Dressed in a simple empire waist gown, she followed behind the castle servants as they guided her way to her new chambers, and the adjoining common room where the other wards were gathered. Catelyn was at her side, holding Alianne's rabbit, and looking in awe at the grand silk embroidered tapestries that lined the walls of the corridor they walked down. Apparently they were one of the last to arrive, as practically all the other wards were conversing in the common room, and they had brought bastards and beasts with them as one chatty maid explained.

The dark blue velvet of Alianne's dress accentuated the blue of her eyes. Crystal clear and the color of periwinkle flowers, her father always said they reminded him of his late mothers eyes. Alianne's long hair was half up in a crown braid that framed her face, and the rest fell like a soft waterfall of amber waves down her back. Her hair was extremely long, reaching all the way past her hips, and smelled like flowers thanks to the lovely bath she had at the Inn last night. She wondered how the Stark ward had gotten permission from the king to bring his huge animals inside the castle, as her uncle had to pull string just so she could bring her rabbit with her.

"Catelyn, please take Romilly to my room, and make sure my things have arrived, I know you'll see that everything is in its proper place." she said to her handmaiden. Catelyn looked relived to be on her way, as she nodded and left with a maid to find were Alianne's belongings were being taken to. Alianne turned to enter through to the common room, taking a deep breath she went inside. "Lady Alianne Tully." the servant man who seemed to be in charge of opening the door introduced her to the room of adolescent nobles. It was a grand room, and quite a sight to see all the wards gathered together. Two huge direwolfs, a monster size cat, and a boy with a venomous snake was not something you saw everyday. She raised her eyebrows slightly at the scene before her, but other then that she appeared completely at ease. "Its a pleasure to meet you all." she said politely as she took her set next to a girl with brown hair. She wondered why the king had them gather here rather then the throne room, or something more open.

Tayila was late. As she dashed through the corridors, her bare feet striking against the floor in a steady rhythm of swift pace, she gathered the cloth about her legs in her fists, crumpling them in a way which would make the washerwomen cry out. She had been in the streets having slipped out for the day, the prospected arrival of the wards but a forgotten memory in her mind, until it was resuscitated in sputters and gasps by the whinny of the first horses and entourages on the cobbled roads. She had sprinted back then, with her remembrance freshly jolted, but horses and carriages had a way of blockading the narrow streets of King's Landing and she had had to take side-alleys through Flea Bottom just to slip in through the kitchen doors.

Now, the front of her dress freckled with spots of dirt which had a nasty habit of flying through the air of the capitol, she came to a sliding stop before the door to the common room. Her hands beat her skirts in an attempt to dust off the worst of the sully. The door was flung open by the doorman whose mouth widened first in preparation for proclamation, before rounding into a surprised O at Tayila's flushed cheeks. She smoothed her hair back and straightened her back, with a smile bordering on a smirk on her face as the man's voice died down to a mutter. "Tayila Waters," he stuttered in a quiet tone which only Tayila could hear, the murmur of noise from the wards overcoming the utterance of her name. "Seven forbid you herald me as you would a lady," she said in a mocking tone, to make the man blush even more, his face ruddier than hers. She knew him from her year in the Red Keep. Easily flustered, withdrawn, with eyes which skittered the floor nervously when faced by bold company. A good honest lad, but alas easy prey for Tayila when her claws felt sharp and in need of scratching. His variety of embarrassed reactions was almost enough to conjure some sorrow on behalf of the boy. Almost.

Fluidly, she glided past the man, and entered the common room. She was attired as befitted her station: in a fair dress of earthy colours and good cut, but not so well as to rival the garments of highborn. Fabrics of muted green and brown swayed about her legs as she strode through the thickness, surveying the wards in search for one Manasa Stark. The king had made her learn by heart the histories and lineage of the houses from whence the wards came, and she had spent hours staring at oil paintings several years outdated, brushed replicas of the little lords and ladies.

