Vanq

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

South of the Wendwater

^{Lady Ellyn Dayne and the Poor Fellows}

The village on the outskirts of the ancient forest could barely be called a village. It was the first settlement of any sort the group had come across since first entering the woodlands. Hunters and fishers, there was little land cleared away for proper farming. The people here said they were sworn to House Fell, they spoke of how their forest had been burned when the dragons had started their conquest. An old man who had been a young man at the time, recounted how Lord Fell had fought to turn back the bastard dragon only to be repaid in fire. Tragedy had not ended there for his son too had been murdered by the savage Dornish because of the dragons’ avarice.

Lady Ellyn’s Poor Fellows were welcomed, though they found Lady Ellyn herself to be a true oddity. Clad in armor with the rainbow cloak of a Warrior’s Son, carrying a pale sword that seemed to glow in the light of the sun. They shared a meal. The people here knew that King’s Landing lay north of them, but to reach it would be an arduous journey if they opted to travel through the forest. It was not a forest to be traversed but to be circumvented. All sorts of unsavory characters used it to hide from the laws of man and gods.

As her people bedded down for the night, in tents for those who had them or on beds of foliage beneath the pure night sky, the Sword of the Morning found no peace. Vice and sin had found her, yet again, no matter how much she prayed to the crone and the maiden. Her armor had been carefully laid out in the corner of the tent, she sat up on the pallet bed atop old, ratty furs. She stared at the man before her, guilt and remorse replaced fleeting lust and desire. Her eyes, deep violet, narrowed in anger. He had tempted her, he had not said no to her invitation, he had encouraged her in sin again and again.

“Get out.” She needed to atone.

“Now? Surely you’ve not had your fill of me yet.” The man was daft, thinking the anger in her voice a continuation of the games they had played. He approached her, dropped to his knees before her and over her. He leaned in as if to again nestle his face to the bend of her neck.

Ellyn was unrestrained in her response, her backhand across his face sent him rolling off her. He landed on his back, staring up with a dazed look in his eyes.

“I will not say it again, get out.” Some men would have grown angry, some had in the past to the point of violence. Ellyn had learned to keep a dagger close for when commands did not suffice. “Pray for forgiveness…for yourself and for me.”

When the man had finally roused himself, he dressed in near silence. He muttered, perhaps thinking she could not hear the slurs lobbed against her, but she would not correct him, he was not wrong in his assessment. Hypocrite. Whore. Bitch. She was all those things and more. A thief, a usurper, a pretender. To cleanse the land of the Targaryens would be her path to redemption.

She dressed herself, tunic and leggings, a long vest, a tattered coat. She would find no sleep tonight but perhaps the septon would absolve her of her worst guilt. Ellyn found him, awake as well, at one of the few fires still burning this many hours into the night. It was not the first time they had talked under these circumstances. The wandering septon had joined them back near Highgarden and had quickly become her closest confidant. It was better to travel with protection, and Lady Ellyn was more than pleased to stop at small villages for him to minister to the faithful. He motioned for her to join him.

As dawn broke, the pair departed. The worst of the guilt and shame had passed, the remainder would serve as a reminder that she knew would fade too quickly. She could resist only for so long. Around her, her people worked to break their camp, tents packed, food stuffs sorted. They had some small bits to trade with the village for dried goods and to refill aleskins. The Lady avoided the village, avoided the possibility of seeing the man who had shared her tent. She packed her own tent. One of the Ashford ladies helped her into her armor.

They set off while the morning was still young, heeding the village’s advice, they did not venture further into the forest and had to turn south first before they could resume their travels north.

They were not alone in a journey, a young man made his way south, past Felwood and to Storm's End. He brought news to his lord of traitors in the land who spoke of treason and threatened violence. He bore proof of the madness, his face marred for speaking out in favor of the Lord Baratheon and his support for their cousins, the rightful ruler, on the Iron Throne.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Volantis

---

The oppressive heat that melted anyone not Volantene was wasted on Aster Rahl. Instead he took no note of it and made his way in the palanquin down to the docks. He was meeting with his Overseer who had recently arrived perhaps a half hour prior, as well as an unannounced check on a few warehouses. There was a crush of bodies but Aster saw a flash of flame red. Intrigued Aster gave a soft command and the palanquin advanced toward the commotion.

The palanquin halted as Aster gazed upon a sight that struck a chord within him. Thankfully he was in shadow and while people were watching hopefully they were not watching closely enough. He composed himself and reached to move the sheer white fabric that covered the openings in the palanquin.

Aster smiled slightly and in an exotic accent he spoke to the stunning woman with flame red hair. "I couldn't help but notice you seem rather out of place gevie mēre. Do you need assistance, my lady?"

Gods, it is the seventh hell here. The Corbray man had been right, a continued thought that had hung with Sharra the rest of the day. So far it had seemed that not even night offered a reprieve, but at least tonight they would have a proper place to lay their heads and sweat. The thought sent a flicker of something between a laugh and grimace across her face.

It took a moment then to register that anyone was speaking to her. Truthfully, for most of their brief time upon these shores most gave them a wide berth, except for trying to sell them something. Volantis was truly like nothing the Arryn maiden had ever seen. The man before her was like no one she had ever seen. It was an unbidden thought, one quickly banished as only caused by a severe need for water. It seemed to sweat out of her faster than she could replenish.

“No, thank you.” He was in a palanquin, so obviously of wealth, but no one here was altruistic. Surely her men would return soon to guide her and Artys to their arrangements. She tried to divert her eyes, making eye contact for too long seemed to be understood as an invitation. Yet her eyes flicked back to the man half concealed behind the sheer fabric. It probably wasn’t, but she imagined how much cooler it would be to be in shade, carried about rather than stewing from the exertion it took to stand. Seven help me, I’d jump into the sea about now.

He wasn't moving, her eyebrow arched up. “I am awaiting word for where accommodations have been arranged, but thank you for your offer.” She chewed at her lip, caught herself, and released it from between her teeth. What was that phrase he uttered? She had never paid much attention to her Valyrian lessons, and though she recognized it as Valyrian there was something different about it. It doesn’t matter, he will wander off soon enough.

