westeros-rp

[westeros-rp]

asteri of lys.

Near the end of the Prince’s life, Asteri of Lys vowed that she would oversee his passing into the next world. Guided by her faith, the foreigner vigilantly kept watch over the dying man, listening intently to his labored breaths as she muttered prayers late into the night and into the early morning hours. Asteri sat at his bedside, completely still, as servants frequently passed through with eyes fixated on the former Red Grace. Despite the bond she had developed with Nymeria in the short time she resided in Dorne, others were hesitant to fall behind the Princess on the matter. Inhabitants of Westeros, in their own strange values and traditions, maintained distrust of magic, foreign gods, and foreign whores. Despite some discouragement from the Prince’s council, Asteri defied their discomfort by seeking residence at his bedside.

“You,” the Prince wheezed, suddenly overcome by a violent coughing spell. The air around him was putrid, the sickly sweet stench of death lingered in his immediate vicinity. The air around him was hot, moist. His paled fingers were gripped around her wrist; they were frigid, his fingertips black from lack of circulation in his blood. The former priestess found herself on her feet instantly, startled. She instinctively whipped her hand back, only the Prince would not let go.    

“My Prince, please, don’t say another word, let me fe—”

Asteri, shocked out of her typically serene disposition, could not find it within her to call out for someone. Prince Elric’s eyes were wide, dulled to an almost greyish yellow hue, and glazed over with disease—locked on hers. Asteri remained fearfully still. Through his clenched jaw emerged a hoarse sob as he fell back onto the bed. He pulled her close. “Such eyes you have, my child,” he cried tearfully, and began to wail loudly. The servants rushed into the chamber, Asteri finally finding an opportunity to break free of him. She thought the man delusional, mindful that his time was drawing near. The god of death was awaiting him at the threshold.

“I-I’ll fetch Lady Nymeria,” she told a servant, trembling. She stumbled into the hall in a daze, pale as if she had looked into the eyes of the god of death himself. However, she composed herself and sauntered down the halls to Nymeria’s bed chambers.          

The Prince would lose his life that very day. And for weeks, Asteri resided at Nymeria’s beck and call despite her rather brief mourning period.

It was a peculiar time to say the very least. In the passing days and weeks, Asteri was plagued with the images of the night of Prince Elric’s passing. She would contemplate his final moments in her own time, quite frequently in fact. She grew quieter than usual, devoting much of her idle hours to her practice. There was a part of the young foreigner that grew quite detached; the privileged life Nymeria had so generously offered her soon became mundane, despite the small joys that seeped into the monotony of the days.

That is, until the day both she and Nymeria’s company were requested by The Queen in Blackmont. She saw the two alone. The Queen tucked a sealed note into The Princess’s hand, “I will leave you both with this. It arrived a few weeks ago in King’s Landing. I had my own letter which instructed me to not open yours. Again, my condolences, dear niece.”  

The silence offered nothing to the passing minutes, until they were left alone in each other’s presence. Asteri sorted through her own emotions to find the right words to speak to Nymeria. Never had Asteri anticipated having audience with The Queen of Westeros... and, never in her greatest nightmares could she even fathom what followed.

She searched Nymeria’s face as she read the letter aloud, confusion overtaking her expression.  

“Asteria Sand, bastard daughter of Prince Elric Martell,” she uttered aloud, her mind toyed with the strange name, now hers. “My name is Asteria Sand.” There was grim laughter in her voice, all on account of disbelief.  “Asteria Sand...” Nym repeated. Nymeria felt numb and hollow. Memories of her beloved father were tinged a little differently now. He had never said anything. He had barely even seemed shocked when Nym had brought Asteri into their home and had her stay. Nym began, “I’m not quite sure how I feel. Father never—he loved my mother....and we are around the same age....I think I may faint.” Asteri echoed similar sentiments, fighting the tremors through her body at this realization.  “But this letter says that Sand is your name. This is Father’s writing and his symbol authenticated the letter. He just never told us....after all this time.”

Asteri had never known a father’s love; and such a circumstance brought her a sense of relief, though she was knowledgeable of what it meant for Nymeria, what it meant for her place in Dorne. She was a bastard, no doubt, though she still retained a place in Dornish court. The very idea of such a responsibility loomed over her head. She stared at the ground in contemplation. “No,” her voice riddled with dismay. “This name does not belong to me, it never belonged to me. It is not mine to claim.”

“We can go back to Sunspear and figure things out....look through his journals...” replied Nymeria.

