Vanq

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

Before Sailing the Narrow Sea
The Princesses and a Lion

It had been some time since the city had been so full in preparation for a war, much less a strike across the Narrow Sea. Rhaella, a mother yet barely more than a slip of a girl, did not like it. She missed her grandfather. The Seven had been so cruel to rip him from her even as they gave her little Rhaegar. The little boy she didn’t really know what to do with. Though she would not admit it aloud, most days it felt like he should have been a surprise younger brother and not born of her own loins.

At least this meant Aerys would be gone. They had never been close and now, though he was clear on doing his duty to please father, that dedication had not made them as their parents were. No matter if his appetites were satiated elsewhere, still he would summon her to his chambers each night. One son was good and well, but with the recent tragedy, the royal family needed heirs, many. The princess’s body refused to cooperate in the full year since the little prince had been born; their efforts were met with blood, heartache, and fear. She prayed that with this solitude, her body would recover and be ready for the ordeal again when the men returned. Dared she think it, if, they returned.

There was still much to be done before then though, and Lady Lannister had been insistent that they meet with her cousin again.

Tywin.

Seven help her, the thought brought back feelings best left in the past. Lady Joanna knew all too well what she was doing though, to bring out crimson flush on pale cheeks. Aerys either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Though she found the latter very unlikely, consumed as he was with the need to produce as many heirs as he could.

“He’s agreed to join us for a late lunch, princess. It’s been so long since I’ve seen my cousin, I'm so pleased you agreed to extend the invitation for my sake.” Joanna and her had not known each other long, but she had become a good confidante and close friend. Even if she saw the way that Aerys looked at her, through her, the desires that the prince barely attempted to keep below the surface.

Rhaella gave a small, sad smile in answer. He too would be off to war, and no matter what the other women chattered about, the Stranger would take some of them away. Events from a year ago burned as a bright reminder of how quickly everything could change, how quickly good things could be laid to waste.

“Do you think it’s true?” One of the other ladies asked, the first part of the question lost on Rhaella.

“Oh don’t bother our princess with such things, Coryanne.”

The Martell woman reclined languidly and met the chide with a flippant hand gesture. She was the Princess of Dorne, ruler in her own right, and yet she had come to stay in King’s Landing and stayed. The trio of women were rarely found far from one another, no matter how many other women attended the princess.

“What, it’s one of the few things anyone will gossip about. They say he has a second head! Do you think it can talk or…” A coy smirk spread across the woman’s face, her tongue briefly tracing full lips with the suggestion.

“We should get ready for this lunch, no?” Rhaella asked meekly, ignoring the question the Martell princess let linger.

“What worries you more, Ella, that he will no longer care for your furtive glances now that you are wife and mother - or that he still will?”

“Coryanne!” Joanna chided again at the brusqueness.

“You all would be much happier if you adopted more from Dorne than occasionally marrying one of us.” The Dornish Princess shrugged off the increasingly shrill noise from the little lioness.

“Help me pick a gown, but no more talk of this, please.” It was a plea, but spoken with the greatest of uncertainty at what it was she wanted or feared. Perhaps the Dornish princess may have had such luxuries, but she certainly did not.

---

---

Current Day
Roses and Thorns

“We should get ready to meet our king and queen.”

“Surely there’s more time.” His fingers danced across her skin in a soft caress, a reminder of what was and what he still hoped there to be.

She slapped him away, not playfully, but without anger. “No, there is not. We are here for a reason, and it will not be done by hiding away all day and night.” The woman’s gaze held her husband’s then softened ever so briefly with a deep breath, immediately retempered by an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Even if I do enjoy how you’d want to spend the time.”

Olenna’s words were always sharp and this moment was no different. Even if she still was tangled and twisted in their bedding. “I had your man prepare what I wish you to wear today. It’s been some time since we’ve had a private audience with them, and we should not waste it on trivialities.”

“Yes my dear.” Luthor leaned in, inhaling one last time as he cupped his wife’s face with his hand. The words would prick and sting, but there were so many more enjoyable things about his lady wife. As long as he kept her in control. He was, he thought, improving at maneuvering her maneuvers. “And my niece, will she be joining us?”

Olenna scoffed as she extricated herself from the tangle of bedding and limbs. “No, the girl can join us after, once I’ve ensured she is welcomed to join Rhaella’s ladies.

The Lady of Highgarden turned in time to see her husband’s eyebrow arch. She had not shared this plan with him before now, just hours before they were due to call upon the king and queen. Ostensibly, for nothing more than pleasantries and some talk of tax and harvests.

“Ol-” He was cut off, not by anything his wife said, but by the dastardly way that she dropped her linens to pull on her smallclothes. He rather liked that she often did this for herself rather than call for servants to help her.

“Tongue-tied, dear?” She sighed with some annoyance, this hadn’t been meant to be used as a weapon. “Your niece is of age with the princess, and the Lannisters already have one of their little spies in there. We should not have gone this long without putting someone close to them.”

“Well it is not an absurd idea at all. But the girl has gone through so much, do you really think she will find this agreeable? Surely our presence here for another month or two before we return-”

Olenna had nearly finished buttoning a heavy dressing gown around her waist but gave up to give her husband a hard stare. The one she reserved for when she was done entertaining counterarguments.

“Viola is more than prepared for this.” Even if she does not know it either. “And it will be good for her own marriage prospects of course. A strong match will be best for the girl, don’t you think?” She let him think on it in silence while she finished dressing enough to dismiss him and call in her ladies to help with the remainder of it all.

“As you say.” Luthor finally agreed with some reluctance. It wasn’t that she was wrong, but he would need to talk to her again later, when she returned to better moods, about not deciding such matters on her own “You will be kind to Queen Shaera, won’t you, darling? No jealousy over my former betrothed?”

“Probably a topic best left untouched, hm, I’d hate to offend our liege with my misgivings about finding a love-match with one’s sister.” Jealousy? It didn’t matter that he’d obviously been trying to make light of her known misgivings. She was done with the conversation, something she made known by calling for the servants and final statement that she’d see him after he too was presentable for their audience.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

Tyrosh

A short time after the conquest of Tyrosh and before the Stepstone Invasion

---

“I hear they call you Silvertongue.”

The silkily rich voice curled in the air, a pleasant note that quieted the background chattering to near perfect silence. Brightly hued heads turned to watch the figure delicately float through their presence, towards the man who had betrayed and sacked his own city. To the man who now gripped the free-city in a tyrannical fist and wielded it against its neighbors.

