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[owenstark]

"Pick a side. There are no sidelines here."

There are tides changing in the north, in the aftermath of the Umber War there has been an uptick in smallfolk moving to the 7 under the belief that they were the ones who protected them the most. This has caused a divided between older northmen and younger. Many credit the influence of the 7 on Owen creating new roads and improving the standing of the north, others credit the Old Gods for practicing through the new King in the North, a Northman.

Those who are staunchly against Owen's changes have begun to refer to themselves as the True North , notably many of these houses left court with Brandon Karstark though any who remain wish to influence the king back to being a Northmen. It should be noted this was not the goal of Brandon Karstark and he was surprised to hear of the faction formed around his "cause".

The 8 are Northmen who have adopted the 7 alongside their Old Gods, while they know the Old Gods number higher it was agreed that 8 simplified things. These groups live closer to the lands of the Manderly's though among the smallfolk the cause grows.

Loyalist are those who are loyal to the Starks. Perhaps they are weary of change. Maybe they're having some trouble adjusting but they trust House Stark to lead them as they have since the age of Heroes.

For the the first time in many, many years the North finds itself in the center of a web and war of words and ideas. A war of culture and identity. A fear of change. The Northmen had put away their swords and picked up quills. Something of a new age is growing in the north, the people are weary of war and would rather refill their stores and get back to preparing for winter. While the smallfolk rebuild and argue among themselves, those who rule over them wage a cold war over control of the realm's future.

[owenstark]

One may wonder why Owen never asked his brother to serve as his hand and it was something that never entered his mind. His brother was smart enough. Smart in a way that made him perfect for the position he held. The idea of Adam, especially in his current state, representing the realm went against what he wanted to present. Their soldiers, their knights were your hard men of the north, the rugged and the dangerous. Stark Prince, Duke of the Dreadfort. History would over take them.

"I don't trust them. As the Duke who rules over them it'll be up to you to find them wives outside of the North. Find daughters with something to gain. Old women. It doesn't matter. But they would need to leave the North. You can talk to your wife about it." Owen didn't feel the need to explain anything to her, she was a woman. A sister. And sisters meddled too much as it were.

The only people that inherit that horror show would have Stark blood. And they would be kept close because the darkness he was certain existed in their mother would corrupt them. He should have killed them all.

"How is this new substance? How are the soldiers adjusting?"

The conversation didn't head in the direction Adam had expected. He wasn't even sure what course he'd expected their chat to take, but seeing his brother quickly shift from a man entirely entranced by a beautiful stranger to a man so ready to discuss the politics of the realm was somewhat abrupt. Kings had to be kings all the time, Adam reminded himself. His brother thought of his realm first and foremost. What room could there be for any pleasantries?

Adam had never been asked to be his brother's Hand. Not when he inherited their father's crown and named Brandon, and not now that the Karstark lord withdrew himself from the court. Am I not good enough to be Hand? The thought had crossed his mind years ago, and it repeared again tonight. “Lord Nasir Manderly is the best possible candidate,” he said, though. He believed it, too. Being asked by Owen if he'd want to be Hand would be about ego, Adam had to acknowledge that. He was a soldier. He'd always been. His rightful place —the place he fought for— was to stay a Commander. “I'm certain he'll accept if you ask him to be your Hand”.

“What of Glorie's brothers?” he asked. The prince had an idea of what Owen might be thinking. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer, such was the old adage. The Boltons were not as antagonistic a force as they had been in the old days, a great deal of it thanks to the arrangement that was made as he took Glorie as his wife and Owen made her ruling lady of the Dreadfort ahead of her brothers. The Bolton lords had been forced to submit, in a way.

[owenstark]

"If someone can get a king to marry their choice, they stand to gain a great deal. If it's not from the King himself then they stand to gain from the Queen. There will be an influx of courtiers, many who haven't left after the end of things with Rosa's funeral are sending for women to join them here." And he would share this with her but they were hoping he would sleep with their daughter or their sisters and then the Lord would show up and demand a marriage. With the beginning of responsibility brought on the end of what he enjoyed these days. Women.

"I grow tired of war, sister. Let us do everything we can o prevent one from happening and perhaps look beyond our realm and our connections." He dragged his fingers through his beard, he would have to shave soon. He would have to do something to ensure he presented himself as someone that wore the crown of the north. And not the images of Kings from times long ago. Ages of heroes. No. He would look like a King.