Asteri hesitated before speaking, sighing deeply. “Forgive me, Princess Nymeria, for what I am about to do.” Tears began to pool in her eyes, her voice shaken through clenched teeth. “I thank you for taking in a stranger, a whore from a foreign country... for giving her a home and an opportunity to serve at your side.” Asteri couldn’t bare look at her sister, her eyes downcast. “I do not belong in a court, nor Sunspear—nor Dorne. I am, and will always be Asteri of Lys.”

“Asteri... you’re not leaving. Of course you belong in Dorne. Even before all of this—or rather along with all of this. You’re Asteria Sand—”

“A name which does not separate me from any other Dornish bastard—” She swiftly tore the letter from Nymeria’s hand. The Red Grace ripped the parchment in two, then again—and again. “—wait, what are you doing Asteri, that’s the last thing my father possibly wrote—”

“What of a document when his blood courses through your veins, through our veins? You are the rightful heir to Sunspear; this piece of parchment serves you no purpose.” Her voice was raised, as she stepped toward her.

“Eventually my memory will fade, Asteri. I’d like to keep everything of him I could. He is my, our father. This is everything.”

“How sad for you,” Asteri began, her voice somber, “that your memory must be defined by things. Will you erect a palace for everything The Prince has touched, then?” Asteri instantly regretted what she had said, however she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t take it back, conscious it would be the final push she needed to sever the ties which bound them.  

“How—” Nymeria shoved her, her voice filled with rage. “We took you into our home. We made sure you were entirely comfortable. That you would not have to spread your legs like the whore you’ve been. All I’ve ever asked of you is to keep one sheet of parchment and you insult me? Me?” There was a pause, and suddenly, Asteri’s head whipped sideways from the force of Nymeria’s palm as it struck her face. A hot sting lingered and dulled. There was a moment of silence. “Forget it. Do what you will.” Asteri remained frozen, her eyes locked on the ground with brows furrowed as tears streamed down her face. She grazed her burning cheek with her fingertips, then stood straight, and strode past her.

“Until we meet again, my dear sister,” Asteri murmured as she passed.

At sunrise, she departed Blackmont on foot, with only the clothing on her back and a pouch full of coin.

weeks later, king’s landing.

The streets were astir in King’s Landing from the moment she set foot onto the Street of Silk.

Asteri, for the life of her, could not call to mind the occasion. However, the bustling cavalries with their noble banners flown overhead signaled the coming of new clientele. In her time at King’s Landing, Asteri found her place, a brothel known as Chataya’s which upheld quite the reputation discreetly catering to highborn ladies and lads from all reaches of the seven kingdoms; with a carefully curated selection of foreign beauties and their exotic talents. Why, the Madame hadn’t even looked twice before extending an invitation to join their collective. The wages were promising, though the gentleman and lady-callers were of a particular demographic Asteri possessed little interest in.

The Red Grace followed the sea of the city’s inhabitants toward the Red Keep, armed with curiosity of the events at hand—a grand tournament of the great houses was among the day’s topics. Still, she remained on guard, as the emblem of Sunspear danced in the distance—and only gods knew what Nymeria would be planning in retaliation for her destroying the last confession of Prince Elric. She imagined the outcomes could be grim. However, Asteri had no interest in such interactions, far removed from the frustrations she experienced last she saw the Princess of Dorne.

Clad in a barely-there gown, she settled within standing room among the commoners and drunkards near the jousting pit. “How much for you, two-bit Sally?”, a drunk called out, his breath and sweat wreaking of stale alcohol, piss and shit. “Not for sale, bugger off,” replied Asteri with venom in her tone. “C’mon, fancy a copper?”

“Fuck off and let me work,” she replied listlessly, jabbing the man in the ribs with her elbow as she made her way toward the front of the crowd.    

[westeros-rp]

nymeria martell

Nymeria stood quietly as she looked over the orange groves her father had loved so much from her balcony. She and Dorne had lost Elric Martell three months prior. After battling illness for weeks, he finally slipped into the night. Dorne had gone into immediate mourning. Sadness fell over Sunspear as the people mourned the loss of their leader. Despite her pain, Nymeria let all the windows and doors be open on the grounds of the estate. She opened up parts of the castle and into the sept to let the people in to mourn and pay their respects to their Prince. As she had promised her father, Nymeria forced herself to only mourn for a few days before focusing her attention to bettering Dorne and strengthening their relationship to Westeros. A few days after Elric had been buried, Nymeria had been crowned Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. She was the sole heir to the crown. 