The figure was in no hurry, nor would she be. Cloaked from head to toe with layers of silk and lace, her face remained obscured with delicate silver lace, she moved with a confidence that a path would clear for her. And it did. A small sea of people parted for her approach, curious stares were followed by whispers in the wake of her greeting.

“They do.” Alequo Adarys spoke in return, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. The self-declared king ran a hand through his beard, flamboyantly pink and jade. “You are not Tyroshi, who are you?” The once-merchant prince’s personal retinue had formed behind him.

While Adarys was swaddled in vibrant - garish even - robes of purple, gold, and jade, his men were simpler in their presentation. They seemed as out of place in the sea of colors as the unannounced guest was in pure white. Where she effused mysticism, they menaced in monochromatic indigo.

A few feet away from the man and his retinue, the figure stopped without fear or uncertainty. A half circle of sycophants formed behind her. Curious still, yes, but tense, questioning, worry and excitement melded into an unpleasant perfume. Her head cocked softly to the side, an action that sent a ripple of movement down the layers of silk.

“I am here to finish work that started many years ago.” A long pause tempted the new king to speak. She undid a silver pin and pulled the veil away from her face. It was an aged visage, but it was difficult to place just how aged. Her skin, though lined, still seemed supple and full. The hand that removed the lace from her vision was flawless but for a few arthritic knuckles. One eye sparkled a brilliant green but the other was clouded blue with cataract.

“Such vague-” He began only to be promptly cut off.

“Do not worry, it is nothing that will impede your little conquest, Silvertongue. Or that of your fellow kings who wage war now in the Stepstones.” Her lips spread to a pleasing smile. “Your deposed Archon and I had an agreement, one I now seek to have with you.” She withdrew a scroll from a voluminous sleeve and offered it to Alequo.

He broke the seal easily, eyes flicking across a scrawling script, one eyebrow arching as he neared the end. “I see.”

The succinctness betrayed the flourish that followed. When one of his men took the scroll from him, he clapped his hands together loudly. “It is agreed, welcome to my new Tyrosh, Riña se Kasta.” The men behind him did not relax, but the crowd behind her began to whisper and chatter, a few scattered claps echoed their king.

“How gracious, thank you..” The smile returned slowly, a small bend of her neck to bow her head revealing hints of silver beneath the fabric. “If you would be so kind as to have a few young women made available to aid me, and when you are done here, come speak with me more on that matter.”

---

---

The city had been sacked but from what Riña se Kasta had seen so far, it seemed eager to ignore such trivialities. Outside the palace walls the din of the mundane continued on much as it would have if the Band of Nine hadn’t sought to bring the Free Cities under their control.

She had passed walls singed and blackened from fire and smoke. The harbor contained the broken ships, still being salvaged for their wood and metals or to recover what dead could be found. The Tyroshi king had planned his conquest well, a betrayal from one of the city’s own merchant princes.He had had the gold and means to bribe many to inaction even if he had not won them to his cause.

The slaves of the city surely had seen no difference to their lives, they carried on the same as they had when there was an Archon ruling from behind the palace walls. The pleasure houses still called out for those lonely, depraved, or needful souls. Priests of the many religions welcomed their faithful. The city’s common folk carried on, what else could they do when rich and powerful battled one another for power?

Men, always playing at these games. She thought as the warmth of her bath soothed aching joints and relaxed weary muscles. Her head leaned back with each brush stroke the young girl pulled through the elder’s long strands. A heavy sigh escaped her, a long life and yet she still had so much more to do.

“Enough, I will call for you when my bath needs refreshing.” She dismissed the girl without opening her eyes. Small and quick footsteps were followed by the quiet slam of a door.

Alone. Alone with her memories that played freshly in her mind as if it were yesterday. How had they become such a shadow of their founders? It wasn’t her problem to solve, it had never been anything she cared to assist when he lived and breathed. But to see what the legacy had become was disappointing. He would be disappointed, angry, disgusted. So would the other one, no worthy opponents remained, who would he find to be his equal in this cohort of imposters. The silence was broken with a groan of frustration.

“More loose ends, more mistakes come back to haunt me.” She spoke to no one, she spoke to the memories. “To haunt us and the choices we made.” It was nothing to set right, nothing that could be set right. What had begun would carry on, on its own accord. Unless…

She rubbed her hands over her arms and crossed them beneath the warmth of her bath. The bath water splashed, droplets of red hit the cool marble floor beneath her, dripping from her fingertips that curled around the edge.

“Girl!”

The patter of footsteps returned. The woman stood, but had to shift her weight onto the girl for assistance in getting fully out of the bath. A waiting robe was draped around her, soaking away the remaining water and moisture, staining the white fabric a pale pink.

“Has the Silvertongue arrived?”

“Kessa, ñuha riña. He is in your sitting room.” The girl was nervous, her eyes darting about as if she wanted to run but fear held her legs in place.

“You’re not needed tonight, return tomorrow.” She eagerly ran off, disappearing from the rooms as Riña se Kasta left the most private chamber to the small adjoining room.

The king of Tyrosh was there, waiting, as promised. It was a greedy eagerness, a hunger that she knew well enough. Age had not stolen everything from her.

“I expected more of a challenge from you.”

“I have heard stories that tell me it would be unwise. If what this contained is all truth.” He gestured to the scroll that he had placed, still furled, on the table beside him. He sat back in a plush chair, one leg pulled square over the other.

The woman’s slim shoulders shrugged dismissively. “Those that play with fire are often burned.” She poured a measure of pear brandy into a silver cup. “Especially when they ignore advice offered freely - or near enough.” She tipped it to her mouth, savoring the rich warmth. “Will you follow in the same folly?”

Her eyes met his, the eye that had been clouded seemed clearer now. The bulge of age on her knuckles decreased, her body eased and soothed. “Silvertongue.” She repeated his name as she approached him, her hands gripping his knee as she knelt to eye level. “What makes you think you can succeed where no one else has?”

The king grunted in annoyance. “Stay, advise me, and only me. You will be given access to whatever it is you want.”

“Of course, my king. Only you.”

