Abefroeman

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

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Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

A Victory is won, the Band of Seven, Aftermath

Victory had been hard won, with dead and wounded from the valiant defenders of the Red Keep and King’s Landing now needing to be taken care of, be it in funeral rights, or through medical care, the vile foe was vanquished, but not without a blood price being paid by many. The following day brought a sigh of relief and relative peace for both those high and low within the rankings of the city and realm. Ser Aerion massaged the muscles in his right leg, working the stiffness from his tired and sore body. He took a moment to lean against a wall, enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun upon his face and exposed skin before having to make his way to the stuffy interior of the Throne Room for the Red Keep. The King and Queen had summoned a substantial number of people to be in attendance for the King’s response to the raid purportedly perpetrated by the Pirate King and his secessionist forces in the Stepstones.

Ser Aerion walked with a slight limp, or perhaps it was a bit of stiffness from his own wounds healing and being taken care of. While the Septon had done wonders to patch and stitch up Aerion’s wounds, it would still take a few weeks for everything to be back to normal. Little cuts and scrapes were one thing, but slashes and arrow holes take time, though for some odd reason, they felt as though they had been helped along by some unknown force or higher power. No use it putting too much thought into the matter though, best to let some things be at face value, and go about your day, Ser Aerion thought to himself. Spotting his comrades in arms, Aerion made his way across the crowded Throne Room to stand with the Band of Seven, nodding to them as they all traded pleasantries, save Ser Lorimer, who was sound asleep from Milk of the Poppy. Aerion had learned he lost his leg to some foul creature, and that Lady Lyvia and Lady Cerenna had to cauterize the wound to staunch the loss of blood. A shame, but better to be alive and have a wooden leg, then to be dead and with both legs.

The cavernous room was alight with chatter, people talking in their groups and cliques, some debating this and that. Talk ranged from revenge, sorrow, mourning, anger, surprise, and the like, emotions running raw and hot from the still very fresh attack. Ser Aerion made note of important individuals about the room, High Lords, Lord Paramounts, even the Royal Family, before focusing back onto a conversation between Lady Cerenna and Lady Lyvia. “They say they might be able to save his leg… but I doubt such things are possible. Only fools believe that they can sew a leg back onto a cauterized stump and expect it to be just fine and dandy. No, Lorimer will have to become a clerk or ruler from a desk now, rather than a soldier on the field of battle.” There was a pause, before the conversation continued, “But, I am glad he is alive, either way. Lorimer is strong, and he will come to terms with his new lot in life. Lord Tyrell… Willas I think, his leg is lame, and he rules the Reach… maybe not in physical prowess, but a sharp mind and patient man can rule anything.”

Ser Aerion was going to chime in, when the King’s herald began to bang his staff upon the ground, signaling for all in attendance to hold their tongues and be ready for their liege to speak. Surprisingly, it took the burly herald a dozen times of slamming the butt of the staff upon the stone floor to gain order within the room. He nodded to himself, before bowing his head and looking to the King. King Jon Targaryen, still encased is his armor, dried blood and all, rose from his throne, looking out over the crowd of people before him, perhaps gauging the room, and his audience and subjects, before speaking.

“After intense consultation with my council, we have come to several conclusions and courses of action. I will proceed in informing you all of my plans quickly. But first, I must congratulate you all on your conduct during this battle. We were attacked in the dead of night, unaware of the danger approaching. We could have all been killed, victims of inaction and panic. But we rallied together, kept our wits, and stood valiantly against our enemies as we once did in the Long Night. There has never been a more chivalrous, courageous, and honorable collection of knights, lords, and ladies and I am proud to have fought beside you in battle once more. Tonight, we were united and this unity saved the kingdom. Before I reveal what must be done next, I shall bestow the throne's honors upon the collection of heroes gathered here today.”