“You are welcome, gevie mēre.” Raising an ebony eyebrow in response Aster held back his smirk and inclined his head then met her sky blue eyes. He was used to unruly, opinionated, willful and hot tempered females; namely his younger sisters, cousin, Aunt and mother. Weak was not in their vocabulary. At times feminine was not either. However he knew that people normally like to fill silence and he knew eventually it would get to her. So the wait began, though for the sake of the servants he hoped it was not that long.

She grew deeply uncomfortable, the knowledge that he sat there, visible from the corner of her eye no matter how she turned her head. How foolish she must look but the proper etiquette for the situation was a mystery. Her septa, bless the woman, had perished the storm that first forced them from their intended path. Sharra thought that a likely blessing, the woman would have been beside herself in this strange city.

Seconds slipped into minutes and Sharra's resolve weakened. After spending two years trying to stay out of sight while on her nephew's tour, after feeling little reason to engage with those whose eyes passed over her except in thought of whether her brother deserved a marriage alliance through her, the Maiden faltered. "Do you really have nothing else to hold your interest than staring at one foreigner upon your shores." Blue eyes narrowed in irritation as she addressed him, sweat dripped down her face, into her eyes, only adding to her growing annoyance.

Aster had her. He almost smiled but that would be rude. "Perhaps, gevie mēre. But as you have so correctly stated I am local… which means I know my way around. I could show you to your destination. Come now where are you staying?"

Knowing where she was staying previously was unimportant. She was coming home with him. Aster's rich deep voice turned velvety. "I consider it my very duty to get you where you're going gevie mēre. Come before the sun bakes you like a lobster."

Well now she was in a situation. Admit that she hadn't a clue where she was meant to be going? Lady Sharra wavered in her annoyance. It was a bad idea, her family barely tolerated the Pentosi traders and visitors they received in Gulltown. She didn't know him, her luck he would be wealthy from owning a fleet of pleasure boats and seek to add an exotic Westerosi noble to his stable. Maybe it would be worth it if it meant getting out of the sun. She was briefly reminded of the summer where she ignored her septa's pleas to stay in the shade and had indeed returned to the Eyrie with skin the color of her hair. The pain lasted days, Sharra did not want to repeat the experience.

"I cannot leave without my nephew." The Lady paused to watch his reaction, cautious. They had been warned of flaunting their name. "Lord Artys, from the Vale of Arryn. We're waiting here for news from our men of a place with suitable accommodations." Her brow furrowed, suitable had been difficult to find as her men had meant secure and spacious. Neither seemed available no matter their Westerosi status. The difficulties broke down her guard at last. "I couldn't even begin to tell you as I don't know myself." Her voice hitched in her throat though no tears flowed through, there was no moisture left in her to waste on such frivolities.

Nodding slowly Aster murmured and the palanquin was set down. The young virile man that emerged from the palanquin was tall and well built. His clothing was a light smoke color. Long ebony hair was left loose to fall over his shoulders; which it did as he gave her a deep bow. "My apologies for teasing you Lady Arryn. I offer you use of my home for the duration of your stay. I am Aster Rahl of House Rahl. My father is Triarch. I would be honored if you and your companions would accompany myself out of this heat that I am certain you cannot be familiar with. I would not be surprised if you wished to take up rooms in our cold storage."

He gestured to the palanquin. "Please by all means sit in the shade." He motioned to a passerby and spoke quietly and quickly. The passerby ran off and returned with another palanquin and a large white horse saddled. He leaned in his pale slate blue eyes sparkling. "I was not going back in the palanquin and did not think a pachyderm was warranted for one person no matter how much Tanza loves my family." He smiled fully, showing his dimples and winking.

Somehow, the Lady Arryn managed to pale considerably even in the heat. While the name was only like a vague memory of a fact, she understood what Triarch entailed. "My lord, my apologies." Her head bowed when she found herself slightly more composed. It was likely not correct to address him as such but her tongue tripped over itself to find what was appropriate. "I am Sharra, sister to the Warden of the East. It has been…an unintended journey to your city. I thank you for your generosity." She half hoped that the suggestion of staying in cold storage was a genuine offer.

She had to gaze up, her head tilted slightly to meet his eyes again. Her face returned to a deep crimson. What a fool she was making of herself, and she felt the familiar pull to hide herself away. At least she had the option of the palanquin for now, though she felt herself awkward at trying to enter it with grace. It was not the sort of litter she was accustomed to using. A basket to to be winched up to the Eyrie? No problem. The small, but seven blessed shade of a palanquin? In a sweat stained and perpetually damp dress? She gulped and made the best of the situation.

"My nephew, he is heir to the Vale, but this journey was not kind to him. He will require assistance, but discreetly, I beg you." Artys would be livid but there had been more than one worried discussion amongst their men of how best to travel to their accommodations once sourced. He was on the mend, but considerably weakened still. The seas had not been kind to his stomach, nor the food he had been offered. Though he had settled at last once they came ashore, he was only slowly regaining his appetite in the oppressive heat.

"Of course." Aster became serious and bowed his head. Looking back up he called over some dock workers and the Westerosi men who looked like they were with the Arryns. He explained what was going on and when he got push back from said guardsmen his countenance was cold enough to freeze even in the Volantis heat. "Are you questioning my honor?" The question was delivered in a tone that seemed to cool the air, the deep rumble of a fast approaching powerful storm. "I suggest that if you do not wish to find if you can swim in armor that you retract that statement." It was no threat, but rather a promise.

The guardsmen in question swallowed and apologized. That done and everything and everyone gathered up, the Lord Artys placed in the second palanquin and Aster mounted their journey began into the city. Aster moved to speak to Sharra. "Are you comfortable gevie mēre?"

She watched with interest as he handled her men. Surely she should have offered her own commands but she feared they would not have been so quick to listen to her. He was confident, sure of himself, but in a way different from how she had ever seen Osric or Artys present themselves. It was effortless, it just was. He was as at ease with his position as he was in the insufferable heat.

Whatever had been said to Artys had been done so masterfully. She nearly detected a smile across his lips. As Aster returned to her side in their journey, she nearly asked him what he kept calling her but she found herself too embarrassed to ask. He knew the Common Tongue well, and she, in their city, knew so little a child would have been embarrassed to converse with her. She barely found her tongue, “The shade is a true relief.” Sharra spoke, her head dipped to avoid his gaze.