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

A Blackfyre Daughter

Maegara Blackfyre

Age:

25 (b. 235 AC)

Appearance:

A woman of average height and of strong Valyrian looks. Her hair falls in tight silver curls to the middle of her back, though more often than not she has it twisted into a large, low bun. Her eyes are the palest of lilac that leans gray, rather than the vibrant purples her distant cousins were known for. There is no denying that her body holds appeal to many, though she does not use this as a weapon even in passive ways. She walks with purpose, not the languid strolls of women raised to please their husband or clients.

Description & biography:

The daughter of Daemon III Blackfyre and his wife, Darra of Lys; she was born barely a year before his death in the fourth Blackfyre Rebellion. Her mother’s claims of her own heritage varied, but in each telling, her mother was Shiera Seastar. Shiera had fled Westeros pursuing Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, and their fraught union produced a single child that Shiera raised hidden away in Lys. Other times, it was that Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven, was her father and Shiera had again had to flee to raise her daughter in secrecy in Lys. When she was young, the stories were magical and romantic. When she grew older, they were things she wished her mother would just stop speaking of. The veracity of these stories would never be able to be confirmed and only brought danger with each re-telling.

Following news of her father’s death, her mother fled the Golden Company’s remaining camps in Essos before the survivors could return. Mother and daughter took up residence in Pentos instead; though never explicitly in hiding from the remaining Blackfyres, it was also something Maegara learned early on to not disclose. They maintained an easy life in the city, from what Darra said she provided through hidden caches of wealth left for her from her mother and grandmother.

The girl’s time was not idly spent. She would not be raised to be an empty-headed pretty trophy to hang off the arm of some wealthy merchant, her lineage was too proud for that, her bloodline would not be wasted. Darra arranged for education in several of the bastardized-Valyrian dialects and also in the Westeros common-tongue. She learned of the politics of Westeros and the free-cities, but also of Yi Ti and the Summer Isles. Maegara was expected to be well-read and well-informed. Darra had even insisted on basic martial training, though she showed not even mediocre talent for it. In the end, Maegara was a bright child and eager to learn, but not particularly talented in any physical feats.

She had been content enough to stay at her mother’s side in Pentos, though she’d had more than one suitor, each had been politely and delicately turned away. The Blackfyre daughter had little desire to alter the course of her comfortable life.

That changed after her twentieth nameday when on a lark and a bet from companions she went to a seer. It was a decision she would come to regret in many ways. The seer saw her immediately for what she was. The wizened woman’s plea made little sense to her though - a charge to find and reunite the last dragon lords’ swords, the Valyrian blades Blackfyre and Dark Sister. The seer refused to share the details of what would happen in a world where they were lost forever, but as a Blackfyre, the duty could be fulfilled by her if the Targaryen line did not.

Maegara laughed it off to herself for the absurdity it surely was. She ignored it for months, but her dreams turned dark and tormented her night after night. What if it were all true?

She knew that both men her mother had claimed could be her grandfather had taken a sword with them in their banishment or exile. Blackfyre was almost certainly in Essos, though her father had not wielded it. But to search for it there, while her cousins battled for control seemed more than a little unwise. To go to Westeros as a Blackfyre seemed all the more absurd.

Months turned to years before it was luck - or perhaps fate - that had her cross paths with Daegan Velaryon, a young man on his own adventures in Pentos. A deal was struck between the two, and against Darra’s strongest wishes, that when he returned to his homeland, Maegara would accompany him. Ostensibly, in order to see the land where her father had lost his life in the ill-fated invasion.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

Index of PC and NPCs

House Targaryen

Hider

Recent History
House Targaryen had spent much of Aegon V's reign fighting rebellions - either of Blackfyre in origin or due to his children's stubborness in marriage, as well as a need to intervene in the Westerlands. In his later years, Aegon became obsessed with restoring Targaryen power through dragons. Having spent much of his reign having to appease and compromise with recalcitrant lords, as well as recurring threats from the east, he sought ancient knowledge on dragon breeding. This culminated in tragedy, with fire and death consuming him and many of his family. The survivors and newly crowned King Jaehaerys II have had little time to grieve, for the threat of the Band of Nine would not wait.

A Brief Timeline

• 184AC - Aegon IV dies after legitimizing his numerous bastards on his deathbed
• 196AC - First Blackfyre Rebellion
• 209AC - The Great Spring Sickness, King Aerys I crowned
• 212AC - Second Blackfyre Rebellion, Golden Company formed by Aegor "Bittersteel" Rivers
• 219AC - Third Blackfyre Rebellion
• 230AC - The beginning of a harsh 6 year long winter
• 233AC - King Maekar dies and a Great Council selects the fourth son, Aegon, becoming King Aegon V
• 236AC - Year of the Red Spring, Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion
• 239AC - Lord Lyonel Baratheon's Uprising
• 251AC - The Rat, The Hawk, and the Pig Rebellion
• 259AC - The Tragedy at Summerhall, King Jaehaerys II crowned
• 260AC - War brews across the Narrow Sea with the Band of Nine

Members of the House

• King Jaehaerys II
• Queen Shaera
• Prince Aerys
• Princess Rhaella - wife to brother Aerys,
• Prince Rhaegar - a child of 1 nameday
• Princess Rhaelle - married to Lord Ormund Baratheon
• King Aegon V - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
• Queen Betha - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
• Prince Duncan - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
• Jenny of Oldstones - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall (assumed)
• Prince Daeron - broke betrothal to Lady Olenna Redwyne, loved Ser Jeremy Norridge, died ending the rebellion of The Rat, the Hawk, and the Pig
• Princess Aenara, second daughter of Vaella, broken betrothal to Godric Stark, died in the Tragedy at Summerhall

Essos

The Band of Nine

• The Old Mother, a pirate queen
• Samarro Saan, known as the Last Valyrian, a notorious pirate from a notorious family of pirates from Lys
• Xhobar Qhoqua, the Ebon Prince, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who founded and led a sellsword company in the Disputed Lands
• Liomond Lashare, the Lord of Battles, a famed sellsword captain
• Spotted Tom, known as the Butcher, from Westeros, captain of a free company in the Disputed Lands
• Ser Derrick Fossoway, known as the Bad Apple, an exile from Westeros, a knight with a black reputation
• Nine Eyes, captain of the Jolly Fellows
• Alequo Adarys, known as the Silvertongue, later called the Tyrant of Tyrosh, a Tyroshi merchant prince, ambitious and wealthy
• Maelys I Blackfyre, known as the Monstrous, captain-general of the Golden Company

Other Essosi Characters

Red Cult
Godric Stark
Red Cult
Doombringers of Volantis

The North

House Stark

The Vale

House Arryn

The Riverlands

House Tully

The Westerlands

House Lannister

The Reach

House Tyrell

The Stormlands

House Baratheon

Dorne

House Martell
House Varranis of Duskspire

Other Westerosi Characters

Maegara Blackfyre

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

House Tyrell of Highgarden

Growing Strong

House Description:

_{Sourced from AWOIAF}

House Tyrell of Highgarden is one of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, being Lords Paramount of the Mander and the liege lords of the Reach. A large, wealthy house, its wealth is only surpassed among the Great Houses by House Lannister, and the Tyrells can field the greatest armies. Additionally, if they call the ships of the Redwyne fleet, the lords of the Shield Islands, and the coastal lords, they can command a navy that equals if not surpasses the royal fleet of King's Landing.