Today, the day before she was to leave for King’s Landing, was the first day she had felt most at peace about his death. Her mind and nerves were wrapped up in King’s Landing. The sun would set soon and she watched as the handmaidens finished harvesting the ripe blood oranges for the day. They had been working on a nearly daily basis to prepare for the trip to King’s Landing. Dorne’s gift to the crown would be an offering of oranges. Nym, and Dorne, would once again be swearing fealty to the crown and celebrate the birthday of Reina. 

The sound of someone approaching jarred Nym out of her thoughts. Outside of her beloved handmaiden, Dyanna, few chose to actually approach Nym in the past few months. Kaegan and Asteri were also among the exceptions. However, only one tended to come calling via balcony. Nym glanced over the edge and was mildly surprised to find Kaegan. She had figured that he would be elsewhere, preparing for the trip. Nym tried her hardest to not seem so excited and definitely ignored the feeling of butterflies as Kaegan began to climb her balcony. His behavior was typical and something he had done since they were children. But the fluttering feeling was new; realizing itself a few weeks ago when the sun had kissed his skin at the perfect angle and then proceeded to infiltrate her dreams.

<b><font color=”#C75430”> “Kaegan,”</font></b> Nym greeted with a soft smile. 

<b>“Nym,”</b> Kaegan greeted in response. Nym mentally noted his playful mood, he had not climbed her balcony so often in the past few months. For a moment, Nym felt as if the past few months had not happened. That she had not been thrust into a position of immense power and into a game she wasn’t sure she wanted to play. Either way, she was entertained by his climbing. 

<b><font color=”#C75430”> “We should take a walk through town,”</font></b> Nym suggested, moving to playfully push him back down the balcony. Kaegan made a noise and fell backwards. Nym’s heart sank immediately as she rushed to the edge. She had certainly injured him if not damn near killed him! <b><font color=”#C75430”> “Kaegan!,”</font></b> She yelled. Her concern immediately stopped as she was confronted with his playfully laughing face. He dangled easily from the side of the balcony. Nym pursed her lips, <b><font color=”#C75430”> “I will never concern myself about your wellbeing ever again,”</font></b> Despite rolling her eyes, Nym smiled as he continued to laugh. <b>"There, that's the smile that blesses Dorne."</b> A moment later, Nym swung her leg over the edge of the balcony and jumped down easily into his awaiting arms. After a few minutes of gentle ribbing, they were off, arm in arm, to walk the town.

They ended in the gazebo, in the center of the palace’s orange grove. They stood together near one of the ornate benches, taking a moment to catch their breath. Nym’s thoughts briefly wandered to a moment a few years prior. She and Kaegan had been only teens and he had chased her into the gazebo. After the fit of laughter, she had leaned in and kissed him. Nym had not let the moment last. She had ended up playfully punching him and then running into the castle. With him standing so near, she felt her stomach flutter again. She could smell the subtle scent of cologne, pleasantly mixed with whatever else he had been involved in that day. Before Nym could stop herself, she found herself leaning into him and pressing her lips against his. 

Needing to catch her breath, Nym pulled away but hovered close. She was tempted to run. She had once again crossed a boundary between them. She had wanted to. She still wanted to. But a small part of her felt complex feelings about Kaegan and duty to Dorne began to mix with all the uncertainty that had swirled in her since her father passed. And she found herself not breathing again  as he had yet to entirely react. Her wondering did not take long. Kaegan swept her back into another kiss, wrapping her tightly in his arms. This moment too did not last long. Perhaps Kaegan, as he often did, reminded himself of his position in relation to her. <b>"Nym--"</b>

Nym shook her head, <b><font color=”#C75430”> “please, do not question it.”</font></b>. Encouraged by his reaction, Nym leaned in again, kissing him longer and beginning to tug on his clothes.

--le skip--

The loud chirping of birds woke Nym. Her eyes fluttered open and it took a moment to register that she was still in the gazebo, snuggled up to Kaegan. He snored softly next to her, blissfully unaware that it was still morning. The morning that they were supposed to leave for King’s Landing, which she still was not entirely packed for. She could hear the clamor of the handmaidens as they prepared to begin their daily harvest of the oranges. It was well past the time that Dyanna would come to wake her.  <i> “shit!”</i> Nym chastised herself quietly. She quickly moved out of Kaegan’s hold without disturbing him and pulled on her slip. Nym gathered the rest of her clothes and quickly made her way back to the castle. 

--weeks later--

<b><color=#C75430>“Ouch,”</color></b> Nymeria huffed as Dyanna pulled a brush through her hair. <b><color=#C75430>“Careful, Dy. Please.”</color></b> Nymeria quietly swore to herself as the carriage bumped along and Dyanna again tugged through her hair. The Dornish party was quickly approaching King’s Landing and Dyanna and Nymeria were fretting over her appearance. Everything needed to be perfect. She would be facing the Kingdom and her Aunt, the Queen. 

