Abefroeman

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Hmm, do you think we should update the first OOC post with an abridged timeline/history, to help possible new folks? And, is there a way to remove CS's for no longer here people? If we could remove some of the glut and dead stuff here, it might be more enticing. I will see if any of my friends might be interested though.

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

Wermacht Personnel File: Kramer, Reinhard
Serial Number: WM-881-3792-NZ
Race: Aryan German (Undead)
Age: 45 (At Death)

Last Rank Held: Generalmajor (U.S. Military Equivalent Rank: Brigadier General) – KIA
Former Assignments:
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group Vistula – 24 Jan 1945 to 11 June 1945
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group B – 17 Feb 1944 to 22 Jan 1945
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 5 Nov 1943 to 12 Feb 1944
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 2nd Regiment, Army Group B – 1 Jan 1943 to 26 Oct 1943
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 12 Apr 1941 to 5 Dec 1942
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 7 May 1940 to 3 Apr 1941
Major Oberstabsarzt (Major), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 1 Aug 1939 to 1 Mar 1940

Birthplace: Central Konigsberg, German Empire, 1900
Parents: Otto Kramer and Heidi Kramer

Nickname: Summoner of the Black Sun

Appearance:

From what old pictures and documents can tell, Reinhard Kramer was a dashing Prussian military man, tall, strapping, the perfection of the Aryan ideology. He sported a mustache, flaunting the regulations with its length and bulk, something his commanders and superiors allowed due to his innate command and leadership abilities. He wore his hair close cropped, parted over like much of the German powers that be at the time. No known scars, but was said to have three distinct tattoos, a depiction of Cthulhu on his right bicep, a Black Sun upon his left breast, and a Black Eagle on his back.
At the conclusion of the battle of Berlin, his body still has yet to be found. Unconfirmed reports have circulated that somehow Reinhard survived the battle, and is now among the undead. Such speculation has yet to be confirmed conclusively.
Sex - Male
Height – 6'2”
Weight – 215
Hair Color – Blonde/Brown
Eye Color – Blue Brown

Personality: A driven man, Reinhard is wholly devoted to his country, and the ideal of the German Occult that had been embedded in him. He was charming, intelligent, and calculating. He enjoyed the social life and other societal things of the Third Riech, and more specifically, the Black Sun Society. Said to be a womanizer, though not necessarily in a bad way, he made sure to have plenty of attractive women by his side, for pleasures of the flesh were too good to pass up. The joke was “Born in sin, come on in.” Yet, as the war dragged on, and things went worse and worse, he became darker, more sullen. Perhaps that was the general consensus of all those is Germany as it began to lose the war.

Before Berlin's fall, Reinhard was said to have a different air about him, as though he was no longer afraid of death. Given his current state of being, it can be seen why.

Bio: Driven from youth to serve in the military, Reinhard enlisted in the Imperial German army at 16, lying about his true age. From that day, his life was set on a course that would forever mold him into the man he became at the time of his supposed death. Fighting in some of the fiercest battles of WW1, Reinhard came to enjoy war, the conflict and gritty nature of it all. He would come to befriend interesting people in that time, and the years that would come afterword. The dread Totenkopf Science division, many of whom are still missing to this day. This run in with the powerful occult members would forever influence Reinhard. By 1930, Reinhard had become firmly embedded in both the military, and the ranks of the the Black Sun Society, sometimes known as the Thule society. He served as a prominent member of the group, learning all he could about the occult, and the foul magics that they practiced. By the outbreak of WW2, dark secrets swirled about Reinhard and his actions throughout the war.

What can be verifiably confirmed was that he served in the 7th Infantry Division, and that he worked closely with attached medical and Black Sun personnel. Reports from captured German soldiers, and escaped prisoners, was that large numbers of Untermensch that would never be seen again from the territories captured. Debriefings ranged from unknown sounds, the stench of death and decay, of sulfur and strange lights, unknown languages be spoken, and the feeling of something perversely wrong. Mass graves have been attributed to Reinhard and his selected few units, but these graves are nothing but ash, with lingering signs of dark magic, and the chocking stench of sulfur.

Last confirmed reports placed Reinhard at the final, fanatical defense of Berlin at wars end. Part of Army Group Vistula, he was central to the defense of Berlin. He was said to be at a command bunker, when it was overrun by Soviet troops. The amount of bodies in that area, coupled with the area being buried by rubble by carpet bombings, no confirmation of his death could be proven. Later excavations revealed a tunnel system beneath the command center and city, but, these too were collapsed, and could not be explored. What happened to General Reinhard Kramer remained a mystery to this day.

Till now. The Black Sun Society is not so easily killed. He came across the sea aboard Black Sun loyal U-boats, along with God only knew what else. The Nyctari family had some ethnic Germans within their ranks, and among them were those interested in the skills and abilities Reinhard had to offer. The German Officer is said to have the ability to raise the dead, and more. For now, he works out of a safe house, making using of the dregs of society to continue his dark and grisly work, for the Black Sun still burns brightly, and its favored son revels in the decadence of Santa Somabra.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

@bluetommy2, so, what is next? Where do we go from here? I can see we have lost a few people here and there, do to long waits and the like, which I know I am partially to blame. Is there anything I can do, or anyone else, to help stir thing up, add more fuel to the fire?

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

@bluetommy2 I just want to say thank you for taking the time to create this RP we are all enjoying. It is a blast to be a part of it, and I greatly enjoy roleplaying with everyone here. We all worked hard to get this to where it is, let us keep the ball rolling.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Queenstone Island (Formerly Bloodstone Island)

Rhaenyra stirred from her bed, stretching generously. She had finally recovered from the sickness that had washed over Queenstone Island. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she was breathing softly, happy to be alive. The floor had been covered with fresh rushes, giving her chambers a fresh clean air to the room, something that helped clear and block out the memories of the past few weeks. Rhaenyra ran her fingers through her hair, playing with it for a little, before deciding to tie it back into a loose bun. She needed to get out of bed, and get back to running her new kingdom.

First order of business was to get washed up and clean off the collected filth and other vile things from her body. She stood up, feeling her joints and body creaking, as she slowly moved across her room. The shutters were still drawn, causing the room to be shrouded in darkness. The candles were low, meaning her guards had not changed them since last night. Sinking into a cushioned chair by her wash basin, she called out, loudly to the guards stationed at her door. "Guards.... guards!" She sighed again, still tired and drained. A bath would do wonders for her.

The four guards came dashing into the room, weapons drawn, scared that their Queen was in danger. The officer spoke for all of them, sheathing his sword once he saw that nothing was wrong. "Your grace, you are awake, and on your feet. How can we help you? Is there something you need?" He spoke in a concerned tone. The other guards had sheathed their blades as well, moving to open the room's shutters.

"I am direly in need of a fresh bath. A hot bath with lots of soap and perfume. I hope you can understand, I certainly feel filthy. And send for Ser Trevan... I have questions for him." She was already moving to pick out a new set of clothes, from stockings to undergarments, dress and blouse... she wanted to look and feel renewed. The guards fumbled over one another, darting out of the room, no doubt shouting for faithful servants to fetch hot water and trying to figure out where Ser Trevan was. She was ready to enjoy a new day, and a new fresh set of clothes and bedding.

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Jadefyre Island, Chambers of Princess Baela

Baela stirred in the bed, still enjoying the past two days she'd spent with Lord Garland. Somewhere between awake and asleep, she curled up between the sheets and covers, hugging a pillow close to her naked body. A smile crept onto her face, as she recalled the face Garland made when she had dragged him into the shallow waters of the private beach the two had enjoyed the day before. Both of them were fully clothed, and she laughed happily as the two swam about like two foolish children. She splashed water at him, and even tackled him a few times. By days end, the two were intertwined on the beach, enjoying another beautiful sunset.

Tired and hungry, she remembered leading Garland back to the keep, washing up for dinner that night, and enjoying the romantic dinner that they did share. But, that was many hours ago, and it was now, the night leading them from the dinner table to her room, and to her bed. He was so gentle, so romantic, and it was nice to fall asleep being held, cradled in his protecting arms. Which reminded her now... where was he? She yawned, slowly stretching in her bed, and looking around for her Pale Rose. Where did he wander off to?

Garland had gone in the morning, and it had been a short experience of conciousness, walking out Baela's room, past a guard towards the throne room...or rather, the other throne room for other buisness. It was there he was to find Lady Alerie, his sister, and someone who he had almost forgotten about. He swallowed the lump in his throat, as she chuckled.
"You'd go in and negociate you said...stay on the ship, Alerie. Oh, did your Longthorn do some work?" She giggled like a girl, Alerie the same age as Baela yet a little different, her head as eager to take the opportunity to undermine Garland a little as she could, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek.
"I'd suppose it did. Sorry about that." He said a little naiively, as she shook her head, chuckling.

