MrDidact

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

There's still room in that Dance of Dragons RP if anyone else is interested. Quite a few juicy parts.

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The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

It was late at night and Corlys had been writing letters nearly nonstop. Rhaenyra had a dozen or so lords pledged to her cause and the greatest of them was himself. She needed more men, and as quickly as possible. He had been working his way down the list of houses he had compiled back on Driftmark. The families who may have been willing to support Rhaenyra's claim. He had sent personalized messages to scores of houses already, and he was nowhere near finished.

He checked another house off for the initial round of messages and found he had reached House Roxton of the Ring. Corlys took a moment to remember what he knew of House Roxton. It was an old house of great honor. And of middling influence and power. Not a family on the same level of renown and strength as Tarly or Redwyne, but not a petty lord either. They'd be worth courting.

The Lord had died sometime back, he forgot how. But a young girl held it now, with an uncle as Regent. Corlys consulted the current edition of the lineage and histories of the Great Houses of Westeros. Apparently, Frados was the name. He didn't know much about Frados, and he didn't know how much love the family may have for the greens. But he could think of a few reasons for them to support Rhaenyra.

He began writing.

To the honorable Ser Frados Roxton, Regent of the Ring.

My lord, I am sure you are aware of the crisis our nation faces. Aegon Targaryen has usurped the Iron Throne from Rhaenyra. All men know that it is Rhaenyra whom our dear departed King Viserys meant to inherit the throne. Aegon's ascenscion is an insult and a betrayal to his memory, engineered by the duplicitious and rapacious Alicent Hightower and her father Ser Otto. It is a crown that was falsely won with betrayal and deception. This betrayal is also a slight against the rights of any woman to inherit, including your niece Lindsay. If Rhaenyra is deposed by her half-brother despite the will of the King, then all female rulers are so threatened. How can your niece serve a King that won his crown with lies?

I urge you to pledge your banners to Queen Rhaenyra, rightful Queen of the Six Kingdoms, and help us place her in her rightful seat. It need not come to war, but your support will help solidify Rhaenyra's claim.

- Corlys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, Hand of the Queen

Corlys rolled up the letter and poured the black wax to seal it. He pressed the stamp of his office on the letter and rang a bell. One of his great-grandnephews, his squire, came to take the letter and send it to Grand Maester Geradys for delivery. It'd reach the Ring within a few days, and hopefully Corlys would have an answer within a few weeks.

Onto the next letter.

Letters. It was always letters these days. Frados held the thin page in his hands with near contempt, thinking about the possibility of tightening his fingers and ripping the paper into nothingness. These past days, the ravens of many a house have been quite busy indeed, zipping back and forth across the kingdom, hopping castle to castle, laden to their beaks with letters. Lindsay was on edge today, that he knew. She was hesitant to talk, or even play games, prefering the company of herself in her chambers. She must know something he didn't. War was coming, that everyone knew. Already, the Ring's enemies are mobilizing their forces, and gazing hungrily at the rounded castle he held. He had to keep his options open, after all. Perhaps its time the Roxtons clawed themselves back up from their low standing. He took out a piece of paper and a quill, and began penning a response.

To whom it may concern, preferably the Lord Corlys Velaryon,

You honor both I and my house with your letter. Not many have the good grace to humble themselves to our level. We like to imagine ourselves in good relations with the mighty House Velaryon, if I could be so bold. A friendship I hope to continue, if the gods smile on us today.

However, your business, I'm sure, is of paramount importance. We here in the Reach can smell the blood of an impending war, as you well know. Your loyalty to your queen is admirable, but in the name of the Ring, I am slightly hesitant to put such faith in an unsure cause. If possible, I would like to speak to you away from these letters. Let us meet in face, where we may exchange information in a more civilized manner.

-Regent Lord Frados, House of Roxton, the Ring

Corlys went through the stack of replies. On days like these, he missed the open sea. He wished he could forget eveything, all of his responsibilities and his duties and sail away to far away lands and foreign shores. To drink and eat and fight and make love. The daring, brave youth he had been decades ago wouldn't recognize the old man he was now. Surrounded by letters and not salt water.

He sighed and reached down to a letter. He saw the golden rings of Roxton stamped into it and grunted in surprise. The reply had come quick. He tore the seal and read it. Better than feared, worse than he hoped. That seemed to be common these days. Frados was hedging his bets, like many of the lords. And he wanted a meeting.

Frankly it was impossible. He was needed here, at Dragonstone. There was simply too much to be done. He wouldn't leave to speak face to face with the Roxtons. They had men, but it was not his place to meet with them. He'd send someone else. Someone he could trust. It needed to be someone from his house. Someone who knew him well and who could speak in his voice.

But most of those who were the best qualified were also needed in either Dragonstone or Driftmark. Someone who could speak to other houses that might have been willing to pledge themselves. Daeron. It would be Daeron. He was young, a knight. Not an experienced diplomat, but earnest and honest. Corlys trusted him and knew he would do his best.

He would sail in the morning. And perhaps serve as an envoy to other houses as well. He just needed to prepare him. He rang the bell and told his grandnephew to send for Daeron.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

(Collab with @EricRP and @NecroKnight)

The Dissenters

As many of the gathered Lords talked, most of the few ladies had left to their own quarters - expect for Helia Caron whom talked amongst the Lord of Evenstar and the Knight of Skulls. They themselves had some alcohol to drink - needless to say it loosened the tongue of some of them.

"This is unbelieveable...Master of War...why not just, tell us outright, they wish for our men to die in their war..." groaned Helia, nursing her own cup of wine by their side. "I am almost certain, that by the war' end - they will have 'mysteriously' forgotten those terms of the deal....or if not....be reduced to a simple figurehead..."

She spoke that tone, with some anger - taking a long sip of her drink. Not bothering to hide her female' hysterics. "I mean...are we really supposed to believe...that the Hightower' would give us a role in the Small council? Or better yet....allow a Stormlord to dictate the terms - on how the Vale, North or the Reach should defend their lands or organize their men..."

"I am telling you - once this war is over...the Master of War title will be nothing more than a glorified city guard..." she stated - since it was true in one way. The Kingdoms exchanged friends and enemies like the seasons - to expect them to remain loyal forever was foolish. Not to mention the idea, of having one Lord from the Stormlands - dictate how many men or ships should one Kingdom send to the Crown.

"I don't trust Aemond...he just came here on a dragon...and practically gave Borros everything he wished for...no man, even the brother of the 'King' would be able to promise such deals. Not to mention...nothing gained free is ever truly free," spoke Helia - an old saying amongst their lands.

The Evenstar sipped from his cup, "Oh this is likely a deal with serious terms, I have little doubt of that. Aemond is just an agent for Aegon, I suppose these terms come straight from him and the small council. Borros is not one that Aegon can afford to slight lightly, not if he wants to keep his crown."

The Knight of Skulls, one of House Lonmouth's most celebrated sons, a young but hard man said, "It's not his deal that concerns me. It's the fact that the small council is expecting us to sit and nod in agreement while they usurp Rhaenyra's seat."

Lord Tarth nodded, "Indeed. This is my main concern. They think granting Lord Borros these boons should wash away the duplicity and dishonor of their actions. They can talk about council precedent and law all they wish. The fact of the matter is they betrayed King Viserys. Throwing these boons at us shouldn't erase that. Along with the fact that they expect Stormlanders to be willing to die for it."

Ser Lonmouth snarled, "Criston Cole killed Joffrey. In a duel aye, but he killed him for no other reason than his rage. If he expects me to bow to Aegon and forget that, then much more is needed."

Further away, Aemond sat in the seat of honor at Lord Borros' side, the two of them talking on the high table. Aemond was also japing with and smiling at Borros' eldest daughter, a maiden close to the Prince in age with clear blue eyes and evening black hair. The girl giggled at Aemond and ate choice morsels off of his dagger and in general seemed absolutely besotted with the young prince.

Helia's party of dissenters was small, many of the other lords and landed knights and most of the principal bannermen were seated close to the royal guest, and all were laughing loudly, drinking, or pleasantly conversing with each other. Estermont, Penrose, Connington, Errol, Trant, Toyne, and many other lords and their retinues seemed much more inclined to be friendly to the One-Eye Prince than otherwise.

Their minds could not be known, but it was likely they had far less reservations about Aegon's proposal then the Evenstar or the Knight of Skulls did. House Tarth, Lonmouth, and Caron were mighty names, but even their influence couldn't overcome all the rest put together. It all depended on what the nearly unpredictable Lord Borros would do.

"I find it rather sad. That many of these gathered Lords don't realize that the people needed to gain power aren't always the same to keep it..." sighed Helia, rubbing her forehead.

"They talk about what they will get and not think about what it will cost. Do they think Rhaenyra will just sit by?" she stated. "The size of Aegon' army won't much matter against dragons. Which Rhaenyra has more than Aegon. Will I am sure Lord Baratheon is eager to charge - I for one, am not eager to be burned alive..."

She sighed again, before drinking her cup empty. "That is true...but what can we do? Draw our blades and kill everyone here? That would make us no better. Let's just hope that it won't come to war," she hummed. "..and Lord Borros is smart enough to ask for the gifts before sending his armies. All we can do now is wait and prepare sadly..."

The Evenstar nodded, "Likely our fellow lords wish to ingratiate themselves to the new regime. A succession crisis can be an oppurtunity to advance. And if Lord Borros advances, so can the rest of the Storm Lords. And some may believe Aegon has the right of it. They have a compelling case that honors and gold only makes seem more attractive."