As it was, she hadn't needed to look far. Seated on a couch next to a boy who looked to be her brother Morgan Stark, she was accompanied by direwolves. With quiet barefoot steps, Tayila made not a sound as she drifted across the common room, her attention kept divided on the great wolves. She was fast and fleeting on her feet, to be sure, but so were these wolves, and their jaws were much stronger, the bites much sharper, than hers. Enough to be accorded a decent share of wariness from a girl who spent her life outpacing pain and suffering.

Tayila came to a smooth stop by the arm of the chair where the Stark girl sat, her hands coming to fold in front of her and her heart just starting to beat at its common pace again. "Lord Morgan," she said in a melodic voice which remained low and even, nodding to the boy. "Lady Manasa." Her eyes flicked to the girl with alarming green eyes, and her focus remained on her. "I am to be your handmaiden at King's Landing. I attended to Princess Viseria for a year, and now am in your service." She gave a curtsy, but did not look down or away. "I am Tayila, milady. Please forgive my lateness," she added in disgruntlement. Apologies - sincere ones, especially - came unnaturally to Tayila, and she absolutely loathed humbling herself to strangers. Even as she heard the heaving even breaths of the direwolves just paces away, her eyes remained on Manasa, defiant to an extent, bright and alert.

Yawning, Alyssa fired a bored look towards the growling animals and allowed her eyes to roll upwards. If the Stark girl wished to actually threaten her, having her little pooches look menacing at the young Arryn girl wasn't the most useful idea. She knew that they were completely under their control and the Starks didn't want to start a war by having one of their little wolves tear an Arryn to pieces. No, Alyssa was completely safe - the Starks didn't scare her, she respected them in fact. They, at least, were upfront in their threats and attacks. Alyssa was much more cautious of the other members of the room who didn't look like honour was their top priority.

Leaning her head back, she let her eyes close as she momentarily rested. A grating sound to her right awoke her from her momentary rest and just as her eyes were about to dart down to the origins of the sound, she heard the sudden dash of feet then felt the rough grapple of hands before she was sent flying. Having being leaning on only one foot, her balance was instantly upset and she fell sidewards in a heap. For a moment, Alyssa was too stunned to even understand what was happening - no one had ever dared lay their hands on her before, nevermind shove her. When she emerged from her brief stun, her hands instantly flew to the blade at her side. Her fury-filled eyes darted upwards, taking in the sight of the man who had clearly knocked her to her side. There was an odd scent to him and he looked much too bedraggled to be a servant. Her hand paused as she sized everything up. Noticing him plucking a strange snake from his arm, she connected two and two in her head and realised that the snake must have decided that the pale, ginger girl looked like a good meal. In fact, Alyssa owed him but she wasn't about to let the shove slide, nor was she about to ignore the fact that he was allowing a poisonous animal to just wander around their common room!

Ignoring his outstretched hand, she gave a look colder than any winter Westeros could spit at them. Rising of her own accord, she gave a scathing look towards the snake before meeting his darkened eyes. "I'd tell you to watch where you put your little snake but if a Dornishman listened to that, you probably wouldn't be around; would you, Sand?" She didn't need anyone else to introduce him - she knew exactly who he was. Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a rather haughty look before opening her mouth to unload another series of debauchery against the young bastard when the introduction of the next ward froze the words in her mouth.

"Lady Alianne Tully." A servant spoke before the little bitch herself sauntered into the room. Alyssa visibly tightened as her rather dangerous looking clawed gauntlets curled in on themselves, her back arching as her eyes took on a new perception - that of the hunter. In all honesty, she looked like she was about to reach for her blade and cleave the nearest person to her which happened to be the Martell bastard, unfortunately for him. Instead, she turned away, pulling her hood up back over her ginger curls before leaning against the wall in a similar fashion to how she was before. Lowering her head, she idly examined the sharps of her claws and briefly wondered if it was a good idea to warn them why exactly they were here. Extending her hand, she examined the outside of her claws almost like someone would examine their nails before she released a short yawn followed by a sigh.