"Oh, don't you worry. I spent enough time in the keep, out of your way, watching...and working on a few other things. A few ravens, a few things to keep the Yunkish busy, both on the Stepstones and in the Stormlands, at Cape Wrath. A beautiful girl like me can hide too amongst this crowd....I've worked while you enjoyed your fair time." Alerie added, her dress a little toned back, stripped down, for such a warmer clime like this, she did bare a little more skin, the green and gold of the dress not cumbersome and overbearing as she would have it for formality, but restrained for a place like this, albeit revealing in places.

Alerie's red hair poured down, her scent of roses, of some perfume or perhaps a garden, one could not tell. With her hair the most likely explaination had to come from her Ashford mother, perhaps, though there was other explainations, her strong red hair against her dress and her sharp brown eyes catching beautifully.
"I need to speak to Baela too, if you don't mind me. You look like...."
"I need a shit, Alerie." Garland was straight with the point, knowing that between him and his sister, they were brutally frank, and at that level. They were close, in that respect, and did enjoy that jest, valuing each other closely.
"That you do. Go to that throne of yours, I need to talk." The Lady Tyrell kissed him once more, walking past, letting Garland get on with other buisness, as she approached the guard near to Baela's chambers.

"I am Lady Alerie Tyrell, sister of Lord Garland.....I wish to see the Princess and talk in private." She asked the guard, appraoching humbly, Alerie's demeanour polite, her face beaming, her skin soft and beautiful to the light. Garland did look attractive to the fairer sex, but Alerie's youth and supple body, her gentle face was one that was not touched by even a wrinkle of age, as pristine as the glaciers of the Torrentine.

The guard nodded, turning to call into Baela's room. "My lady, you have a visitor, Lady Alerie of House Tyrell. She wishes to speak with you privately." He spoke a politely, courteous tone. From inside, a voice called out, though not able to be made out from outside of the guard who's head stuck into the room. He nodded, stepping fully back out into the hallway. "Princess Baela will speak with you. She asks if you would like anything to drink whilest you two converse." The guard then moved to fully open the door, while he waited for Lady Alerie to respond to his question.

Alerie ndoded, looking to the guard.
"Some water would do, if we could." She simply replied, following the guard inside, the guard courteous indeed, his plate and his sword fine indeed. The minor Targaryens did not have much money, but they did look fine indeed, and their household guard followed suit.

The guard nodded, turning to his compatriot, and relaying Lady Alerie's drink request for retrieval. The younger guard hurried away, while the more senior one bowed after escorting Lady Alerie in, and then taking his leave, closing the door behind him.

Baela smiled at Lady Alerie, herself seated at a small personnal table. So, this was the sister of her Pale Rose... a rather firey rose in stark contrast of her brother. She was beautiful beyond comparison, perhaps even more lovely than her elder sister Rhaenyra. She looked at Alerie for a little while longer, before rising up to meet her hopefully soon to be sister-in-law. She moved to embrace Alerie in a sisterly hug, speaking warmly to her. "Lady Tyrell, it is so nice to finally meet you, to have you here in my room, you do me such a great honor. Please, let us sit, it is so very nice today, the breeze feels amazing across your skin." Baela beckoned Alerie over to sit with her, smiling brightly as she did.

"So, Lady Alerie, what brings you to my humble chambers. I hear you wish to speak with me privately." Her voice was sweet and happy, truly joyful to have Alerie in her company.

Alerie did smile, her face lit up, as she embraced Baela, seated at the table, this Rose with Thorns appaearing polite and charming...perhaps like her brother, yet something seemed a little more sharpened about her thorns, the wind gently taking a strand of her loose hair.

"I do, I thought I would make the chance to properly talk to the woman who Garland is falling head over heels for. You know the stories, don't you?" She added, smiling, a slight chuckle as she sighed, looking out at the door, before back at the Princess, adjusting her dress a little.

"I suppose he has been young, much like I have...but alas, we must grow up in this world of ours, what with all these wars, him too. I would imagine you're rather enjoying this climate, Princess?" Alerie added, smiling gently, her voice carrying a certain mixture of both gravitas and calm, and perhaps more so than even Garland, she seemed to be at ease with how she presented herself to Baela.

"Of course, of course, it'd be a shame for me to deny you an audience with me. And yes, you are quite astute in the fact that Garland, my Pale Rose, has fallen for me, and I too, have fallen for him. But, I digress from why you have come here, to speak with me. Lady Alerie, I welcome you humbly to my sister's Kingdom." She smiled, her rich purple eyes shining brightly as she spoke in a caring tone. Her hair was tied back in a stylish braid, purple silk interwoven with her hair.

"As to the climate, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find it far more agreeable than back in my neck of the woods of Westeros." She smiled again, sipping from a glass of what appeared to be lemonade.

Alerie smiled, her brown eyes for a moment locking into Baela's purple coloured pair, as she brushed her own hair aside, sighing, sipping from her glass.
"Yes, it is rather nice indeed. Reminds me of home." She simply said, as she sipped down some more water, clearing her throat for a second, leaning up in her chair.

"And thank you, Baela. I do rather like it. It'll only be a matter of time before your sister has a rather nice Kingdom indeed, with all the ships and men she requires from these isles, indigenously. Within her lifetime, no doubt." Alerie added, nodding, as she sighed again, her soft complexion.

"Hmm....it's good to hear that you find him rather dashing. I've never really seen it about him. He enjoys being scared by people, I think. As brave and dashing as he is, I think you terrify him. And he loves it." She chuckled lightly, putting her hand on the table, her soft hand on the brimstone, her fingers formed well, her nails coloured gently in a shade of whitened amber.

"Such is the nature of our family.....as good a Lord as he can be, I think he needs a woman in his life to remember how to do right. We are such good mothers for our people and family, Princess. I think us women know that deep down about our favourite men...so we play our part so well." Alerie's voice seemed to hold a caliber of weight that would have come from a woman such as Lyanna Tyrell, an insightful comment, knowing that Baela could recieve that well.

Baela smiled, listening at Alerie spoke. At the very forefront, she could tell that Alerie was different from her brother, not in a bad way, but rather, in a way that gave a feeling of deep understanding and intelligence. She was cultured and respectful, and chose her words carefully. Alerie would be a good ally in the years to come, someone that could be trusted for all intents and purposes.

"I hope I don't scare him too much, I wouldn't want him to become too pale, less I will have to call him the White Rose." She smiled, and sighed, looking out over the ocean, the sun still making its way up into the sky. "I am honored that he would choose me, but I understand what you are saying Lady Alerie. A good man needs a woman just as strong and powerful to help guide him down the right path. A gentler edge to the rough and tough nature so many men wish to project outwards." She chuckled, setting her glass down on the table. "We play a part to ensure that all that is good in the world is not snuffed out like a candle in a drafty room. Still, there has to be another reason why you have come, other than to conversate about your beloved brother. Speak what is truly on your mind Alerie, tell me what you would like, for I would greatly enjoy being able to spend more time with you, and enjoying great conversations as this."

She smiled, leaning back into her chair. "Garland is a good man, perhaps even a great one, but he as you say, only a man, and he will need help for the times to come."

Alerie nodded, chuckling just a little, knowing it was oh so true, but there was a little more that she knew of her House's ways than Baela would entirely yet understand, barely even conveying it.
"Oh, he's brave, he knows how to lead, and he can do a good job at being a complete bastard sometimes. And, he was never expected to be a Lord after all. But he is my brother. And my House is going to need him in the line to come, and someone strong like you by his side will retain our House's unfathoming loyalty and allegiance to one another. There are many, many Tyrells. Yet ours is the line that holds the Golden Rose at it's heart." Alerie began, tilting her head against her hand, leaning into the chair a little.

"And well...you'd bear heirs to the family if you were to wed. Of course. Blood of the Rose, and the Dragon. Not of another Reachwoman's, or someone from the realm. His love is real...but I don't think it should be merely for apperances. We know where this will go." She sipped some more of the water, barely pausing.

"I'm not like Garland. I don't want what he wants....some of it I do, yet I think I would leave the Tourneys to you, Princess. You know full well I don't see this game as being one of soldiers and war alone, or the innards of diplomacy. I think Rhaenyra doesn't either, that is, if you don't mind me saying that the Queen, like Garland, doesn't understand the games that the spiders play. And their role to come." Alerie continued, smiling.

"All I will say now is, I believe you to be a brave, strong woman. Capable of carving Kingdoms for yourself, with your sister, and with two dragons, who can stop you? Nobody. But I thought I'd let you know, outside of your guards, outside of your court, that your role is still to be played, and it isn't just for your House if you are going to go with Garland. What I want is the best for my house, that and the fact that the pieces will be played gently...to give both you and I, exactly what we want, for the people we love. The things we would do for family are more than just in swords."