<b>“I’m sorry, princess...but you know how your hair gets after a wash.”</b> Dyanna responded. She had finally combed through the tangles and was trying to make quick work of Nymeria’s hair. Dyanna brushed a little bit of makeup and pinched Nymeria’s cheeks, <b>“to accent your best features. You are beautiful, my lady, and will radiate throughout Westeros.”</b>

<b><color=#C75430>“Thank you, Dy. How are the oranges and saplings?”</color></b> Nymeria asked as Dyanna zipped her into her dress and smoothed the flyaways in her hair. Dyanna fixed the emblem of House Martell to Nymeria’s breast and adjusted any misplaced threads. 

<b>“Perfect still and looking as if we had picked them yesterday. I think your father truly is shining down on us.”</b> Dyanna commented. Nymeria nodded with a soft smile before opening the window of the carriage to look out. King’s Landing lay just in the distance, towering over the nearby landscape. Its red-capped buildings almost reminded Nymeria of Dorne, but Dorne had a warmer hue and seemed so much more inviting. Looking at King’s landing, Nymeria felt apprehensive: it looked like a place that could make her wildest dreams for Dorne come true, but also bring her own demise. She should not think like this. She was armed with her father’s years of knowledge and driven by her own clear purpose. 

<b><color=#C75430>“How much longer?”</color></b> Nym called out to her traveling party. After some shuffling, Kaegan responded with a few minutes. They had barely spoken throughout the duration of the trip. Nym wasn’t sure how she wanted to handle him and the idea of him yet. 

Nymeria walked down the cavernous hall, her shoulders tense but appearing relaxed as she followed one of the castle's servants to the throne room. They were going to present their gifts to the crown, presenting themselves in front of the royal family. Nymeria was flanked by her own four maidens who strode confidently behind her. Each one was dressed similarly: in muted orange tones and a gold bracelet that wrapped up their arms, their hair braided in crowns around their heads, and the sigil of Dorne pinned to their breasts. The two front maidens each held a large basket of oranges and the back two each carried two orange tree saplings. Dyanna and the few others that joined their traveling party were getting the carriages and horses situated before joining them. Nymeria paused before the doors and took a deep breath. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, urging her to best represent Dorne in this mostly foreign land. The doors before her swung open and revealed the throne room. 

It was a remarkable. 

Nymeria paused by the doors as she entered. On either side of the aisle stood a row of guards from the door all the way to the throne. The King sat on a tall throne, stacked high with iron swords and towering over the room. His children, the crown princes and princess sat on either side of him and were looking towards her. 

A squire announced her entrance, <b>“Nymeria Wylla Nymeros Martell or House Martell, Lady of Sunspear, and Princess of Dorne. She is accompanied by Ser Korban Dayne, Knight to Dorne, and four maidens.” </b>

Nymeria pulled her shoulders back and walked confidently down the aisle, her maidens trailing behind her with her gifts in hand. Once she reached the end of the aisle, her maidens stopped as Nymeria sank into her curtsey. She was poised and elegant, taking into consideration all the lessons her tutors had given her in her youth. Address the highest ranking person first, then their relations, and then her purpose.

<b><color=#C75430>“Your Highness, Princes and Princess. Thank you for your invitation to King’s Landing. We bring these oranges as a token of our gratitude and a gift to Princess Reina and her birthday. We also present four orange saplings that will bloom beautifully in a few months' time.”</color></b> Nymeria spoke as she flashed her signature kilowatt smile around the room. <b><color=#C75430>“I also would like to extend my gratitude to Princess Reina and her gracious offer to host us. I cannot thank you enough.”</color></b>

The maidens stepped forward and handed the gifts to the Crown’s own servants before stepping back in their own bows and moving to stand behind Nymeria. 

Nymeria curtsied once more before turning on her heel and walking out of the throne room once she was dismissed. Nymeria followed the maid that had led them to the throne room back through another part of the castle to her guest chambers. There was only one window in the room which the Targaryen maid immediately crossed to and opened when they entered the room. 

<b> “I hope the room is to your liking, princess,”</b> the maid commented. The woman continued to fuss about the room: she opened the door to a small balcony and turned over the pillows before dismissing herself and leaving Nymeria alone. Finally, a moment to herself. Nymeria likely only had a few minutes to herself before the maid allowed Dyanna and Nymeria’s other maidens to burst into the room and also began fussing about the room.