Lady Arryn had thought she understood Volantis’ scale from the docks but as they at last moved away from the harbor, along the western shore, she saw her error. It was massive, unending. The docks had seemed impossibly busy but as they made their way towards the Long Bridge - she thought she heard it called that when Artys asked - the throng of people pressed in ebbs and flows all around them. Men and women of obvious wealth, tattooed slaves, merchants, dangerous men, bare-chested women, children…and yet they all moved out of the way with little prompting. Sharra saw the way some looked up to Aster, mounted beside her, she saw eyes try to peer into the palanquins. What rumors would swirl in their wake or were they just a passing curiosity?

The shops on the bridge seemed to sell anything any man or woman could ever desire. She smelled spice and meat, fish and flowers. Fine silks and delicate laces hung enticingly displayed. There were stalls with cages stacked of animals she had never seen outside of sketches in a maester’s tome. Her head swung side to side, eager to see what each side of the bridge held. She felt the sense of being watched, but could not restrain herself to more ladylike disinterest. There was just so much. Perhaps in a day or two she would have the courage to ask her hosts for an escort to walk the bridge and see the wares up close.

Soon enough it was not trade but the massive black walls that overtook her. How. They rose massively before her, growing larger and more domineering with every foot forward. Her jaw dropped when she realized they were headed directly for it. She could feel the age of it, the shift in type of person who surrounded them now on this part of the journey. This was where Volantis’ power resided. Sharra gulped. The Eyrie had been daunting, this was something else entirely.

Aster watched the city he grew up in through Sharra’s eyes and his smile reflected her wonder. He had not become complacent, well not exactly. Perhaps cynical was a better term for it. He found himself drinking in her expressions and while wanting to get to know her he was happy to observe. I likely won’t get a chance later.

As they passed sites in the city that were common to him Aster watched for little things to interest Sharra. His mother always said that paying attention to a woman was the way to her heart.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Tyanna

Tyanna of Pentos

Born 15AC - 26

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Description and Biography:
Tyanna was born to a Pentosi magister and one of his free bond servants - a woman known for a silver tongue and silken voice. The girl grew up in the magister's palatial estate, though was never directly recognized as his daughter. As a young child she was considered beautiful if oddly precocious. From a young age she held an unnatural interest in forbidden arts, in dark studies. She had a keen interest in alchemy, though there were was little she could pursue through official channels. After a series of mysterious deaths, mutilations, and disappearances plagued the magister's household, Tyanna was turned out; she had not yet reached thirteen namedays.

The girl was not so charming as her mother had been, but she had grown into a recognized beauty if starkly so. Pale with raven hair that fell in thick waves, there was an air of danger that only increased when her lips curled up into a knowing smile. She easily found work as a tavern dancer. Tyanna did not care for the sexuality the work demanded of her, but she enjoyed the power and access it gave to continue her craft. She dabbled in alchemy, some say she practiced sorcery. By the time she was twenty she left taverns behind and had become a widely sought after courtesan. Men would occasionally disappear after their time with her. Some were never seen again, others were found badly beaten nearly beyond recognition in dirty alleys. Where other courtesans capitalized on their delicate beauty, it was her harshness and the dangerous rumors that drew men to her like flies to a spider's web.

No matter the truth behind the rumors, Tyanna is not a woman to be trifled with. She entertains the wealthy and powerful but relies on the lowest of men and controls her network through fear. Few come to work for her willingly, driven by desperation. Some few of similar mind give themselves mind and body to her work, miscreants and deviants.

The arrival of Maegor Targaryen and his wife, Alys Harroway sent waves of rumor through Pentos. The Sorceress of Pentos watched from a distance, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and found it in the Prince's absence.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

ToP

Tyanna of Pentos

Born 15AC - 26

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Description and Biography:
Tyanna was born to a Pentosi magister and one of his free bond servants - a woman known for a silver tongue and silken voice. The girl grew up in the magister's palatial estate, though was never directly recognized as his daughter. As a young child she was considered beautiful if oddly precocious. From a young age she held an unnatural interest in forbidden arts, in dark studies. She had a keen interest in alchemy, though there were was little she could pursue through official channels. After a series of mysterious deaths, mutilations, and disappearances plagued the magister's household, Tyanna was turned out; she had not yet reached thirteen namedays.

The girl was not so charming as her mother had been, but she had grown into a recognized beauty if starkly so. Pale with raven hair that fell in thick waves, there was an air of danger that only increased when her lips curled up into a knowing smile. She easily found work as a tavern dancer. Tyanna did not care for the sexuality the work demanded of her, but she enjoyed the power and access it gave to continue her craft. She dabbled in alchemy, some say she practiced sorcery. By the time she was twenty she left taverns behind and had become a widely sought after courtesan. Men would occasionally disappear after their time with her. Some were never seen again, others were found badly beaten nearly beyond recognition in dirty alleys. Where other courtesans capitalized on their delicate beauty, it was her harshness and the dangerous rumors that drew men to her like flies to a spider's web.

No matter the truth behind the rumors, Tyanna is not a woman to be trifled with. She entertains the wealthy and powerful but relies on the lowest of men and controls her network through fear. Few come to work for her willingly, driven by desperation. Some few of similar mind give themselves mind and body to her work, miscreants and deviants.

The arrival of Maegor Targaryen and his wife, Alys Harroway sent waves of rumor through Pentos. The Sorceress of Pentos watched from a distance, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and found it in the Prince's absence.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

The Eyrie

“Where is my son?”

Lady Ryella’s words were softly spoken, her voice full of grief that threatened to spill out into sobs. The Crone studied her sister-in-law silently. The woman had been a good wife and mother, blessed by the Seven with six healthy sons, but still the gods sought to test the faithful.

The women were not alone in the solar, Lord Hubert sat next to his lady wife, across from Elys. Maester Tybald had woken his lord in the middle of the night, he had woken Ryella out of duty once hearing it concerned their son and word was sent to his sister, his closest advisor. Instantly the Lord had felt regret at not heeding her original counsel to have his son return home immediately from Storm’s End. He needed her now, there was no doubt.

Maester Tybald was a man of indeterminate age, his hair was white and his face creased, but his voice was solid, his gait steady. He had been sent to the Eyrie when Ronnel ruled as Lord Paramount, but not as King. He had seen much death in his time serving House Arryn, but Hubert and his sprawling family were still new to the man, their religious fervor required he change his tact from how he had advised Lord Ronnel. Lady Elys was an obstacle, much as he was to her, he suspected.