"Can we all drop the pleasantries, please? Look around you; what do you see? I see the strongest powers in Westeros gathered in one room. You all probably think we're here so the Targaryens can keep their claws around the great powers of Westeros but it's not the case. The Targaryens are losing favour and like it or not, soon someone will rise against them and more than likely, it'll be someone from this very room. Daerys isn't trying to control you - he just dragged you into the Game of Thrones and now he has the upper hand. Each and every one of you are exposing your weaknesses and you haven't even been here an hour yet. I don't particularly give a shit about any of you but the last thing I want is Daerys ruling with an iron fist. We had to get rid of the last Dragon that did that, after all."

As she finished, her face raised and although it was hard to see, her eyes held a fierce resilience. Alyssa knew her fate and if she was being honest, she wouldn't mind being known as the little Falcon that flew against dragonfire.

It was a decently long journey from Lannisport to King's Landing, but not so bad on the Gold Road. It was just over a fortnight all in all. But at last Willam Lannister and his caravan had arrived at the massive gates of the city. He'd been to King's Landing a few times before, for a few parties and various business occasions with his father. From his memory the city was a lot like Lannisport, big with all kinds of different people.

He had spent the whole journey on horseback, leading the column as was expected of him. The trip itself was rather uneventful, Medea was having fun though performing maneuvers as they traveled. The Gold Lion on the red banners flew through the streets of King's Landing as the Lannister entourage approached the keep. Each rider wore an identical crimson cloak including Willam himself. It looked like a sea of blood flushing through the streets. A grim thought but oddly appropriate given the Lannisters reputation, something Willam wanted to change.

He approached the Gates to the Red Keep, as expected there were quite a few guards. "Lord Willam Lannister, here in service to the King." He heard his herald announce beside him. Willam didn't particularly care for heralds, and the banners should be indicative of who he was, but still it was proper form. After his herald announced him, Willam and his men were led through the gates into the Keep proper. From there the young lord dismounted, trusting his friend and travel companion Tywin Kenning, son and heir of Kayce. The two met as boys and have been friends and brothers ever since.

A servant approached him, wanting to lead him to his quarters. "That's fine, Tywin have my things brought to my quarters in a few hours please. No need to do everything at once." He looked back to the servant. "Very well my good man, lead the way." He was lead down a few hallways and up some stairs and eventually was lead to a rather lush common room. He could already see a few direwolves which was a surefire indicator there were Starks around. Right as he was entering he heard a female voice.

"Can we all drop the pleasantries, please? Look around you; what do you see? I see the strongest powers in Westeros gathered in one room. You all probably think we're here so the Targaryens can keep their claws around the great powers of Westeros but it's not the case. The Targaryens are losing favour and like it or not, soon someone will rise against them and more than likely, it'll be someone from this very room. Daerys isn't trying to control you - he just dragged you into the Game of Thrones and now he has the upper hand. Each and every one of you are exposing your weaknesses and you haven't even been here an hour yet. I don't particularly give a shit about any of you but the last thing I want is Daerys ruling with an iron fist. We had to get rid of the last Dragon that did that, after all."

Instantly and with quite the fervor Willam announced his presence with a a reply of his own. "Or he's very simply trying to prevent a future civil war by having the heads of the great houses learn to live with each other while we're young. Maybe, Seven forbid we becomee friends of some sort. Because isn't a lasting and prosperous peace a goal worth fighting for? I believe so, and in that spirit I am here. To promote peace and prosperity throughout the realm." With that he entered the room in full, dressed in gold and crimson with a few decorative pieces of plate on his shoulders, shins, and forearms. Strapped to his waist was a rather thin sword with a basket hilt, called a a rapier. His crimson cloak was clasped by a gold brooch shaped in the sigil of the Lannisters. "His Grace, the King, has been an able and fair monarch thus far. I see no reason to assume that will change at the drop of a hat." At that he took a moment to give a slight bow to the occupants of the room, most he could identify just by looking at them. "Willam Lannister, at your service."