<align=center> --later in the day or the next day--</align>

King’s landing was noticeably cooler than Dorne. Yes, it was summer but she kept hearing whispers. Something about how “Winter was coming” or something of the sort. Nymeria had noted it but had yet to inquire any further about it. She was concerned with learning the players and linking faces to these houses she had been learning. Even walking through the castle, she had caught bits and pieces of names and how certain houses regarded one another. She was sure that she would hear more throughout the joust or would be able to see how everyone interacted with one another.

Dyanna trailed behind Nymeria as they headed for the jousting pit. Princess Reina had invited Nymeria to sit near her in her audience box. It had been a long time since Nymeria had interacted with the Princess or any of her siblings. 

[westeros-rp]

Was it too late to turn and run? Likely, especially now that they had finally made it too Kings Landing, she had been fairly excited for this trip at first. That was until halfway here she mentioned how she already missed the Dreadfort her father rather bluntly announced that she would be missing it, even more, when she returned to Winterfell with Rickard. By some miracle, she had kept her composure when she inquired as to why she was going to Winterfell with Rickard when they hadn’t even wed yet? Roland had apparently come up with the genius idea to just host a small wedding at Kings Landing, his reasoning being that anyone they would have invited would already be there. Plus it would save him coins, because apparently it was just too much of a hassle planning his own childs wedding. If it hadn’t been for her dear handmaiden Anri’s comfort and Vordt letting her blow off steam by smashing a barrel to bits with his mace, she probably would have smashed her fathers head in with the mace instead. 

What was the bloody point in plans when her father was a massive indecisive ass that didn’t think telling her that her wedding had been moved up was all that important? She should have figured out his plan beforehand, even though he was getting old and dumber by the day her father’s wit would make itself known on occasion. She spent the rest of the journey to Kingslanding biting her nails to nothing as she tried to come up with plans on how to delay this. Before realizing there was really nothing she could do, not amongst so many Nobels, she briefly tossed about the idea of exposing her brother Rupert’s romantic relationship with her guard Victor. Yet she knew she would need that later, something to dangle over his head when her father did kick the bucket and he took over the house. She knew she should have smothered the old bastard six months prior when he was bed-bound from a rather horrid cold. His breathing had been so labored, it would have been so easy to get away with it. 

At least she had her wedding dress, Anri and her deciding to bring it along so they could go shopping for fabric while in the capitol and work on it there. Boudica had actually taken an interest in the dress, wanting it to be worthy of jealous looks from other women. Yet it appeared they wouldn’t have much time to make it any better than it was now. Boudica found herself to upset at this point to think of it, telling Anri to handle it herself as she thought if she was forced to look at it too long when she was this furious she might rip it to shreds. She could trust Anri’s skills, half of her wardrobe being thanks to Anri’s skilled fingers and the wardrobes that her mother and stepmother had left behind upon there deaths. When she wasn’t thinking about ways to off her father while he was still close she found herself stuck on thoughts of Rickard. 

Anri liked to call him dashing, Vordt claimed he seemed like a decent man….Victor agreed with Anri that he was Dashing when Vordt was out of earshot. Was she really the only one upset with the match? Well, she had two reasons, she didn’t want to leave the Dreadfort, second being Rickard wasn’t exactly what she had been hoping to marry. Seeing as the only chance of him ever taking over his family is if every one of his brothers kicked the bucket as well as any children they had. She knew she wasn’t the only woman that would have been upset with this. Seeing as she was her father’s only daughter she figured he’d agree with finding a match for her that would at least be closer to taking over his house then Rickard. 

There were good things about him, things she was trying her damndest to ignore. He was sweet, now being a Bolton equaled many things, even if she was a woman there were very few that thought she’d enjoy things like flowers and all the times she had the honor of meeting her bethroed he had presented her with flowers. Pretty ones as well, that he had picked himself! The last person to give her a flower was one of her father’s knights and he boldly proclaimed afterwords that they looked like lady bits and maybe they were as pretty as hers. There was a reason he was no longer one of her father’s knights, daddy dearest was still willing to defend his daughter’s sweet virtue. Rickard seemed like a genuinely kindhearted soul, that was very far from what her family was, and was considered even though she put up a damn good facade.