The solar had barely warmed from the fire that blazed to life, the thick Myrish carpet softened the chill slightly, but to be called on at such a time indicated nothing favorable. Lady Ryella’s lips quivered no matter her resolve to hold herself together.

The maester shifted in the heavy oaken chair and cleared his throat. “We’ve received word. Lord Artys and Lady Sharra boarded the Silver Sphynx as arranged. However, there were some…difficulties encountered.” He flattened the missive before him. The Eyrie’s rookery had received a raven from Gulltown who had received the message from Pentos by way of trade ship. It had been months since the young Arryns had been expected back with no word at all.

“Maester, please.” The lady was nearly begging, Lord Hubert covered his wife’s hand gently beneath his but hushed her sternly. The crone’s gaze passed from brother to sister-in-law, her arms folded across her chest. Her sister-in-law was a good woman, a good wife, a good mother. She had been blessed by the Seven, even as the gods tested her. Lady Elys would need to guide her through this.

“There was a spring storm in the Narrow Sea, the cog was forced into Tyrosh.” Maester Tybald paused again, his head raising to meet Lord Hubert’s gaze. “The information we received is not clear on what exactly happened in Tyrosh. There have been other reports of a man declaring himself King of the Basilisk Isles and attacking any ships making their way further east.” He shook his head. “Bad for trade, the Cities cannot abide by it.”

Hubert grew impatient, Elys could see it in her brother’s eyes. “They are not in Tyrosh then?” The crone spoke at last, leaning forward towards the maester.

“No, no. They joined an escort of ships that sailed further south; we believe they’ve landed in Volantis. There are men on their way, this missive was sent to Pentos when they landed in Lys. We should know more within the next few weeks.” The man cleared his throat again. “It is not complete news, but I did not think you would want to wait for the morning to hear it regardless.”

Volantis. Lady Elys closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, she could hear her brother’s wife sobbing. So far from where they had been meant to go. It was a test, but for whom? She could not discern anything now, though the image of a single falcon in flight with vicious creatures clawing to the sky below it, set a crease deeply across her brow. .

---

Volantis Docks

The red-haired beauty paced across the captain’s office. Her dress had long ago been stained through with sweat and salt. Her hair clung to her scalp and neck, oiled and damp. She had thought their time at sea had been terrifying but the docks were pure torture. Her nephew had proven useless for days now. When he had at least stirred from his sickbed, their continued presence only barely tolerated, it was only to complain of the heat, of the smell, of the great misfortune that had found them. He insisted they could board a small ship and take their chances.

“I will not set foot on another ship without an escort.” Most of their men had gone into the city to try and arrange temporary lodgings until the Volantene leaders could provide ships to guarantee their safety through the Stepstones.. “It will be a month, or so the captain said yesterday. Please nephew, we have outstayed our welcome here, we must go into the city.” She was begging, desperate and exhausted.

Lord Artys, heir to the Vale, rolled over. He had lost weight, his face was gaunt but slick with sweat. He no longer felt as though his innards sought to escape his body, but nor did he feel any hunger. “Fine.” He was tired of arguing, he would deal with her insolence later. Two years of travel with the woman and he still didn’t understand why his father had sent her along. Ostensibly she was to find a husband and yet she had spent most of the journey and time spent in court in complete silence. Any potential matches shriveled and ravens from his father had continued to urge him on to their next destination. Their peers must have thought her mute. Now though she had found her voice to criticize every decision he had made since they set off from Storm’s End.

Sharra sighed, anger and annoyance boiling in the oppressive humidity. She was not certain that she was even breathing air, and though there was barely a breeze outside of the chambers, it was better than being stuck in the room any longer with Artys. She left, the door slamming loudly behind her.

Outside she found one of the men that had stayed behind with them. One of the men-at-arms from House Corbray. A tall man, lanky, but he seemed to shrink in the heat as well. They all did. “My lady?”

“He is in agreement.” At last. She spoke quietly, anger still just below the surface but it was not this man’s fault. “Has anyone managed to get word sent back home?” They had sent several missives, some to Storm’s End, others to King’s Landing, Pentos, Gulltown, but it was uncertain how quickly those messages would be received. Travel for man or word had become difficult.

“We’ve done all that we can, Lady. There is little left to do but wait.” He grunted. “And sweat. It is like we are in the seventh hell.” He seemed to suddenly remember himself and looked ashamed.

“Perhaps only the sixth hell, ser.” The smile she attempted was incomplete. The pair stood in silence wishing for a breeze that never came.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

House Arryn

House Arryn

As High as Honor

House Overview

House Arryn come from the oldest and purest stock of Andal nobility, with some - including the current lord - certain that their ancestors trace directly back to Hugor of the Hill. The Vale, and the Arryns of the Vale, fought valiantly over centuries to consolidate their rule and spurn interlopers. The arrival and subsequent conquest by Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives brought fresh bloodshed to their gates, events that the eldest Arryns still hold bright in their memories.

During Aegon's Conquest the Arryn and Targaryen fleets fought in a battle in the waters off Gulltown, which resulted in the destruction of the Targaryen fleet and the death of its commanding officer, Daemon Velaryon. Visenya Targaryen, on her dragon Vhagar, burned the Arryn fleet in response. Since both fleets were destroyed, the battle was considered a tactical draw, but a strategic defeat for the Targaryens as they were unable to take Gulltown. For House Arryn the trouble did not end there, since the Sistermen on the Three Sisters revolted after the destruction of the Arryn fleet.

Later in Aegon's Conquest, Visenya was charged with subduing the Vale. Sharra Arryn, Queen Regent of the Vale, ruling in the name of her son, the boy-king Ronnel Arryn, amassed the Vale's army at the Bloody Gate. Visenya, however, flew on Vhagar to the courtyard of the Eyrie to obtain the surrender of the Vale of Arryn. When Sharra returned to the Eyrie she found her son sitting on Visenya's lap asking if he could ride the dragon with her. Once Sharra yielded and bent the knee, Ronnel twice flew with Visenya and Vhagar. The Arryns have since remained Defenders of the Vale and Wardens of the East for the Iron Throne.