Highgarden is an ancient seat of rule and the heart of chivalry in the Seven Kingdoms; the Tyrells style themselves 'Defenders of the Marches' and 'High Marshals of the Reach', and traditionally, they have been Wardens of the South in addition to Lords Paramount of the Mander. Their sigil is a golden rose on a green field, and their words are "Growing Strong". Members of the family tend to have curly brown hair and brown eyes.

History of the House:

The Reach was originally an independent kingdom ruled by House Gardener. However, they never held the title of King. Instead, they traced their lineage back to Garth Greenhand, a mythical figure. House Tyrell originally served as stewards to House Gardener. It was only after the Field of Fire, where Aegon Targaryen defeated King Mern IX Gardener and extinguished the entire line, that Harlan Tyrell surrendered Highgarden and was granted the title of Lord Paramount of the Reach.

As Wardens of the South they frequently warred with the Dornishmen, who remained independent. Harlan disappeared in the Dornish sands during the First Dornish War (4-13AC).

In 129AC as the Dance of the Dragons began, Lord Lyonel Tyrell was an infant, and his regent mother was judged likely to align the Reach with the House's "overmighty" bannermen, the Hightowers, and the greens. However, House Tyrell decided to take no part in the war. The Tyrell bannermen, on the other hand, were split during the war, with men of the Reach fighting on both sides. Later Ser Ulf White attempted to claim Highgarden for himself, as House Tyrell had taken no part in the Dance and he believed they should be considered traitors.

When Daeron I Targaryen, the Young Dragon, attempted the conquest of Dorne, Lord Lyonel commanded the army that invaded via the Prince's Pass. After the initial victory, Daeron appointed Lord Tyrell as governor of Dorne. Lord Tyrell liked Dornish women and one night he pulled the rope that would signal for a wench to come to his bed, and a hundred scorpions fell from the canopy instead. His death sparked new revolts, and the conquest was undone in a fortnight.

Lord Leo "Longthorn" Tyrell participated in the tourney at Ashford Meadow, beginning the tourney as one of the champions. Both Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Duncan recognized him as a formidable opponent, one that Duncan would better avoid.

Recent Events:

Luthor had been betrothed to Shaera Targaryen in 237 AC, but the pact was broken in 240 when she married her brother, Jaehaerys. His father was slow and reluctant to make another match, having been spurned by the royal family, he did not revolt but sought to have them make it right. When Prince Daeron, who had spent his youth squiring at Highgarden died in battle in 251, under a hint of scandal given his favoritism for a knight met while at House Tyrell’s seat, Lord Willas finally made a match with a Redwyne daughter, Olenna.

The pairing has produced three children in the years since. While their wealth grew in the realm’s newfound peace, the tragedy at Summerhall and emergence of a new threat across the Narrow Sea has brought House Tyrell again to a decision point. Their history has other houses whispering on their opportunistic ways and ulterior motives for when they do partake in affairs of the realm. Lord Luthor, known not for stunning intellect nor martial prowess, seems primed to disappoint.

Family Members:

Luthor Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden, b. 220 (40)
Olenna (Redwyne) - wife to Luthor b. 228 (32)
Gormon Tyrell - a maester in Oldtown b. 224 (36)
Garth Tyrell - younger brother to Luthor b. 226 (34)
Moryn Tyrell - younger brother to Luthor b. 230 (30)
Mina Tyrell - daughter of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 255 (5)
Mace Tyrell - son of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 257 (3)
Janna Tyrell - daughter of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 259 (1)
Rhialta (Fossoway) - of Cider Hall (red apple), Luthor’s Mother, b. 196 (64)
Several cousins through Willas’s two brothers (both living) and distant cousins through Longthorn’s brother’s progeny

Leo “Longthorn” Tyrell - Luthor’s grandfather, b. 156 - d. 214
Willas Tyrell - Luthor’s father, b. 184 - d. 252

A Kindly Oaf

Lord Luthor Tyrell

Age: 40 b. 220 AC

Appearance:
By all accounts, Luthor is a handsome man embodying all the physicality of the chivalric nature that the Reach is known for. Tall and of a solid build, pale brown hair cropped short except for an unusual fashion of height above his forehead, unassuming chestnut eyes, and typically clean-shaven barring an experimental look he wore briefly of a sharp goatee and thin mustache. The Lord of Highgarden dresses with a flair that never fully tips into flamboyant. He does well at looking the part of gallant knight, even in approaching middle age.

Description & biography:
Born a year after the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, young Luthor was brought up on stories of the prowess of his grandfather, known as Longthorn. As a young boy, he was eager to take on the mantle, for his own father had never been knighted at all. While enthusiastic in his studies, and of strong enough physicality for it, his mind prevented him from achieving any true greatness. He learned to swing a sword and couch a lance, but lacked thought for both strategy and tactics.

The Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion broke out when he was sixteen and eager still to gain knighthood. He beseeched his father for permission to lead Tyrell swords in support of King Aegon V’s fight against this newest rebellion. Lord Willas however forbade it, it was not worth the effort to push back such a pitiful invasion, nor did he want to risk the bad luck that Luthor would die stupidly in the skirmish.

House Tyrell’s lack of strong support during the rebellion was seemingly overlooked when Queen Betha arranged for her daughter Shaera’s betrothal to Luthor. The young man was as ecstatic for the match as he had been for knighthood. He wrote the girl letters with poetry, assuring her of his fervent desire to welcome her to his family’s home and lands when she was of age.