"We should do the best we can to promote a peace, whoever succeeds. But that is likely out of the cards. In which case we should all prepare for battle. And we must decide where our loyalties lie."

The table became silent as they pondered what they would all do, with the sparks of war stirring into a great inferno.

The Prince, the Princess, and the King

Some time later, two more dragons arrived in Shipbreaker Bay. The journey had seen the pair ride through rough seas and rougher skies and today was no different. The rain lashed at their travelling cloaks while the wind forced them to huddle behind the necks of their mounts for respite. Without the scaled shelter of their dragons and the straps that kept them in the saddle, they most likely would have long ago been thrust from dragonback and into the churning sea.

Dark clouds obscured the moon and lightning flashed through the air. Had the two riders been novices and not masters of riding, they would have been terrified. As it was, they just wished to get out of the damnable storm as soon as possible. Rhaenys shouted to Daemon as she spotted the round massive drum tower of the Baratheon stronghold and the two dragons made for the fortress.

The men huddling on the battlements under their sodden cloaks didn't see them until they were already upon them and let out cries of alarm and surprise as another flash of lightning backlit the two royals and their large mounts right before their eyes, a boom of thunder accompanying the crash of dragon talons on the ramparts.

Swords were hastily drawn and bows were strung but they stopped as Rhaenys took off her red helm and held up a hand in a pacifying gesture. The serjeant evidently recognized her and said, "Princess Rhaenys?" He started to smile but paled when he saw the Rogue Prince was her companion. Rhaenys smiled at the man and tried to get his attention away from her notorious cousin. Daemon inspired equal parts love and fear almost everywhere he went.

"It is I, it is good to see a friendly face Clovis. I've come to see my cousin. Please announce our arrival to Lord Borros and convey our request to have an audience with him. Our business is urgent."

"Storms End?" Daemon spat. "There's no fucking end to this Storm!" He clasped Clovis by the arm in a fierce grip and nodded a greeting. "If you please, Ser. The Princess and I would be passing pleased for a roof over our heads and an opportunity to speak with Lord Borros with some haste." He shook his lank wet locks, a dark grey rather than a lustrous silver in this deluge and rubbed yet more moisture from his sodden eyes with the back of his black glove. He'd been unable to speak to Rhaenys given the raging storm and had scarce spoken since his dumbfounded silence back on Dragonstone when Rhaenyra named him King. It had been a lifelong ambition and he'd achieved it twice; King of the Narrow Sea was a title recognised by few and respected by fewer, though and even Viserys hadn't wanted his crown when he pledged it and offered it up in a show of fealty. Now he was King but an imposter sat on his and Rhaenyra's throne. That was something he could rectify and would rectify. Beginning here.

Clovis gulped audibly and nodded, wincing when Daemon released him from the handshake, "Aye my lord, aye. Please follow me." The serjeant conveyed them under an awning and they were finally shielded from the rain, if not the wind. Rhaenys sighed in relief as they were shielded from the rain, "That was quite a flight wasn't it Daemon? I don't think we've flown together on something like that since we were young. Better times, then. When the Old King ruled and we had no cares in the world." Rhaenys wondered what had happened to the children they had been, what had turned them both to who they were now.

Daemon smiled, accepting a towel from a Baratheon page to dry his matted wet locks some and his rain-bleary eyes. "I've flown through worse, but barely!" He admitted, offering his arm.

As they walked toward the great hall, Rhaenys leaned next to Daemon and the talk became more serious, "Lord Borros is a stubborn man, and quick to anger. He is often fond of japes and is occasionally quite rude. In short, he is a difficult man to deal with at times, but you mustn't let him get a rise out of you. We need his and his bannermen's support. How do you wish to approach this, cousin?"

The King, Protector of the Realm, listened carefully and took Rhaenys' meaning. "I'll find little love here." He conceded. "Though I think plenty of these Stormlords love Rhaenyra well. You are Borros' blood and I shall let you lead this parley. I shall speak if addressed and not rise to idle slights." Still, unconsciously, his gloved fingers brushed at the hilt of Dark Sister nonetheless.

They were allowed into the Great Hall of Storm's End and the air was warm, with plenty of fires that started to dry their clothes and hair. Several lords, ladies, knights, and other nobles were seated at the tables and quieted as they watched the Queen who Never Was and the Rogue Prince enter the hall. Upon the lord's chair sat Lord Borros Baratheon. Clovis bowed, "My lord, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Daemon are here to speak with you."

King Daemon thought Rhaenys' partner but he only smiled and said nought. It would be remiss to reproach his host before a word was spoken.

Borros didn't seem surprised to see them and didn't rise to greet them. He nodded at the pair, "Cousin, I haven't seen you in some time. Be welcome to my hall." A squire passed around bread and salt and Rhaenys took a bite as she bowed her head to the lord, "My thanks, cousin. I regret not seeing you and the children more often. And I regret that I come with urgent matters. May I introduce my own cousin, King Daemon?"

The Lord of Storm's End smirked, "The Rogue Prince. Well met, my lord. You gave those Triarchy bastards a good trouncing back in the day. The first time you declared yourself a king. I wish I had joined you. Been a while since I had a good fight. Though methinks one is fast approaching. Is that what brings you both here?"

Daemon raised a hand in apology as he swallowed his mouthful of bread before replying. "Your powers of perception serve you well as ever Lord Borros" Daemon offered a courteous bow, which was not his custom, "Would that I were here at your invitation in celebration of my wife's coronation." He elected not to be drawn on whether a fight were fast approaching though he was as resigned to war as anyone. "Thankfully, I've learned from past follies and this title I had bestowed upon me by Queen Rhaenyra. A crown you give oneself is as useless as defeating one's shadow in a duel, as predictable as it is doomed." He pondered upon these words, when had he turned philosopher?

Borros chuckled, "I never expected you to be a man of words. Perhaps you could have been a singer if you didn't become a warrior. The Rogue Bard? Doesn't quite have the same ring to it."

He drank, before chuckling again, "And you are right, crowning oneself is as tricky as holding a sword with no hilt. Dangerous business, and like to bring harm to bearer. Or else let it slip from their fingers." He inclined his head, finally, in a polite gesture to both of them.

And your words are water Thought Daemon, Easily quenched but in any great measure, liable to drown you As promised, though, he kept his misgivings to himself.

"So what brings you to my castle, King Daemon? Cousin? You didn't come to see the the children I presume."

Rhaenys was annoyed by Borros playing coy but showed no indication of it, "We come to ask you, Lord Borros, to pledge to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra, and join the strength of the Stormlands to our cause. We offer honors, the hand of Prince Joffrey to one of your daughters, and our support in reprisals against the Dornish and the Triarchy and their puppets in the Stepstones for their transgressions against your people."

Borros grinned and Rhaenys began to feel uneasy, "A decent offer. But not the first one I've heard. You should know King Aegon sent his own envoy, and he's actually here now." He tapped his tankard on the armrest of the lord's chair and Aemond One-Eye walked into the great hall, a predatory smirk on his face as he traded gazes with the surprised Rhaenys and Daemon.

Rhaenys felt betrayed and furious, but worked to keep the emotions off her face as the young Prince smiled, "Uncle Daemon, Aunt Rhaenys. It is so good to see you both."

Daemon could feel the magnetism between his fingers and Dark Sister but he'd promised Rhaenys he'd behave and he met Aemond's single-eyed gaze comfortably. He had a constant mocking sneer but Daemon was never a man easily intimidated, much less by his nephew. "Young Aemond. A shame to have to meet under such heavy circumstances. How fares Kings Landing? Past time I paid my respects to my old friends in the City Watch." He brushed invisible motes of dust from his jerkin lazily, his meaning scarce mistakable.

Aemond's smile became sour, "Oh the city fares well, uncle. But you missed my father's funeral. My brother's coronation. Not that you were much missed at any rate. My mother sends her regards though. But since you came here, perhaps you could just declare for my brother? We can get this business over with if you both bend the knee."

Rhaenys shook her head, "Out of the question, Aemond. It is you who should bend the knee to King Daemon."

"Tush tush, cousin.." Daemon evaded the he taunt, "We're here to parley with Lord Borros the same as Young Aemond here. Let us not kid ourselves that any one of us will declare for another, that only fuels tension and it would be remiss of us to squabble like mewling babes under Lord Borros' roof." He laid a gentle gloved hand upon Rhaenys' sleeve and beamed a genial smile toards his nephew. "I wish you a hearty feast, nephew." He spoke honestly, "It is my sincere hope that at some point in the evening we might speak plainly as Targaryen men and not trade poorly hidden barbs like a pair of little lordlings." He bowed and made his way through to the hall to take his seat.

Rhaenys fumed but calmed down, a rare moment when she was the angry one and Daemon the calm. Borros seemed heartily amused and smiled widely, "Well spoken again, King Daemon. You continue to defy expectations and rumor. You are all welcome to my hall for the feast. Let us drink and be merry. Politics can wait. I guarantee that no harm will befall any as long as you all remain in my hall and abide by the laws of hospitality. Please sit, and let us feast. To family."

Aemond cocked his head at Daemon, studying him before taking his seat as well, the tense and awkward feast beginning.

Night Songs

As the festivities continued, Rhaenys Targaryen eventually was served a cup of wine and a meal itself - by a servant. The young girl passing on a message to the Princess - namely, it involved five words to her only. Words that could be mistaken for 'hope you enjoy the meal' - but rather it was something far different.

'Throne. Come. Outside hall. Caron,' the servant girl had said, without having breaking a sweat - or revealing what had transpired. Namely the servant girl had been bribed by Helia Caron - so she could have a quick ten minutes with the Princess.