Peace did not come quickly for the Vale. In 37 AC, Lord Ronnel was deposed by his brother Jonos. A civil war brewed with House Royce gathering forces and besieging the Eyrie. In response, the usurper Jonos threw Ronnel and his family through the Moon Door. Justice arrived on wingback, with Prince Maegor arriving to hang Jonos and his supporters. Order was restored by tyranny and Lord Hubert, a cousin, was installed as Lord Paramount.

--House Arryn AWOIAF

House Arryn Family Tree

• Lady Elys^{The Crone} age 59
  
  • Married three times and widowed all
  • Returned to the Vale upon her brother's ascension to act as advisor
  • Fervent supporter of the Faith, mystical, but widely respected
• Lady Rowena ^{The Mother} age 57
  
  • Widowed young and never remarried or returned to the Vale
• Lord Hubert ^{The Father} age 54
  
  • Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East
  • Wed to Lady Royce, with six living sons

  
  

  The Sons

  • Artys - 22 [Accompanying Sharra]
  • Alester - 19 [Joined Company of the Rose]
  • Andar - 17 [Gulltown, with House Grafton]
  • Arrec - 12 [Squired to House Corbray]
  • Alyn - 8 [Sent to the Faith for training]
  • Albar - 2 [In the Eyrie]
• Elder Brother Isembard ^{The Smith} age 50
  
  • Widower, wife died in childbirth and the son died just two years later
  • Joined the Faith as a Begging Brother in penance for the sins that led to his family's death
  • Settled at a septry in a small and rural outpost of the Crownlands, eventually becoming Elder Brother
• Ser Osric ^{The Warrior} age 26
  
  • Eldest born of his father's second wife
  • Egotistical but proven knight
  • Contentious relationship with his half-siblings
  • Arrived in King's Landing in 40AC with a small entourage of friends
• Lady Sharra ^{The Maiden} age 22
  
  • Named in honor of Queen Sharra
  • Overlooked for much of her life, not close to any of her siblings or half-siblings except for Lady Elys
  • Currently on a tour with her septa and small honor guard in <reach/westerlands/tbd>
• Young Jasper ^{The Stranger} age 20
  
  • A solitary outcast amongst family and Vale nobility alike
  • Unusual interest in dark topics; necromancy, the long night, the doom, and ancient prophesies from across the Narrow Sea
  • Currently in Oldtown
• Queen Regent Sharra died before 37 AC
• Lord Paramount Ronnel deposed and murdered in 37 AC
• Lord Paramount Jonos executed in 37 AC

Lady Elys

Lady Elys of the Vale

59 - Born 18BC

Description and Biography

Elys was a young woman, freshly wed, when the conquest began. She was heavy with child when she watched Visenya and Vhagar burn the fleet off the shores of Gulltown. Her first husband burned or drowned. Like so many others from the battle, it was impossible to know his fate. She gave birth just a few weeks later, a girl. Her husband's younger brother had survived and they were married a year later. She gave him three children, two boys and another girl. Their marriage was tainted, the memory of her first husband an ever present cloud. Her second husband took heavily to drink and was found floating in the harbor just six years into their marriage.

Lady Elys was barely twenty-six and had been widowed twice. Her dead husbands' family, House Shett of Gulltown, turned on her in their grief. Not knowing what else to do, she returned to her famiy's estate. But her father was a pragmatic man and his eldest daughter still had some youth and was proven as fertile. When House Melcolm's aging lord had need of a new wife, and one who could give him a son, the match was quickly agreed to.

But Elys, now Lady of Old Anchor, was not well. She fell pregnant quickly, but while her previous pregnancies had been without issue, she barely survived her fifth. Her son was born, though she had nearly wasted away during the final months. It took her nearly a year to fully recover. Perhaps having lost her previous children due to circumstance, she found no joy in the new babe and spurned her husband. Though her father had been deeply religious, Elys had not shared his devotions. In the months that alternated between extreme grief and pain, and months of dull ambivalence, she found solace in the Seven. She took to the sept and believed herself to commune with the Crone who guided her to an understanding of herself, her family. When Lord Melcolm passed of old age a decade later, Lady Elys stayed to guide their son to adulthood. She still did not consider herself his mother, she had been too distant for too long, but instead a divine mentor.

When her brother ascended to the Eyrie, due only to Targaryen violence inflicted once more, she returned to his side. They had grown closer in the past two decades - by missive and brief visits - than they had been as children. Their shared faith bound them and they saw in them and their siblings the aspects of the Seven. She is most concerned with the way Hubert's children seem uninterested in carrying on the faith beyond the most superficial displays. Her brother shares some of these concerns but believes they will grow into it, when the wildness of youth is spent.

Ser Osric Arryn

Ser Orsric Arryn of the Vale

26 - Born 15AC

Description and Biography

Osric is a talented knight, for his age. He thinks far too highly of himself, a trait encouraged and groomed by his mother. His father died just a year after the birth of his youngest son leaving the raising of the three youngest Arryns to their mother and the disinterest of their eldest brother, Hubert. House Royce and their knights attempted to forge Osric into a true Andal warrior, a faithful servant of the Seven. The lad was only ever briefly proficient at keeping up the pretense of piety. His father would have been disappointed, Hubert certainly was, but his mother shielded him from nearly any consequence.

As a squire he accompanied several forays against the mountain clans. Osric enjoyed his time in the wilderness, crossing the hills and mountains to quell the heathen rebels. He enjoyed it, perhaps, too much. He had a taste for violence and soon also found a taste for ale and women. Before his eighteenth nameday, he had earned a reputation for himself along Gulltown's docks as well as the city's whorehouses. He earned his knighthood at twenty-two, leading a charge against a hill tribe that had kidnapped a minor noble's daughter. The girl was killed in the chaos of battle, a minor inconvenience to Osric, but he was thanked for exacting justice on the heathens who had assaulted her.

The knight was enamored with Maegor's arrival to exact justice against Jonos. Though he thought Hubert a terrible choice, too pious, too dull, too pandering, it did offer more opportunity to Osric. Not long after, he found reason to ask for leave to go to King's Landing. By the time Hubert had given permission and Osric set off with a small group of companions, Maegor had been exiled. Not deterred, they carried on to enjoy all the vices the new but bustling city had to offer men of a certain type.