It was not to be, the dream dashed when a few years later she secretly wed her brother. Luthor was left unaware of how his father planned to have this made right, but no matter how many of their bannermen presented their own daughters or sisters, Lord Tyrell deftly turned them aside. There were whispers that even the young heir heard of that Willas sought to match his son to the spurned Bartheon daughter. It, allegedly, fell through for how House Tyrell had refused to make any answer to the Stormland house’s appeal for support when Prince Duncan wed his smallfolk wife.

Luthor did eventually receive his knighthood, in battle against the rebels known as the Rat, the Hawk, and the Pig. While Prince Daeron and his lover Ser Jeremy were slain. Upon returning to Highgarden, the heir was greeted with news that he was to wed Olenna Redwyne, another who had been slighted by the Targaryen family’s refusal to honor wedding agreements.

The Tyrell heir was smitten all over. He had remembered her as a girl who often spent time in his family’s gardens, all fond memories. As he had originally done for Princess Shaera, he wrote lovely missives to his intended, filled with poetry or small drawings of the flowers that grew in the garden. They were wed quickly and Luthor inherited his father’s seat less than a year later.

He has been glad for his wife’s presence and advice since then. Though he does not always agree with her nor the sharpness of her tongue. Still, he finds it difficult to quiet her, and can find joy when turns that same sharpness on others. He was pleased with the arrival of their children, though much like Lady Olenna, he has had little cause to spend much time with them at this young age.

After many weeks of persuasion, he was finally convinced to send his younger brother to the Stepstones. It was a compromise, between wife and mother, where one insisted on full support and the other to once again refuse it for how much trouble the Targaryens brought upon themselves. Luthor was quite proud of having found the middle ground, and did not question at all when his wife insisted they should spend some of the time of the kingdom at war in King’s Landing.

Wine and Roses

Lady Olenna

Age: 32 b. 228 AC

Appearance:

The Lady of Highgarden is a small woman, small enough that even after three children and past her thirtieth nameday, she has been mistaken for a child. Well over a foot shorter than her husband and delicately slim, yet she has never been prone to being sickly nor waifish.

Once she began birthing the future of House Tyrell, she had her pale auburn hair cut down to just past her shoulders, a style she maintains out of convenience. Like many of her Redwyne family, her skin is freckled, most prominently across her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes are dark hazel with a deceptive warmth.

Description & biography:

Born the same year as Prince Daeron, they were promised to each while still children. Olenna, even at just nine namedays, was vocally against the match. Time forced together while the young prince squired at Highgarden did nothing to improve her disposition towards the match. On more than one occasion she attempted to scuttle the plans through nefarious methods - one attempt resulted in an unfortunate stable boy being sent to the Wall, another had a minor lordling mysteriously sick for a week.

Her time in Highgarden did, however, also introduce her to her future husband, the older Tyrell heir. Their meetings were always in passing, for he was often being sent off. While Daeron ignored her existence except when forced to acknowledge her by social necessity, Luthor extended an offer of friendship.

The young Redwyne girl recognized it as an impropriety, but there were worse houses and men that she could become entangled with. He had been promised to Shaera, only for that particular Targaryen trait to break it. While Prince Daeron might not have preferred his own sister, his preferences were no less distasteful to Olenna.

When her own engagement was broken in 246, she was called upon to return home.Her parents were displeased with the crown of course, but their liege lord had not risen up when their heir’s engagement was broken, nor when House Baratheon rose in open revolt for the same broken promise. House Redwyne entreated with House Tyrell for assistance in having them made whole regardless. Five years later, after Prince Daeron had died, she was swiftly wed to Luthor Tyrell.

She has found it to be an acceptable match, though she has had to work far harder in training her husband in matters of state than she would prefer. Olenna finds it best when he leaves such matters to her, though his ego, like that of most men, still requires that she do so deftly. She provides her advice, but frequently takes action and later soothes him with convincing flattery at how well his idea came to fruition.

Their three children were born in quick succession, she believes she could perhaps suffer through the inconvenience of it all once more, in hopes of having a second son. Olenna prefers to allow nursemaids and servants to care for the children’s daily needs while they are so young. It has been enough the toll they took on her body, a few years’ respite before she must suffer to train their minds is a fair enough trade.

With news of yet more trouble brewing across the Narrow Sea, and the outrageous death caused by whatever Targaryen madness took King Aegon and so many of the royal family, Olenna pushed for her husband to call up arms in support of the war effort. Luthor was not easy to convince of this, nor her father to call up their fleet. No matter her personal feelings, the history of the Reach and their lukewarm support of their kings, has led her to push for more direct support lest their loyalty be questioned again. In the end, she successfully convinced her husband to send his brother with a small contingent which was enough pressure on her father to send a small fleet accompanying the main Ironborn fleet.

Their children remain in Higharden while she and Luthor attend to matters in King’s Landing. Distasteful work, being in the capital, yet Olenna sees great opportunity to further House Tyrell, and herself.

The Gross

Lord Garth Tyrell
Age: number of years (date/year of birth)

Appearance:

Description & biography:

A Knight

Lord Moryn Tyrell
Age: number of years (date/year of birth)

Appearance:

Description & biography:

A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns

Maegara Blackfyre

Age:

25 (b. 235 AC)

Appearance:

A woman of average height and of strong Valyrian looks. Her hair falls in tight silver curls to the middle of her back, though more often than not she has it twisted into a large, low bun. Her eyes are the palest of lilac that leans gray, rather than the vibrant purples her distant cousins were known for. There is no denying that her body holds appeal to many, though she does not use this as a weapon even in passive ways. She walks with purpose, not the languid strolls of women raised to please their husband or clients.

Description & biography:

The daughter of Daemon III Blackfyre and his wife, Darra of Lys; she was born barely a year before his death in the fourth Blackfyre Rebellion. Her mother’s claims of her own heritage varied, but in each telling, her mother was Shiera Seastar. Shiera had fled Westeros pursuing Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, and their fraught union produced a single child that Shiera raised hidden away in Lys. Other times, it was that Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven, was her father and Shiera had again had to flee to raise her daughter in secrecy in Lys. When she was young, the stories were magical and romantic. When she grew older, they were things she wished her mother would just stop speaking of. The veracity of these stories would never be able to be confirmed and only brought danger with each re-telling.

Following news of her father’s death, her mother fled the Golden Company’s remaining camps in Essos before the survivors could return. Mother and daughter took up residence in Pentos instead; though never explicitly in hiding from the remaining Blackfyres, it was also something Maegara learned early on to not disclose. They maintained an easy life in the city, from what Darra said she provided through hidden caches of wealth left for her from her mother and grandmother.