"So if you want Rhaenyra to take her rightful seat, then I can do a great deal to help. Things Garland would never risk on his honour, nor on yours...not even mine, my dear. That I think you should be aware of...the Ladies of the Reach do not just swoon for their lovers. That was why I came...because you'll need more than men." Alerie concluded with a very sharp and pronged tongue, her voice crystal clear, like a sharp cut through the air. She had not minced words, Alerie had said exactly what she had said, and knew full well that it did not need to be cut down. They knew both what was going on, and Alerie did not mind if that thorn had cut the tension.

Listened all the while Alerie spoke, nodding in agreement, as she carefully thought of how best to respond to the context and nature of what Alerie had said. She was right to broach the subject, and it was something that would indeed affect the greater part of a nation, and the world far beyond it. "We all have roles yet to be played yet, actions that can only unfold in the passage of time. I can't say that I know everything that will need to be done, or even asked, but perhaps it is good that I have you to confide in, and to rely upon. My sister is a good woman, fit to be Queen. What you say brings many things into play, no doubt beyond mere politics and plays for power. You are right to say I do not understand the game a spider plays, the games it enjoys with its prey." She paused, choosing to stand up, and stand at the doors to her balcony.

"A dragon could burn a city full of spiders, yet all it would take is a single one to bite, and even a mighty creature like a dragon falls prey to its poison. Even we Targaryen's are not immune to the vile and poisonous venom of the spider. Though tales sure love to make joke of some supposed immunity." She looked back at Alerie. Lady Tyrell held the true strings of power in her home, and Baela was sure that she'd have to accept a few concessions should she become Garland's wife. Yet, even a king or a queen has their bindings, duties and tasks that hold sway over them.

"Rhaenyra and I, we are but outsiders to all this. We know fire and blood, not just an amusing motto, but what they truly mean. You are right, and so is your brother. I could burn every castle from the tip of Dorne to the North, but without a trustworthy ally, a spider who hunts other spiders, there will always be broods that reawaken, refusing to be snuffed out. Lady Alerie, family is of the greatest importance to me. I will not press you for what needs to be done, or will ask too much for now. Rhaenyra will certainly ask, for she is a righteous woman, one who would want to know everything, even if it hurts her."

She came back to sit directly next to Alerie, and looked into her eyes, "Lady Tyrell, shall we continue being friends then? I'd certainly enjoy the benefits of having you as my ally, and I as yours. Family has to stick together, and I am certain that you are a truly priceless individual who has much to offer, far more than swords and gold."

Alerie nodded, knowing certainly what she was doing, following to the balcony, as she stood up.
"Oh, definitely. I am not some spymaster, or some sort of witch with an army of birds. But I know who really plays this game, and how they get what they want, when they would like it. Any Lady of the Reach has that. You will too." She quipped, her barbs sharp, as she smiled at Baela, nodding.

"I would certainly help you however I could. But I have a feeling that there are wars at home to be won as well, and while I am no expert on military affairs, I feel that if Rhaenyra were to rule from the Iron Throne, it would need one that had legitimate backing That is only the start." She added, as she sighed, looking out on the wide expanses of the ocean, her hair blown in the gentle breeze, as she looked back at Baela once again.

"So....this seems to be mutual then." She giggled a little, as she brushed her hair away from her face, her sigh as gentle and lady-like as one could imagine. Baela was impressive, but Alerie knew that these were truths, lady to lady, that had to be said, known in private outside of the the bigger council meetings or debates.

Baela looked at Alerie, and knew deep down, she'd would not want to have her as an enemy. This Tyrell Matriarch would be a force to be reckoned with, and one that would serve far better as a friend and ally, then as a foe. She smiled, and decided to embrace Alerie, and whispered softly into her ear, "I will do all I can to ensure that you brother is taken care of, and that no harm comes of him. I promise you this and more. You are my sister now, and our family is all that can be trusted." She hugged Alerie tighter, before pulling away, smiling a warm and loving smile.

"I suppose we best start getting ready to travel to the capital, my sister Rhaenyra probably is wondering what sort of trouble I have gotten myself into now." She laughed happily, covering her face, as she turned to sit back down into her chair.

Alerie shook her head, chuckling lightly, nodding.
"Aye, I think that would be a good idea. But I won't be able to come, sadly. I think you only need to take my brother. I need to go home. There hasn't been a Tyrell in Highgarden, apart from my Aunt, and Lord Hightower-Tyrell." She replied, as she looked abck at Baela, knowing it wasn't going to be the best response for her to hear, but a truthful one.

"But you need Garland. Take him to Rhaenyra. I am glad to trust in you, like you trust in us. You need to teach him to fight again, I expect he'll ask it of you, knowing your prowess. And once you have a plan, follow him home, or do what you must. I'll leave you with some help that you'll like. But I need to go home, before anyone does anything silly." She paused momentarily, looking out of the window, smiling at Baela with a warm embrace, her lips matching her green and golden dress, the two women both the same age, yet with such different fires that propelled them.

"Whatever trouble she thinks you've gotten into, it is the fact that the Ravens have arrived at home that quells any problems there. I'm going to write something down, so that you can pass it to Rhaenyra. I trust you with words, but this is a message I want you to give on my behalf. Another I need to write too." Alerie added, as she stood.
"You have got a quill and parchment, haven't you my dear?"

"Of course, a moment sister." Baela got up, walking over to a small writing desk, retrieving paper and quill, along with some ink. She hurried back over to Alerie, setting them down at the table they sat at. A short courteous nod later, Baela was sitting back in her chair, enjoying the cool breeze that now decided to blow through the room. Her hair moved gently in the breeze, the wind like a cool kiss upon her cheek. She looked at Alerie, truly overjoyed to have another sister now, a new family member to add to the small family she had.

Alerie smiled, nodding approvingly. Oh, if Garland hadn't bought her heart, then she had, she thought to herself quietly, taking the parchment and the quill, smiling back at her. Baela understood Garland, and Garland understood her, they had that mutually working out. But Alerie always understood that whilst women could broadly get on, she had to make absolutely certain that she would not steal her brother for the wrong intents, for her own drives and desires.

Not entirely, at least. Socially engineering the situation was not a negative thing, she had no ill will to Baela, no, she did like her back, respected her, rather much liked her fire, she only knew that in order to have what Baela wanted, it was what House Tyrell did too. No need to betray, it was merely the fact that charisma and knowing the situation, her thorns and beauty would point in the direction of what was going to be yielded from all this for herself, and her own brother. Baela was good, she gave her that, asking all the questions. Yet Alerie knew all of what Baela wanted too, and it seemed remarkable how quickly she had come to ease with the Lady Tyrell, which she assumed had not been so fast with the current Lord Paramount who was wooing her affections. It was the best way to make people do what you wanted, not by command, but by co-operation. One that seemed to work with her, certainly.

With a rapid hand, she began to write, at first knowing that this was Rhaenyra's. It would send her exact regards, and her intents, or what she wanted to send to the other Targaryen Princess, or rather, the Queen of these Stepstones, that Alerie had in mind. The exact nature of the way this would be, and she would explain it fully to Baela shortly here. She then took the second paper, and began writing another message, this one, going to someone different, namely back to Ser Willas, her uncle. She wrote quickly, the message short, the message very clear indeed. One that would be followed up fast by Rhaenyra's actions, and would make few but him truly understand the intents of the coming times. Rolling them both up, she passed the parchment to Baela, the one that was for her sister. The look in her eyes had changed a little. The beautiful facade had dropped. This was a woman who looked stern, not pretty. She looked like she had a brew on her mind.

"What we are going to do, my sweet dragon, is give your sister, the Throne that she craves. You're going to give Garland the wife he desires. And most importantly, it's going to all be without Kinslaying. Aerys will not be a problem. I hear that Slaver's Bay would do well for a boy such as Aerys to...vanish. All so easily. It will take time, but it will be so perfect." She smiled deeply, putting her hand out, standing up, the other parchment in her hand, not shown to Baela, the handwriting not clear enough from the distances they were at, as she reached in to Baela, hugging her close, her mouth close to her "sister's" ear, smiling.

"And my family..they are by your side, as loyal as ever, our houses linked in blood, fire and flowers." She giggled, kissing her on the cheek, her red locks brushing alongside Baela's face, as she held her close.

"Oh, Baela. Do treat him carefully, he is still such a delicate flower sometimes. I think he looked happy when I saw him going to the shitter, so you are rather good at pleasing him." She giggled profusely, shaking her head as she heard knocking, and without a moment's notice, Garland come in, his long brown hair flowing as per usual, a little taken by the breeze,

"Oh, Baela, you had the chance to meet my sister?" Garland asked, as Alerie gave a simple nod, as he walked in, from his leather boots to his darkened green shirt, decorated in colorful golden roses, the linen clearly of a very expensive taste.

"I did. The Princess is rather charming. And we had so much to talk about. So, so much." Alerie smirked, as Garland took a seat, wrapping an arm by Baela, letting her sink her head into his shoulder, as he looked over at Baela.