These thoughts had consumed her once more, she found herself leaning against a random pillar gnawing away at what was left of her nails as she tried to get her mind off Rickard and onto whatever plot she could scrounge up to by herself more time. “So this is where you’ve been hiding?” Boudica stilled her back going straight as she turned to face the other man in her life she wished would just walk off a cliff. Rupert, her solom looking brother. “What does he want?” she hissed out. Rupert flashed her annoyed look rolling his eyes as he made a display of throwing his leather cloak over his shoulder. Showy bastard. “Guess dear sister, he’s quite concerned as to why you haven’t approached your affianced,” Rupert spoke Boudica turning her back to him once more. “I will approach him when I’m ready,” Boudica huffed blowing a piece of curly hair out of her field of vision. “You know just as well as me that’s not what father wants to hear...do you really want to attend your wedding sporting bruises?” Her brother’s words made her throat go dry, if there was anyone that also knew of her father’s cruelty from first-hand experience it was Rupert, and for once she would have to agree with him. 

Yet she would never give Rupert the satisfaction of verbally agreeing with him, instead she rather childishly shoved her way past him. Taking in a few deep breaths her usual smile returned to her face, now where would she be able to find Rickard. Likely with Tacita Stark another individual she was going to have to worry about. Marrying Rickard equaled her also being thrown right into the wolves' den. After all the things her father had told her of the Stark’s why did he think marrying her off to Stark’s current first in command was a good idea. No that was a stupid question she knew why he thought it as a good idea, the Stark’s distrusted the Boltons as much as the Boltons distrusted them. This was probably his way of trying to prop up the shaky bridge that was their allegiance to the Starks. Her father might be awful but he was not a fool when it came to the game every Noble house in Westeros played. So Boudica started to follow the trail of individuals she knew tended to stick close to Tacita, and her intuition seemed right as she spotted Rickard not far from the redheaded Stark watching the various trivialities of the Royals. 

Composing herself, for what felt like the hundredth time today, she made her approach. “Rickard,” she called out his name, a sing-song undertone to her voice as she flashed him her sweetest smile, though her eyes didn’t seem to show the same sugary overtone she was putting forth. Yet unlike their usual hidden malice they actually seemed to show her worries. Taking in Rickard he hadn’t changed too much since their last meeting, but she could see he seemed rather anxious. At least she wasn’t alone with that. Growing closer to him she gave him the smallest of curtsies, “I’ve been scouring Kings Landing for you, silly man.” she teased, shrugging off the blatant lie, but it wasn’t like he had gone searching for her either so why should she feel so bad about it!? “I’m sure your brother was informed, we’re to be wed while in Kings Landing….I hope you’ve come prepared.” there was a sharpness to her last statement, coated in her usual sweet tone. 

With her hands tucked behind her back and her most innocent look on her face she waited for his reply. “I suppose we are getting married this weekend” He did seem a bit off today? Was he truly this nervous over their marriage, or was he just nervous to be in a place like Kings Landing? After all this was certainly far different from the North, and she found herself missing the North already herself. "Yes, my father only informed me halfway here....what a wonderful surprise." The slightest twinge of sarcasm slips into her voice before she corrects herself. "Needless to say I will likely have to see if I can get some of the servants to drop my things off at Winterfell. I'll have to send out a Raven later today." She takes a few caution steps towards him, before stopping to stand at his side. "I hope you could ask Lady Tacita to have a few of her men be on the lookout for my things if they arrive before our return." She mutters, she really hoped that someone would be willing to receive her property, she actually had quite a few sentimental things that she rather not get destroyed by being left in the snow. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were not notified of our upcoming nuptials...I apologize. We received notice just prior to leaving Winterfell.” Rickard nods, “I can ask her. Taci is incredibly kind. Would you like any other arrangements?” She wanted to tell him that she was clearly kind to him because they were dear friends. Yet she was sure if she approached Tacita herself and requested such things it would be a very different response. Boltons and Starks have always butted heads "You haven't had many conversations with my father, have you? I'm just lucky I thought to bring my wedding dress."Boudica rolled her eyes, Rickard was lucky she wished she knew less of her father the more she learned about him,"I do not wish to strain Lady Tacita any further, I'm sure she is already very busy." She gives Rickard a tight smile. "Though I would like to make arrangements with you, if you have any free time It would be nice to enjoy your company. It's only right for us to try to get to know one another a little more." Where did that come from? She usually wasn’t caught off guard by her own words but here she was asking the man she was trying hard to continue to despise to allow her to get to know him better. 