The girl’s time was not idly spent. She would not be raised to be an empty-headed pretty trophy to hang off the arm of some wealthy merchant, her lineage was too proud for that, her bloodline would not be wasted. Darra arranged for education in several of the bastardized-Valyrian dialects and also in the Westeros common-tongue. She learned of the politics of Westeros and the free-cities, but also of Yi Ti and the Summer Isles. Maegara was expected to be well-read and well-informed. Darra had even insisted on basic martial training, though she showed not even mediocre talent for it. In the end, Maegara was a bright child and eager to learn, but not particularly talented in any physical feats.

She had been content enough to stay at her mother’s side in Pentos, though she’d had more than one suitor, each had been politely and delicately turned away. The Blackfyre daughter had little desire to alter the course of her comfortable life.

That changed after her twentieth nameday when on a lark and a bet from companions she went to a seer. It was a decision she would come to regret in many ways. The seer saw her immediately for what she was. The wizened woman’s plea made little sense to her though - a charge to find and reunite the last dragon lords’ swords, the Valyrian blades Blackfyre and Dark Sister. The seer refused to share the details of what would happen in a world where they were lost forever, but as a Blackfyre, the duty could be fulfilled by her if the Targaryen line did not.

Maegara laughed it off to herself for the absurdity it surely was. She ignored it for months, but her dreams turned dark and tormented her night after night. What if it were all true?

She knew that both men her mother had claimed could be her grandfather had taken a sword with them in their banishment or exile. Blackfyre was almost certainly in Essos, though her father had not wielded it. But to search for it there, while her cousins battled for control seemed more than a little unwise. To go to Westeros as a Blackfyre seemed all the more absurd.

Months turned to years before it was luck - or perhaps fate - that had her cross paths with Daegan Velaryon, a young man on his own adventures in Pentos. A deal was struck between the two, and against Darra’s strongest wishes, that when he returned to his homeland, Maegara would accompany him. Ostensibly, in order to see the land where her father had lost his life in the ill-fated invasion.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

It was hot but not unpleasant beneath Helios’s rays on Old Olympus. A salty breeze washed over the crowded beaches and eased the unsavory scent that lingered from the unending party. Mortal and divine mixed together freely; the city did not judge on this, only on appearance and wealth.

Persephone lounged on a balcony overlooking an already chaotic scene below her. If she were mortal, perhaps she’d be nursing a hangover or withdrawal…if she ever chose to fully partake in what the party capital of the world had on offer. One day, maybe, she mused to herself, thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Korrrrrre.” A voice purred from a pile of pillows next to her, tried to pull her back to the present.

She ignored it, head still propped on slender knuckles, a cascade of auburn hair obscuring her face. She could have been sleeping deeply. Until she moved to pull at the waistband of her pale pink swim bottoms, adjusting them for no reason other than to fidget. Her legs kicked back and forth, a graceful movement that ended with light patters each time her feet met her own plush nest.

Where had he gone? Aidan had taken her eye immediately. Tall, confident, with an easy swagger. He had given her a wide smile as he sauntered up to her and put his arms around her as if they were old lovers and not strangers. She thought she would melt. The nymphs with her had not been pleased and separated them quickly enough, chasing him off and back to his own people. He was mortal, he was male, that was more than enough for Demeter to disapprove and for them to prevent anything more from happening. Traipsing about and having flings with her nymphs or girlfriends hadn't been able to rile up the goddess as much as the mere possibility of any man touching her baby girl.

This one was no different. But the goddess had had practice at getting around her ever watchful guardians. It was a short-lived taste of freedom, one kiss, fleeting but full of fire, and a promise to meet again for breakfast. She’d barely slept but beakfast had come and gone hours ago. The man was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh, Persephone!” The voice whined now. It annoyed her mother to no end, that she refused to respond to Kore anymore, that she refused that maiden was intended as an honorific. Finally addressed as she wished to be though, Persephone turned to meet her friend’s eyes.

“You don’t need to say it.” Wishful thinking.

“Men are liars, he didn't get what he wanted from you then, and now here you are, mooning away. Forget him, let's get a drink or ten and go to the beach.” It was advice given lightly, as if it was all a joke the goddess just hadn't figured out yet.

It didn't feel right though. She fished her phone out from where it had fallen between two pillows and scrolled for any updates nearby. Aidan had sent her a friend request not five minutes after they parted and she couldn’t stop herself from clicking on him again. His face stared back at her from the screen with the same easy-going smile and confidence. He had new posts from other friends, all asking where he was, why wasn't he at this party or that bar, or the beach. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But even if she asked directly she wouldn't get an answer from anyone. Her mother's interference, again, no doubt.

“No.” She surprised herself and her friend who sat up quickly in response. Persephone stood and stretched, languid movements meant to irritate her friend as much as give her time to think it through the rest of the way. Hermes had delivered her invitation forever ago, her mother had forbade her from attending and it's not like she had wanted to go anyways. A bunch of old stuffy gods and their minions playing stupid power games with each other.

Except now…two could continue to play this game.

“We're going shopping.”

---

---

She had never actually rsvp’d. But her friend had been certain there was no way they’d bar the daughter of an Olympian from entering the festivities. It was after all, her home too, the Accords made that clear. Her mortal companion was Persephone’s closest confidante and friend. The woman had proven herself quickly and technically worked as her executive assistant. In truth, the goddess couldn’t run Lillium now without her. Meghan was one of the few that the goddess felt confident was not under her mother’s thumb, and together they often evaded the ones who were. They had shopped until the goddess found perfection, but that had meant they arrived late. There would be no grand entry for Demeter’s progeny.

“It's better this way anyways, probably can hide from your mom a bit longer.” Meghan whispered into her ear when they neared the gate to the palace courtyards housing the party. “And actually have some fun before we’re forced out.” She paused dramatically, a look of fear darkening her face. “They won’t kill me for being an innocent bystander right?” One flash of concern and the mortal cracked a grin. “Kidding, kidding.”

How the girl managed to maintain her composure when Persephone herself felt overwhelmed to be at the seat of the gods was a feat. So little seemed to phase her, another reason to love her, even when she was annoying. The goddess squeezed her friend’s arm and pulled her closer.

“The point is she sees me at some point though.” She giggled nervously. “Or else I came here for no reason.”