Ser Aerion and his compatriots listened intently to the king, musing to themselves within their own minds on who might be recognized and deemed heroic for their actions. Aerion watched as the King’s Herald unfurled a long scroll, the document every bit as expensive and magnificent as a four-course meal at one of the upscale inns within the city. No doubt the Iron Throne and the Small council took their time to create this list, some folks deserving, others for political gains and checks. But such pageantry was needed for the greater good Ser Aerion guessed. Aerion watched several young lordlings and heirs earn their spurs, while more seasoned knights were inducted into the Green Hand or the Winged Knights in recognition for their bravery. Many soldiers received promotions, while hedge knights were accepted as sworn swords to the greater households.

What transpired next was a bit interesting to say the least. Queen Daenerys Targaryen herself, the Stormborn and Breaker of Chains bestowed the next set of honors’ herself, to the perhaps more noteworthy individuals. First to be recognized was the pompous tosh Ser Ellion Tyrell, and after the ribald jokes that Lady Amber had related to Aerion, he thought even less of the man. He was inducted into a Reach knightly order, Knights of the Green Hand, while also being offered the position of Master-at-Arms for the Red Keep. While all the lickspittle Reachmen cheered their shiny penny, Aerion thought otherwise. ‘Too young, too cocky, too arrogant. Sure, raw and natural talent, but all this will do is go to his head and make him more of a tosh and cocky.’ Aerion rolled his eyes and continued listening.

Next to be recognized were the Greyjoy bastards, Lady Taria and Reaver Balon, each the respective bastard of a full-blooded Greyjoy. Good for them, Ser Aerion thought, they probably did some serious fighting to get upgraded to full familiar recognition. Both had the look of good solid fighters, trained through hard combat and rigorous training, rather than the comfort of a castle training yard. Next was Ser Mychel Arryn, heir to the Vale. He was being drafted into the Knights Herald, which after the Queen’s explanation, sounded like a lesser royal guard detailed to diplomatic endeavors, under the review of the Lord Hand, who happened to be Lord Tyrion Lannister. Made sense, the young man seemed to be a bit more studious rather than a tavern brawler, perhaps it would serve the realm well. Following Ser Mychel, come another few Valeman, a Ser Harrold Hardyng and a Ser Artys Grafton. The former was given a ceremonial title of Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, a sort of garrison commander probably, whilst the latter was given the rank of Knight-Lieutenant within the Winged Knights.

After the noteworthy combatants from the Iron Islands and the Vale had received their honors, the Throne turned its praise unto the Riverlands and Westerlands. First was Lady Merebelle Gray, though she was more a fighter than a lady, much like Lady Lyvia. Perhaps a bit odd referring to her as Ser, but it was not Aerion’s place to question. She was bequeathed the title of Sworn Sword and Bard of the Iron Throne. What was more interesting was how the Crown promised to build a school for Bards and their like, along with the Gray family being recognized during its dedication ceremony. Next were the Freys, with Lady Mable and Lady Jenn. Both were being given their spurs for their meritorious service, along with the promise of being always welcomed at court. Furthermore, Lord Steffon was given the privilege or rather benefit of marrying Lady Jonquil Mudd, increasing their power since their fall from grace a few decades ago. From the Freys came the sons of House Lannister and House Clegane, Tom and Petyr. Both young lads were knighted for their actions, bringing their own rounds of cheering.

Aerion watched as an interesting individual was honored. Seran of Lys, a fellow sellsword, though one who had gone missing a while back after some sort of dispute, rumors said. He was offered a position at court, along with promise of food and aid. A smaller reward than some, but perhaps a bit of a carrot on a stick to get more from Seran before greater rewards came. ‘Good for him’, Aerion thought, before his reverie was broken by the mention of his own name. Queen Daenerys spoke loud and clear through the room, the command in her tone carrying from wall to wall. "Ser Aerion Goldfyre, it has come to my attention that yours is the blood of the dragon. We are kin. And you have proven yourself a loyal friend of the realm. For your service, I name you a Knight of the newly formed Order of the Dragon. This order will be made up of knights with Valyrian blood in their veins and will be one of the realm's principal defenses against its enemies. The entire Band of Seven will be forever known as friends of the realm and will always be welcomed in my hall. Lady Cerenna, my Maesters are working tirelessly using revolutionary healing arts to give your brother back the use of his leg. They will work day and night until he can once again stand. Tell him that his sacrifice has earned a great reward. House Lannister will relinquish its temporary garrison and House Lefford will once again be known as Lords of the Golden Tooth."