“Our interactions have been limited.” Rickard comments, Boudica was not surprised her father didn’t bother getting to know the man he was marrying her off too. He almost did the same with the first man he attempted to wed her to, but by the grace of the old gods he listened to Boudica when she insisted it was a poor match. “She is happy to help and will be in attendance as well.” He smiles, and her heart leaps in a way that made her want to rip it out of her chest and toss it into the nearest body of water as he speaks of Tacita’s willingness to help. “I have the afternoon free. We could take a walk around the grounds or the garden” He says, "Well, your very lucky then." She'd state letting out a small sigh in comment to him not having spoken much with her father, Glancing at Tacita not far from them, "I suppose...that my handmaiden could use assistance finishing my dress. If she has anyone skilled with needle and thread. I'm unsure if I will have time to help myself. Anri will be ever so grateful for the extra hand and so will I." She says, already feeling bad that she was leaving such a hefty responsibility on her handmaiden."You like plants? So the gardens sound lovely. I feel as if you'd like to spend time there anyway?"She asks, she was a bit interested to see what sort of plants they had here, surely they had many things that she had never seen before. 

“I’m sure we can find someone to help.” Rickard nods as she spoke, “that is one way to say it. I’ve enjoyed botany and the like since I was young. I would enjoy to have your company in the gardens.” Smiling widely at him, unsure if it was faked or genuine for once. "I hope so, I sent Anri and Vordt into town to find some more fabric for the dress since she'll have to remove the heavier layers. They shouldn't be too long." She tilts her head. "Ahhhh, so you know quite a bit about plants then? I must admit, I don't know much myself, and we don't exactly have much variety in our plants at the dreadfort. Perhaps you can teach me some things as well." She says, a bit embarrassed to admit her lack of knowledge, she liked to pride herself on knowing things that most women didn’t. Yet plants weren't exactly something she ever had the opportunity to study, her father wasn’t exactly an avid gardener, nor her many deceased relatives. The plants they grew were for necessity and nothing more.

[westeros-rp]

Even in a grand palace her life still seemed a mess, Vaemera had been woken up early, not from a desire to but from horrible dreams. Muddled messy dreams of things she hoped weren’t visions and just her poor brain’s way of tormenting her further. To be safe she wrote down the details of her dreams in a separate journal from her visions that she would be plagued with during the day. Tucking both in a hidden compartment of the large decorative cedar chest at the base of her bed. Hopefully, no other soul would ever come across them, unless she presented the journals to them herself. She was already aware of the many whispered rumors of her at Kings Landing, she didn’t need anyone coming up with solidified proof that she was mentally flawed. 

She wound up watching the sunrise from the window in her room, wrapped up in the cloak of her deceased husband, petting the soft white fur of the massive thing to soothe herself as she dreaded the day ahead of her. Her father had already instructed her that she was to dress in her best, as lords and ladies from across the land would be in kings landing and he was hoping she’d catch the eye of one of the unmarried lords. So she could be whisked away again, to a place she’d probably despise. She got lucky with Waylon, and she only realized the full extent of that luck when he had died. Waylon had allowed her so man freedoms, had loved her unconditionally, and provided her with her precious son Nikolai. Who knew what sort of individual she’d be forced into a marriage with now. Her father would likely assure it would be a lord in need of an heir, her father was all about giving the Targaryens as many ties to other families as possible, anything to help his brother and the throne. Vaemera was nothing but a pawn, well at least that’s how it always seemed to feel. She was sure past her father’s steel-plated facade that he cared for her, well she knew he did, but sometimes it was so hard to tell.

Her handmaiden Helena pulling her out of her trance, Helena helping her dress as they discussed their plans for the day. There was only one thing she was excited about, and sure she knew it was something she should be ashamed of, but what could she say, Sae was a very skilled bard, in many ways. It was fun to plan certain things. Helena soothing her further by diving into chatter, Vaemera simply nodding along and listening as the older woman braided her hair and pinned it in a decorative manner. Sometimes she wondered what it said about her that simply having someone chatter in her ear comforted her. 

Silently telling herself that she’d try to have a good day, most of the time her good days consisted of a good book and the company of her friend Janne, sometimes Vae swore that Janne was the one thing the fate had given her that would never sour. The one thing she liked about being in Kings Landing is that Janne was here, as well as friends she had previously made in her life. Though Aedric hadn’t had much time to waste with her lately, as she left her chambers she told herself that she would see if Aedric would like to go for a ride later this week and that she would find Janne and find a quiet corner for them to waste there day reading in.

The first few hours of her day were spent greeting lords and ladies her father had instructed her too, having presented her with a list she had memorized the week before of individuals he wanted her to focus on. As much as she hated playing this role she knew she had no other one to play. Maybe by chance, she could actually find a decent lord that her father would also approve of. Once she had finished this task she had retreated to one of her favorite places, a set of tables laid out on a balcony that most people seemed to forget existed. Of course, she wasn’t alone, her two guards Sebastion and Dorian by her side, she didn’t understand why her father insisted on her having them. Did he really think someone would want to harm her? Probably, she was sure there were souls wanting to slit her throat solely for being a Targaryen. Unfortunately for the two men, she was quite good at slipping away from them, which was exactly what she was plotting now. 