Rhaenys revealed no surprise on her face and nodded in thanks to the girl. Daemon and her had been seated on a place of honor near Lord Borros and she ate a few morsels from her plate, drinking a few cups before leaning to Daemon, "I suppose the Lady of the Marches wishes to talk. I will be back soon."

Daemon merely nodded but felt exposed and oddly alone in this hall full of Stormlanders, eyes fell freely upon the high Table and whilst Aemond seemed perfectly comfortable in this company, Daemon was uneasy.

Rhaenys rose from her seat, pleading a need to use the privy and quietly slipped out of the hall. She was now dressed in a more befitting outfit for dinner, but it was somewhat more masculine in style as a close-fitting black and red coat with no skirts or frills to be seen. The Princess didn't hide her sword either.

She cautiously walked to the area indicated and looked around for Lady Caron.

As expected Helia Caron was there, dressed in something that wouldn't give out her position completely from a single glance - as soon as the woman saw the Queen, she nodded in reply and spoke. "Princess Rhaenys..."

"It's good you are here...I am sad to admit, that despite what you may have come to seek here, it isn't much given....Lord Borros Baratehon has already courted the One-Eyed Prince here," she explained - revealing just how dangerous the Black' situation was.

In truth, Helia would have liked the chance to simply put an arrow in Borros' neck for even thinking of betraying his oath to the TRUE heir - but she had to bide her time for now. "...many of his bannermen, support the idea of becoming loyal dogs to the Usurper Prince..." she explained. "The true Queen has supporters here...but we are sadly outmatched and unless that power is shifted...we shall be forced to follow Lord Borros Baratheon whichever way he wishes...which sadly is looking to be under the Green' rule."

The Princess frowned, remembering the unpleasant shock she felt when she witnessed Aemond strut into the hall with that cruel smile of his. It was clear Borros would support whatever side offered him the sweetest terms. Their blood ties apparently were not as strong as she had thought.

Rhaenys said, "Indeed. Aegon has assembled a strong case for his supposed legitmacy. Despite the underhanded nature of his ascencion. And his offer is tempting, especially to my braggart of a cousin. But I already knew all of this my lady, I did not need to be summoned to hear it again. What do you propose we do about this?"

"I expected you Targaryens to have an idea? This is the future heir of the Iron Throne?" replied Helia in reply - there was only so so much and so far, that she could go - without being overrun and beheaded herself.

"I can't fight back, without my lands and my people and my future destroyed...if the Blacks don't have a better offer to us - we must sadly follow the Greens," spoke Helia - indicating that while she understood the blight of the Blacks. Unless they had a chance, Helia wasn't going to risk her neck - despite her many objections to it.

"My proposal - brutal as it might seem, is destroying the traitor' houses by dragonfire..." replied Helia. "I can give you the names, of all those whom chose against Rhaenyra..."

Rhaenys shook her head, "Not an option at this point. My husband would be horrified to put old and noble families to the flames in such a way. And this would only serve to rally the survivors even more against us. You would propose we have the entire Stormlands rise up for Aegon. And they would soon figure out that it was your house who supported us, being unscathed by the flames and being one of our few supporters. You propose a disastrous move. Especially since we intend to have a peace parley and Aemond would certainly fight with whoever did such a thing."

"Your castle stands in the middle of Green supporters. I don't know exactly what Borros would do if he knew you defied him, should he declare for Aegon. But you are Lady of the Marches, can your voice with ours sway him? I know the Evenstar and the Knight of Skulls are with us as well. Perhaps we can all try to persuade Borros together."

"And if the worst comes to worst, I propose you take your family and army and leave Nightsong. Temporarily. You won't stand long, not with Aemond and Vhagar nearby. He would burn the castle down with all of your family inside if it was up to him. Instead, take your household and your fighting men to Tarth. I'm betting the Evenstar would be willing to shelter you. We can have some of the Queen's ships convey you, your family, and your forces to Dragonstone. It will be safe haven there. We only require that you bring supplies and arms to help feed and defend the castle. Then when the time comes, you can stand with us at the parley. And if the worst comes, stand with us in battle. Queen Rhaenyra will reward your loyalty and courage, I am absolutely sure of it, in both coin and honors."

Rhaenys knew what she proposed was risky, she only hoped Helia's loyalties were enough to sway her to do so.

Helia Caron remained silent, as she thought about such options - before she looked back at the older Princess and spoke. "If Rhaenyra wins...and the Greens are thrown down....and if the Baratheons betray their oath...once this war is over - I would like my House to be declared Paramounts of the Stormlands...I feel, letting those live whom betrayed the trust isn't an option...."

"I can parlay with you, I can add my voice alongside the others...if that dragon would be out of the picture - I might be able...if the Seven favored me, to meet Borros' bannermen and stop them in battle...but as long as that One-Eye is here...I can't do anything..."

"Alright....I shall send some of my loyal soldiers up ahead to Dragonstone...incase of an emergency...so they can coordinate with the Queen herself..." spoke Helia.

Rhaenys mulled it over for several moments. She said, "I am not the Queen or her Hand. Not even the Lord Protector. I cannot in good conscience make a promise to you if I do not know if it can be kept. I cannot promise you the position as Paramount of the Stormlands. I can promise you rewards in gold, honors in office, and once we eventually subdue the Dornish, some additional castles and lands in the Marches. That, I can guarantee. But not your prior request."

What she said was true but there were other reasons not to make any firm promises on the issue of the Paramount position. The fact of the matter was that it would be hard enough to cement Rhaenyra's rule as the first reigning Queen of the Iron Throne. Rhaenys did not know how many of the Storm Lords would accept a Lady Paramount, and not even one from the Baratheon line. It would not serve to make a hasty move and lump so many rewards upon another house at such an early stage.

She spoke again, "Just some soldiers? What do you intend to do if Borros declares for the Greens? Do you wish to keep feet in both camps?"

"I would be more use to the Queen if she has an ally within the enemy ranks?" replied Helia in kind to Rhaenys' statement. "Not to mention - as my grandfather used to say, never keep yourself tied down or else you might be blown away with the storm..."

"As much as your promises are - they are just that. I might as well, be fleeing with my identity to Dragonstone and have it all burned down to the ground then and there..."

"What I wish is for peace...the act of the Small Council forsaken and an agreement forged between Aegon and Rhaenys..." explained Helia. "As much as Aegon has the 'right' - it is merely drawn to by the will of the Hightowers...hence their call Greens..."

"I am sad to admit - that Lord Borros Baratheon doesn't see beyond that...as if the Greens will allow us to sit and manipulate the will of Westeros..." she spoke. "Aemond has already offered him a seat, a title of 'Master-of-War' or housecleaner in translation...and to marry one of his daughters...if the Blacks wish to win his favor...they'd need to offer him something solid and immediate..."

Rhaenys nodded, her mind working furiously to think of something that could compete with Aegon's offer. It would be difficult, even with the support of Lady Caron. And now Rhaenys looked at Helia with new eyes. She thought the other woman to be like the other Stormlanders, quick for battle and glory and mindful of duty, but she was much more ambitious and politically mischevious than Rhaenys had thought. They would have to be careful around her.

"We will try our best to push for a mutually beneficial peace. That I can guarantee. And we will be forever for your familiy's support in these dark times. I can only caution you to be careful, the Hightowers have connections throughout the realm. And they say the Clubfoot's spies are everywhere. As for your men, it is best they be disguised and have no sigil or device, as well as go by new names. We can deploy them to good use depending on their talents."

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss? I fear I must soon rejoin the others."

"None for the moment sadly - I do hope for peace, but once the war comes - we all have to pick a side. I wish I could remain neutral and let the Targaryens burn eachother out - but...sadly, if that happens we'd all be at eachother' throats trying to crown outselves on the Iron Throne..." replied Helia, bowing before Rhaenys.

"None so far, good day to you, Princess Rhaenys and safe ways..." she added, letting Rhaenys leave - before she'd take her leave.

Rhaenys inclined her head and withdrew, thinking on how she could persuade her stormy cousin to her side. If there was one thing she wanted to avoid, it was going to battle against her own kin.

A few minutes later, as Helia walked down the halls, she heard another step behind her, "And why is the Lady of Nightsong not at table with the rest of the Storm Lords?"

Aemond stood behind her, smirking with his sapphire eye glinting in the torchlight, "And in clothes unsuitable to both your station and womanhood. Why, one would almost be inclined to think you were sneaking around. But for what reason?"

He stepped closer to her, smiling all the while. He bowed his head and reached out to kiss her hand in the traditional chivalric greeting, "We were not properly introduced. Prince Aemond Targaryen. I am delighted to make your acquantince, my lady. I did not know the Lady of the Marches would be such a beauty."

"Hope your silver tongue is enough to charm the dragons of the Blacks," quipped Helia in reply - as they likely both knew, what the other was doing at that. He was simply playing nice, since killing each other under Lord Baratheon' keep would foul the great Lord' name and honor - in all honesty.

As her eyes stared at the arrogant Prince in reply. "Same question to you as well - what are you doing here, lurking the halls and likely looking for somebody to knock off? Maybe a dissenter?" she added, knowing given the chance - he'd likely take it. Despite her being face to face with Aemond - she didn't look afraid, likely meaning she had a dagger or dirk nearby, incase he tried something on her.

Aemond cocked his head and chuckled, "Why should I answer that if you didn't answer my question? It's called fair exchange, I'm sure you're familiar with the concept. But then again, some people aren't. Social graspers often aren't. Always reaching for more and more."