Owen looked at her when she asked him about how he was feeling and he thought for a moment. Raised his mug, finished his beer, and then refilled it before looking back at her and then towards the window. "If we start talking about that I fear we'll be here for hours and I can only be Owen so many hours a day."

dacey nodded her head. "that's sensible, i think." there was certainly wisdom in keeping the search private. a political struggle was the last thing that the north needed, and to have it publicly known that owen was looking for a queen could certainly cause such a thing. for now, he had the luxury of time. "a weakness?" she wasn't an unintelligent woman, but perhaps a little naive in the ways of the world. she was here, though, and she was trying to understand a little better, trying to be useful in the best way she could.

for so much of her life, she had seen owen as a pillar of strength. perhaps it was unfair of her to have built such an image of him, but it had been there for almost as long as she had known how to draw breath. when she looked at him now, for the first time she could see cracks in that infallible image. she could see that he was tired, and wished that she could tell him to rest.

"i can't disagree with you." there was so much logic in what he was saying. nasir manderly made sense. she did not doubt his capabilities. on paper, he was the best person for the job. but this was not a conversation dacey ever thought she would be having - not just because she had traditionally been reticent about offering her opinion to him about matters of the kingdom, believing she had little wisdom to offer, but because she never could have foreseen a time when the kingdom would need a new hand.

when she glanced up, owen was looking at her, and their eyes met. there was something else behind his, something he was not telling her - but then, there were things she was not telling him, too. she wanted to tell him that he could speak to her of anything, but how could she without feeling like a hypocrite? "are you all right, though?" her brows raised. "i'm not... talking about the north or the hand or the queen. if there's ever anything you want to talk to me about..." she trailed off. she could not finish the sentence.

[owenstark]

The King continues to be a solitary figure these days, taking members of his Kingsguard who hold no relation to him. In his own display of a King's whim he travels alone when the opportunity is granted to him. The King took a detour in his journey to this New Valyria, visiting the Stormlands.

Unknown information; Owen Stark became overwhelmed with emotions he could not comprehend. Once he left the cliff's edge he wondered about the view half way down.

Poldark. S05E06.

[owenstark]

"Karstark isn't here. He hates me. I've decided to not take the head of Lord Jin for it seems counterproductive to kill my Lord Commander for thinking he was saving the Queen in the North. Not my wife. Because I do not love my wife in the way Brandon loved his wife. Or loves. Why do people say loved when they speak of the dead? I still love my mother. My father. My brother." Owen took another drink and then looked at the man. "My brother. Brandon looked at me and he questioned when the King will have consequence. My brother delivered to me with a wolf's head sewn to his body. When will I have consequence I am asked." The King was drunk. The King was angry. The King was so very tired that he wished to sleep forever.

Owen missed Brandon. He loves him. Would always love the brother he betrayed. A betrayal that would not be undone. Meera Reed was dead. Again. Brandon would mourn. He would struggle. And they would be distant. Brandon surely hated him. And if he didn't hate him ... no there was no reality where the man did not hate him. And if the man hated him then he would not be able to maintain the position he currently held.

"You won't have time to train your replacement, my lord. It'll take us time to find one. When you move into the tower of the hand you may take the time to adjust and move in your family." Owen would have to make changes to his council. Brandon Karstark hated him. There was no place for a Hand who hated his King.

@owenstark / a repost for the sake of the tracker everyone is using and i got fomo lmao

there was a notable member of the northern court missing from the attendance of these festivities within the dragon’s court; the last time the northmen had ventured this far south it had been what westeros had deemed the hour of the wolf, and now there was no denying the sense of dissatisfaction nasir manderly felt upon seeing the sight of jaehaerys targaryen upon the iron throne. to see those lords who fought green and tore the realm apart to feed hightower ambition become some of the most powerful men in the realm under the guidance and direction of the dragon king; he watched the interactions between the crownlanders and the stormlanders silently. noting how it was the dragon king planned on uniting these two groups of people, when one was believed to be socially and ethnically superior than the other.

his vivd dark orbs continued to glance over the crowds, the man’s absence being wholly obvious to those prominent members of the northern court and those who had supported queen daenaerys - for the missing figure had been trusted with venturing to kings landing to confirm positive relations between the two realms. he truly was nowhere to be seen, and the king of winter had still not yet spoken on what matters continued to exist between the pair; was there some tension between the sun of winter and the wolf of winter? the hand and the king?

his gaze then moved over to the sight of the winter king himself, dried sourleaf rolled in his hand as he smoked, momentarily alone from the rest of the northern court. as nasir approached him, he could tell everything about the winter king seemed skewered of sorts - wrong.

in the end, it were the two of them that whole heartedly believed they had not moved at too fast a pace. that the north would need to keep up with the progressive acts of the king, or be left behind in times of ancient where they starved and suffered. they seemed to be in the minority on that front, and now they stood on the other side; the men who had thought and wanted too much, too soon. “your grace.” nasir spoke, his tone familiar as he approached the man to the side; the mood was no surprise. the mood had been this way since the day meera karstark died. “where is karstark?” nasir asked, his question pointed as he glanced towards the king.