"Anyway, Baela, you were saying about Rhaenyra? I hear you were headed off...I do wish I could join you, but I shall leave the dragons to another day. The salt in my lips is where I feel like staying for now." She chuckled, Alerie looking at the couple, smiling. The look on Garland's slightly paled face said it all, the brown locks on white, the manner in which he sat with Baela just suggesting that over the last couple of days, they had rather enjoyed themselves, with each other's presence. Alerie had seen moments of it, they appeared to very much so be content with themselves. All this, while his own fucking Kingdom appeared to be readying for war, Alerie reminded herself. He had to go home soon, or at least sort this out quickly, and she knew Garland understood full well from the slight glance she gave.

"Yes, I suppose your loving brother and I should get geared up. I think it'd be best if we traveled by dragon. A ship is a bit too slow for my tastes, and the sooner I can get to my Queen, the sooner the future can get here. I look forward to visiting with you again once we get a chance to see your beautiful home Lord Garland is so fond of speaking about." She smiled, looking up at Garland to plant a small kiss on his cheek. Baela turned to look at Alerie once more. "Take on all the supplies you will need to make it to your destination with all due haste. I am sure that you have your own business to take care of, and I do not want to keep you waiting any longer sister."

Baela placed the scroll that was meant for her into her right boot, tucking it away safely. Untangling herself from Garland, she rose up, and rearanged her hair to better accomadate a swift flight atop the back of a dragon. She smiled at Alerie, moving back over to her writing desk. She fished around inside of it for a few moments, before finding what she was looking for. It was a small box, old carved wood. "Alerie, I think you'd like these greatly. I can only assume they belonged to your family, or perhaps someone from the Reach. These pirates love to horde things. Their old, but, I think it'd be best for you to have them." Baela passed the small wooden box across the table, letting Alerie have it.

"They're earings... and a pair of matching rings. We are still finding all sorts of interesting things here." She smiled, and moved to her bedside to continue getting dressed.

Alerie smiled, looking at the box, and pulling out the earings, noticed the motif, the design. It was a Rose, with numerous flowers, of various kinds emboldened into their surface, behind them. They were only of one person that Alerie knew, and she shook her head, smiling.
"These were destined for Elena Tyrell...nee Ambrose, the wife of Jamie the Green....wow." She smiled, looking at the dusty earrings, blowing the dust away, the gold and silver inlay into them highly detailed.

"It's Essossi made, I bet Jamie had it made in Volantis. A gift, that never made it." She said, her knowledge of the family history, and of the sigil of Jamie "The Green" Tyrell, one that did not exactly remain forgettable in the recent Tyrell family history.

"Thank you." She simply replied, as Garland looked at them, nodding, as Alerie passed them across. The singular Rose, with numerous flowers behind it, replacing the green background. Jamie was such a gardener, he added it to his own coat of arms, the flowers incredibly difficult to copy onto a shield, because it was such a complicated deisgn, each differently coloured, each differently shaped. Only a man as obsessively keen with gardening and engineering a wood for his own hunting and pleasure, to kill his time would have done such a thing. He hadn't even been on a Small Council as a result, while at least Gregor and Gregor's uncle, Harlan, had.

"You ought to wear them, sister. They would go so well with your dress." Garland smiled at his sister, as she smiled back, nodding.
"Yes....maybe they do." She giggled gently, as she stood slowly, looking across.

"Well, I'll be headed off now. I'll save you waiting." Alerie walked around the table, and taking Garland in her arms, Alerie holding her, clearly far taller, they hugged, a family one, something that appeared so close, so nice in an embrace. Alerie stood on her tip toes, and kissed her brother on the lips, stepping back down, as she released, then approaching Baela. She kissed her and hugged her new sister to be, and that alone felt like it said a thousand words, as she headed to the door.
"I would imagine we will meet again soon, my Princess." She said, looking back at Baela and Garland, smiling keenly.

Finishing lacing a leather riding jacket, Baela bowed deeply before Lady Alerie, "You are most welcome sister, it is but a token of my affection and loyalty to my new family." She looked over to Garland, and laughed. "You might want to get some thicker pants on, Jadefyre will shred those to bits with her scales. And a warm coat too... the wind has a way of biting at you." Smiling, Baela walked back to the table, buckling her sword belt tightly about her waist. "Take care Alerie, and don't have too much fun without me." She winked, before focusing back at Garland.

"Today my Pale Rose... you sitting there will not get you dressed any faster." Smiling, she kissed him, and then helped him up. "Now go... fetch yourself what I suggested." Baela moved away, setting to finish picking up the last minute items, and getting her chambers in order. She'd be gone for a while, and perhaps might not exactly be coming back any time soon. Her motions were methodically, calculating as she sought to ensure that the ride to Queenstone would be perfect and swift, with nothing being left behind.

"Will plate do?" Garland asked, a little aware that yes, this was a bit of a new experience, but in his mind, he realized that perhaps he hadn't exactly thought about this prospect as of yet, as he stood by the table, watching Baela head off. It was a good point that she made, and everything would have to be taken on the dragon, or sent home.

Rolling her eyes, she walked back over to Garland, smiling at him. He was utterly amazing, and adorable. "Fine, armor will do. It would do us both good I suppose to transport our armor with us... though mine will need to be repair before worn again. My Pale Rose, shall we meet on the roof in a half hour? Should allow you plenty of time to get your armor together for the flight... and any other things you wish to bring along with us." She stood up on her tippy toes, the leather outfit she was wearing tightening against her form, giving Garland a passionate kiss. "I know you will enjoy flying... there is nothing like it in the world."

"I can't wait." Garland kissed her back, her leather flying tunic tightly gripping her body, the soft and supple leather fitting her form beautifully. She knew the skies, and he did not, and he could barely hide his exitement, as he kissed her profusely, before nodding.

"I shall. I'll need to get my armourer to help you repair yours...he can work miracles, add a few details which I think you'd love." And with that, Garland smiled, headed to the door, knowing he had a little time to take his belongings and preapre for this. He still held his cane, yet looked more and more like he didn't need it, the Tyrell Lord walking out of the room, a distinct grin that stood out from his lion's mane of a beard as he headed into the hallway.

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Thirty minutes later, and the sound, the heat that came from the roof was astounding, Garland's guards all but gone, all gone onto Alerie's ship, which was sailing under a Redwyne flag, into the Stepstone Sea, in the far distance, headed for Dorne, and for home. They'd be back in a week's time, with their sails and light cargo. And now, it was only him left, as he headed up the stairs, the keep's gatehoue the highest point, and a place where Garland would have expected Baela to met.

Garland's armour was repaired after the Battle of the Kingswood, his intricate helm and heater shield on his back, his rose-inscribed hilt and sheath hiding a longsword, the one that he carried. Yet his armour seemed as beautiful as ever, the plate a colour of silver, with it's etchings of roses, vines and flowers across it's striking surface, some embalmed in gold and silver, interlocking and woven. A green cloak was wrapped tightly around his right shoulder, with the Tyrell sigil on it.....if the other fucking Roses didn't prove the point, he said to himself! His chestplate had a green and golden accent to it with the theme continued, the curves of the shoulderplates to the vambraces, the mail undershirt, to the sheer volume of money it appeared to speak of quite remarkable. His thickened leather gloves, woven into chainmail, his plate extending to his legs, wrapping around into mail. Each little cutting looked like it was an artisan's craftmanship, and Garland never forgot this. For all appearances, it was practical as anything, as well crafted as could be expected. Yet it was beautiful, and against Garland's good looks, it really did seem to bring out the best in his particular charisma.

As he climbed the last steps, he saw Baela, and the sight of Jadefyre, all of his belongings in a large sack over his shoulder, held close, as he looked at her, smiling, his brown curly locks of hair blowing in the wind, his green-coloured linen neckwarmer, extending from the mail on his neck to the lower reaches of his beard, also golden and green coloured. The dragon turned, and he saw the Targaryen Princess, at ease by the green dragon's side. He couldn't help but feel a little fear, couldn't help but feel a little worried by the huge beast, because it could literally turn him into a cinder if it felt hungry right now. Yet he had to keep his resolve, as he smiled at Baela.
"My sister tells me I spend too much of my mind on fashions." He chuckled, shaking his head.
"But I like armour. Tis a measure of a man's fibers, in metal artisanry." The Lord Tyrell added, as he walked up to her, feeling Jadefyre track his movement forwards, like a hawk watching it's prey. In Garland's mind, he could guess that Jadefyre didn't particularly sit at ease with a new companion to her rider, not yet.
"So, shall we depart?"

Baela laughed softly, seeing Garland swagger up to the rooftop. He made a dashing figure, a noble knight in the finest of armor. It was both cute and stoic, though perhaps that was because she was in love with the man. But either way, she was ready to go, her gear already fastend to the saddle, her leathers fitted tightly against her body as she slid of Jadefyre's back and landed softly onto the ground like a cat. Her sword dangled from her left hip, the smile playing softly across her face. "My, don't we look like a noble knight ready to rescue a maiden from an evil grumpkin?" She teased at Garland, moving over to take his bag that was slung over his shoulder.