They entered without fanfare even as her arrival was announced. Her list of epithets was unnecessary and most caused her to roll her eyes.

Persephone watched as Meghan scanned the area, clearly looking for Demeter only to give up when the matron of the harvest didn’t come swooping down in judgement of them.

“Well when she does, she’s really going to take issue with what you’re wearing.” Meghan paused only to add with a knowing smile. “Because you look sexy, downright ‘indecent’ with all that cleavage.”

“Not enough to draw attention with what everyone else decided to wear.” Her head turned, taking in the scene for herself. “Or not wear.” She spied Aphrodite and groaned internally, nudging Meghan to take in the sight. “Apparently love doesn't need imagination.” Her dress in contract was downright conservative, even with the plunging neckline and back. Faint vines crawled across her skin, pulsing to her annoyance, framed by the dark green cloth and woven vines.

Her friend made a slight tsking noise, but seemed rather taken by the sight. Most everyone would have been really. “Should we dance then?” Meghan proposed with a sly grin. “Or are you going to stay out here the entire night and not even bother tempting the fates.”

Persephone’s brow shot up at the flippant suggestion. Her mouth opened to rebuke the statement.

“Oh stop, I know, I won’t invoke them again.”

“I will absolutely disown you if they appear because of you. I don’t know you, never did.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’d do the same.”

Meghan laughed, but held out her hand dramatically anyways. “Maybe it will be enough to make someone jealous, hm?”

That was not in her plans, no matter if she saw someone who could send her heart fluttering, her mother’s warnings about the danger of New Olympus were too ingrained. She was here to be seen, to send a message to Demeter that she was her own person, and that she could handle herself.

“Doubtful, but we can try.” The goddess agreed at last before taking the offered hand and joining the others already on the dance floor.

Eventually though, Meghan found where other mortals of importance had gathered and decided it was an excellent opportunity to network. The woman always seemed to find a way to fit work in. Persephone gave her leave and danced alone, moving to the ever changing rhythms in a mass of bodies. She submitted to the music, let it move her as it willed, a freedom she craved, to just be. It was enough that she nearly forgot where she was and she was around.

A body slammed into her and she instinctively pushed it away, her head snapping about to see who had disturbed her.

“Oh hello pretty little bird.” His words slurred. A man, no one recognizable, ignored the push and stepped back into her space. “No, not bird. Pretty flower, are you in bloom sweetness?”

Persephone’s expression turned hard and she stopped dancing completely to take two steps back. The guy didn’t take the hint and closed the distance again. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

If he heard the rejection he didn’t heed it or even acknowledge it. He leaned in and grabbed her elbow, soft hands, the type who had never had to work. Persephone knew he had to be someone of some status, but she twisted away from his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dance with me baby.” He urged, his fingers tightening.

Anger welled in her and spilled over, a thick vine grew from her shoulder and snaked it’s way down her arm and around his wrist.

“Want me closer, do you?”

“Pervert.” The vine crawled with speed up his arm and around his neck, enough to lift him so his feet danged just off the ground now. Realization set in and his expression shifted between anger and fear. “I said don’t touch me.”

The crowd immediately around her finally took notice of the exchange.From the corner of her eye, she saw one or two bodies running off somewhere. This was not exactly how she had wanted to make a scene. And now she really didn’t know what to do, she wanted to leave, it was a mistake to come here.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

---

Mood Music

---

Many years ago…

Even in the midst of a siege, Zeus found a way to dishonor her. Her eyes met his. Dark, cold, and dead to his sparkle. It was eons of hatred and loathing. How many times has she seen him like this, buried in some doe-eyed, pleasant, young mortal? He groaned as he discarded the woman from their bed, the little thing with mouth agape and confused, left to figure out how to get out of her own. What had Zeus promised this one? That her village would be spared? It didn't matter, not anymore, he had nothing left to give.

He expected her to run to him, to slap him, to scream. She would have, once. And then the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, would forgive him. She would wrap herself around him and absolve him of his sins. She would tell him that she loved him, only him. He would lie and say it was the same, that his actions were not who he was.

But this time, as the rebel forces broke down their walls and converged on their hidden sanctuary, the kiss she gave him was deep, but the despair was his alone. There were no tears or pleas that he be true. He had ravaged the land and threatened the delicate balance they had carved out again. He had made her a joke and he would never change.

“If only I could send you to our father.” Her whispered words were harsh in his ear. “To devour you over and over again for an eternity. Death is too kind for you, consider it my last gift, undeserved but given all the same.”

As men filled the room, weapons drawn, they found Hera holding a kneeling and lifeless Zeus against her. His face twisted in a pained death grimace, vibrant blood covered the lower half of his face and splashed against the white gold marble floor.

“It is done.” A declaration that the Tyranomachy War was ended, the King of the Gods had been deposed.

---

---

Present Day - New Olympus

New Olympus thrummed with anticipation. It had been some time since so many gods had been in the city at once. Mortals who served the city and the Queen had been preparing for months. The city streets were packed, local restaurants and shops were decorated and gleaming, and though Hera had attempted to shutter them - brothels and gambling dens were geared up for the impending crowds.

Invitations had been sent to gods and demigods - though Hera had pointedly ignored any of Zeus’s mortal or demigod bastards. She could not do the same for those of equal status, no matter how much she may have wished to bar them entry. The Accords demanded compromise from her the same as the rest.

Within the white palace, the buzz of activity was kept far from Hera and Hebe’s personal wing. Where once Zeus and his entourage had kept the halls full of mostly naked women - living art he had claimed - it was now nearly subdued in comparison. Hera had had the women removed and had brought on a staff of men who she required to be dressed in plumage of jeweled greens and blues. Though she kept them half-nude as well, she had not found the same joy in it her husband had seemed to with his staffing. Maybe one day a glimpse of the joy it had brought him would make itself obvious to her.

In the silence of the early morning, the queen stirred to life. The peacock servants stood at attention, always ready to assist her, though the ones in her rooms had the additional requirement of being blinded. Hestia had joked with her about the oddity of it for a non-virginal goddess, but Hera could not stand the thought of these mortal men able to look up on her form. Neither was she willing to invite women back to such familiarity. She burned with anger at how her husband had wielded it against her, and it had yet to abate.