The Prince kept speaking, "But since I am a gentleman, I will say I was simply touring these vaunted halls. I've never been to Storm's End. It's a magnificent castle, whose walls they say are lined with ancient magic. A fortress that defied the gods. And I do believe I will be spending quite a bit of time here in the future. Perhaps I'll have my wedding here."

Aemond straightened and said, "I don't think I have to worry about dissenters, your fellow Storm Lords seem quite friendly to me." He stepped a bit closer to her, a bit too close to be polite, "I don't have to worry do I? Now that I've answered your question, why don't you answer mine?"

"Just came out of a meeting with another...it's kind of stormy outside, so I decided to wear something more...covering..." replied Helia. "...incase the cold wind decided to blow inside..."

It was a rather interesting reply - but, not much that one can scrutinize if they wished. As she grinned at him in reply, looking into his one good one. "You must really hate me, don't you...the only one to speak out - against...well...your side of the families bland attempt at stealing..." she spoke, showing how easily Lady Caron could switch from a political noble to a brash hunter.

The One-Eyed Prince smirked, making it clear he didn't much believe her but not pressing the point much, "I wouldn't worry about cold winds. Not in this castle. It is fire that should give you pause."

He laughed again, "Hate? Lady Helia, I don't care enough about you to hate you. I believe it's important to have polite and respectable discourse," his gaze grew predatory and he stepped forward again, just another inch into her personal space, "But that is a rather strong statement, wouldn't you say? It cannot be stealing if we are only retaking what was rightfully ours. It is Rhaenyra who seeks to steal the Iron Throne. Her, my uncle Daemon, and those bastard sons of theirs. No, not stealing. Lawfully acquiring."

His smile and his countenance gave him the same aggresive and assured confidence as Helia. He moved like the trained warrior he was, but he was almost lazily relaxed.

Helia kept her ground, not backing down at his invasion of her personal space - she was a Stormlander after all as well. As she nodded in reply, pouting her lips - calmly walking to his side and around him. Circling him like a prey for its lunch - it was a game of personalities here. "Mhmm...remember that...when your brother will be worried about you and your threat to his power...." she stated.

"As the sayin goes - those needed to get power...aren't always those needed to hold it. Look at the cracks developing, between a half-brother and sister. Despite what you think Aemond, there are those - whom like the state of affairs as they are and aren't eager to charge forward into another war...especially with winter coming..."

As she spoke, she soon stopped infront of him, having circled him twice and now SHE was in HIS space. "Your family set a dangerous presedence Aemond Targaryen...how long before, Aegon has to watch his own back? For the Small Council to start to disapprove or re-will his words...hmmh? How long, before he starts suspecting that you might be plotting against him?"

"My father once told a very smart proverb - he asked. 'Helia darling, do you know, why such a thing as Guest' rights are so much protected and guarded? It's not because of tradition or honor my dear...it's because without it, we'd be killing eachother without chance of parley ever'," she spoke the story. "Your family set the presedence...don't be surprised, if in fifty years - the Small Council might strip Hightower of its lands one day...or declare it has the true right of choosing a king...then slowly....until they are the only law in the land...all it took...is this....and the legacy of Aegon...will be a simple puppet' child...controlled by whomever noble has managed to gain control over the Small Council. Is that what you wish for, Aemond?"

Aemond smirked all the while as she circled him, letting his hands hang loosely at his side as she watched him intently, ready to spring in case she made any moves. Not that he was overly concerned about it. Helia would see his lithe, athletic form, honed from years of sword-fighting and dragon-riding. As lean as a dagger and just as quick.

The Prince replied as confidently as ever, "My brother doesn't have to worry about me, because we believe in loyalty. A novel concept perhaps, but it's true. I do this for my brother, for my family. As for war... my brother is hoping to avoid it. That's why the Stormlands must join us. So we can force our dear sister to see sense and lay down her arms. If the houses of Westeros join us, there will be no need for war." Not that Aemond was actually hoping to avoid war, but Helia didn't need to know that.

He smiled as she stepped close to him and he said, "We have the law on our side, we're following the precedent. And we will make sure that a King's rights and powers, remain the King's. Aegon has nothing to fear." He stepped closely to her, getting right into her face and almost pressing her against the wall, "Because lions, and wolves, and stags may be strong, but it is the dragon who rules overs all. And it will always be so. Aegon the Conqueror proved that, and I will make sure the sheep never forget it."

"Yeah...loyalty...and King' right...by stabbing the previous King and his rights in the back," she replied, not willing to let him push her against the wall so easily. So in essence she pressed back, until their chests were pressed against eachother.

"Hmm....for a dragon your negotiating from a position of weakness...if you need our people to help...and a flightless dragon is just a giant lizard..." spoke Helia. "You want the Stormlands to join without a fight?"

Helia replied by matching his face, until they almost were touching eachother. "Over...my...body...."

Aemond finally frowned, his arm pressing to the wall next to her head and staring right back at her with both his violet eye and his sapphire eye, "And if you think I'd do that to my father? What do you think I'd do to you?" He leaned in even closer, holding the silent stare for a few more moments.

The frown vanished as quickly as it appeared, another predatory smirk flashing in its place, "Weakness? No never, my dear Helia. Even without wings, a dragon always has claws. And fangs. And fire."

He flashed his teeth, and in the torchlight, he looked as hungry and vicious and ferociously alive as a dragon, "That can be arranged." He pressed into her, pressing her against the wall with his lips on hers, his arm grasping hers. It was not a courtly romantic kiss. It was toxic desire.

Helia instead of pulling out her dirk, that she kept against her hip and stabbing the arrogant prick - she instead had her left hand in his hair and pulled him in - for a more deeper and passionate makeout. It was disgusting and wrong on so many levels - she wondered, if this was the reason, why many lords sought out danger. And if it couldn't work the other way for ladies as well.

Aemond had kissed his fair share of girls. Had fucked a few whores. But he hadn't ever done anything like this with a lady, a ruler of a house. Especially one, that for all appearances, absolutely detested him and for whom he felt the same. There was something deliciously wrong about stealing a kiss from such a woman. And having her respond in kind. He knew it wouldn't lead anywhere good. But it felt good, and that was what mattered.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth and wrapped both of his arms around her, lifting her up and softly biting her lip before kissing her neck, his other hand quickly and forcefully parting her dark plain tunic to reveal her smallclothes.

"You're a damn bastard..." she hissed through her teeth, a mixture of anger and lust in her voice at that moment. Before they heard other voices coming through the hallway. "Fuckers...."

At that, she had him put her down and fixed up her tunic - trying to make it appear, as if they had been doing nothing scandalous and simply had been upto their usual of political arguing as always. "Later..." she stated, allowing Aemond to win this round - namely they'd have time later for this.

"Now that we got that point across...let's go through this feast and then we'll see what the future will bring," spoke Helia - her eyes still wild and focused on him.

Aemond didn't even pay the other voices any mind beyond casting an off-handed sapphire glance their way. The pair of serving women got one look at him and scurried away in a hurry. They hadn't even noticed the plainclothes Helia.

His eye was fixed on her, matching her in eagerness and wild abandon, "Oh, I'm sure it'll bring us both many interesting things and to many interesting places."

The One-Eye chuckled and said, "Do you have to change into something more... appropriate for dinner? Perhaps I can escort you into the hall?"

"You may do that," replied Helia in reply - as they soon headed off and out of the hallways - namely to her room, where she changed. Aemond getting to see her also, modestly curvy body a bit closer than would be decent - before they headed back to the feast.

Aemond stayed outside her room as was decent, but he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't looking at her as she changed. Right before they headed back into the hall, he leaned in to her and whispered, "Your room, after the feast." Then he gave the lady a cheeky pat on her arse and they entered the hall. Aemond gave her a pleased smirk before taking his place next to his potential fiance, on the opposite side of Lord Borros from his kin.

Dragons in the Storm

Daemon had moved from the Great Table whilst Rhaenys had been away from the feast and found a secluded trestle table for lesser knights and retainers where he dragged his cousin down to sit beside him upon her return. A few eyes glanced their way though it could hardly be any surprise the two that had arrived together had cause to speak privately during some of the festivities. Festivities that had no heart in them. The tension one could have cut with a knife, Rhaenys, Daemon and Aemond together in one great hall? Borros had had the decency to seat the Princes on opposite sides of their host but the look on Aemond's face as Daemon made eye-contact upon entry was one of those few times one might see that cocksure mask slip.

From Rhaenys, he'd had the tale of Helia Caron's appeal and her ridiculous demands for her fealty yet, curiously, it was some minutes before the Lady of the Marches reappeared and when she did, it was with his one-eyed nephew in close attendance. Wordlessly, he raised a brow towards the door for Rhaenys to follow. "How was our Lady Caron garbed when the two of you spoke?" He whispered, violet eyes flitting to ensure there were none in close enough attendance to hear.

Rhaenys hushed her voice and said, "As if she were a serving lady or handmaiden, with none of the finery that she now wears. And now she walks in next to Aemond. Do you believe she is playing us false? Playing both sides?" She drank, her grip on the cup taut as she watched the two enter the hall, Aemond smirking at them before sitting at table next to Borros' eldest daughter.

Daemon spoke low, in close confidence. "I've never spoken with her, I cannot judge her character. It is said she wrote angrily to Aegon or Otto, at least, when she heard of his coronation..." He'd had word from contacts amongst the Gold Cloaks that some of the small coucil were most vexed that the Lady of the Marches had written in protest of Aegon's succession. "I cannot guess what game she plays now. If she's a friend, it might be to our advantage to have her so close to Aemond, if a foe..." He glanced around uneasily. "I rather fear she'd be just another viper in the nest." He took a swallow of wine.