[owenstark]

"Many losses." Owen wouldn't dance around the issue at all. They were fighting and people were dying. Amir's sister was dead. Owen's brother was dead. His sister was missing and his twin had wandered off into the woods. Owen understood the nature of loss. And perhaps knowing death so well was hardening the man. The man who pulled the arrow from his fathers dead body and cleaned the pools of blood all night in the evening before his final battle. Owen knew the stench of death in a stuffy room as his mother died from the Spring sickness. And he knew the feeling of missing it. Of not being there for the last breath. The last words. Death haunted them all.

"You have you need at your disposal. Anything. I want it clear that they will never make mistakes again. I want to ask if you want to have a ceremony for when you rise to Duke of Skagos? Collect the taxes. There is a keep for you as well, should you wish." He knew the Manderly's had their lands and holdings, he wanted to make it clear where he laid.

Owen took a drink and thought of the next matter that would come up. There would be many changes in the North. And Owen remembered Amir telling him to not stop. To not slow down. And he would not. Nothing would change. Those that died. It would not be in vain even if it didn't feel that way at the moment.

"Everything you need is at your disposal. None are to oppose your wishes here. No one." Not even the Gods. Old and New.

❅

it was not unheard of for the king of the north to find himself within the majestic halls of house manderly's white harbour; considering there had been a time where the man himself was briefly warded with his most powerful of banner houses. there had been another reason, which was to ensure the starks knew and saw the cultural and religious differences between the people of white harbour and the rest of the north - how they once thought that would be enough.

the streets of the city were the same but different to the youngest of the manderly lords, who spoke to none about the swirling nature of the issues that began to fester in his mind.

feeling like a stranger within the streets and amongst the people that respected a name such as manderly, or was he making himself into the stranger? the summons from the king came in the evening, soon after the breaking of his fast and the congregation of evening prayers; he parted ways with his brother on the steps of the snowy sept, all too aware of missing footsteps that would once be directly behind him.

there was just the two of them now, and even the brothers of manderly had such clear differences between them he was sure it would be the result of some issue later down the line. "your grace." amir spoke as he crossed the threshold of the king's chambers, lowering his head as he bowed in a form of respect; the manderly accent was different to the rest of the north. he did not try to hide it.

"successes." he repeated, almost to himself than to the other.

the last they had seen one another was during the funeral of the queen of the north, who had perished on the birthing bed. amir took a moment to sit opposite his king, moving to unclasp the cloak from around his shoulders. successes, his journey was called. a series of successes. he thought of the brothers of locke that perished, he thought of his sister's body going cold when he was still not home. what successes?

"we can. we will face large losses. many will die."

[owenstark]

And his sister was kind, but many and more would have something to say about him looking for a new wife too soon. It would not be the queen of the Vale but perhaps the people. And the smallfolk had grown to love their queen. They loved that the queen didn't bring her seven, whispers he heard himself. They loved a queen that protected them with her own laws, giving their daughters places, places he would have to somehow maintain. It would not go over well.

"Of course, I will not advertise this search. Some will make their plans to put those women before me. And then there will be others who hope to see it as a weakness." Owen shrugged his shoulder, his fingers dragging over his dark hair. He was very tired and sleep abandoned him at every turn. Like the sister with whom he shared a womb. And now she was gone. Again.

"Nasir is the best choice. He understands the need for growth, very old friend." Fostered with the man. Their houses would one day be joined. He looked at her, there was more that was needed and he was uncertain if his sister was ready for everything. There would be marriages, conflicts, and more resistance. Owen didn't want another war. Next time he would cut the head off the snake and burn the body. Cousin branches were far more useful anyway.

whilst there was undoubtedly perks to being a king, it was also a thankless job. the weight of the kingdom rested on his shoulders, and it was that of which he spoke now. a new queen, rather than a wife. a new hand, rather than the loss of a friend so treasured. to dacey, it was telling, and worrying, all in one. the north needed owen the king, but she cared for owen the man.