Alester Arryn

Alester Arryn

The Pretty Bird

19 - Born 22AC

Description and Biography

member of the Company of the Rose for 2-3 years
joined when they were stopped in Gulltown for supplies on their way south
father incredibly displeased but was never on good terms with the family
given the nickname by men in the company for how delicate he was at the start of his training with the company
closest to X in the company / semi-father figure

Lady Sharra

Lady Sharra of the Vale

22 - Born 19AC

Description and Biography

Lady Sharra was the second born to her father's second wife. Her elder half-siblings paid little mind to the young ones and her older brother, Osric, was the apple of their mother's eye and could do no wrong. Her younger brother, Jasper, was an oddity from a young age. The girl was alone no matter the size of her family. It did not help matters that their family had not been welcome at the Eyrie, though they were close cousins to Lord Ronnel, they had been barred from the Eyrie since before the conquest. The family instead was relegated to the winter castle with House Royce, or Gulltown. Sharra had always preferred their time at Gulltown over the stout castle.

Her care was largely left to her Septa. Her father had been a severely pious man, though her mother paid only lip service to the Seven. Her elder siblings inherited far more of that same fervor. Sharra cared little for such things though she loved the imagery of the Seven. It pleased her septa enough that her charge grew talented in painting religious icons and scenes. As a young teenager, she was a gentle and compliant daughter, always in vain hope that she would garner some attention for being the good child. It was all for naught, Osric's churlish nature and Jasper's strangeness pushed Sharra further into the shadows as her family tried to wrestle her brothers into proper Arryns.

When her eldest brother was made Lord Paramount following the murder of Lord Ronnel and justice against Jonos, the entire family ascended to the Eyrie. Sharra spent only two years in court before at last Lord Hubert seemed to realize her presence. He had arranged for her to spend some time in other courts - Riverrun first, then Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Storm's End. Her cousin, Hubert's heir Artys, would accompany her along with a small number of knights, other lesser nobles, and her septa. Alone again, in a sea of people.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Poor Fellows Commander

Lady Ellyn Dayne

Lady of Prisms - Sword of the Morning


Born 13AC - 28

Description and Biography:

Lady Ellyn was born to Ser Joffrey Dayne in the years following the first Dornish War. Ser Joffrey had been a well-regarded knight even before claiming Dawn. In the aftermath of the Starfall’s burning at the hands of Visenya and Vhagar, he and his family were turned into outcasts. Though the title would not be revoked, for there was no precedent for it, they were unwelcome no matter where they went in House Dayne’s lands.

The girl was the only child to be born to Joffrey and his common wife. Their nomadic life took a great toll on her parents and her mother died suddenly when Ellyn was not quite eight. Joffrey was not a bad father, but he was a scarred and traumatized man left to raise a daughter on his own. He trained her, reluctantly at first until she showed an inherent skill for it. His own anger - not restricted to just the Targaryens but also to Dorne and their family - seeped into Ellyn. She despised the dragon lords with every ounce of her being. She found solace in the stories she heard of the Faith Militant and dreamed of joining their mission. Her father was not thrilled with his daughter’s plans but he knew there was little for her in Dorne.

When she was twenty-six, Joffrey succumbed to old ailments from the war. They had been making their way north, looking for a way to pass into the Marches and leave Dorne for good. Yet Dawn was meant to be returned to Starfall until the next Sword of the Morning was ready to claim it. Ellyn paused only briefly before taking the sword from the barely cold body of her father. There was little time to waste before more of her family’s knights would be in pursuit.

She crossed first into the Reach and struggled to find passage to Oldtown. Her life had prepared her for difficulty, but she had never been alone in it. Her need for vengeance pushed her forward only to be denied it in Oldtown. A woman, no matter the unusual sword she bore, was not welcome in the Warrior’s Sons. Ellyn left, utterly dejected and nearly broken. She had no coin left, the only item of worth was her family’s sword. She despaired and contemplated flinging herself and the sword into the sea to be lost to ages.

The Poor Fellows saved her. Smallfolk and women, those normally voiceless yet resolute in their beliefs no different from the Warrior’s Sons. Quickly she formed a small band where they took to calling her their Lady of Prisms. They gifted her a worn rainbow cloak and in time, Ellyn took to calling herself the Sword of the Morning. With renewed purpose, her resolve was only strengthened by seeing how the people began to turn against the dragon lords.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

A Royal Progression

The night was unseasonably chilly for being so well entrenched into spring. Rhaena hugged herself, her arms bared to the elements, the silken night shift offering minimal warmth. Night, but dawn was not far off, hints of light played along the horizon. The Princess was exhausted but sleep had escaped her yet again. She had had to disentangle herself from a cluster of arms that had cradled her. Aegon had been softly snoring but had not stirred at all. Samantha had nearly woken but rolled over into Alayne instead. Rhaena had paused for just a moment to smile sadly at the sight before pulling herself to the small sitting room outside the bed chamber. The window looked out over the road they had arrived here on, rough and unfinished.

Their time at Sarsfield had been cut short, a courtier had advised their kingsguard to make haste for Casterly Rock, their journey could no longer be a meandering, leisurely tour. It had, in many ways, been an unnecessary warning. No one in the party could ignore the growing tension and animosity that met them in each village, in each castle. Lords welcomed them but cautiously, some with clear distaste to be hosting them. It was shocking to not just Rhaena, but Aegon as well. Their father was beloved. Or so they had thought. Worse still were the simpering lords and ladies with unabashed greed in their eyes. Alayne had cautioned her to beware that type the most.

Nothing in King's Landing had prepared them for this. The village mayor at Oxcross had offered up his home, a finer - barely - establishment than the inn was. The man was clearly displeased about it but one look from Darkrobin had quieted the man to one final grunt before vacating his residence. The smallfolk in Oxcross had crowded the road when their train arrived, some eager to ogle the pretty princess and her ladies, others to scowl. They had heard some of the insults no longer uttered just in hushed whispers. Abomination. A few tears rolled down her cheek at the memory of it. They had jeered, some had begun to fling rotten waste, and a strong smell of excrement had followed them into the village proper. Ser Robin had worked quickly with the other knights to push back the crowds, but it stung to be received in such a manner. They stood guard around the mayor's home, she could hear the soft neighs from their horses, the occasional snort, the jingle of metal. Gods, all she really wanted was to no longer feel the constant, prickling fear. Surely Casterly Rock and the Lannisters would be a reprieve. A blush spread across her cheeks as she wondered if Melony Piper would be there. Her last letter had indicated as much, and it had been so long since she had last seen her.