Daerys Targaryen
"Sir, the wards are all in the common room," the servant said. Daerys was sitting in the throne room, sitting on the Iron Throne. Before him were the common folk of the realm, the ones brave enough to come before him and plea for help. He smiled and stood up from the throne. "My sincerest apologies, but I must go. Lord Jon Royce will hear your pleas," he said, motioning for Jon to come take his place. He left the throne room quickly, making his way towards the Ward's Tower, where their rooms and the common rooms was. He remembered the decision to do this. It was smart. Get the future powers of the realm together. Make them become friends. The realm will see peace for years to come. He was surprised no one else had thought of it. When he reached the tower, Daerys took a deep breath before ascending the stairs. He could hear the commotion the wards were making. He figured it would take some time before they got used to each other. When he reached the common room, he stood, unnoticed for a moment. "I see you've found the common room," he said with authority, quieting the room. "This will be where you all may come to relax and enjoy yourselves. At the bottom of the tower there is a separate room where you will all eat your meals. The boys have rooms on the right, the girls on the left. I sincerely hope you all enjoy your time here. And, I should also add, that to celebrate your arrival, a tourney will be held soon. Boys, and well, girls as well if you wish, I hope to see you participate," Daerys said, looking around the room. The wards were all quiet. "Well, I'll leave you all to get settled in. I'm sure you're all exhausted. The servants will ring the bell when supper is ready." Daerys then proceeded down the stairs and made his way back to his chambers.



Morgan Stark

Morgan awoke slowly. He always had. His brother awoke quick, eyes shooting open at once before springing out of bed. Morgan however, kept his eyes closed, grasping for a few more moments of sleep that he wouldn't get. After coming to terms with his new status of waking, he slowly crawled out of bed. His luggage had been brought up shortly after his arrival, and it had been placed in the wardrobe that sat at the far wall. He made his way over, followed by Winter who had just woken up as well. He dressed himself in trousers, a tunic, and a leather jerkin with the Stark direwolf emblazoned on the front. He strapped his sword to his side, pulled on his boots, and made his way down to the dining hall, boots slapping down the stairs. He took a seat at the table, he was the first one there and so he awaited everyone else. He thought it rude to break fast without the full company present.

The past four days in King's Landing had been rather uneventful. The wards were still getting to know each other, and no extremely strong bonds had been formed. However, Morgan had taken a liking to the Arryn girl as well as the Dornish bastard. He had made a point to keep his distance from the Lannister boy however. How does the saying go? The North remembers. He had thought to himself when the Lannister had entered. Who could forget what the Lannisters had done to both Eddard and Robb Stark, not to mention Sansa. No, Morgan chose to break his rule when it came to Lannisters. He wouldn't give the boy a chance to prove himself to him.

As Morgan waited, he couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to the day's events. Today he'd be fighting in the melee, a place where his skills would show through much more excellently than in the tilts. It would be his first tourney, and while he didn't expect to win, he did expect himself to do quite well. He'd have to keep Winter locked in the tower, unfortunately. The wolf wouldn't distinguish the tourney from an actual fight, and he figured most people would be rather unhappy if his direwolf joined the fray.

Alerie Tyrell

Alerie was awoken when she heard a door slam shut. Her eyes fluttered open and she rang the bell for her handmaiden. The tinkling noise summoned Melessa, who helped her dress into a light blue, rather flowy dress made of silk. All of the girls' rooms had come with another room for their handmaidens, a luxury that Alerie was quite thankful for. Melessa wasn't only her handmaiden. She was also one of her dearest friends, and friends were quite hard to come by here in King's Landing.

Alerie had enjoyed the past four days quite a lot. The gardens of the Red Keep reminded her of Highgarden, though not nearly as extravagant. She'd gotten on well with Alianne rather well, although the girl didn't smile often. What she was most excited about however, was the tourney. Gallant knights, handsome warriors, well it was all enough to make the young girl faint. Although Alerie was much stronger and more controlled than that.