"Jadefyre is a good and noble dragon, she wouldn't dare hurt you, unless I were to command it. You have nothing to fear from her." Baela said aloud as a matter of fact. Garland's belongings, while in a large sack, hardly seemed to weigh anything to Baela as she carried them and began to lash them to the other side of Jadefyre's saddle. She looked over, and blew a kiss to Garland. He was going to either enjoy the flight, and hug her tighter than a scared baby. She laughed softly to herself as she finished lashing the rucksack to the saddle. Baela moved back around Jadefyre, walking over to take Garland's hands and lead him over to Jadefyre.

Garland followed closely, taking Baela's soft and supple hands, his leather gloves poking out of his vambraces, as he smiled at her, the white-haired Targaryen leading him to Jadefyre, something that made his heart pound, his head feel like it could hear the white noise. This wasn't normal. This wasn't anything real, it was something he saw, something he accepted, but never, ever something he had even dreamed of doing. As a child, perhaps he wanted a dragon of his own, for a minute, it would have been a wonderful thing to have. No, this was literally happening, his mind absent, his head only perhaps getting an understanding of this.

He zoned back into reality, and looked at Baela, smiling, looking at the warm beast again, nodding.
"I suppose this isn't something that happens often....if they do not fear me, then perhaps I shouldn't fear either." With it, he gripped her hand tight, smiling, the wind blowing hair over his left eye, as he grinned like a Cheshire Cat, ready to follow Baela onto the mighty Jadefyre's back, the dragon's heat radiating from where he stood, and punching into his skin.

Baela tightly held onto Garland's outstretched hand, and limber as a cat, she climbed up into her saddle, pulling Garland up with her. She situated herself comfortably into the saddle, leaning over to gently pat Jadefyre, speaking to her dragon affectionately. The words were foreign, unknown to anyone by those of the old world, and a few more cultured maesters back in Westeros. Satisfied that Jadefyre was content, and more excited than anything as well to fly was more, she leaned back into Garland, to look up at him once more, smiling, before taking the reigns tightly in her hands.

"Hold on tight my Pale Rose, I wouldn't want you to fly away. I certainly need you... you bring beauty to my life and soul." Laughing, she waited for Garland to situate himself, gripping the saddle loops by him tightly, and then with a flick of her writs, Jadefyre's wings began to beat methodically, flapping up and down, the heat of the dragon, the ambient air temperature, the massive gusts of wind swirling around them. Baela's hair moved about her wildly, her laughter and joy able to be heard only by her and Garland. Within a few seconds, Jadefyre leapt into the air, the dragon letting out a powerful roar as she soared through the air and into the sky.

Baela took the reigns in one hand, reaching back to grip Garland's right hand for a moment, before she returned back to her duty of flying Jadefyre. "Having fun back there my Pale Rose?" She called out in a loving tone.

Garland didn't know how to truly explain it, as he held on, the words she spoke foreign and strange to the dragon.....Valyrian? He didn't know, he had no idea, as he felt it leap, and suddenly, the keep and the ground below feel distant. And for a second, Garland couldn't even take it into his own perspective, Baela's hair blowing in the breeze, as did Garland's curls, taken up by the speed and the winds, blowing them backwards, his forehead as visible as never before, and Baela's utter joy compared to Garland's wonder at it all.

The first time he had seen a dragon, he had been spellbound. This, this felt like something else, as he struggled to take it in, struggled to take what was going on. They were soaring, like the birds he handled, and he could see the distant keep below, the very distant ship with Alerie on board, and the other Stepstones visible clearly, the tufts of clouds closer, and closer, as Garland gripped her hand, momentarily letting go of the saddle loop, his palms sweat-bound, himself completely unaware of the smirking grin he had. He could barely find the air in his lungs to reply, he was utterly overtaken by all of it, he still could not fully explain anything.

"Certainly!" He yelled, his feet tight against the loop, one hand tight around Baela's waist, his mind utterly at a point of incomprehension. He was the first Tyrell to see this, the first to even comprehend it and to share it with a Targaryen. The seas below, the islands dotting the landscape, the clouds coming closer and closer, their silver appearance no longer the case, as they appared to be like the steam that rose from trees the closer they came. Jadefyre felt truly at ease in the skies, with Lord Garland Tyrell knowing that the skies had been seen only exclusively by few, and all those without dragons had been madmen. Yet here he was, and he was riding with his love, his heart's desire, in a moment of complete ecstasy and wonder, the look on his face of purely taking it all in. It felt remarkable, it felt incredible to even see the world put before him, the wind gusting his curly hair past his plate, his vision fixed on the splendour of it all. He could have died a happy man here, he thought to himself, he could have lost his life and he'd have been happy enough now.

The two would set forth across the open skies. The sun was still not at its zenith, as the Targaryen and Tyrell lovers floated atop the world, astride a dragon. The world was so very tiny below them. Ships, islands, people, even whales, all appeared as small models of what they truly were. Baela laughed and smiled, Jadefyre knowing the way back to Queenstone, she was able to clasp her hand with that of Garland's which lay across her waist. The flight would take the better part of a few hours, three at most, but this would be a perfect time to enjoy one anothers time with her lover. Funny, how a creature only ever known for war and destruction would now be a spot for a picturesque lover's date.

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Queenstone Island

Rhaenyra was enjoying her bath, rather her second one. She'd scrubbed herself clean, and after seeing just how filthy the water was, politely asked for another, thanking the servants for their hard work. So diligent, never complaigning, or at least to her face. She reminded herself to give them all a day off, to enjoy themselves. Running her fingers through the water, Rhaenyra closed her eyes, and dunked her head under the water, holding her breath as she enjoyed the sensation of being underwater. Just as she felt she could no longer hold her breath, Rhaenyra rose up above the surface of the water.

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, she rested herself back on the lip of the tub. It was such a wonderful experience, to revel in the light of the rising sun, and to be enjoying a bath that was long, long overdue. Her eyes scanned the room, looking at Ser Trevan quietly sitting in a chair, still awaiting for her to address him. She sighed, knowing that she did summon him, but wishing he had taken a bit longer to arrive. She noticed that he was staring at her naked form, rolling her eyes as she moved to hide most her form with the contour of tub.

"I'd ask how long you have been there, but, I guess I can figure that you will say 'Not Long'. You could have said something to me... rather than gawking at me like some slackjawed fool." Rhaenyra was a bit pertrubed that one of her faithful knights was stealing glances at her.

To his indignation, he bowed deeply, offering his apologies, and responded in kind. "Your grace, I came in whilst you were enjoying diving under the water. I know that it would be dishonorable for me to lie to you, my Queen, but I found myself overcome with the sheer beauty that is you. I humbly beg your forgiveness and allow me to find some way to regain the honor I so foolishly lost." He stilled remained bowing before the Queen, hoping that he had not foolishly stumbled into the maw of an angry dragon.

Rhaenyra shook her head, knowing that at least a few good men remained that would tell the truth, even when they had done something foolish or wrong. Plus, the lingering question remained as to who exactly he was, and why he seemed so strikingly familiar. But, that was for another time, another place. She guessed that it was time for her to get dressed, and to get on with the duties of running her realm. "I trust you Ser Trevan... you can start by fetching me my robe, and meeting me at my table once I am dressed." She could not help but smile, shaking her head as he nodded, running over to grab a soft silk and cotton robe.

"Yes your grace, right away your grace. Thank you for being so kind and forgiving." He drapped her robe over her form, taking care to look away and not stare her naked form. She thanked him softly, tying her robe about her body, before moving away to get dressed and ready for the day. Ser Trevan bowed once more, and then made his way over to her table, sitting down and awaiting her return. What a nice way to start off one's day.

A few minutes would pass, as Ser Trevan sat at Rhaenyra's table. He lightly tapped the top of the table, finding himself playing with a chess piece on her table. Ser Trevan was curious as to why he had been summoned, and greater still, why him as opposed to any of her Lords or other higher ranking officers. Her rooms were nicely appointed, and light spilled into the rooms in a serenly beautiful way. The view as well, was amazing. He was enjoying the sights, when Queen Rhaenyra came back into the room.

She was stunning. Rhaenyra had choosen a dazzling emerald colored dress, richly inlaid with red and gold thread, finally finished off with touches of deep purple to bring it all together. The dress fit perfectly against the Queen's supple form, as she slowly made her way to sit down in her own chair. The fabric was beautiful to behold, and it held an air of authority and power to it, given Rhaenyra the trademark Targaryen aura to her, if her eyes and hair didn't already do so.