Ser Aerion was astounded. He had done little more than what any good knight would do in such a dire situation. Far be it from him to look a gift horse in the mouth, he smiled polite fully, and bowed deeply before the throne, owing his status and future hopes to their good graces. Lady Cerenna was ecstatic, her and her brother’s home would finally be theirs again. While such a token reward came at the expense of her brother’s leg, even if there was a chance to reattach it, she knew it was slim at best. She smiled, pride beaming on her face. She knelt farther than any of the others before her, tears now coming from her eyes. Calling out while she could, “Thank you your majesty… this is the greatest honor and kindness that any could ever bestow upon House Lefford. A thousand thanks my Queen.” Both Aerion and Cerenna rose up at the same time, both thankful for their accolades, but their time was past, and the focus was to others once more.

Next came the blood far closer to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms. Robb Baratheon was promoted to King’s Justice, while Lady Visenya Storm was given her spurs and inducted into the Order of the Dragon. Fair honors for such skilled combatants. Next, were the princes of House Targaryen. Aemon, Viserys, and Rhaegar were all inducted into the Order of the Dragon, with Aemon being presented as its Lord Commander. The Queen spoke of their skill in battle, along with them earning the right and respect to be true princes of the Realm. Last, came the final rewards and accolades of men and women of lesser renown and houses, rounding out the joyous nature of the event, dovetailing into the real reason for everyone being summoned forth.

King Jon addressed all those in attendance of matters grave to the security and stability of their great Kingdom. He spoke of the Pirate King in the Stepstones, the Vulture King who controlled Hellgate Hall and its surrounding regions, the rebellious Mountain Clans within the Vale, and a few other lesser evils that plagued the realm. But paramount was the defeat and reconquest of the Stepstones and its rebellious King. Aerion listened intently, seeing where it would be best for him to lend his aid and skill, as no doubt seasoned veterans and the like would be needed for the upcoming campaigns. Plus, the chance for greater rewards, or rather, the chance to see his friends hopes and dreams fulfilled was alluring. Lady Lyvia wished to regain her ancestral home, while Ser Uther, Ser Oswell, and Ser Harwin all hope to gain homes for their families once more as well. They all came first, before anything else. Once they had been helped, then, and only then, perhaps Ser Aerion could seek his own fortunes. Aerion looked around to see the audience had been dismissed, save himself and others of import, who were being summoned to a private audience with the King and Queen.

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The King and Queen, a private Audience arrayed
As Ser Aerion was making his way through the throngs of people exiting the Throne Room, he was stopped by a familiar face, or rather, faces. Aerion smiled at Seran and Lysara, bowing his head in greeting to them as they called out to him in thanks. “Ser Aerion, it is good to see you, and you have my most sincere congratulations. I only wished I had noticed you sooner. My felicitation to you as well, Sers.” Seran spoke in a friendly tone. Ser Aerion found Seran to be a good man, quiet, dutiful, and very protective as his family. If the rumors were true, a shame what happened to his brother. Next to Seran stood a smaller figure, feminine beneath her modest and conservative clothing. Lady Lysara, if Aerion’s memory was correct, though it had been several months, or was it years, that Seran had dropped off the face of the world.

A giggle, followed by a sultry sounding, yet playful voice came forth to make Ser Aerion laugh softly at Lady Lysara’s banter. Apparently, Seran was unlucky enough to eat some undercooked or spoiled food, which led to him being somewhat less able bodied to participate in the city’s defense. She was certainly as witty and beautiful as Aerion remembered, and laughter escaped his lips as the look between Seran and Lysara was exchanged. They certainly hadn’t changed, which was good. Her remarks about Lady Amber certainly seemed genuine, and Ser Aerion spoke up in return. “Thank you Lady Lysara, I truly appreciate your condolences. Death is never a good thing for anyone. I hope that she pulls through it all, so that my conscious can have a sigh of relief. But enough of such darker matters. Thank you for your congratulations, but far be it from me to ignore your own achievements. You have certainly earned recognition from the Throne, and all the better for you both. I hope and pray more shall follow, and perhaps, if fate deems it, a home for you two to build anew for your family.” Aerion smiled once more, bowing his head to both fellow sellswords.