"i understand there's more than... well, you to think about, but i don't think anybody would blame you for taking your time to start your search for a queen." perhaps they would. dacey certainly wouldn't think less of him, but then, she held in heart more compassion than she knew what to do with. "at least until the right woman makes herself known." it might be easier said than done, but too much change at once could be dangerous, and the starks household had shifted so much, still knitting around the gaps left by those they'd lost.

the mention of alys had her shifting uncomfortably, both feet finding the ground once more as she released her grip on her legs. she knew more than she should, but owen's words only reinforced her decision to keep that to herself, to relieve him of at least one burden. and so, she said nothing, pointedly avoiding the conversation of the oldest stark sister. neither did she address brandon - for she could not find it in her to condemn him, even if he did hate owen.

"a manderly could be a good idea." her gaze fell contemplatively on the fire. "there will doubtless be people vying for that position. not necessarily for the right reasons. not for the north." she liked to believe the best in people, but it would be foolish to deny that there were people who were out for themselves, grasping for power where they could. "if you think the manderlys share in your ambitions for the kingdom, and can support you when you are right and speak plain when they think you're wrong, then you could do worse than making one of them your hand."

[owenstark]

Owen often thought his brother scared women away with the cloud that came over his head. The Starks, for all intents and purposes were a family of that represented the potential in the North. They represented what the North should be and yet he thought his brother lived in the stereotype of Starks and Northmen. But his brother was a warrior, a fighter. And men who cut their teeth on the life's blood of their enemies had little to smile about.

Aside from the point was married to that Bolton and they were an unsettling family in their own way. Some would argue they were true Northmen and while Owen disagreed with that he would say they have more in common with the First Men of old. Arrogant savages mixing in with the bold and the brave, and for all their boldness, Owen knew a Bolton didn't lack in bravery.

"There are changes coming down. After the murder of Meera Reed, I'm in need of a new hand and I was considering Nasir Manderly. His daughter will marry my son, I think it matters to keep them close. Those it opens another council position." He paused in his steps and whispered to his page sending them toward the woman before he focused on Adam again. "And then there is the matter of your goodbrothers."

For a moment there, Adam thought he'd detected a sense of familiarity in his brother's gaze as he looked at that woman. But no, it wasn't familiarity, it was interest, it was the sort of intrigue that craved a resolution. The stranger was undeniably beautiful in that way unknown things can be. Adam didn't feel nearly as entranced by her, though. In his current state, somewhat dazed, somewhat detached, he passed through the world as a ghost, an enhanced version of his detached self.

Adam's shoulder rose with a bit of indifference at his brother's comment about the food. He'd barely registered the taste, really. He'd sat there, eating in a nearly automatic manner, feeling like bits of the night passed by without him being entirely present.

“Of course,” the lone wolf of House Stark replied, offering a subtle nod. He'd gotten tired of this all, as he mentioned, and he welcomed the opportunity to walk out for a bit. He also welcomed the fact that Owen wished to speak with him, share whatever it was that was going through his mind. “Is everything alright?” he question, gauging where the conversation might lead. He inevitably wondered if perhaps his brother wishes to talk about Rosa, about his marriage, thoughts that might have been triggered by the signs of admiration in how he watched that stranger.

[owenstark]

"I grow weary of everyone's attitude. I've not come to chastise anyone. I had no idea you were here." More and more, he sounded like their father. He looked like their father. And some days when he spoke he would swear it was that man's voice instead of own. Cassana wasn't like Alys. She didn't run off in a huff to prove something to no one and everyone. She didn't expect Owen to come to her every waking moment to ensure she was okay or not heartbroken over some mad bastard.

Owen didn't feel he cornered the market for exhaustion, his sister went through a lot. And perhaps it was a sign that she did not need to play soldier any longer. The longer he looked at her he saw a woman. Not a little girl. But a small woman who could do more than a boy her size. Yes, she was gifted with a bow. And she would be of more use doing something else.

"You will be Lady Commander of the Queensguard. You'll need to find some women to join you. It's an honor as high as the kingsguard. No longer will you see a field of battle, sister." The Lord Commander would stay with him. There would be fewer mistakes with him in charge. With a Stark taking control. "It allows you to watch the new Queen when there is one. Until then, your place is in Winterfell while we look for you a husband." It was better to discuss this now. While he was awake. Free.

where and when: late at night, in winterfell after everyone has returned home after the events in the crownlands. cassana is feeling the effects of a powerful surge of northern magic upon her unaware of a ritual of blood magic that had been done to help save her from umber.