Rhaenyra looked back up at Ser Trevan now, thinking of how best to bring about what she was thinking about. She was a Queen now, the ruler of the Stepstones, no easy feat to boot, though she had her sister to thank for that. Baela was instrumental in subjegating the Stepstones, in removing the wretched pirates and lecherous scum. Together, the two Targaryen sisters had brought "Fire and Blood" to their new kingdom, the shattered memory of Daemon Targaryen's dream from long ago. Which reminded her from her thoughts, where was Baela. She was supposed to have been back at least a day ago, if not more.

"Ser Trevan, tell me something. Who were your parents? I am curious, as you look strikingly different from many, if not all the people that roamed our lands back in the Crownlands." She looked at her knight, the one who she had brought up from nothing. He had been a simple soldier, but more than that, he was an honest man who chose to do the right thing, even when he was outnumbered. "Speak to me truly. We have business to take care of, you and I, Ser Trevan Waters."

She watched as Ser Trevan grew decidely quiet. His cool eyes looked from his Queen, to looking out at the crashing waves. Odd, she thought, as nothing really ever seem to pertrub the man, and yet this was something that he seemed to struggle with, something that he was hesitant to speak openly.

"Your grace... I, may I ask why you wish to know, I mean, really, what matter does it make who my parents were?" He looked back at Rhaenyra finally, a pained look on his face. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorway that led out onto the balcony.

Rhaenyra steepled her fingers, the two rings she wore gleaming brightly in the incomming sunlight. "Ser Trevan, you are not who you were born to be. There is no doubt in that. I look at you, and see something that is not normal, something that screams you are not some common born man as you claim to be, or have been told. You know something, don't you? You know more about who you are, and yet you say nothing." She layed her hands flat on the table, looking at Ser Trevan very intently now.

The knight sighed, turning to walk out onto the balcony, breathing softly as he gripped the balcony's edge tightly. He looked at the ocean below, and then turned to look at Queen Rhaenyra. "I am a bastard, there is no disputing that my Queen, but... I must ask that you understand something first. I... my mother and I, we were sworn to silence, to never speak what we are about to tell you." He grew quiet, walking back into the room where Rhaenyra sat.

"Promise me... promise me that you will forgive me for breaking my vows to not speak." He seemed pained that he was going to talk any further.

"My mother is the daughter of your Lord Rykker, well, one of his three daughters at least." He paused, sitting down to continue, "He cast both of us out, forsaking my mother, and me, as sinners. My father... the man you are so interested in, he beheaded, as a warning to all who would dare lie with his daughters." He stopped speaking, looking down at the table. "My father was a bastard too, like I was. He was what you'd call a great bastard." Ser Trevan stood back up, remembering things he had long since pushed away, wanting to not remember.

"Who was your father, Ser Trevan? What was his name." Rhaenyra only knew of a few great bastards, and the list was very small, and very close. Was he implying what she thought odd all along? This man, this knight, he was royalty. Perhaps a bit removed from the royal apple tree, so to speak, but either way, he had king's blood flowing through him. "Tell me your father's name Ser Trevan... speak it, and know that you have nothing to fear or worry about. I give you my word as Queen to protect you. To pardon you of any perceived sin or slight."

"My father's name was Haegon Blackfyre II, son of Aerion Targaryen II. My Grandfather was one of your family your Grace, he was Aegon the VIII's younger brother. I am a Blackfyre, a bastard of a bastard." He said angrily, swatting away the candlestick that stood on the table. He stood up, clearly irritated by having to even talk about it.

Rhaenyra stood up, crossing the room to stand by Ser Trevan Waters... or rather, Ser Trevan Blackfyre. He was of ancient Targaryen blood, of Valaryia. She laid her right hand upon the man's left shoulder. "Ser Trevan... I am... I am sorry, I didn't wish to hurt you, nor anger you." She paused, moving to stand before him. "Ser Trevan Blackfyre... you can not run from who you are... I know that you must have so much hatred towards so many things right now, but..." She paused, turning away from Ser Trevan. "Your eyes hold the same fire that all of your kin do, that I do. Please, forgive me... " She smiled, and then looked up at the sky high above.

Ser Trevan called it out first. "Your sister... she has returned. There, high above... " He was quick to change the subject, moving back to the edge of the balcony. Looking back at Queen Rhaenyra, he nodded to her, before looking back at the coming princess. "Can we speak about all this later. When the time is right?" He forced a pained smile, before leaning down, to relax for a moment.

"Fair enough... I will address this later, you have my word though, all the same, that you will be protected. Ser Trevan, you are a good man, no matter what anyone says. Remember that, and know that your Grandfather, and Father, no matter what you think of them, they were good men too." She turned, heading back into her room, and towards the main hall. "Come along, we will meet my sister atop the main keep. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, like she did with me." Rhaenyra smiled softly, keeping the door open for Ser Trevan to follow her.

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Atop Daemon's Keep, Queenstone Island

Rhaenyra impatiently waited for her sister to land, she leaned against a fortification atop the tower. Her own dragon was off hunting at the moment, Visaxes wouldn't have to move over to allow Jadefyre room to land. She straightened her dress, fixing the long flowing fabric for the coming storm, knowing all too well the wind sheer that a landing dragon created. With her stood Ser Trevan Blackfyre, and ten royal guards, all eager to help Baela Targaryen land, and help unpack whatever she may have brought with her.

Rhaenyra looked over at Ser Trevan as he quietly kept off to the side. He was no doubt lost in his own thoughts, dealing with his own demons at the moment. She focused back to her sister, who was now mere minutes away, and the obvious excuses she'd make about her absence. No doubt it would be something trivial, like she was hunting a treasure ship, or got lost enjoying the skys... the usual foolish joyful distractions that she'd become accustomed to with her sister. Baela Targaryen, she was her little sister, and she was a handful, but Rhaenyra loved her all the same.

High above, Baela drew closer to the island, Jadefyre letting out a roar of delight as she would soon be able to land, and get something to eat. Baela gripped the reigns tightly, getting herself ready to decend from the clouds and skies above. She was smiling from ear to ear, having enjoyed the past two hours with Lord Garland. It was nice, the flight was leisurely, and it was perhaps one of the most enjoyable times she had spent thus far with Lord Garland.

"Get ready my Pale Rose, we are going to be landing soon. It may get a little bumpy." She smiled, leaning back to give Lord Garland a quick peck on his cheek. She turned back, focusing on flying once more. It would be fun, just like the last time they had landed atop this castle. Baela gripped the reigns tightly, and beckoned Jadefyre to go in for a landing.

Garland smirked, kissing her back, feeling Baela focus, the sight of the sky past mid-day grip nicely, the ride one that he would never forget. It felt etched into his memory, and whilst he felt cold, he knew that he felt alive, awake, alert, and simply mindblown. This was in Targaryen blood, to fly, to rise, to be used to riding a dragon, and it had been such for centuries. Right here, Garland Tyrell was not of that blood. He was used to his feet being planted on the ground, and the mere idea was one that did not still make sense. Yet it had grown on him, and nothing could deny, that the two of them looked impressive, the Tyrell Rose and the Targaryen Dragon, atop Jadefyre, were both as remarkable as they could be acknowledged to be.

"Thanks for the warning...I won't forget this...I can't even explain it entirely....." His voice was utterly taken still with the moment, as he let her steer Jadefyre down, the sight of Queenstone's significant keep, that of Queen's Rest. It was a significant keep, and most likely, was the Pirate King's former dwelling, before he met an unfortunate demise. The building wasn't scorched to the ground it appeared, and the rest of the isle seemed dense, hiving with activty, and ships that had come in.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, watching as Baela made a quick decent from the height she was at. Typical, the show-off she was, but it did make for some show for the guards with her. Rhaenyra shielded her eyes, getting ready for the initial storm of dust and dirt that would be kicked up, followed by the wind. She smiled, and brought her head down, knowing it was mere moments away.

Ser Trevan saw what Queen Rhaenyra had done, quickly doing the same. He figured that it'd be smart to keep his eye sight, and Rhaenyra clearly knew what she was doing. He felt the wind begining to pick up, the rush of heat and air, followed by dust and small gravel being kicked up. It'd pelt off of his body, before being pushed off the top of the keep and onto the ground far below. Holding onto the ramparts, he steadied himself for the final thud and landing of Baela's dragon.

Baela laughed, bracing herself for the final drop onto the roof. She smiled, gripped the saddle tightly, and then kicked her feet against Jadefyre's sides, signalling the dragon to furl her wings in and land. With a quick skidding thud, all three were landed and safely on the ground. Laughing loudly, she quickly vaulted off the saddle and her dragon, landing solidly on the stone roof. Looking up, she looked at her sister, and did a mocking bow mixed with a formal curtsy. "Your Grace, Princess Baela Targaryen at your command." She smiled, letting out a peel of laughter, before rushing forward to share a sisterly embrace with her elder sister.