Soon enough though, royal servants were beckoning Ser Aerion and his compatriots to the meeting chambers. Aerion sighed, nodding, and looked at Seran, “See you inside I guess. Take care, and watch your back. Lysara, always a pleasure to speak with you, and perhaps if time permits, you and your brother could join my friends and I for lunch, less your duties keep you from it of course. Seven guide you.” Aerion bowed, before turning to follow the servant, leaving Seran and Lysara to their own machinations.

Aerion passed through the guards without hassle, placing himself towards the center of the gathered people. Lady Cerenna and Lady Lyvia were closest to him, quietly chatting to themselves, while his other friends, they stood near the front of the room, wanting to try and distinguish themselves in the hopes to completing their goals, and regaining their familiar lands. At long last, the King and Queen spoke, explaining the reason why the select few had been summoned forth into this more private meeting. Aerion and the Band of Seven took their seats, quietly and politely listening to all that had to be said and relayed. The King broke the reason down into three parts, three different campaigns, all with their own unique conflict and dangers. The Stepstones, the Vulture King, and the Mountain Clans.

All those in attendance were given a singular choice out of three possible options. March with Lord Tyrion Lannister, with Ser Mychel Arryn and Ser Artys Grafton, to the Vale. Once there, it would be your sole mission to either bring the Mountain Clans to fealty, or fully wipe them out, once and for all. The Crown would no longer tolerate these lingering First Men remnants within its borders, and it was either bend the knee, or be destroyed. The second option was to march with Ser Gendry, in his campaign to defeat the rebellious Vulture King. On the borders between Dorne and the Reach, lay Hellgate Hall, a massive fortress, and its surrounding lands, that had risen up in full armed rebellion, proclaiming their own king, and kingdom. Such could not be allowed, less it give leeway to the unrest of old, the time of the Five Kings and their wars that ravaged the land. Last, was the campaign of the Stepstones reconquest. Under the watchful eye of Lady Arya Stark, those who followed her would once and for all defeat the Pirate King and his rebel lords, and wipe out all resistance within the Stepstones.

All three were viable options, though to be honest, Ser Aerion held reservations about fighting in the Stepstones once more. The place was a nightmare, through and through, but he had the experience, which would be of help to his commanding officer. He sighed, thinking of the best course of action, while he let the others speak their turns first, patiently waiting to address the King and Queen for what troubled his own mind. He watched as Lady Lysara addressed the King and Queen, smiling at her courage and daring move, bowing his head towards Seran and Lysara respectively. Aerion watched others addressing their concerns and oaths of fealty before the King and Queen, finding it all to be surreal. As the others would make their way from the room, heading off to find their new commanding officers, Ser Aerion arose, and slowly approached the table where King Jon and Queen Daenerys sat at. He bowed deeply before them, before rising up and speaking with the two what weighed upon his mind.

“Your Graces, King and Queen, I want to thank you for the honor you have showed me, but I feel it necessary to speak up in the fact that I was only doing what any knight of the realm would have done. I am honored to have been able to faithfully carry out my duty before the Crown, and would like to continue to do so. Your Graces, if I may be permitted, would it be possible to arrange a meeting with the both of you, and your daughter, Princess Daenyra, to explain a few things, and ask a few things… if that is acceptable with you. Also, I thank you for returning the ancestral lands to my friend’s Ser Lorimer and Lady Cerenna. They are good people, and will never dare to let you down. You have shown them a great honor and compassion that will not soon be forgotten. Though, I humbly ask, that if the other members of the Band of Seven come back from their respective campaigns, they are rewarded before myself, as they are more deserving than me for their hopes and dreams to be fulfilled. I swore an oath to protect and defend the innocent of the realm, and I promise to never break that oath for as long as I serve the Iron Throne, your Graces. King Jon, Queen Daenerys, if anything is within my power, I will do so to see it completed to bring honor not only to my own name, but to that of your own names and stations. I represent you both in the field, as all your subjects do, and I can only hope that I do not bring dishonor unto you both.” Ser Aerion paused, smiling, and offering another bow, before speaking upon one last thing.