@owenstark

the darkness of the woods stretched before cass like an endless abyss. through the dense canopy, faint glimmers of moonlight filtered down, casting shadows upon the forest floor. the soft sound of the leaves blowing in the wind, or the occasional almost haunting call of a nighbird. it was almost peaceful. but what else was lurking in those woods? what else was coming for them?

she couldn’t sleep. she didn’t want to sleep. she felt the nightmares ready to pounce on her. fearing the darkness that awaited her in the depths of her dreams. a sense of foreboding loomed on the horizon,a vision waiting to be seen. she could feel it.. it was as though a doorway to the unknown had been flung open, flooding her mind with a torrent of unbidden visions. but this felt so different than before. different than anything else she had felt before. why was this doorway opened now? and who had opened it?

"it's late," cassana's voice broke the silence, “you should be sleeping” her gaze fixed upon the expanse of the forest ahead from her view atop the winterfell walls.. she expected to see one of her siblings that, it was like they all could sense the air of concern and worry between them.. turning to face him cass met her brother’s gaze with a weary resignation, the lines of fatigue etched upon her features. "here to scold me about being up as well or being up on the guard walls?" she asked

[owenstark]

"Later, perhaps in the morning. It's better that way." If it were morning then he could see everything play out. He could see how the people around them interacted when they were working and carrying on throughout the day. For now they would need to focus, they would need to have a serious conversation and it would all be laid out. There was a problem and it started with Owen. The man before him was still too engrossed in his own ways. He had not adopted enough of the ways of a First Man. Nor had he appeared to assimilate if one asked Northmen who saw him.

"I believe you don't understand where you messed up. Lady Reed of House Reed was important to us. Important to Duke Karstark and more than him. The Reeds were a family as hold as House Stark. And next time, though I doubt there will be a next time, you will restrain a person that can be restrained. To drive a sword through a woman is barbery at best. And despite what some may say, Northmen are not accustomed to such things taking place in court."

Owen sighed, he didn't know where to go or end with this but he wanted to make it clear. There needed to be a requirement of people who joined the North. "I also don't wish to hear again how it would means something in Yi-Ti, that it is a reminder. This is not Yi-Ti. You work hard to stay in a place you've earned. And Seadragon will grow a result for your desire to see progress. The only way to move forward is to move forward. You're a Northman when you're hear. You and the Yi-Tish are of course allowed to celebrate your holidays, take part in your traditions. But understand that the ways of the North take precedence in many ways. And that include visions or reminders of dark times." Kings did not mince words. Starks did not speak in riddles. It was clear. Assimilate. The best way you knew how.

Sea Dragon Point had grown significantly during the civil war. Refugees found a new home in this land as well as other Northern folk who descended from expatriates of the Golden Empire. Culture was blooming, commerce was linked to the trade routes, a regional military force had been formed in the hailong legion, and religiously inclined individuals began to lead the ancient practices of the Maiden-made-of-Light. It felt closer to home. It felt closer to what once had been home.

Ren felt so close to the edge of losing it. Twisted words, an ancient fear, and a swift sword. That was all it took for him to teeter to the edge of finding himself twice banished from a place he cherished. The King in the North did not banish him, however, and he did not execute him either. Renshu couldn't help but wonder if Owen's justice had been halted because the king knew who he would be truly killing if he gave his head to Brandon Karstark.

“The people have made it their home and wish to see this place grow,” he answered as he walked with the king. A local identity had begun to build itself here, which led the inhabitants of Sea Dragon Point to push forward. They devoted themselves to their work, to achieving each task they set for themselves for the sake of their community. “I'll gladly give you a more extensive tour of the town later if you wish, your grace”.

Ren took the next words of the Stark king with silent respect. To this day, he still debated whether or not what he'd done had been right even as the rest of the realm passed its judgment far quicker. Meera Reed's words had not been coincidental. Her frightening demeanor around Queen Rosalyn had been no small thing. He acted swiftly. Too swiftly. A decision made in split seconds was bound to haunt him, and he had to learn to live with that. The soldier bowed his head low, a gesture that was both respectful and apologetic. “Duì bù qǐ,” he said, for there was no equivalent in the common tongue to express that. I'm sorry. I'm unworthy. I owe you. All of those sentiments tied into one. “How may I continue to serve you, your grace?”

[owenstark]

Rumor has it Nicholas Lannister has taken a northerner for his mistress. Will his future wife be made to deal with such circumstances? Or will the Lord make a legitimized bastard into the next ruling lady of Lannisport?

@nicholaslannisters @anya-snow @casterlygldcs @owenstark

[owenstark]

who: @jin-renshu summary: while traveling through the north, owen makes his way to sea dragon point to speak with renshu about changes he wants to make regarding the others position in his realm, and changes to rules and roles.