If Caron was playing either sides or not was hard to tell - as she couldn't return to the Great Hall dressed in her diguise - otherwise heads might turn more quickly, than an Andal in Dorne.

For the current, her mood remained that of mild dislike - since in all honesty, Helia Caron wasn't faking her mood at that. She was honestly both conflicted of her choices - not to mention her run-in with the One-Eyed Prince - which threw her plans completely in disarray.

All in all, Helia Caron for the most part of the feast - kept to herself, talking with only the 'Dissenters' faction people and doing not much more than that.

Rhaenys cursed silently, "I suppose only time will tell. Apparently she will send some men to Tarth, then on to Dragonstone to fill out our ranks, but she will not openly declare for us at this juncture. She said she will try to get Borros to side with us but we shall see."

Daemon could only shrug. "What do you make of your nieces? Think Joff would like any of them?" He laughed, in honesty, he gravely doubted any marriage was like to take place, he'd had faint nods from the table where Caron now slouched, her back to him from the Evenstar and a couple of his companions but there was little warmth in the gazes of many of the others. I'm like to be murdered abed here he thought gloomily.

Rhaenys sighed, "The youngest is of an age with Joff. And comely enough. But I don't like just how friendly Aemond is with the eldest." Even from here they could see how Aemond made the girl smile and giggle, both of them were young and comely and alive. In any other circumstances, Rhaenys might have been happy for them, but that union represented a great danger to Rhaenyra's chances on the throne.

"The Evenstar may be our greatest friend here. He has a third of the Stormlander ships, and is right across here on Tarth. With enough ships and men, they can hold any fleet coming up the Narrow Sea. Including the Dornish, the rest of the Stormlanders, the Arbor, even the Triarchy. If we get him on our side, we can afford to lose my cousin, as bad a taste in my mouth as that would leave. The Knight of Skulls wishes to join us as well. He assures me that he seeks revenge on Criston Cole for the death of Joffrey Lonmouth, and that his own house will remain as neutral as possible and commit minimal men to the war should Borros turn against us. It's said the Knight of Skulls is a fine warrior, he could be a valuable sworn sword for Rhaenyra." It was not what Rhaenys had hoped for, but they had to make the best of what they could.

"You're no more cheered by this party than I" Daemon sighed. "I will seek out the Evenstar if he doesn't find one of us first and hear what he would say. I will give what reassurances I can. Tarth is well garrisoned and with your husband's ships he needn't fear Borros' reprisal. Come, let us rejoin the main party lest we are missed!" He japed, sidling back across the floor to rejoin Borros and his Lords.

Rhaenys took a calming breath and followed. She was disheartened by Borros' seeming reluctance to side with her, and she hoped she could manage to convince him to see reason. They rejoined Borros and company on the high table, with Rhaenyra herself sitting next to the Lord of Storm's End, "Borros. Thank you for your hospitality."

"It's the least I could do Rhaenys. Father was always fond of you."

The very least you could do, indeed Rhaenys thought but kept to herself, "And I was always fond of him. Stand with me Borros. For his sake."

Borros chewed his food and said, "You offer me a whelp of a princeling, who if rumors have it.... is of uncertain birth. You offer me assistance to attack my rivals true, some honors and gold. But Aegon offers me his brother, a position on the Small Council, and just as much gold and honors. With a princess in my family, that strengthens my position incredibly. With royal support, I can take the Stepstones for myself eventually. You can see my conflict."

Daemon heard all, there was scarce anyone else to listen to and he put in. "Borros, had I known you had designs on the stepstones, you and I would have been war buddies long years ago. Join us; your cousin, your rightful Queen and you and I will smash the Stepstones together once this war is done. With your fleet, Corlyss' backing too and Caraxes loves a charred Tyroshi hide or three... Gods! to War!" He thumped the table igoring whatever expression Aemond doubtless had in store for him. "If that's all you desire, you know I can do it with you. Fuck poxy titles 'Master of Ships' I've never been; King of the Narrow Sea I have! And no fat king or one-eyed cunt gifted it me either." Had he gone too far? He no longer cared. "You've seen the Greens' regard for titles, no? Not worth the parchment they're scrawled upon. You sit there and talk of winning the Stepstones whilst you let a prince dandle your daughter and heiress on his knee like some lowly tavern wench? These 'Hightowers' no sooner speak their lies than they evaporate again like the morning mists. But you already know that. The question is, do you care any longer or must needs Rhaenys and I waste any more of your time?" He necked the last of his wine. It was fiery stuff and it had roused him to make his plea. He could almost feel his cousin's reproachful glare but sat back and allowed Lord Borros his reaction.

Aemond glared at Daemon with his hateful violet eye, his hand obviously itching to draw his sword and have at thee with his uncle. His lady love, Borros' daughter, covered her mouth with her hands and looked between the young prince and her father uncertainly. The entire hall went quiet and Rhaenys gripped the table in a white knuckled grasp. Had Daemon gone too far? Or had he convinced her cousin where she could not?

The unexpected happened. Borros laughed. A big booming, nearly endless peal of laughter as he threw back his head and let loose. It went on for several moments, the only sound in the room as every other noble sat in silence. Eventually he quieted down, and wiped a tear from his eye, "Oh Daemon, you do not disappoint. I wish I hadn't listened to the wife and joined you all those years ago. We would have had a ball. Well, now she's dead, rest her soul, and I can do what I please."

He drank, "You're right. I do want those islands. They've been draining my bannermen and taxes for quite some time. I hold some fondness for Rhaenys, and you are the most lively man I've met. I care not for true claims of rightful heirs. I care for what you can give me. And you offer me a great chance!"

Rhaenys looked on, tense, as Borros clapped the rigid Aemond on the shoulder, "Ha, your uncle is not one to mince words is he? Well, lucky for you boy, my daughter likes you. And I love my daughter. Hmm. You both drive a hard bargain, both offer much. What's a man to do? To think that Targaryens would try so hard to win a Baratheon's favor." He guffawed again.

"Hmm. Tell you what Daemon, Aemond. No matter who ends up with the crown, I aim to get those islands. But I would rather not fight my cousin on the field of battle. My father would roll over on his grave. I will encourage a peace. I call for parley. Both of you are violent, eager men. We should all go to war against our enemies together. Tell your wife, Daemon, that I will support a parley."

"And I can see the Evenstar over there has been itching to throw himself at your feet ever since you walked in. I declare that every man who wishes to go to your side can do so. I will not touch any fighter who goes to join the Blacks unless the battles begin in earnest. However, if any remain in the Stormlands who defy me, I will strike, no matter what side I choose. I trust you will tell your Queen of the considerations I am granting, and that she will remember that, no matter what shall transpire. How does that sound?"

Daemon mused on this. He was certain he'd assured better terms from Borros than if he'd kept quiet but there were still treacherous stones to tread here. The night would doubtless descend now into shameless canvassing where he and Rhaenys tried to secure oaths from the stormlords who risked much in going over to them. If they supported the Blacks and Borros eventually went Green, he could descend upon their homes and kin as he pleased. Dragonstone could offer safety to Rhaenyra's loyal supporters but it was hardly a vast expanse capable of sheltering the refugees of half the Stormlands... He refilled his glass.

"You've been as fair as you've been courteous Lord Borros. Would that we could all charge off to war together, I know Caraxes would be loath to lose his charred Tyroshi hides to Vhagar." He offered a sad smile to Aemond, but since he'd just dubbed him a one-eyed cunt and a Hightower, he doubted they'd trade idle tales now. "Rhaenys, I apologise for my uncouth tongue there; your cousin strikes me as a man more at ease with plain speaking than veiled offers and political games... I shall welcome the oaths of any and all who would declare for my Wife tonight." His voice rose to carry throughout the hall. "I promise you the protection of Dragonstone and her allies and the favour of the Seven in our rightful cause." In all honesty, the others could take the Seven for all the good the Gods had done him but if there was one minor House swayed by his apparent piety then they were words well spoken.

He turned to Rhaenys. "Is there aught you would add, Cousin?" He conceded the floor to his former mother-in-law as the confused expressions of these gathered lords gave little inclination towards success or failure.

Rhaenys stood up. They had failed to get a definitive answer from Borros, and that boded unwell, but this was their chance to rally Stormlander support to their cause, every man would be useful, "You all know my husband to be a man of honor. You all know my own quality, and that the love that I had for my uncle was great. You know that it was Rhaenyra whom Viserys intended to rule after him. Let honor and friendship guide your choice. And let every man know that Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon will shield every man who joins us, and reward them greatly for their loyalty. Let us forge a kingdom based on loyalty and honor, and not on deception and duplicity. Thank you."

Aemond stood up then, his sapphire eye glinting over the whole, "The chivalry of the West and the greater part of the Reach stands with us. They stand with us because they know that by all the laws of the land, it is Aegon who is the rightful King. Rhaenyra has the Sea Snake aye, but only a handful of houses otherwise, a paltry collection in the face of the mighty host we are assembling. Stand on the right side of history my lords. In the name of the law. Justice. And know that you will not have the token protection of Dragonstone far away, but the friendship of King's Landing right at hand. Every true man will be rewarded far better than the Black Queen can hope to achieve. House Wylde, House Dondarrion, and House Swann stand with King Aegon, men you all know to be honorable and upright. Look at the quality of these men and know you make the right choice by declaring for the true King of Westeros. A kingdom built on the rightful order, not one where a bastard would one day rule over the Lords of Westeros." He sat down and he bored his good eye ito his uncle's gaze.