“I hope that a private meeting can be arranged, so that I may better explain my hopes and intentions to you, without the hustle and bustle of preparations interrupting us. I will go where you command, thank you, your Graces.” Ser Aerion bowed, awaiting a response if any, before making his way to the back of the room to converse with his compatriots.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

Good. Just a busy work week. I should have a post by Friday.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

@Abefroeman

Why thank you!

What about her is interesting, if I may ask?

@Monochromatic Rainbow

To be blunt, I like how you have her wanting to be the illusive shadow behind the powers that be. Rather than jockey for power, fame, land, etc for herself, she'd rather be in the background, all black ops and SAS, a ghost who is only seen when the blade falls. In tandem with that, I like the aspect of being both a guardian/warrior, whilst the retaining the gentler aspects of events behind closed doors. The description of her, coupled with the pictures (eye candy) help paint a remarkable tapestry of a unique character.

-- Not to say anyone else's character's are less awesome, I just find @Monochromatic Rainbow 's character gnarly.

@kingkonrad Oh stop it you. You are by far the better roleplayer. I am but a humble actor that likes to hide within the shadow cast by your greatness.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

Yey! I is on the path to getting a piece of lands me hopes... oh yes, the massah is so kinds to me. The precious will be attained.

Joking aside, a question for @MrDidact, would it be possible for Ser Aerion to inquire into either a private audience with the Princess Daenyra, or with the King and Queen present as well? The reason will be revealed in the meeting, but wanted to know if that is even an askable thing?

@Monochromatic Rainbow I find your forum name awesome. And I find your character intriguing.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

Ser Aerion’s Race Against Time


Ser Aerion ran to the side of the stricken Lady Amber, dashing across the open streets to kneel beside her. It was bad, even to a seasoned warrior as himself. To make matters far worse than they already were, the amount of blood Lady Amber had lost was an unknown factor, for it had mixed with the pool of blood from her fallen mount, and perhaps the small rivulets of blood of those who had fallen further up the road. She was breathing still, which was good, but her breathes were short and labored, pain written across her unconscious face. Ser Aerion reached for her neck, to feel a rapid and erratic pulse. How could such a thing happen… where were the guards, let alone the scores of men-at-arms, squires, knights, and lords residing within the city. Ser Aerion turned quickly, scornfully cutting down two barbaric raiders, hacking them with a cold fury that had possessed him at the sight of someone so innocent and young being the victim of the great evil that beset itself against the city of King’s Landing.

Not waiting for the fallen foes to finish their last breaths, Ser Aerion sheathed his blade in its scabbard, moving the belt so it was now slung across his back, the leather pressing down upon his already raw and painful wounds. He gritted his teeth, using a crude club to break out the windows to a nearby clothier’s store. The glass scattered about the interior of the shop, as Aerion tore down a beautiful silken curtain, using a knife from a dead guard to cut the fabric into more manageable swathes. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Aerion hurried back to Lady Amber’s side, now armed with silk bandages of his own making. With a few of the bandages, he laired them one atop the other, folding them into compact squares, pressing them onto the abdominal wounds of Lady Amber. The silk quickly began to drink the ebbing blood of the jagged cuts, the fibers and natural congealing factor of cold blood to form a slightly better barrier. Next Aerion took the remaining strips of fabric, and wound them tightly against the folded swathes, compacting and compressing them against the wounds of Lady Amber, and through directly applied pressure, helping to staunch a measurable amount of the bleeding. But such actions were only half-measures, and would only serve to delay the inevitable unless a surgeon could be found to mend the wounds more permanently.