Eventually the sun broke over the horizon and Rhaena was given cause to return to the bedroom when she heard Alayne and Samantha beginning their day. In King’s Landing it would have been unusual for her to be out of bed before them, but here on the road it had become a common occurrence. The Princess stood in the doorway, leaning against the rough frame, hand to hip and a smile forced across her lips. "Aegon being a lazy oaf again? Do I need to get Ser Robin to scare him awake?" She spoke quietly, lilac eyes darting between the women and Aegon, who was now sprawled across the otherwise empty bed. Dearest brother, friend, husband. It was not unwelcome but the word turned round in her mind, twisted, uncomfortable. Two sons and then done. No one could ask any more of her, then they could return to the way things had been.

Samantha paused her morning ministrations to giggle softly. She turned, her face dripping with water. "Oh no, not again, I don't think I can listen to him moaning about it all day." She wasn’t wrong. The last time Aegon had refused to get out of bed, albeit, it was after a night of far too much wine, the kingsguard took to shaking the prince awake. Ostensibly it was in fear that he had slipped into a coma. Neither man was pleased with the way Aegon had vomited from surprise and motion.

Rhaena playfully pouted and plopped herself into a chair, triggering a heavy scowl from Alayne in mock disapproval. "A prin-cess must -" She was cut off briefly before a trio of voices joined in to finish the admonishment, "be delicate in all matters." The women giggled, for a moment the heaviness lifted and mirth filled the room.

Aegon stirred at last and propped himself up to his elbows, a bit of drowsiness still in his eyes. "Yes, Septa Lorra would be very disapproving of you still si…" He paused, how to address each other had not eased any since their wedding. "Rhae." The Prince gave a small shrug and impish grin. "I have manners unlike the rest of you, excuse me while I see to nature." He slid out of bed, yanking his trousers about him and pulling a tunic over his head. It had become a common scene on their progress, when their accommodations had allowed for it anyways.

"He's worried." Alayne spoke when they heard Aegon leave with one of the knights. “He was muttering in his sleep.”

Rhaena sighed, serious again, too quickly. "I know. It's still three days to Casterly. Two if we ride ahead with a smaller group. Seven hells, if only I’d been permitted to bring Dreamfyre." How much safer they would be with her. How much more secure she would feel on wing than steed. Neither woman responded, it had been a common refrain but there was nothing to be done now.

"Come, let's get you dressed." Alayne took action, as she often did, a nervous tic, better to do something than nothing.

---

Aegon had yet to return inside. He had not wanted his sister, his wife, to see him worried. It had been a restless night. He had woken, not long after Rhaena had, but fell back to dark dreams. Sleep had provided little rest. Ser Robin found him in the stables, other knights were preparing their horses for the day’s journey, and though he did not need to, the prince found brushing his mount a better way to gather his thoughts than to sit idly by.

“Have you sent word ahead to Casterly Rock?” He kept his voice low, his head barely turned towards the whitecloak now beside him. They had sent word ahead from Sarsfield, but they rode faster now, aiming to arrive many days sooner than originally intended.

“Aye, we should expect a Lannister party to join us along the way.” He shifted his weight, a small glance over his shoulder as his men began to form up. “Still, it would be wise for us to move out quickly. A group of Poor Fellows arrived in the night. Likely nothing to be concerned with, of course. They have a group of pilgrims with them, on their way back from the sept at Highgarden.” So they said. There had been a lot of them, and not so many pilgrims remaining.

“Good…good.” The Prince barely focused on the words. He hoped the girls were less aware of just how precarious things felt at the moment. They were so close to Lannister aid, just a few days more. “The Princess and her ladies should be ready soon. Is everything else ready?”

“Yes, my lord. Including the Princess’...menagerie.” It hadn’t been quite so annoying at the start of the journey, Rhaena’s insistence in bringing her pets. Only my favorites. She had said, but her favorites included the damnable squawking bird and a gaggle of dogs useless for anything other than keeping laps warm.

“She will be pleased. We’ll ride ahead with you and however men you think necessary but we want to meet the Lannister party ahead of the train.” His horse stamped impatiently, Aegon had been brushing the same spot for far too long. He dropped the brush to the ground. “Have someone finish up for me, ser? I should prepare myself for the day.”

---

Not an hour later, while the rest of the train finished packing and organizing, the smaller party was on horseback. Rhaena had caused a small scene, unhappy that her pets would not accompany them, no matter that they were trying to move quickly. A compromise was reached in allowing the bird out of it’s travel cage to travel with her. The kingsguard did not like how delayed they had been. The whole village was awake now, and no matter how much his men worked to keep them at a distance, a crowd had formed to watch the royals leave.

Worse, the Poor Fellows had gathered.

Princess and Prince, Ladies Samantha and Alayne, a whitecloak, and their honor guard took off down the road at a royal pace. They maintained a look of indifference even as the crowd closed up behind them, the road back into the village fully blocked. They kept their blank expressions even as they saw the Poor Fellows following parallel in the fields surrounding the road. Always at a distance, but always there menacing. Ser Robin urged the group to a gallop, they were on horseback and the faithful were not. A bit of speed to create distance and all would be well.

A few hours later, the knight saw his error too late. A group of men clad in the gray robes of the Poor Fellows blocked the road ahead. He called the group up short, their horses were tired now. The princess and her ladies were clearly weary as well from the hard ride.

“Seven’s blessings to you on this fine day.” The kingsguard called out to them. The men directly in front of them bore self-inflicted scars on their foreheads, the seven pointed star. They were rough looking, their hands rested on their cudgels, menacing.

“We seek nothing more than -” Hushed murmurs increased in volume and the kingsguard was silenced in shock.

“Abomination. Your sins must be cleansed. Abomination.”

They did not move but more men appeared before them, the air crackled with potential violence.

“Abomination. Dragon-whore.”

Rhaena, ignoring furtive looks from both Aegon and her ladies, urged her horse forward. “Please, my good men we mean-”

“Abomination, whore!”