Alerie dismissed Melessa to go break her fast with the other servants, while Alerie made her way down to the dining hall. There she discovered Morgan Stark, as well as his direwolf, Winter, an animal that was much more friendly than it seemed. "Lord Stark, Winter. It appears that we are the first two up this morning," Alerie said politely, ever the diplomat.

Robyn had never been to a tournament. The Ironborn were too serious and too afraid of shedding Iron blood that it never became popular on the Iron Islands. They would train, but more often than not, she would be preoccupied with running the Keep. Pyke was huge, and there weren't as many people as there used to be. With her father descending deeper and deeper into madness, it became more on her to run his affairs. Which is why it was extremely inconvenient when the King called upon them for a ward. Robyn almost sent her sister but at 13 years, she was still largely naive to the world and Robyn couldn't send her to the dragon's nest alone. So Robyn packed herself up, put her most trusted cousin in charge of Pyke, and here she is now.
“What does one wear to a Tournament?” Robyn hummed as she looked through all of her outfits, which amounted to quite a few actually. She usually wore her armor around Pyke, since it was so much easier to move it but here it was proper to wear dresses, apparently.
“I have no clue m'lady. You'll be out in the sun today, so I suggest perhaps a Dornish dress? There's one in gold and black to represent your house colors.” Robyn's handmaiden, and her Salt Cousin, Dalaria said and Robyn's eyes widened.
“That's a warrior's dress. It would cause quite a scene.” Robyn stated. The dress in question was...interesting. It was made to be worn over leggings, not a slip, and only went down to her lower calf, just below where her boots ended. The upper part was mostly leather, displaying impressive cleavage, and keeping her arms bare.
“Maybe that's what you need! You've been quiet m'lady. You're here to make alliances but that's impossible if you don't make yourself known.” Dalaria said empathetically but Robyn shook her head.
“Absolutely not. It might look on as an insult anyways. Here, I'll wear this one.” Robyn said, pulling out a black dress with golden embellishments. It was still extremely daring, recovered from one of the raids a few years ago of a southern island, Robyn forgot which one. It was sleeveless, and it the neck dipped to below her breasts, where there was a wide gold belt. The rest fell to the floor, a gauzy material on top that was transparent with golden swirls and a black slip underneath. She let her hair out of it's braid and Dalaria twisted two sections in the front up, pinning them together in the back of her head. The rest flowed down to her waist in curls although they would disappear over time. Her hair was naturally straight but the tight braid made it curl when she wasn't wearing it up. She swiped some kohl over her eyes and rouge on her cheeks.
“Thank you Dalaria, you are free to go. Enjoy the tournament.” Robyn smiled at her cousin before she left. Robyn's final step was to put sharpened pins in her hair. She didn't have anywhere to hide a dagger so if she needed to protect herself, one of these anywhere in the human body would hurt enough as a distraction for her to get away. Robyn slipped her shoes on before going to the dining hall, where Lord Stark and Lady Tyrell were already awake.
“Lord Stark, Lady Tyrell.” She nodded at both of them. She didn't know what to say after that so she let it lapse into silence. Conversation was not her strong suit, not with strangers at least.
“Did you sleep well? You both seem to be awake early.” Robyn finally asked, seeming to think that it was a safe conversational topic.

“Did you get what I asked for?”

“Yes, I think so milord. Here, look for yourself.”

A kitchen girl, no older than eleven, held a clutch bag out to Toran. He took it gleefully, and let the girl return to her work as he checked its contents. Even Toruk’s curiosity seemed to be piqued, and he slithered to Toran’s shoulder to take a look. Perfect!

Toruk got visibly excited, racing up and down Toran’s arm and across his shoulders, trying to get his master’s attention. Toran smiled at the snake, and almost began whistling as he heard voices in the dining room. With an evil grin, he emerged from the servant’s door, not caring about what that may look like. He tucked the bag behind his back as he walked in, and tossed it under a chair when he reached the table. It looked like he was the fourth to arrive, although he had expected to be late. A servant boy had been sent to wake him, and Toran figured the boy must have expected more resistance, because he had allotted plenty of time for dallying.