Ser Aerion darted back to the clothier’s, taking a warm fur coat from the shop display, an unsold item from the winter stock no doubt. Lady Amber would be cold from her blood loss, and the extra warmth would help stimulate her body to naturally try and heal itself, to help slow her descent into death. With as much as he could do with his own two hands and battlefield triage knowledge, Ser Aerion scooped Lady Amber up into his arms, her short labored breathes warm against his neck as he held her close to his body. The worn leather of his boots held firmly as he began to run headlong towards the Great Sept of Baelor. Only the skilled healers and doctors of the Faith of the Seven could save Lady Amber. It would be of no use to try and even head to the Red Keep. With these monsters running loose, and their bandit-esque brethren, the drawbridge and gates would be sealed shut, and no man or beast could leap across the dreadfully deadly moat filled with spikes and other unknown dangers. No, he had to make with all his will and endurance to the Great Sept, to the arms of the Faith, and their septons and septas, who could mend any wound, small and great alike. But Aerion had to get there before it was too late.

Ser Aerion slipped and fell hard, slamming and skinning his right elbow upon the jagged cobblestones of the road. He let loose a cry of anguish, hissing loudly through his teeth, holding back profanities as he focused his gaze upon Lady Amber, making sure she had no wounds from the fall. Thank the Seven, she had safely landed atop Ser Aerion, only suffering a shifting of her clothing and hair. Spitting out some blood from his bitten cheek, Aerion slowly and wobbly rose to his feet, panting slightly as he caught his breath. By the Seven, he had covered a decent amount of ground, but it was still very, very far to go. As Aerion looked about for a horse, a carriage, something and anything to expedite his flight to the Great Sept, a bow twanged as the arrow and string were let loose. Followed was the subdued thud of a metal and wood meeting fleshing and fabric. He nearly fell, the arrow having lodged itself in the meaty part of his left shoulder, coming clean through and out the other side. Blood dripped from the cruel looking barbed tip of the arrow, dripping upon the surreal peace that made-up Lady Amber’s face. Ser Aerion snarled in pain, pushing himself forward farther down the street. Such a foe would doubtfully be alone, and to retaliate, would only mean more delays. Cursing the enemy, Ser Aerion trudged onward, the hill upon which the Great Sept sat upon growing large with each passing footfall.

Lady Amber was dreadfully pale, yet still she breathed, life still within her body as Aerion raced onwards. His own blood dripping down his body, his breathing hard and hoarse, straining with every fiber of his being and body to continue onward. Nothing could ever prepare someone to have to madly race across a city and time to save another’s life. Ser Aerion coughed aloud, spitting blood from his mouth as he skidded to a stop. A small skirmish was unfolding before him, Gold Cloaks against a motley assortment of man beasts and mercenaries. “Cursed burned bodies of Stannis’s Seven,” Ser Aerion cursed aloud, pressing he right shoulder against the outcrop of a building. He would have to wade through the fighting, to push ever onwards to safety and medical help. Steeling himself for the frantic dodging and darting to come, Ser Aerion dug his feet into the ground through his boots, and set off, dashing out of the shadows into the dancing light of small fires and lanterns. He ducked, dived, dogged, dipped, and darted his way in-between the opposing forces. Near misses, little cuts, blades barely scrapping across his body all the while he kept Lady Amber from any more harm. He could feel her bandages beginning to dampen, though be it from sweat or blood, he could not tell yet. As he sidestepped a fiercesome opponent, another scored a vicious cut across Aerion’s right temple, cutting down to the bone through flesh and muscle. The pain alone nearly caused Aerion to fall, but he balled his toes up, letting the pain writhe through him as he smashed his head against the fool’s face, shattering the man’s nose and causing his attacker to double over, before a passing Gold Cloak finished him off.

Ser Aerion had almost made it through the fighting, when another bowman of the enemy let loose an arrow towards the forces of good and justice. Ser Aerion cried out, falling to his left knee as an arrow buried itself into his right thigh, nestling painfully in the fatty hind part of his leg. The pain was blinding, only to be joined by more pain from a laughing and sneering foe, who shot another arrow to find its mark in Ser Aerion’s right arm, causing him to momentarily drop half of Lady Amber. He yelled out in blinding pain and fury, his own conviction now the only force driving him onwards. “BY THE SEVEN… I WILL NOT FALL, BLESSED BE MY OATH AS A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS AND THAT OF THE FAITH!! I WILL NOT FAIL!!” Ser Aerion forced himself upright, grabbing Lady Amber tightly to his own person, biting his cheek and tongue as he rose, fighting against the pain to push himself forward, and away from the fighting.