Borros smiled, satisfied with himself, and said, "Both sides speak convincingly. I will make a decison myself at a later point, when I have given contemplation to each offer. If any of my lords wish to convince me of the merits of either side, you may approach and we will talk. But is my word that will be followed. After I declare, there will be a short period for dissenting soldiers to join with the Black Queen or the Gold King. But afterwards, any man left in the Stormlands will abide by my decison. But, back to feasting, my lords, my guests. Tonight, I'll marry off one of my daughters, we'll just have to see who."

He laughed, took another drink, and the music resumed, the chatter slowly building up as the lords and knights debated amongst themselves. The Evenstar nodded at Daemon and Rhaenys, the Knight of Skulls with him. Some lords of lesser account cast gazes at them or seemed to mull the options. Daemon and Rhaenys had to cement the support they could, and it was clear none could do more than wait for Borros to make his choice.

The Agreement

Helia after the feast and the straight-up declaration of allegeance, had returned to her room - undone her tight corset and simply had exchanged to some more looser clothing. As she waited and sat behind her desk - starting to try and write some letters, but immediately tearing them up and throwing them away.

She couldn't think or even get angry the right way - since Westeros was only a few moves away from being engulfed in complete war.

There was a knock on the door, and it swung open, revealing Aemond One-Eye. He wore dark, unassuming clothing, with a travel cloak haning from his shoulders and a hood hiding his silver hair and his sapphire eye. He closed the door and hung the cloak over a chair, revealing a black tunic bare of any arms or adornment, "I had to wait for the castle to sleep, and my bride to be desired much of my attention."

He smirked, standing behind her and looking at the papers on her desk, "Issuing orders? Planning on what you'll do? What will you do, Helia?" He savored the name, drew out saying it, inflecing a hint of suggestiveness into it.

"That will depend on how long Lord Borros plans to play tug-o-war between your two factions," sighed Helia. "He is only playing both of you - so you'd go broke out-bartering eachother..."

"And this rate you'll be forced to sign off half of Westeros to get Borros into siding with either side. In addition, his act will in essence allow him to swing his loyalty either Green or Black - and be easily able to determine whom are the enemies..." she cursed.

"So what did you came here for?" she asked, looking up at him. "Eager for a bastard?"

Aemond grinned, reaching around the chair to take a lock of Helia's hair in his hand and part it to stroke her neck, "You seemed eager enough earlier. And I suppose I could always start catching up to my sister."

His other hand started slipping down the hem of her dress, patiently but firmly, "But I was also eager to cement an alliance. Borros is almost ready to commit. His daughter is infatuated, most of his bannermen are eager, and we have a very attractive offer. Your support, could be the decider. You wouldn't even have to speak for us. You would just need to be ostensibly neutral in words. Signal you are no longer so resistant to our cause. Let the Evenstar and Lonmouth stand with their friends. You can stand apart."

The hand stroking her neck travelled down to wrap around her waist as he kept exploring her, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, looking at her with his good eye, "Join me, and I'll see to it that your position is secured, that you are rewarded. It's always good to have a Prince for a friend."

Helia kept her emotions mostly in check, gasping a few times - when she felt his hand move further down her back and eventually rest upon her waist. "Is that so? You planning on adding father to that list as well - with the way your trying to 'persuade' me?" she hummed, looking over at him.

"So basically for the prize of doing nothing - you will reward me with anything I wish?" she replied - although within limits of course. "I will admit, it has merits - and alot of our bannermen are eager to join the Greens..." she replied, the storm between her eyes continuing to divide her.

She then looked at the hand wrapped around her waist. "...do you plan on cementing this alliance if I say yes, now. Or plan to persuade me if I say no?" she asked, regaining that fire - that they had found in the hallway.

Aemond chuckled playfully, "I always wondered what it'd be like to be a father. But what would the Stormlanders say if they found out you were with child? Scandulous."

He began to undress her, slowly, one layer of clothing at a time as he kissed her neck, "Anything you want? I don't know about that. But I can do quite a bit. I'm a Prince of the realm. I'm a member of the Small Council. The Hand of the King is my grandfather. My mother is part of one of the richest and most powerful houses in the kingdom. The King is my brother. And soon, your liege lord will be my good father. Surely, you can see how having me as a friend would be... beneficial to you. Maybe not anything you wished. But quite a lot."

He drew her closer to him, his hand reaching down further and further from her waist before he started to caress her, "You can say yes or no to my offer. I'll keep trying. And I can be very persuasive." He grinned as he grasped her, played with her.

"But either way. I will have you. Now." He kissed her then, fiery and senseless lust in the act, and he began to rip off what little remained of her clothes.

The only reply Helia could get out was a loud curse and gasp - before they got into doing that which Aegon likely didn't want finding out or revealed in his court...ever. Although, if this act would be kept a secret for the future - it'd give them a new opening in-time, if the likely bastard of this union was ever born.

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

@Greenie At the moment, yes.

@Celeste Awesome, hit me up when you can.

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

@kingkonrad I always try to use the general pad.

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

@kingkonrad You guys can all get in on it if you're there.

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

@Monochromatic Rainbow Well Mirren has been pretty lazy for a while now so :P

@Nightwing95 I think the big meeting would have to be a big collab but we're not quite there yet.

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

I have posted as well. There's a bit of a time skip for character interaction at sea, but now the plot has been moved along for pretty much everybody.

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

Golden Tooth

After some time Ser Leon and his men had finished bathing and the company of companions dressed themselves in clothes prepared for them by the servants, rich in fabric and hue but with no device or sigil. The Vikary's men own livery was stained by travel and unsuitable for a polite gathering. Ser Leon walked with Lord Lorimer to the great hall for their supper and extended his hand to shake Lorimer's, "My lord, I thank you heartily for the hospitality of your home. It is a great comfort in these trying times. Once I return to the rest of my house, I will proclaim your kindness and geniality far and wide. And you may rest assured that you will always have a place at my own hearth and table."

Gates of the Moon

The feast was well underway and lasted for much of the night. There was food, drink, and merriment aplenty all to the tune of lively music and the chattering and japing of the Lords of the Vale. Near the feast's end, Lord Robin stood and tapped his goblet. The hall quieted as the Lord of the Vale said, "Tonight we honor my son's appointment as the first Knight Herald and agent of the Crown, and the elevation of my cousin Ser Harold to Keeper of the Gates of the Moon." The lords and knights began smacking their cups or fists on the tables in celebration. Robin cast a sideways glance at Tyrion, "We also welcome the Hand of the King to our hall. Lord Tyrion has always been a friend of the Vale." Tyrion raised his goblet in a salute while the other lords either laughed and mimicked him or kept their silence.

Robin continued, "Our King, has charged my heir and Lord Tyrion to finally bring peace to the Vale and subdue the Hill Tribes for good and all. To that end, the new Knight Herald and the Hand are meeting with their so-called Mountain King." Many lords muttered to themselves or spit on the floor at the mention of the upstart tribesman. Robin said, "I support this measure with all my heart. And to facilitate these peace talks, I send Lord Harold to watch over my son and participate in the summit. As Lord Commander of the Winged Knights, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, and my kinsman, I know no better choice." There was another round of cheering as Robin sat down and Harry traded a knowing glance with Mychel before turning back to his wife and family.

Tyrion leaned in to Mychel, "Well, our job became somewhat more difficult."

The next morning the party gathered to leave. Tyrion and his Lion's Pride led by Ser Lancelot were all saddled and ready, along with Mychel and the Lords he had gathered to their cause. Lyn Corbray and a number of Corbray knights were part of the delegation, including chivalry from House Royce, Waynwood, and Templeton. Even though Mychel had not gathered all of the houses to his personal faction, many of the high houses wished to have representatives. Lord Harry had brought along a sizable squad of Winged Knights. The party was soon joined by members of the Hill Tribes that were friendly to both Mychel and Tyrion. Tyrion was happy to see them, whereas the other lords largely were not. The hillmen and the Lannisters were kept far away from the rest of the company and they rode off to meet with the Mountain King at the place he had designated, Mychel the only Valemen who rode close to them. Lord Harry kept behind with his Winged Knights and the rest of the lords and knights followed with their retinues.

Tyrion smirked at Mychel and said, "A varied lot we are. Lannisters, Knights of the Vale. And the venerable hill men. Charged to bring peace to the Mountain and Vale and cease over a few thousand years of struggle."

"May the gods help us." He laughed and rode on.

Vulture's Roost

The demon snarled at Uther, knocking aside his sword and going for the kill. It's maw nearly closed over his gut until it shrieked in pain and surprise. The demon recoiled and turned to see the young Alchemist with his sword of green fire plunged into it's flank. The demon bled black blood and beat at the flames spreading over it, it's tail lashing out around the man's neck and tightening. The youth choked, dropping his sword and flailing in the air as he kicked out in an effort to free his neck. Then a roar of challenge rent the air as Ser Andrew leaped in and hacked at the beast, driving it back before the demon smacked Ser Tarth against one of the walls of the castle, sending him tumbling down in a heap of cracked armor and groans.

The monster turned back to Uther and swiped its' claws at him, scoring blood down the side of his face before charging at him with its other claw raised high, the alchemist still choking on the tail.