In any case, he was here now, dressed in a Dornish tunic, featuring long, cuffed sleeves and a yellow undershirt beneath. The tunic was finely patterned orange silk, featuring the Martell sigil in dark red beading on each shoulder. It wrapped around him similarly to a robe, leaving the chest open and coming together at the waist, held by a leather belt. The belt itself held a curved sheath and dagger, as well as several small pouches, just large enough to fit a fist inside, but supple enough that they lay almost flat. Beneath his tunic lay simple blood-brown trousers and well-used brown leather shoes.

He let Toruk slither onto his hand, intwining himself around his fingers and looking out at the partial gathering of guests. Toruk had gotten his ‘newcomer bites’ out of his system, and Toran no longer feared for the lives of his fellow wards. Still, Toruk was agitated now, impatiently winding around Toran’s arm and hand, like a child wanting attention. Toran stroked his pet’s scales to calm him.

“Good morning my friends!” he called to the others in the room, smiling and holding up his snake hand in greeting. “You’re all well, I hope?” Toruk hissed. Toran scolded him in Dornish.

It wasn’t entirely pleasantries; he had grown rather fond of the Stark boy, seeing a lot of common ground between them, and the Greyjoy girl was pleasant enough. He grinned wider at the memory of their first meeting; he still hadn’t given her an answer to his supposed immunity to venom. All he’d said had been, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Besides, one of his favourite rumours was the one about his tolerance of snakebites. He hoped that it would discourage people from poisoning him, on the grounds that they’d think it wouldn’t affect him.

He hadn’t gotten to speak much to the Tyrell girl yet, but that was of little consequence. They would all be here for the next few years at least, and on top of that, there was a tourney that afternoon! He was sure to impress some (and likely pester others) with his performance in the duels later in the day. He was rather looking forward to it.

Alianne laid on her bed fully dressed, she was contemplating skipping breakfast. The group meals were full of an awkward atmosphere, tension, and worn out conversations. It wasn't like taking meals together was mandatory, but it seemed to be expected, at least for now. Back home she usually had breakfast in her room, or with her sisters beside the river. Her family really only gathered for dinner together. She had been here for four days, and all she wanted was to go home. She wondered when the homesickness would ware off, and when she would start feeling comfortable here.

Her handmaiden Catelyn seemed overjoyed with their situation, and was babbling on about the tournament today. "Oh and you know that guard with the blonde hair? Well his name is Timon, and can you believe it he's going to ask me for my favor when he competes. He'll win you know, he is sooo strong, and I saw him in the training yard. And Milord Toran, no sorry Prince Toran is so handsome, he and milord Willem are just dreamy. Have you seen milord Kevan Westerling he looks like...blah blah blah..." Catelyn droned on and on as she put Alianne's nightgown away, and fluttered about the room rearranging things.

Alianne listened halfheartedly to Catelyn's hopeless romantic ramblings. Standing up, she went over to her vanity and opened up her jewelry box, opting for a simple pearl necklace, and a dainty emerald ring. Her gown was a silvery color, with a beautifully embroidered trim. It was her favorite dress of the ones she brought with her. It had been a gift from her Grandmother Leda Redwyne, and the pearl beads down the sleeves, had been apart of her mothers wedding gown. Her hair was gathered into a loose plait braid that was tied with a lace ribbon.

She was looking forward to the tournament, and the evening feast afterwards, though her expression didn't show it. She looked more impassive if anything. "You know my lady, I was talking with some of the other handmaidens, and apparently your not making much of an impression. Really you should smile more, and not one of those fake half smiles you always do. Jessamine the really short girl with the mole under her eye, she says that her lady thinks your boring. Of course I told her off, but she only thinks that because you don't talk about yourself, or let people get to know you. You mother told me before we left that I should remind you that your here for a long time and need to socialize...are you even listening?" Catelyn said in her overly perky voice.