He favored a glance behind, seeing a surge of Gold Cloaks pressing down the hill. He laughed, a bitter laugh of anger and hatred. If Lady Amber were to die, he would never forgive himself, no would he let the fools of the city guard ever live it down. He coughed and sputtered, moving upwards through the street, making his way past friendly forces finally. The guards were more prevalent, along with the Faith Militant, who were more apparent as he neared the Great Sept. As his muscles burned and ached, his wounds screaming and tearing, Ser Aerion made it to the safety of the outer square that led to the Great Sept. His eyes stung with the mixture of sweat and blood, of dust and grime from the long arduous push to make it here. Aerion nearly stumbled, regaining his footing as he began to mount the steps leading up into the Great Sept. Faith Militant ran by with frightened smallfolk, whilst others ran in the other direction to join battle with the enemies that beset King’s Landing. Ser Aerion shrugged off the helping hands of those that offered, determined to carry Lady Amber all the way to the Sept, and into the skilled hands of the Faith’s surgeons and doctors. He looked like hell warmed over, but such a sacrifice would have been worthy and noble if it saved the life of the innocent and pure Lady Amber.

As the sounds of battle fell away behind Ser Aerion, the great oaken doors of the Sept blocking it all out, Ser Aerion breathed a small sigh of relief. He would soon be surrounded by members of the Faith, Septons and Septas, who lead both him and Lady Amber in his arms to a cloister devoted to the Mother, for her mercy would be needed to save the lives of the wounded, and most of all, to grant hope for Lady Amber’s survival. Aerion allowed his charge to be taken from his arms, Lady Amber being carefully lain atop a fresh linen sheet atop a wooden table, where a group of the Faith surgeons began to hastily work upon her. Ser Aerion hobbled over to the magnificent statue of the Mother, and knowing if he knelt, he would likely not be able to get back up, he prayed quietly and quickly to the Mother, for her mercy, and for her guiding hand to save Lady Amber. “Sacred Mother, aspect of the Seven. Grant mercy to your child Lady Amber Redwyne. She is a good soul, pure in heart, mind, body, and soul. Save her from the wounds she has suffered, and watch over her when those who have sworn to defend the innocent cannot.” Aerion bowed his head, before painfully moving back over to Lady Amber’s side, holding her left hand whilst the doctors went about their work. Only time, and prayer now, could tell if the young woman would survive her injuries. Aerion sighed heavily, shaking his head to another doctor, saying, “I will take medical attention once she is out of the woods… not before.” He forced a smile, before focusing back upon Lady Amber.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

I still live, and have the basic ideas for another post, though have yet to begin writing, but it will be done.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

What happens when you hang around sick coughing kids all day?

You end up getting sick :'D My tiredness makes sense now.

Still I think I'll start up my post tonight or tomorrow. Wish me luck ^_^

@Greenie

Yey!!!! Welcome to the club. Well, thankfully my little minion has yet to get sick, but still, I know the dreaded curse of sick little minions spreading the diseases to the elder cultists. Get well soon, and look forward to your post comrade.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

@Abefroeman No need to stand on formality man.

@bloonewb Sure, what's your idea?

@MrDidact

My snarky response to your call for less formality

Post has been rectified, your grace. I hope it is to your liking and standards of disciprine. Jokes aside, I enjoyed rewriting it and I thank you for pointing it out to me. I felt like a monkey's uncle. Also, wasn't able to get to the edits for the Boars or my Band of Seven. Baby was awake and was too cute not to interact with.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

@Abefroeman Also, great post, but I will point out that the attackers haven't yet breached the Red Keep proper. The fighting is mainly focused at the walls and in the courtyard, with one clandestine team that we know of breaching Aemon's chambers.

@MrDidact

I will rectify this discrepancy with all due haste your grace. I will also fix the inconsistencies with the Shivering Boar Clan. If time permits, I will also finish the mini character sheets for the band of seven.