The population of Sea Dragon Point was experiencing a boom. He noticed it as travelled and made their way to meet with his Lord Commander and speak about what has transpired. The death of Meera Reed hung over the heads of the North and the council. There were men who sided with Duke Karstark and those courtiers took their leave when their Duke returned to his lands. The rift caused by the little King saw those who followed the and the First Men under Duke Manderly to take an equally hard stand on their beliefs. The North was fractured by everything and he needed to bridge those gaps.

"It's good to see there's been much progress. I heard tale war didn't reach the lands. Many of the wood cutters were able to continue their works as instructed." Owen walked with his Lord Commander through the apartments the King would be staying in until they reached his solar. He took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs over sitting behind the desk. This was going to be a long conversation.

"The death of Meera Reed has shaken the realm, disrupted the council. I 've made the decision to not take your head at the cost of my brother, the hand of the king. Nothing will change that, even if I changed my mind today the damage is done. I know you believed you were doing what you thought best. You did not." Owen leaned back in his chair. "Next time, you are not to make decisions based off what you know from Yi-Ti. You're in the North. Should there be a new queen and someone grabs her wrist, cut off their hand instead of cutting their throat." Owen didn't know how he felt about it all. He knew that it would set a bad precedent to kill the Lord Commander for doing his duty. The next person could take hold of his arm and the new lord commander could hesitate long enough for the King to die.

"Duke Karstark will not be returning to Winterfell, not for the moment. Perhaps one day." He doubted it. "For now we must discuss your place at court."

[owenstark]

Owen stared at him briefly amused at his comment. "If don't wish to speak, my lord, then you can take your leave." There was an irritation that he locked away, his words flat for a moment. Owen could almost feel something in him that concerned him. Something that almost scared him in a way. He didn't know who this person was that was waking up within him. A stranger. A man his father didn't prepare him to become, who would he turn to? Big brother, King. Lord Paramount. Protector of the realm. A realm he shared with them.

"Heats worse in Dorne." He remembered that trip, his skin turning reddening before it tanned. Owen would have spent most of his time in the water if it wasn't important for him to spend that time building connections and increasing the trade strength of the North. "It would be quite nice spend more time in the camps. It's much cooler at the night. The Riverlanders have a nice tower. By the water. Much cooler." They were on good terms with the Riverlands perhaps he could make himself useful and build connections through his whining.

Owen smiled, "the drink is flowing free one would be a fool to not enjoy it." His eyes scanned the people walking around them. "You have hold of Greywater Watch right? Given to you by the Duke of Karhold?"

Aleksander respnded to the King's words with a downright awkward nod. Was he not here to do the same? It was obvious, no explanation required.

What did surprise him, however, was that at this time of day even, the King in the North seemed to be drunker than Aleksander Karstark, which was a feat in itself. He couldn't help the snort that escaped him. The one who still speaks to me. "It would surely be rude not to speak to the king, and my standing is not high enough to keep my head on my shoulders." The retort was dry, tinged with bitter amusement, though no less honest. Aleks wondered if he shared the privelege of his brother. Sometimes he wondered if Brandon had any privilege at all, if his wife could be cut down without consequence. What separated a Stark blade from Aleks' own neck?

"It's too warm," Aleks almost immediately delved into complaining, a deep frown twisting his features. "And the company's shit. Hiding out in that cramped tower is impossible because of the heat, but nowhere in this city is much better." Petty relief spread in his chest to be able to speak so freely about the great city. Aleksander felt ready to climb out of his own skin at the best of times here. "Drinking helps, doesn't it?" he asked, eyes following the goblet chucked over Owen Stark's shoulder. "I understand, if anything. My hands are glued to the cups more often than not."

[owenstark]

who: @amirofmanderlys summary: during layat-al-ikhlas king owen stark visits white harbour as the starks have always done during this holy holiday. the tradition not strange to owen due to his time in white harbour. though he never takes part. after the breaking of their fast he has a meeting with amir manderly the evening before his departure. context: this is after amir's return from skagos and set after the death of the queen of the north.

Owen wanted to wait until they had their meal before he made the request for Amir to meet with him. Yes, Owen Stark is the King but he learned one thing from his father and it was when you visited the home of another you carried yourself as their guest and not their better. Men did not respect those who came into their keep and started to order them around and Owen wouldn't be the first.

"Thank you for taking this with me, my lord." Owen didn't spend his time here drinking his black beer and eyeing the women. He never crossed those lines with women of the Old Way. There were traditions, rules, and a matter of respect for the people. It wasn't the same as it was when he was elsewhere, no. And Owen Stark would never have disrespect for his people.