"Yes Catelyn, I am listening. We haven't even been here a week. Just relax, and don't mind so much about how others view me. Its better to be seen as boring rather then rude or brash, right?" Alianne said calmly to Catelyn. "I've spent plenty of time with the others. Just yesterday Lady Alerie and I took a walk in the gardens with Prince Aenar. Anyway everything is going fine for now." She said slipping on her shoes. "I think I'll head down for breakfast. Please ask the servants to change the bedding. The wool sheets are really to much for summer. Linen would do fine. Also I promised to send mother some dornish silks, she wanted to make Rosalind and Serena some new gowns, so we need to plan an outing to the market. Please see that you get my letters to Uncle Mace." She said opening the door to her room. Catelyn looked irritated, but she just curtsied and left through the servant door. Catelyn had only been Alianne's handmaiden for a year now, and though they got along just fine, sometime she just would not shut up. Walking down the stairs she idly wondered were the library was located in this place. A trip to a room full of book sounded just like the sort of thing to lift her spirits.

Entering the dinning area she greeted the others, who had yet to start eating. A servant pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down silently listening politely to the conversation being held. "So will ether of you boys be joining the tournament today?" She chimed in, as a handful of servants started placing food on the table. What laid before her was what she was coming to know as the typical fair of kings landing; plates of smoked salmon, salted cod, raw oysters, pomegranate seeds, preserves, garlic ham, vegetable meat pies, hard boiled eggs, cream, berries, dates, figs, apples, salty goat cheese, olives, almonds, pitchers of wine, and an assortment of breads laid before her. Compared to the breakfasts back home this was more like a miniature feast.

Beregard spent much of the past few days separated from the other wards. He just wasn't used to interacting with so many people his age, especially not people of such high rank. Beregard hadn't spent much time around the lady wards, but he had at least gotten familiar with the males. Bear found Morgan and Toran relatively normal for lordly kids; that is to say, he didn't quite like them. Morgan was too arrogant for Bear's taste, and Toran was too... flashy. Bear did like Willem, from what he saw. Willem seemed to appreciate the fact that there was more to the world than the inside of a castle.

Belinda herself did not talk much with the wards. The age difference alone made her uninterested in the kids. Plus, she got angry watching them run around, so ignorant of the real world.

Bear walked into the breakfast hall, talking quietly with Belinda. Although Alianne's question was not directed at him, he answered anyway. Bear was noticeably more confident around other people if Belinda was with him. Alone, he probably would have sat far away from the others and eaten in silence, but together they sat in the center of the hall.

"I won't be participating in the jousting, myself. I just don't see the point in it. We're never going to need those skills on a real battlefield."

"He's also terrible at it," Belinda said. "Our grandmother could knock him off his horse. I think she did, actually, back when she still could see. Not until after her hearing went, though."

"Anyways, I hope there's an archery competition myself. That's the only thing I'd have a shot at," Bear stated.

Willam was always a morning person, rising with the sun felt almost naturally. He was a late sleeper at one point in time, but a certain 6-year-old broke that out of him. He felt his eyes water as he thought about Rose, they haven't really been apart for any length of time since she was born. And now who knew when he'd actually get to see her? Willam had half a mind to send Tywin back with the express purpose of watching over his little Rosy. But he knew that his friend would be better served here, with him. A place where allies were scarce and enemies lurking around every corner.

In that respect he didn't want his sister here, no matter how much he missed her she could not live here. The sound of a knock on his door broke him from his thoughts. "My lord, it's me, Tywin." Willam quickly tried to wipe away the tears coming down his face, "Yeah, come on in." His voice sounded thick, a clear indicator to his friend that his lord was in a sorry state. "Forgive me, my friend. You've caught me thinking of Rose." Willam cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He didn't really mind that Tywin caught him like this, they've been friends for better then a decade at this point. And when your life isn't even two decades long, one is a very long time.

"My lord, will you be competing in the tournament this afternoon? Should I prepare your lance, sword, horse?...." He trailed off. "If I may, I could arrange for letters to be sent back to Casterly Rock, to Rose. Though I imagine your mother will want letters too once she finds out." Tywin's stance was firm, yet relaxed. Unlike Willam he was built a lot more like Garric Lannister. Stout, strong as a bull with the propensity to be a great knight. His blue eyes shone with intellect and his dark hair was very well kept.