One arm escaped from the soft covers, extended gracefully and just as quickly was embraced by the sleeve of a silk robe. The servant moved effortlessly, no matter his lack of sight, in wrapping his charge in her dressing robe as she drew herself from the bed. She sighed. Yes, she had arranged this celebration, but it did not mean she was eager to see it through. Especially with how absolutely deplorable Hebe’s attitude had been lately. It was like nothing Hera did was good enough in the eyes of her young daughter and she was being nothing more than an ungrateful brat.

“If my daughter tries to sleep in, you have my permission to douse her with iced water.” Hera waved one servant off to relay the message to the servants who waited on the girl.

It was the last moment of peace for the rest of the morning and afternoon. There was an endless stream of requests for audiences, last minute changes because of some drama or another that was now the most pressing issue of the millenia, and all of the other finishing touches Hera had wanted to oversee. As much as it irritated her, she enjoyed knowing there was a power in it. And it distracted her from other things she had been unable to resolve. The sky and thunder still remained out of her grasp.

The immortals and their entourage - limited by the Accords and custom - crowded a great courtyard. Peacocks, of both servant and animal kind, mixed between them. The mortal men served drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Disappointing to many, no doubt, was the lack of any other entertainment, the sort that had been common when Zeus reigned.

Hera approached the balcony where she would officially welcome those assembled with her daughter. She had chosen a structured top of deep nephrite color, high necked and with caped sleeves that enveloped her. Though her pants matched in color, they were of a wispy, ethereal fabric, that with the wide cut could forgivably be mistaken for a skirt of vintage design. A delicate crown of gold, adorned with jeweled bulls nestled into her dark hair.

“You’re late.” She spoke without turning when she heard Hebe join her. “Though some will crow endlessly about how fashionable that is for your own party.”

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

I’m gonna start working on a Hermes. Who as the God of Merchants, speed, messages and such, is very ingrained in the current internet and probably works for/with a company like Amazon.

@Sanity43217

Excellent! I look forward to seeing the sheet. And definitely don't feel like you need to hold back on his role within a company. Gods owning and running the corporations that run the world is definitely on point.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Name:

Persephone

Titles:

Kore, Daeira, Azesia - The Maiden, The Knowing One, The One Who Seeks

Appearance:

Persephone appears to be a young woman in her early to mid twenties. She can cause vines and flowers to grow and blossom on her mortal form as well as transform into a being of pure flora. When not adorning herself with verdant blooms, her skin - from neck to toes - is adorned with what looks like pale tattoos that seem alive, twisting and growing like vine.

Hider

Character Type:

Goddess - born after the gods returned

Divine Domain (Source of Magic):

Goddess of Spring and Rebirth

Powers:

Persephone has become most prominently known for her ability to urge life from the earth, even in wastelands that her mother struggled with. Her powers are not absolute, however, and lands that remain heavily irradiated are resistant to her touch. She was integral to the rehabilitation of much of the crop land that now feeds the new cities. Her preference now has been to create vast gardens, crafting artwork out of plants and flowers.

More recently she has discovered the ability to transform things, animals, or people to flowers and plants. It was an accidental discovery, and one that can be reversed. The goddess has mostly just employed this with clothing for her and her friends, causing beautiful flowers to bloom to life on their clothing.

She is ageless, upon reaching the god equivalent of adulthood, which her mother believes has already occurred. Only time will tell completely if that has happened.

There is an untapped power within her, something she can almost feel, as if seeing it from the corner of her eye. When she focuses on it, it is gone, as if it was never there. Thinking on this for too long, searching for it for too long, brings on feelings of dread and illness. She has learned to ignore that itch within her soul that says there is something more.

Assets:

Persephone has few assets that are truly her own. Much of what she has is still directly tied to Demeter and Demeter’s realm. However, the goddess does maintain a lawn and garden business - Lillium. Within the chain of stores offering seeds, fertilizer, anything that could be used to start and maintain a garden, it also offers consultation services. Persephone is rather fond of providing these services herself, although her priestesses, nymphs, and dryads assist and are the primary contacts for their clients.

Primary Location/Areas of Influence:

Persephone is still most strongly tied to her mother’s domain. However, in recent decades she has taken to longer time away from it and her mother’s influence. She has become a regular within the party culture of Old Olympia, where the youngest gods, demi-gods, and rich young mortals spend their time and money beneath a blazing sun and too-warm waters. The goddess has a small but luxurious apartment here, and though she is often spotted at the parties, it has been a rare occasion for there to be pictures of her fully imbibing in all the former-Greek isles have to offer.

Biography:

Her exact origins, other than being born to Demeter after the goddess awoke to a devastated world, are unknown to Persephone. She doesn't know who her father was - if she even had one - and after many times of asking her mother as a child to receive no answer, she gave up on the task.

Her earliest years were spent on her mother’s back as she worked to bring healing to war and nuclear ravaged lands. From the moment the little goddess could crawl, though, she left budding life in her wake. Her ability to bring life from death was concentrated and passively inherent to anything she did. It took time to learn to control it enough to be fully effective in how she repopulated the earth with plants.

These were happy times for the girl, when it was only her and her mother, their nymphs and dryads. Rarely was she allowed to even catch a glimpse of another god, so protective was Demeter. It didn’t bother the girl then. She didn’t need anything else. She had motherly love, close friendships, and they taught her everything she could ever need to know. The goddess barely even knew of the war when it happened, tucked away safely in her mother’s greenhouse, spared the fear and cruelty of her family.

With growth and encroaching maturity though, that protection became stifling and suffocating. She longed to see more of the world, a desire she couldn’t quash no matter the fights it caused with her mother. Persephone’s love turned to resentment for all the rules and coddling. No going out into the world unless Demeter was there had become no going out into the world at all. Even travelling within Demeter’s realm came with restrictions that she always had to be accompanied by an overwhelming entourage of priestesses and nymphs.

Her rebellion began small. A few minutes here and there snuck away from the sight of her minders, late night swims in their rivers. Her mother swore her to a life of chastity, and yet she began to take lovers amongst her friends in the acolytes, the nymphs or dryads. While it caused some reaction from Demeter, it never seemed to be as strong as the daughter expected.

And so, one day, she ran, and didn’t stop. It took a week before her mother finally found her in Old Olympia and dragged her home. Yet, Persephone found new ways to escape until finally, she was gifted the small apartment that was surely surveilled, but allowed the goddess a longer glimpse into what the world was like. And while she maintains her duties out of love for them, she does not dive too deeply into the culture of Old Olympia for fear that her mother will lock her away in the greenhouse for good.