Rhaena’s expression hardened once more, before she could speak again, a hail of dirt hit her and those behind her. At least, it did not smell foul enough to be anything worse than dirt. She glanced down at the stain across her woolen riding jacket. When she looked back up, her lips had curled into a sneer, her normally pleasant demeanor now cruel. “You would not dare to be so bold should I return on a dragon. Move. Now.” The girl was gone, replaced with the rare confidence of her dragonblood.

A sound pierced the air, horrid, anguished. Her bird, brilliant white, had been flying overhead and sought to perch on her shoulder. Rhaena could not see what happened, but Aegon behind her saw it occur, slowly, unbelieving. One of the Poor Fellows near the front had a sling and his aim, true or not, was devastating.

Blood, crimson and hot, splashed across Rhaena’s face.

The princess’s response was feral, her horse reared as the bird fell lifeless to the road. It was chaos unleashed, Ser Robin Darklyn called the escort to attack, Aegon urged his own horse to action, his sword clumsily unsheathed to meet the mass of the faithful.

Rhaena couldn’t make sense of it at all. She looked about frantically as her horse took off on its own, no sign of Samantha or Alayne. She saw only a mass of gray and metal, the sound of steel meeting flesh, the sound of men dying. Gods, please let it not be Aegon. She gripped the reins, unsure of where to urge the horse towards other than away from the horrific sounds of battle.

And then the world was upside down. The sky was now beneath her, brilliant and blue, the sun blazing warmth on her face. For a moment she felt as she did when flying with Dreamfyre, free and wild.Then, suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She gasped, choked, grasped and felt only pain, saw only red. Blood. Not again. She looked beside her, blinking violently to clear her sight, her horse flailed on the ground, yes she was on the ground, beside her. No. She tried to roll over, right herself, stand. Run. She couldn’t, her legs refused to obey. Pain shot up her side. All she could hear were screams. Her head rolled, she felt sick. Sick as when they had drunk all that honeyed wine. She tasted metal.

Bare feet stopped in front of her, brown and red. Then they were gone with a guttural thud, replaced with metal boots. Her eyes slowly focused beyond them. A flash of silver streaked with red. “Aegon.” Her lips moved but she couldn’t hear if she made a sound. He was here for her, here to save her.

He wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving.

Why.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Character Index and Glossary

41 AC

This index will be updated as allegiances shift, new characters arise, or old ones die.

Crownlands

House Targaryen

Immediate Family

• Aenys I, called King Abomination in response to marrying his daughter to his son. Reigned from 37 to 42 AC. Married to Alyssa Velaryon.
  
  • Rhaena (18)
  • Melyssanthi (17)
  • Aegon (15)
  • Viserys (12)
  • Jaehaerys (7)
  • Alysanne (5)
  • Vaella
• Maegor, called the Cruel, Aegon's son by Queen Visenya. Currently in exile in Essos
  
  • Ceryse Hightower - wife
  • Alys Harroway - second wife, in exile in Pentos
• Visenya Targaryen

Small Council

• Hand of the King
• Grand Maester
• Master of Ships and Lord Admiral
• LC of the Kingsguard

Kingsguard

• Lord Commander Addison Hill, Bastard of Cornfield
• Ser Raymont Baratheon
• Ser Robin Darklyn, Darkrobin
• Ser Richard Roote
• Ser Gregor Goode
• Ser Griffith Goode
• Ser Humfrey, Humfrey the Mummer

---

The Faith

The Warrior's Sons
Lady Ellyn Dayne of the Poor Fellows

---

The North

House Stark

The Vale

House Arryn

The Riverlands

House Tully
House Harroway

The Westerlands

House Lannister

The Reach

House Tyrell
Ser Ryam Redwyne

The Stormlands

House Baratheon

The Iron Islands

House Greyjoy
House Smokestone

Dorne

Independent agents

The Flame of Lys: King's Landing
Garin Sands and family

Foreigners

House Rahl of Volantis
House Balaerys of Volantis
Tyanna of Pentos

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

A WOMAN?!

Lady Ellyn Dayne

Lady of Prisms - Sword of the Morning


Born 13AC - 28

Description and Biography:

Lady Ellyn was born to Ser Joffrey Dayne in the years following the first Dornish War. Ser Joffrey had been a well-regarded knight even before claiming Dawn. In the aftermath of the Starfall’s burning at the hands of Visenya and Vhagar, he and his family were turned into outcasts. Though the title would not be revoked, for there was no precedent for it, they were unwelcome no matter where they went in House Dayne’s lands.

The girl was the only child to be born to Joffrey and his common wife. Their nomadic life took a great toll on her parents and her mother died suddenly when Ellyn was not quite eight. Joffrey was not a bad father, but he was a scarred and traumatized man left to raise a daughter on his own. He trained her, reluctantly at first until she showed an inherent skill for it. His own anger - not restricted to just the Targaryens but also to Dorne and their family - seeped into Ellyn. She despised the dragon lords with every ounce of her being. She found solace in the stories she heard of the Faith Militant and dreamed of joining their mission. Her father was not thrilled with his daughter’s plans but he knew there was little for her in Dorne.

When she was twenty-six, Joffrey succumbed to old ailments from the war. They had been making their way north, looking for a way to pass into the Marches and leave Dorne for good. Yet Dawn was meant to be returned to Starfall until the next Sword of the Morning was ready to claim it. Ellyn paused only briefly before taking the sword from the barely cold body of her father. There was little time to waste before more of her family’s knights would be in pursuit.

She crossed first into the Reach and struggled to find passage to Oldtown. Her life had prepared her for difficulty, but she had never been alone in it. Her need for vengeance pushed her forward only to be denied it in Oldtown. A woman, no matter the unusual sword she bore, was not welcome in the Warrior’s Sons. Ellyn left, utterly dejected and nearly broken. She had no coin left, the only item of worth was her family’s sword. She despaired and contemplated flinging herself and the sword into the sea to be lost to ages.

The Poor Fellows saved her. Smallfolk and women, those normally voiceless yet resolute in their beliefs no different from the Warrior’s Sons. Quickly she formed a small band where they took to calling her their Lady of Prisms. They gifted her a worn rainbow cloak and in time, Ellyn took to calling herself the Sword of the Morning. With renewed purpose, her resolve was only strengthened by seeing how the people began to turn against the dragon lords.