The Skull

The time had come. Day had broken and the royalist forces had gathered. By midday, thousands of men gathered in front of the walls of the final fortress. Elephants thundered into position next to a massive siege tower and rows of siege weapons. The Vultures had collapsed the tunnels to the rest of the hidden passages and Mirren Sand's guerilla forces had been pulled back to the last waycastle to hold the garrison there along with the Reachman, the tunnel forces replaced by other men in case the Vultures tried to sneak out of the Skull. Lady Brienne of Tarth led the vanguard and her fresh forces were eager for combat. Tales of the monstrous fighting had circulated among the men, but the Stormlanders didn't seem much perturbed by the stories, almost recklessly brave. The officers and nobles were gathered at the vanguard, Ser Gendry, Ser Garlan, Ser Merrel, Mirren Sand, and the Red Woman among them. Lady Brienne of Tarth, Lord Andrew Estermont, Lord Donnel Swann, Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Rolland Caron, Lord Dickon Tarly, Lord Edric Dayne, and Lord Harmen Dondarrion all were present armed, armored, and atop their horses. Ser Aegon Targaryen stood behind them all on the back of Viserion, the white dragon overlooking them all. Banners and pennants from over a dozen houses and companies fluttered in the air and on the walls they could see that archers and siege weapons were in clear evidence.

A Knight Herald rode ahead to the no man's land between the vanguard and the castle and said, "The royal army, led by the Master of War, Ser Gendry of Storm's End, seeks the submission of the forces within this castle. Come out to treat with us and submit, or face our unyielding force." He rode back to the noble procession and the group waited for several moments. Moments turned into minutes and almost half an hour had passed when Gendry grunted, "Well it seems like they prefer annihilation. Very well." He turned to give the order to begin bombardment, but no sooner had he done that before the gates of the castle shuddered open and a group of riders on black horses with Vulture cloaks rode out to them.

Gendry chuckled and kicked his stirrups. The noble delegation rode forward with a large company of guards and met the Vultures in the No Man's Land. The Vultures had all concealed their faces behind Vulture helms save for one comely man with a face freckled by the sun and turned bronze, his eyes stormy blue and his hair a dark blonde. He nodded at the nobles and smirked, "The famous Storm Bull. I am honored to make your acquaintance, ser. My greetings to all in your illustrious company."

Gendry said, "My thanks. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Ser?"

The man smiled, "Ser Beezel. Beezel Dryland."

Edric raised an eyebrow, "Dryland? Your line was erased countless years ago."

Ser Beezel smiled, "Now it has returned."

Aegon laughed, "And it will vanish again if you do not submit. I doubt you have any answer to dragonfire, demons or no."

Ser Beezel replied, "You would be surprised Ser. Those monsters we threw at you the other day are simply the first of it."

Gendry cut in, "Enough with the posturing. We have taken every castle on this mountain save the Skull. Thousands of your compatriots either have gone to their ancestors or lay in chains. We outnumber you ten to one. We have siege weapons. We have elephants. We have a dragon. Surrender and keep your life and those of your men. Defy us and we will take that castle, and mount your head on a spike above the gates."

Ser Beezel threw back his head and laughed, "Ah, the famous Baratheon rage. It is quite an amusement. But I know it to be bluster. You cannot burn our castle down. You need it to maintain control of the Spine, and the Red Mountains. Destroying it serves you in no way. And you'd need all the highborn hostages you can get your hands on."

Brienne said, "Castles can be rebuilt again, and noble hostages are not necessary for our victory. Submit, Ser and spare your life and countless others."

Beezel shook his head, "We will not lay down our arms without a fight. And we will not make it easy."

Gendry smirked, "Even without a dragon, how do you propose to stop us? Conventional stones will kill you easily enough. As will alchemical bombs, spellflame, and water attacks. We will storm these walls and slaughter every one of you and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Except bend the knee."

The Vulture Knight replied, "That's where you are wrong. We have magic as well. You saw it yesterday, and that was only a taste. Oh we may not be able to counter your dragon, but our witches and warlocks can call up power to lay your armies to waste. We may die, but so will you."

Gendry said, "You're lying."

"Believe what you wish, but storm these walls and thousands will die. Including myself. Including you. Your friends. And all of your vanguard behind you. Save for perhaps Ser Aegon and his dragon. But there is another way. A way for this matter to be decided without so much death."

"What do you propose?"

"A duel. Single combat. Whatever weapon you choose. If you win, you take the castle and take us as your prisoners. If we win, you will allow us safe passage to rejoin our compatriots." Beezel took off his glove and flung it at the ground in front of the party.

Gendry replied, "Why should I agree to this if victory is certain?"

Beezel smiled, "Oh you may win, Ser. But not without death. You heard the screams. Storm this castle and it will be so much worse. We will call down hellfire and dark forces that have not been seen in these lands for millennia. At least this way, you can enjoy your victory, and you will take the castle either way. Unless, you are afraid of losing of course. Do you doubt the strength of your arms or the justice of your cause?"

Gendry fumed while Beezel looked around at the company, "Are none of you brave enough to take up the gage? What happened to the vaunted bravery of the royal forces? What about you, Brienne the Beauty? The Sword of the Morning? Lord Tarly? Ser Garlan? Perhaps that sellsword whore you brought along? There are many mighty warriors in this meeting, or have I been misinformed?" He smiled mockingly at the party and waited for a response.

The Roseroad, Near Tumbleton

The supply train had been travelling for several weeks. Hundreds of wagons rolled along the Roseroad, and large groups of Tyrell men accompanied the shipment, along with retinues from several other houses. It was the largest shipment of food in recent months and yet there had been no sign of the Gardener raiders in that whole time. Several travelling peasants had attached themselves to the convoy for safety and several freeriders and hedge knights now rode with them to King's Landing, hoping to sign on to the royal forces. A number of wealthier merchants had hitched their wagons to the convoy as well. And yet for all of that, there had been no bandit attacks, the outlaws of the Reach evidently unwilling to go up against such a heavily protected train. The monsters of the Reach had also shunned the presence of so many people.

Another week or so and the convoy would be safe in the Crownlands where the Gold Cloaks patrolled the roads with regularity and there had been little banditry or attacks. If the Gardeners were going to strike, it would be soon. Somewhere in the brush, Ser Arthur followed along. Lord Florent had command of the convoy and his banner had been proudly flying over the train for weeks. The sun was near setting, and soon they would make camp. The weather had been pleasant, and the roads well-maintained. One of the Inquisitor's men was disguised as a Brightwater man and rode along with Lord Florent, "I do not like this, my lord. I can feel trouble brewing." He cast his eyes around. For several miles now, there had been no other travelers on the road and only their procession rumbled along. It was quiet and peaceful. It was a beautiful day. The outriders had seen no sign of trouble. The man loosened his sword in the sheath.

It came. Arrows came flying out of the trees, flaming arrows, and buried themselves in the lead wagon, several raining down among the vanguard of the procession. More flaming arrows landed in the rearmost wagon and at the rear guard. Fire started engulfing the lead and rear wagons. The warriors and their horses scattered in confusion, drawing swords and looking around for an invisible enemy. More arrows came on the body of the train, striking warrior and peasant alike. Already a few dozen people had fallen, but thankfully the main barrage was not flaming arrows. The arrows stopped and a cry arose from scores of throats, "Spring Forth!"

The Green Hand flew in the setting sun once more, a band of armored knights in green plate with white cloaks charging down the hill towards the convoy, backlit by the sun as another band of similarly garbed men descended on them from the other side. There were almost three hundred, all told, and they formed two mailed fists that struck at the convoy, particularly at the section where Lord Florent rode. The air was soon rent with the clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men and women. A knight in Gardener armor charged straight at the Florent Lord with a spear, point tipped at his steed.

King's Landing (Collab with @AtomicNut)

A haircomb, simple ointments, books about the Faith, a seven pointed star and modest robes. Those were the weapons she had been provided, and the ones she had at her disposal. No dagger nor poison among their midst. She was being watched, and thus her fangs had to wait to be unleashed. Deep blue eyes eyed the books one time more, as she caressed the engravings.

She had spent quite a time memorising those books by heart, trying to learn the subtlety of the Faith in the many ways she could think in such short notice. In her short life, she had been blessed not only with the looks to charm a Prince, but also with a mind worthy of a scholar, should she needed to dedicate herself to the task. Lysara sighed, as she grabbed the haircomb, and in broad strokes combed her golden-silver hair. She eyed the hair carefully, and picking up a flask with dye, examined it carefully. The hair would stand out a lot... but it could be dyed. Her curves could be concealed somewhat with her robes. Even her scar... could be shown or be hidden, should she need to.

But her eyes and her face were another regard. If only she could be a little plainer, the plan would have a slightly better success. But she would have to do and try to hide as much of her features as possible. Her sight wandered to each and every corner of her own room. Shelves and well-cared lodgings were ever present. It wasn't big and overly luxurious, but it was much better and fairer than any mercenary's tent.

It gave her chills how much it resembled her own home, down to the solitude. She shuddered. Seran wasn't there with her, and she could only move forward, aware that at any moment a knife would find the artery in her neck she had missed in her earlier attempt. But such was the role she had been entrusted. All for the realization of her dream. The dragon egg her brother protected with his life.

She felt scared. Alone. It was one thing manipulating events behind her reliable brother's back, but now... her allies were at best circumstancial, and at worst, rivals waiting to strike. She stopped combing her hair as she buried her hand in her face. "What am I doing, even. This is madness." She bitterly said, as a couple of tears squeezed through her face, still buried in her hand.

There was a knock on the door and Jahaerys Targaryen slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. There was an earnest look on his face but a frown appeared as he espied the tears running down Lysara's face and he reached a hand to touch her shoulder and console her, "Are you alright, Lysara?"