Rhaenyra smiled, letting her sister jump up into her arms. The embrace was tight and lasting, as though the two sisters had been away for far too long. Rhaenyra looked at her sister, all the irritation and annoyance gone and forgotten. "Sister, it's good to have you back. You free-spirited little dragon. Well, you enjoy your vacation you little sluggard?" She playfully quipped with her sister, finally ending the embrace. She sighed, still smiling, when Baela pulled back, smiling too and holding up her hands.

"Don't be too mad sister. I couldn't help but enjoy the nice sandy beaches. Well, and a few other things as well. But, to the biggest thing, I bring you a gift sister. A beautiful boquet of roses, all for you." She giggled, moving out of the way to let Rhaenyra now see that Lord Garland Tyrell was upon Jadefyre's back. Baela turned back to Garland, smiling and waving for him to finally come over.

Garland smiled, stepping off, albeit not as catlike, but a little more like someone wearing plate would step off a horse, not entirely fumbling but a little disorientated. His feet made contact with the ground, and he almost tripped over, a little bemused, totally shocked, as he stood tall again, looking at them both as he got to his senses, back on the firm ground.

"That, she did." Garland Tyrell said behind Baela, the Reachman with an characteristic grin on his face, standing as well as he could, his hair still a bit of a mess and the wind still blowing in his locks, as he brushed as much hair as he could from over his face, walking forwards before dropping onto one knee, before Rhaenyra, his hands rested on his other one.
"I am humbled to meet you again, Queen Rhaenyra." Garland said, looking up, smiling, as he looked into Rhaenyra's purple eyes.

"And certainly, I am the Young Rose. Your sister prefers that I am called the Pale one." He chuckled lightly, knowing that he was adressing the Queen of the Stepstones, but that they had kept a certain degree of friendship, and that hopefully, she would recognize that, as she looked to them both.

Queen Rhaenyra sighed, not expecting to see Lord Garland Tyrell so soon again. The look on her face was a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and rebuffed anger. She took a moment to compose herself, before looking back to her sister. "I suppose you had good reason from bringing the Lord Hand of..." She spoke the next words with a certain amount of practiced calm, "King Aerys III." Rhaenyra looked down at Lord Tyrell, sizing him up. She clasped her hands infront of her, and spoke softly, though in a tone that edge on a certain level of irritation. "Arise, Lord Hand of the Seven Kingdoms. I welcome you to my realm, the Kingdom of the Stepstones. Surely you have business that you wish to conduct with me. Let us convene in my council chambers. It would be reprehensible of me to refuse such an honored guest."

"I do, Queen Rhaenyra. I can say that of certain."

Ser Trevan looked on, as the other guards hurried to unpack and move whatever gear and luggage was on the dragon, along with unsaddling her, as their Queen exchanged formalities with the Hand of the King from Westeros. A strong gust of wind was followed by Jadefyre flying away, off to hunt as was promised by Baela. Ser Trevan shielded his eyes, before looking back to Rhaenyra. He could tell from an outward glance that she was not exactly thrilled to have Lord Garland here, but, who could blame her. She was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and the truer Targaryen between her and Aerys the Monster. And rather than suffer the insult of being passed over for an illegitamate child, she chose to carve her own kingdom, with fire and blood.

Funny, he felt bad for her, when he himself was much like Aerys to a lesser degree. An illegitamate child, one who was not supposed to exist, or thought to exist. He shook his head, heading over to Queen Rhaenyra's side as she called him over. He quickly trotted over, and bowed before his Queen and distant kin. "Your Grace, how can I help?"

"You will escort Lord Tyrell to the council chamber immediately. My dear sister will accompany you as well. I will summon the council to convene with all due haste. Lord Tyrell is our honored guest, see to it that he is well looked after. I do not wish to stir the wrath of... King Aerys, it would do us no good to rebuff his envoy." With that, Queen Rhaenyra spun about on her heel, making her way down the steps back into Daemon's Keep, to the bowels below, the gears in her head turning at the new revelation of Lord Garland Tyrell being here.

Garland only looked stern shaking his head, knowing that she didn't know just as of yet.
"Oh, the world has changed a little. I am not an envoy any longer...I come bearing information and . I agree, let us head to the chamber." He simply said back to Rhaenyra, knowing that all would be explained soon, and that Baela, as well as himself, would tell the truth as to what was going to happen next.

"Of course your Grace, as you command." Ser Trevan bowed as the Queen left, before turning to Lord Tyrell. "Lord Hand, an honor to serve you. Shall we make our way to the council chamber? Its a bit of a walk, but it is thankfully all downhill from here." He smiled politely, and stepped out of the way to allow Baela Targaryen escort Lord Tyrell.

Baela looked at Garland, and smiled, speaking in a hushed tone to him, "Its alright, just give her some time. Alot on her mind, and well, you know, you picked a little bastard over her. So, just give it a little time. She will listen to what you have to say at least. And don't forget, you still need to ask her for my hand, my Pale Rose." She pulled away, looking around for a little, before offering her hand out to Garland. "Shall we?" She asked in a warm tone.

Garland smiled at Baela, nodding, the Lord in his armour knowing that it was an impressive way to make an entrance, but there was still a lot of negociating to do.
"Of course. I couldn't forget." He said to her, a little louder than she had, but still relatively quiet, nodding.
"I don't regret it. It was the right choice at the time. But like I told you, and like perhaps I realize now. That isn't what this Realm deserves. Nor your sister. A cheated throne...and I must begin my path to fix what was wrong somewhere." He replied to her, knowing that Baela was taking his side, and that indeed, Rhaenyra would have a good reason to think the way she did. Much had to be resolved, and he was sure they would get to the bottom of it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Council Chambers, Daemon's Keep, Queenstone Island

Baela sat next to Lord Garland. She was comfortably relaxing in her chair, exchanging small talk with a guard and a servant, getting caught up on everything she had missed the past few days. She had retied her hair into a more elegant and regal style, to show off both her trademark Targaryen hair, and her beauty. Her left hand would gently squeeze Lord Garland's for a moment, before letting go as she stood up. The rest of the room rose or formally stood at attention as Queen Rhaenyra and her councilors came into the room.

Garland squeezed back, quiet for the moment being, focussing on the other people in this room, the Lords casting their gaze on the Young Rose, and on Baela, her regal hair and beauty on display here, Garland's hair corrected a little, from the winds that had blown them.

Rhaenyra strode through the double doors, quickly taking her seat at the head of the table. She now sat opposite of Lord Tyrell, looking at him intently, as she waited for the rest of her faithful lords to follow suit. The chairs clattered and skidded as they were moved into position, the great lords of the Crownlands looking from their Queen to Lord Tyrell. The men looked at him hesitantly, curious as to why the Hand of the King would have chosen to come here. They looked back to their Queen, as she cleared her throat, and smiled whilst calling this council session into order.

"Gentlemen, esteemed Lord of the Stepstones, we have the honor of treating with Lord Garland Tyrell, Lord Hand of King Aerys the III, the King of the Seven Kingdoms. I call this session of my council to order, and bring the question everyone is asking to the forefront." She paused as the doors behind her were closed. Ser Trevan was now standing off to her immediate right, overwatching the entire event.

"Lord Hand, we welcome you with all due customs and courtesies to my Kingdom. Tell us, all of us who have lost our homes, our lands, everything, why you have come here, to treat with us?" Her tone came out harsher than she had meant it, but there was little Rhaenyra could do now, all she could do was wait, and hear what Garland had to say.

As the council was settling itself, and her elder sister was speaking, Baela removed the letter Alerie had written for her, and brought it up into her hands. She'd wait for Garland to speak first, before bringing to attention whatever Alerie had written.

Garland sat up, looking across at Rhaneyra, nodding.
"I come with information. an ask of your forgiveness, and an opportunity, Queen Rhaenyra." Garland began, as he looked at all the council members, before back at Rhae.

"King Aerys III has passed into a coma, into a deep sleep many do not think he will recover from. And even if he does, he will not be capable of rulership, given the nature of his wounds. He is incapable." Garland said, knowing that it would set some of the council into talk, as he knew he was widening this whole affair to everyone here. It wasn't the best he could do, but he had to do it, and he knew that it would cement his chances with Baela.

"And right now, I expect some of you to suggest why this is of relevance to any of you. The answer is simple. The Iron Throne has no ruler upon it, none that can truly rule, other than Rhaenyra Targaryen, Queen of the Stepstones. Succession is clear." His words were clear, his voice breaking the tension like a knife, being aware of what it all had meant.

"I ask of you, Queen Rhaenyra, that you permit marriage between myself, and Baela Targaryen, your beloved sister. She will become the Lady Paramount of the Reach, the Wardeness of the South, the wife of the Lord Hand. And in return, the forces of the Reach shall restore you to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Aerys would be forced to abdicate his rule, and his dragon would have to be exiled to Valyria. I understand that I backed the young King. I was wrong to think we could ever control him." Lord Garland spoke with fervour, shaking his head.