The North was an ever changing beast under the rule of Owen Stark and for every change he wanted to make, there were just as many changes that went against his desires. "I keep saying it, but, I am glad to see you returned to know and to know of your successes." The man before him earned a status upon his return, they would call him a legend. The only Northmen to not only go to Skagos in an Age but return a victor. "What are the chances we can take it?"

[owenstark]

When his wife died he receive the news his sister his was missing as well. Owen didn't take the time to process either. They sat on shelves in his mind and he would approach them later. When life allowed him to dust off the annals of his memory and feel it all. Brandon. Alys. Rosa. Only one remained and he imagined he would never see the living one again.

Much of it was his own fault. He should have put people in different positions, he should have listened to people when they said it was time for him to slow down. Owen Stark didn't like to listen to others. At the beginning of the conflict with the Umbers he say the cobbled road, where it stopped and how much they had to do, how far they had to go. He saw the improvements of Moat Cailin and the increased taxes from new villages and trade proved him right. Again. Northmen would be more than survivors.

In a generation they would speak about their southron wolf and all he sacrificed for the Kingdom that was thrust upon him after the mess of the dancing Dragons. Out of the flames came a kingdom came a kingdom reborn. His kingdom.

"I don't look forward to looking for a new queen." Owen murmured as he raised the hand carved mug of Honeywine Whisky from the Reach. A gift from their High Commander for the rate he provided in lumber for his building in the newly named golden sea. Another venture possible because of his drive.

"Alys could be dead. Brandon hates me as well. I need a new Hand. Perhaps a Manderly. Though, I've rather bad news for him. They will thank me in the long run."

closed starter for @owenstark

dacey leaned in towards the fire, letting the heat seek into her bones. it almost felt strange, that in the middle of such tumultuous times for the north, that they could find a moment to just be. 

it had been one thing after another. if that was overwhelming for dacey, she could not imagine how owen must feel. he was a king, but he was still her brother, and as a sister, she reserved the right to worry for owen the man, rather than owen who wore the crown. the loss of a queen was a blow to the north, but the loss of the mother of his children was what weighed most heavily on her. alysanne’s disappearance was similarly felt, but he had lost a twin. she couldn’t believe that just one of those things would not drag anybody down, let alone both in succession. 

she drew her knees to her chest, adjusting her skirts and wrapping her arms around them in a gesture that was both informal and child-like, something she had done long ago when they had both been far younger and less burdened. for once, her hands were still. 

she turned her head to look at him, taking a moment to simply observe before speaking. “what are you thinking about?” her voice was gentle - not obtrusive, simply wondering. “you don’t have to tell me. but if you want to talk about anything… well, i’m here to listen.”

[owenstark]

Six months was a good time frame, he feared it would be longer but it would be better for them. "Lord Manderly is quite spirited." And angry, sad, and grieving the loss of a sister who somehow survived her turmoil and still died in her bed. Owen thought it was better to die in your bed than it was to die in some tent or some cold, hard ground waiting for the summer thaw.

"It started that way, luckily it seems we will see an end to these wars and hopefully it will be the last for the North. At least for some time." Hopefully for his reign, but he couldn't say what would happen and he would never back away from a fight. It would unnorthman of him to be so cowardly. And while there were many who doubted him, many who called him a Southron king more than a Northern wolf, they were wrong. Backwards and poorly informed.

Owen nodded his head. "I will never fault you for taking care of you and yours. We have to protect our own homes before we can secure the houses of others." And it was a fact. Owen wanted to help her, he wanted to send men to the Vale but until they were secured it wouldn't happen unless the offense was so egregious they had no choice but to climb the mountain and raise their shields in the defense of the queen and her Eyrie.

"I'm here to listen to any offer that would diminish issues for us both." And he would take it. It would be far too helpful for him and his Kingdom to have something to cut down on the constant stream of conflict, turmoil, and battling. Death. There was so much death. He was sick of the smell of death, sick of the stench of rotting flesh and anguish. It would never leave him.

♟

"the knights of the vale remain sworn to the defence of the lands of the north, and the starks of winterfell." she spoke, her voice almost suggestive; what was issued was a line. a hook. a part of her suspected that owen stark had not been entirely pleased with the pickings, the order in which the marriages had taken place: and truthfully, she wanted to see. "though tell me, does my sister serve in her duties as queen?" ravella asked, her question a forward and bold one - and yet, the state of their marriage had importance to her. their marriage held the union together, as well as the children that had been born.

and should the king find his eyes upon a lowly common whore, that was no great matter. and yet, there would be a growing issue should his eyes land upon a noble woman, with an ambitious father and brother. this man would take a mistress - one look at him was enough to tell her that much. rosalyn needed to have some influence over her husband, especially when her husband was a king. she looked at him over the cusp of her drink, her gaze intense. always intense.