"Do you miss your family Tywin? Are you going to send letters to them? I know we've only been gone a short time compared to the years we are to spend here. I want you to know you are under no obligation to stay, you can go home any time. You're my friend, not my servant." Willam turned away, looking out the window as he contemplated his own answer to that.

"Sure, I miss them, Byrn's only a few years older then Rose after all. Still, eventually I'll have to handle the fact that I won't be able to watch over him forever, it'll be worse for Rose. She'll be married off to a noble and wind up Stranger knows where. I intend to write, so I can send my letters with yours." He took a pause, considering the last bit, Tywin's angular jaw moving as he seemed to physically chew on his words. "Your friend, yes. Then you know that's why I won't leave you here alone."

Willam was relieved, turning to face Tywin once again. "Aye, face the world and it's problems together eh? Prepare my horse, unfortunately I'm not as suited to the melee as you are. I'd love to show off my spear-work but it's ill-suited for that kind of fight. Better you bigger, stronger men play that one." With that Tywin left to see to his horse as well as his other duties. Willam dressed rather plainly. A simple gold and red tunic with leather trousers, his belt cinched with the Lannister Lion. Good, solid, hard leather boots and finally his rapier at his side.

Finally he descended into what was to be the dining hall where he found quite a few of his fellow wards taking breakfast. He was a little disgusted with the grandiose amount of food that contributed to the meal, to him it seemed like a gross misuse of wealth. Still he'd eat what he wanted and see if he could arrange for the leftovers to be handled frugally.

"So will ether of you boys be joining the tournament today?"

"I intend to join the joust, the melee is a bit, well it's not quite my thing. Better the men who enjoy it partake then have me clutter the list." With that he seated himself at the table, examining his company. Morgan Stark, he got the feeling the Stark boy didn't like him. No idea why, as far as he could think of he didn't think he did anything to draw Stark's ire. Still, it wouldn't deter him, peace and friendship take time after all.

Alerie Tyrell, she was quite the sight but Willam didn't know much about her. He'd seen her around the past few days but they'd yet to have any kind of conversation, he'd have to change that. Robyn Greyjoy, tough as the islands she calls home, at least that's what it seemed. Willam respected her sure, respected her action orientated nature, but yet another mystery. Again, something to change.

Toran Sand, well the Dornishman had a sense of humor, and his general, friendly disposition was enough to for Willam to want to get to know him a bit. Though the snake was a bit odd, Willam found it in his boot one morning. And Finally Alianne Tully, another enchanting sight to behold yet a mystery. She seemed nice, perhaps even kind. For whatever reason he couldn't associate her with the machinations of King's Landing. Still, he'd certainly try to get to know her too.

Robyn took her seat next to Lady Alianne Tully, with the thought that today she needed an ally as she navigated King's Landing etiquette. The Lords were out of the question for obvious reasons, which left Manasa, who was lovely but just a bit odd and Robyn didn't know how the North still felt about them. They had seemed civil but they were cold to Willam Lannister, who's only crime he committed was that he was Lannister. Alyssa Arryn was downright cold and Robyn couldn't understand why but she would stay away from the Arryn heir until something changed. Alerie was kind enough, but Robyn could feel the manipulative tendencies she possessed. Still she knew politics and would be a powerful friend to have. Lady Tully however was sweet, an honest kind of sweet that Robyn had never seen before except in children. It was endearing and it's why she thought Alianne would actually help her today.

“Lady Tully. I have a bit of an odd request for you. I'm afraid I've never really heard of a tournament except in the most abstract of concepts. I understand that there is certain..etiquette to follow that I admit I am at a loss with. I was hoping you would be kind enough to guide me today, I'd be ever so grateful.” Robyn asked, wincing internally at the words coming out of her mouth. It wasn't elegant but it got her point across and that's what mattered at the moment.