"I believed he would grow to at least understand, that he would return what was owed to our Noble House. He didn't. Not in any marriage, in any respect, in any acknoweldgement. Everything we staked, everything we sacraficed, everything, we did it because we wanted what was right." Garland said, shaking his head.

"And I am asking of a second chance. To put you there. Because whatever we are to believe, there will not be a better Queen than you in Westeros, which needs unification, not division. And my sister is willing to provide you with the means to an end that avoids any drop of blood to be spilt in your name. You can rule in King's Landing, by the end of the week. The Kingdom of the Stepstones, a vassal much like the Kingdom of the Reach in that case." Garland was crystal clear with his words, as he looked at all of the Lords, then distinctly at Rhae, after a short glance at Baela.

"I can't understand what losing your homes, losing your Lordships, losing your part of the realm would feel like. I do not know that loss. But I know the loss of thousands of Tyrell soldiers, for the cause of the King...and now that King is no longer one that can rule. Trust me, I know that it is easy to accept that it was all for nothing. I am asking you now, Rhaenyra Targaryen, that if it is what you want...that I am willing to not let that sacrafice be in vain."

The council broke out into a cacophony of arguing voices. The Lords all speaking to be heard, saying their input on the matter. Baela was even joining in, trying to speak for Lord Garland. The noise rose to a roar, all the while Rhaenyra looked steadily at Lord Tyrell. Her normal lady like demeanor gone, replaced with a fierce, angry dragoness. Her eyes burned deeply, the purple akin to a fierce uncut gemstone being dipped into lava. She clasped her hands together, shaking her head with all the underlying fury and emotions that raged within her.

Of course, she could tell Lord Tyrell to bugger off, the bastard did choose Aerys over her. Chose a little boy who was exactly like his monster of a father in every way. He cared more about his own damned family, and had foolishly believed that Aerys would be able to be contained, that he could be groomed and manipulated into being a good little boy, a good King. How quickly everyone forgets the very same happened with Aerys the II. People tried to use him for their own gain, tried to fix slights, gain honor, the list went on. Yet how did that turn out for the realm? How did that play out for all those that died?

Pride and ego told her to just forget that god forsaken realm of beggars and fools, of people who cared more about their own personal wealth, gains, honors, the same old song and dance. Let the Seven Kingdoms devour themselves, let the Crakehalls fight the Tyrells, let the world devolve into a chaotic civil war, a war that'd make all the wars in the past pale in comparison. She smiled at that thought, even entertaining it for a while. But deep down, she was no Aerys, no Viserys, no foul and vile ruler. Deep down, or at least she believed, she was a good person.

Placing her hands down flat on the table, Rhaenyra stood up, looking at Lord Tyrell, with a mixture of anger and remorse, and she cleared her throat. The table took a few roudy moments to calm down. Rhaenyra looked at everyone at the table, making sure each and every one of them were completely attentive. She took a deep breath, before finally speaking.

"Lord Tyrell... long ago, your family and the Martell's were called together. You wanted to make the world a better place. To remove the Lannisters and right all the wrongs that had been done to your family. You were promised Fire and Blood. These were promised by who? It was not a man, it wasn't a boy... no, it was one of the greatest women ever to live. Danaerys Targaryen. A woman. A female. Your great matriach, Lady Olenna Tyrell, a woman. And yet you, much like so many other men, ignore all reason, forgoe logic, and chose a fucking monster." She kicked her chair back, letting it skid along the floor.

"I will offer you the same. Fire and Blood. I offer this because it is clear that you are a blinded fool who thought wrong. That, and my sister will make you into a great man. She will make sure you, and the children you bear will never be idotic fools like you. She will also kill you if you ever pull a stunt like that again. Welcome to the family, Lord Garland Tyrell... welcome to the great game." She finished, pushing herself away from the table, and walking out of the room. She'd speak no more on the matter for the time being. Right now, Rhaenyra thought, she needed to fly atop her dragon, she needed to soar high above the world, and remember what it meant to be a true Targaryen.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Hello again, collaboration commencing.

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

Wermacht Personnel File: Kramer, Reinhard
Serial Number: WM-881-3792-NZ
Race: Aryan German (Undead)
Age: 45 (At Death)

Last Rank Held: Generalmajor (U.S. Military Equivalent Rank: Brigadier General) – KIA
Former Assignments:
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group Vistula – 24 Jan 1945 to 11 June 1945
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group B – 17 Feb 1944 to 22 Jan 1945
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 5 Nov 1943 to 12 Feb 1944
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 2nd Regiment, Army Group B – 1 Jan 1943 to 26 Oct 1943
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 12 Apr 1941 to 5 Dec 1942
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 7 May 1940 to 3 Apr 1941
Major Oberstabsarzt (Major), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 1 Aug 1939 to 1 Mar 1940

Birthplace: Central Konigsberg, German Empire, 1900
Parents: Otto Kramer and Heidi Kramer

Nickname: Summoner of the Black Sun

Appearance:

From what old pictures and documents can tell, Reinhard Kramer was a dashing Prussian military man, tall, strapping, the perfection of the Aryan ideology. He sported a mustache, flaunting the regulations with its length and bulk, something his commanders and superiors allowed due to his innate command and leadership abilities. He wore his hair close cropped, parted over like much of the German powers that be at the time. No known scars, but was said to have three distinct tattoos, a depiction of Cthulhu on his right bicep, a Black Sun upon his left breast, and a Black Eagle on his back.
At the conclusion of the battle of Berlin, his body still has yet to be found. Unconfirmed reports have circulated that somehow Reinhard survived the battle, and is now among the undead. Such speculation has yet to be confirmed conclusively.
Sex - Male
Height – 6'2”
Weight – 215
Hair Color – Blonde/Brown
Eye Color – Blue Brown

Personality: A driven man, Reinhard is wholly devoted to his country, and the ideal of the German Occult that had been embedded in him. He was charming, intelligent, and calculating. He enjoyed the social life and other societal things of the Third Riech, and more specifically, the Black Sun Society. Said to be a womanizer, though not necessarily in a bad way, he made sure to have plenty of attractive women by his side, for pleasures of the flesh were too good to pass up. The joke was “Born in sin, come on in.” Yet, as the war dragged on, and things went worse and worse, he became darker, more sullen. Perhaps that was the general consensus of all those is Germany as it began to lose the war.

Before Berlin's fall, Reinhard was said to have a different air about him, as though he was no longer afraid of death. Given his current state of being, it can be seen why.

Bio: Driven from youth to serve in the military, Reinhard enlisted in the Imperial German army at 16, lying about his true age. From that day, his life was set on a course that would forever mold him into the man he became at the time of his supposed death. Fighting in some of the fiercest battles of WW1, Reinhard came to enjoy war, the conflict and gritty nature of it all. He would come to befriend interesting people in that time, and the years that would come afterword. The dread Totenkopf Science division, many of whom are still missing to this day. This run in with the powerful occult members would forever influence Reinhard. By 1930, Reinhard had become firmly embedded in both the military, and the ranks of the the Black Sun Society, sometimes known as the Thule society. He served as a prominent member of the group, learning all he could about the occult, and the foul magics that they practiced. By the outbreak of WW2, dark secrets swirled about Reinhard and his actions throughout the war.

What can be verifiably confirmed was that he served in the 7th Infantry Division, and that he worked closely with attached medical and Black Sun personnel. Reports from captured German soldiers, and escaped prisoners, was that large numbers of Untermensch that would never be seen again from the territories captured. Debriefings ranged from unknown sounds, the stench of death and decay, of sulfur and strange lights, unknown languages be spoken, and the feeling of something perversely wrong. Mass graves have been attributed to Reinhard and his selected few units, but these graves are nothing but ash, with lingering signs of dark magic, and the chocking stench of sulfur.

Last confirmed reports placed Reinhard at the final, fanatical defense of Berlin at wars end. Part of Army Group Vistula, he was central to the defense of Berlin. He was said to be at a command bunker, when it was overrun by Soviet troops. The amount of bodies in that area, coupled with the area being buried by rubble by carpet bombings, no confirmation of his death could be proven. Later excavations revealed a tunnel system beneath the command center and city, but, these too were collapsed, and could not be explored. What happened to General Reinhard Kramer remained a mystery to this day.

Till now. The Black Sun Society is not so easily killed. He came across the sea aboard Black Sun loyal U-boats, along with God only knew what else. The Nyctari family had some ethnic Germans within their ranks, and among them were those interested in the skills and abilities Reinhard had to offer. The German Officer is said to have the ability to raise the dead, and more. For now, he works out of a safe house, making using of the dregs of society to continue his dark and grisly work, for the Black Sun still burns brightly, and its favored son revels in the decadence of Santa Somabra.

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

Then expect an undead occultist character unlike anything seen before!

Retrogarde [Fantasy Noir]

So, if I have a character concept, should I just pm it you Kingfisher?

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

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