"the sisters needed to be brought back to the fold of court. the trouble with islands, now add having the giant's lance to the matter. we are not merely at a great distance, but in another world." ravella sat in the chair as she had been raised to, as though the arm rest would pierce through her skin - her posture was in direct contrast to that of the winter king. "my most trusted are overseeing an operation on the ground, with the intention of decreasing dissent. our estimated time span is six months." another sip, always maintaining his gaze.

there was something about this northern king which seemed to quietly perplex her, as well as in all honesty, cause a deep feeling of being unimpressed - it was no wonder that domeric was able to pull the wool over this man's eyes for as long as he did, to the point he had a princess spreading her legs for him in a garden of all places. there was a cocky persona that seemed to come from the king of winter, no doubt the result of immense amount of power and loyalty the starks festered in their people: and the fact that regardless of how many issues seem to shake the lands of the north, the starks always remained. even when leftover ironborn spread their pestilence upon the shores of the land.

"it is with the reaping from the sisters that the north will be repaid. i have asked an associate to reach out to the iron bank to inform of the matter, and further support your reference." that associated was domeric stone himself. she briefly wondered what he was doing on the sisters in this moment of time. hmm. "your lord manderly visited, to oversee the development. spirited young man, as we have been told."

the somewhat more lighthearted nature ravella had worn upon her being mere moments ago seemed to dissolve like acid as she took the seat, watching the way in which the man before her reached forward to take a drink; raising his mug and taking a long drink from it, as though he were drinking with his close lords in his feasting hall rather than across the table from the image of civility and majesty. her hand wrapped around the goblet of which he had poured for her, the other fixing the dark furs that wrapped around her shoulders, clasped together with a broch of white gold in the shape of the arryn eagle.

"it began to appear as though the wars would never end, your grace." ravella spoke, a clear allude to what it was she had to say in regards to the lack of involvement from the vale; this was not a war of defence, but rather a war of internal struggle upon the progressive vision of a king who was beyond his own people. she leaned forward slightly, one arm resting upon the table now, in a break from her uptight posture. "your grace would understand our lack of involvement; for we too have wildlings that need to be wiped out." and then there was a slight pause, her goblet being put down on the table. "i have an offer. it shall diminish issues belonging to you, and me."

[owenstark]

"I don't know who she is." Owen answered honestly, a shoulder rising and following as he glanced at his brother and then looked back across the room. His gaze broken from the woman as he focused on whoever walked by them. There was part of him that felt a guilt, he supposed. But that part of him grew smaller everyday. She was a good woman, being a good woman didn't mean they were a loving couple. They worked well together, she passed good laws. And the people loved her. That mattered.

"I don't like their food. The meat is fine. Not as fresh. Not as good." Much of the Northern food was something other realms couldn't stomach but when you moved beyond their staples for survival Owen would argue with anyone they had some of the best food in the realm. Owen's Cape boomed with the fishing and seafood being packed in salt and ice and coming around his realm. Soon they would all see.

"Talk a walk with me. I need to speak with someone that will be honest with me." And he wanted to check in on him, wanted to know how he was doing. He didn't seem himself, he seemed even less himself these days and that worried him and while he had a mind to notice he wanted to notice.

( tw: mention of drug use )

Adam didn't want to be in King's Landing. He was dreaming of the North, every single night his mind took him to the wintry lands of his homeland. A growing sense of anxiety lurked beneath the surface and when he felt that unease, the prince found himself reaching out for the pouch of black, iridescent powder, placing it beneath his tongue. It didn't quiet his mind but it didn't let it become worse. A tenuous standstill.

He joined the celebrations with his siblings and his wife, though, duty calling upon him not to cause offense, and to not make his absence raise questions. He would vanish later in the evening, but for now he only engaged when necessary. And when the noise and music began to bother him, the prince gravitated towards the closest family member he could find.

Adam took notice of Owen's intent gaze on a particular woman. He didn't think he'd ever seen his brother look at his wife with such unabashed desire, with such open interest. He glanced at his brother in silence as he stood next to him.

“Nothing,” the lone wolf simply stated, looking at the young woman who seemed to have captured his brother's interest, a siren captivating him not with her voice but with her mere movements. “I've grown tired of this feast. But I can see you have not,” he mentioned, no criticism or judgment present in his tone. “Who is she?” he asked, curious to learn who it was that had drawn in his brother in such a way.