The young woman tensed all of a sudden, trying to reign in the impulse of her body. She shivered, but the voice rescued to her senses as she tried to restrain herself. It would look bad if Jahaerys had a comb stuck in his throat for such a gesture. Well, for once she was glad she didn't have her dagger in reach.

"You saw, prince." Lysara's mood darkened all of a sudden, wisps of fury in her voice as a deep frown flashed in her factions. "That's not something not even my brother is ever allowed to see anymore." She said in a quiet, but ominous voice. Quickly, she wiped the tears out of her face, as she quickly composed herself. "Even I can feel second thoughts and fear sometimes, is that surprising? Specially with this kind of ploy going on. But I will be fine. I've courted death before." The young woman said, as she began to recite one of the Seven Point Star book passages.

"See, nothing to worry about it. I do my work." She added, as she weighted the dye flask.

Jahaerys didn't didn't withdraw but pulled his hand slowly back, "It isn't but, that's why you have comrades, people you can trust and who can help you. Remember that." He stepped back and appraised her, "Even the strongest feel fear. As my father says, it is the only time one can truly be brave."

He smiled ruefully, "But your secret is safe with me. Your enigmatic mystique will be preserved."

"What do you plan to do exactly? What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I'm going to go deep inside the Faith of Seven, disguised as Septa. I've talked with the High Septon, and I did not like what I heard. Specially not in the condescending way he talked about prince Aemon." Lysara looked to a side. "Like if he was expecting the prince's honor to be stained like this just because he's young and brave."

"Last time the Royal line fathered bastards, the Kingdoms bled, my Prince. I think he should've been more alarmed. He's hiding something, that I can feel. I can't crack the masquerade of the High Septon, after all he's a man with decades of experience of talking in public."

"But a chain is only as strong as the weakest link, as they say." Lysara added pouring the dye in a basin and her comb. "Even among septs, people have friends. And they're probably shocked at the news as much as others. Those people feelings are usually beneath the grand scheme of things in these schemes..." Lysara trailed off. "...and they might know something. But you can't reach them using normal methods."

Jahaerys crossed his arms with a smile, "As long as you don't poison anyone. Do you want anyone to accompany you? Perhaps Alys can come with you? The Faith has many secrets, and defends them jealously. It will be dangerous, and I'm not sure how else we can help you otherwise."

"Alys will be better off swinging a sword by your side. I think she fancies you, my Prince." Lysara added, as she continued to dye her hair. "I've got to do something about my face. I am far too striking to not be recognized." She thought. "Maybe some mild poison that gives a rash..."

Jahaerys chuckled, "I don't know about that, but as to your features... darker hair will do wonders at concealing your identity. And perhaps some makeup can make you look older... more weathered by time and the world. Perhaps my sister can help."

He frowned, "You'll be on your own then. Are you sure you will be ok? We will not be able to help should anything happen."

"Your sister...you mean the one with sorcerous powers? That sounds intriguing." She glanced sideways, eyeing a certain ring that was on display. A certain heirloom she grabbed in her hand, eyeing the features as she kept dying the hair. "Yes, that kind of help... could be useful, my Prince. Even if such arts have not the best reputation sometimes."

Jahaerys smiled, "I meant perhaps Baela could use some of her fashion tricks. I don't know the true extent of Daenyra's abilities. And I'm unsure if we should let her know what we need. Do you think we should speak to her?"

"On second thought, I'd rather not drag my benefactor into this." She muttered. "Nor more people than what they're already involved in. I shall probably use some make up to smudge my features on my own." She sighed. "If only i could have my dagger back..."

Jahaerys laughed, crossing his arms behind his back, "It would be a help wouldn't it. That's why I got something for you." He revealed a small needle of a knife, little more than a sharpened point, "It's easily concealable, and very quiet. But please don't kill anyone, we don't need that kind of attention or trouble. Can I trust you with this?"

"I know how to make people desire death and never reach it." Lysara said. "Rest assured...my Prince, I shall only use it in the most dire circumstances. She added, grabbing the small knife. "Ironic how resembles a surgical scalpel." She added, as she let go of the ring, and stored it away to better examine it.

The Prince leaned back on a wall and smirked, "Indeed, I found it in Sam's lab. So I suppose this is goodbye for sometime. I wish you good fortune." He smiled minutely, "Perhaps you need a kiss for luck?"

"Oh?" Lysara smiled as she eyed the Prince, finishing her hair dye in a shade of black. "A kiss from a Dragon for good luck. Now that would be interesting, my fair Prince...but these lips have been already claimed by another dragon. And if i had heard well, no rider has ever attempted to ride two dragons at once." She smiled, as she got up and bowed to the prince, finishing her details. Some of the dye mixed with makeup would make her skin unhealthy and darker.

Jahaerys smiled, "What you say is true, and I couldn't be prouder of my brother." He inclined his head, "For his sake, I wish you the best. If you need to send a message, you can pass a note to the carpet merchant who operates in front of the Sept."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"Hm. Since I'm going in there to risk my life for the Queen's sake, I would like you to do a small favour for me, my prince." She said, grabbing the ring she had been caressing earlier as well as a written parchmet. "Please see to this being delivered to the Queen in the most utmost secrecy, my fair Prince. It is vital information concerning my lineage." She said, without adding much detail.

Jahaerys took the note and nodded, "I will. I owe you that much." He offered a hand to Lysara, "Is there any message for your brother, or mine? In case of the worst?"

"Just tell them that I was serving the crown." She added, thoughtfully. "Trying to fulfill my dreams, my prince." She said, and without prompt, marked the cheek of the prince with a cheeky peck.

Prince Jahaerys smiled and held her hand in his for a moment before letting her go, "There is a hidden passage we can use. I can show you the way. Shall we go?"

The Lyseni smiled, as she let herself be led by the Prince.

Jahaerys walked her through the shadowed hallways of the Red Keep at night and he led her down a hidden passage, one of multitudes that criss-crossed the Red Keep. He led her by torch light to a secret exit that opened onto the city below the keep and Jahaerys helped her onto a horse waiting for them. They rode through the streets and came near the Grand Sept, though not quite in sight of it. He helped her down and said, "The sept has open doors at all hours. You can walk inside, but I hope you have a name and story prepared. Good luck Lysara, may the gods watch over you." He rode off and Lysara was alone.

---------

The Red Keep

As Cathay returned to her room in the Red Keep she found a note left for her on her bed. The seal had a Cat's paw, half-black and half-white on it. Once she tore it open, she would find instructions to meet, "In the same place as before, at the same time." Her lock had not been tampered with, and there was no evidence anyone had been in the one save for the letter. And yet the letter sat neatly on top of her bed all the same.

The Blue Fork - Near Oldstones

As Catelyn and her retinue returned home the morning after her fateful meeting with the Sparrows, they found difficulty on the road. As they passed through a storm that turned the road into mud and sent the peasants scurrying into their hovels, their passage was unexpectedly barred. There was a score of mounted knights in their path, all of them heavily armed, and all of them bearing the crowned catfish of House Fisher, long thought gone and now apparently risen again.

There were a dozen knights they could see, but with the downpour and the plentiful foliage around, there could have been more in hiding. The first knight shouted across the way from the Tully retinue and said, "We wish a good evening to the Lady Tully. We have no quarrel with her. But she has something in her possession that belongs to us. We humbly ask that she return it and we can all go along on our way. Otherwise, we will have to ask more forcefully. On my honor as a knight, I swear no harm will come to pass to the Lady or any of her companions if she returns what she stole. I swear it by the old gods and new."

The Stepstones

The following morning, the loyalists set sail. Captain Serona and her Maiden's Men sailed upon their own ships with Ser Aerion watching over them. The Maiden's Men were an established company with many members, but they would meet the rest of them at Blackguard Bay. The Silver Serpent sailed next to them, with the Eel following behind. Their rag-tag flotilla dipped out to the sea, towards the place where the Scorpions would be meeting to discuss their battle plans. And if they were lucky, the Scorpion King would be there and the rebellion would be even closer to being crushed. As they sailed they could hear the rumbling of dragon fire in the distance and the roars of the beasts it came from, reverberating through the wind and water. The journey would take less than a week by sea, and the journeying warriors and adventurers had some time to themselves for at least a little while.

-------

Some time later the royalists were in sight of Blackguard Bay, in an isolated isle of the Stepstone chain. The Eel had slipped ahead in the night and espied dozens, scores, perhaps even close to a hundred ships anchored in the Bay. And more were coming. Most were dromonds, sleek and deadly, with a few larger carracks and cogs. The ships were cloaked in minimal lighting, but several fires could be seen on the beaches. It was clear that there were thousands of men and women gathered in the Bay already. Not a place to look for a fight.

Under the cover of darkness the three ships hitched together far away from the bay. Aemon came out dressed like a pirate captain as before. He addressed the assembled companions, "Here's the situation. There's no way we're going to be able to overcome the Scorpions in any kind of fight. Not without dragons, and we don't have them right now. The objective of this mission is to gather intelligence and embed ourselves into the Scorpions. This is where we split up. We need volunteers to come on a shore party that will include myself, Captain Seronna, and Tamsyn. Then I need someone to accompany the Maiden's Men once we learn everything we can. You'll be our insider once I take everyone else to link up with Aurane. They're planning some kind of battle and it behooves us to have an asset in their ranks, that I can trust. It will be dangerous though, make no mistake. If you have any questions or wish to volunteer for a duty, speak up now."

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

Currently writing up my update, should be up by tonight. It's a lot of ground to cover.