Dorian was lounging in the door frame the usual look of sheer annoyance on his face, Sebastian stood tall and ready on the other side of the door. Sebastian the dutiful soul he was took everything seriously, Dorian was his own brand of dutiful, he tended to take everything with a heaping teaspoon of salt. She felt a bit bad for Sebastion as he was far from his home in Kings Landing, having been born and raised in White Harbor, she knew for a fact that Dorian was happy to be back at Kings Landing. Seeing as he was rather unhappy when Vaemera married Waylon and her father told him that he was to go with her and continue his duty as her guard. As constantly irritated as Dorian was he was a good conversationalist, plus she often found herself giggling over his and Sebastion’s constant catty banter. 

Setting her book down she decided it was time to put her plan into action, letting out a series of coughs she was not surprised when Sebastion quickly turned to her with a look of concern. Continuing to cough she waved him over, Sebastian moving quickly to her side.“Sebastion, my throat is feeling quite strained, can you please go to the kitchens and get me a cup of tea.”Vae spoke flashing him a wide-eyed pathetic look, “Yes, of course, I’ll be right back.” Sebastian said scurrying off as if he had been given the most important task of his life. Dorian scoffing, “Lady Vaemera, you know that fool gets lost every time he goes in search of the kitchens.” Dorian spoke, Vaemera feigning a look of surprise, of course, she knew this. “Well then, I insist you hurry after him and help him find his way,” Vaemera spoke tilting her head slightly she watches as his eyes narrow. “I insist.” she spoke once more putting on her best do as I say expression, Dorian pulling a look of disdain, “We’ll be back soon, do not stray far,” Dorian instructed her before quickly making his way off the balcony as well. 

With her guards disposed of, she quickly rose, taking her book and making her way off the balcony as well, feeling a bit giddy, she had told Sae to meet her in one of the nearby towers. Usually, she tried to keep her bard by her side, but her father had asked her to allow him to perform for some of the guests. Saeyoung was a beautiful musician it would not be fair of her to horde them. Now Vaemera had never been one for flings, and affairs, having been devoted to her husband completely and very insistent on men not touching her in her youth. After all her father had made it clear that she should keep her maidenhood for her husband unless she wanted to be branded a whore. But, she was allowing herself to enjoy Saeyoung in more ways than one, she couldn’t claim to love them, but she did adore them. She was sure most would label her a whore for such things, so she was very careful about how she went about them. It was only between the two of them. 

She regretted a bit picking a tower to meet him in, knowing it probably hadn’t been the easiest for him, and maybe wasn’t so easy for her as she took the steps hurriedly and found herself out of breath when she finally reached the top. Was she that out of shape? Letting out soft huffs she briefly rested before moving into the room of the tower. Looking about, “Saeyoung?” she whispered out hesitantly, moving over to the large window that gave you a large view of the rest of the castle. Memories of more innocent days fluttering to the forefront of her mind, recalling many days spent sitting on the tower floor reading over books with Aedric and trying to teach the crown prince how to dance with his clumsy large form. Even with how much she hated Kings Landing she did have good memories in certain spots, mainly focusing on her cousins, brothers and of course Janne. Yet this place just seemed to call to the blasted visions that plagued her, and if there was one thing she truly hated about her very being it was them.

[westeros-rp]

The tower he stood on still amazed him every day, no matter how many hours he had spent on just admiring the great Hightower of Oldtown. There were far more complex buildings in Essos; from the Valyrian-inspired architecture of the Free Cities to the grandiose creations of Old Ghis, as well as breathtaking constructs of Yi Ti. Still, the sheer size of the tower on its own was amazing to Matarys. Standing behind the topmost aesthetic crenelations was always a joy - the boy could see the surrounding lands clearly and observe a new thing every day. In fact, he swore he'd gazed at the enormous wall on the other side of the continent on a clear day. "Come, Matarys. Your belongings are waiting outside the tower gates." The old maester's wispy voice made the boy pull his fingers into a fist while he turned to the man, as if he was irritated by the archmaester interrupting his daily routine although the truth stood elsehow. "Thank you, archmaester. I know the tower well, I believe I should be able to find my way downstairs." The acolyte turned once more, looking down at the Oldtown ports. But something was wrong. Far too silent. The old man behind him hadn't made any noise or shuffled his feet to move down the stairs. Matarys turned once more, his piercing gaze now a fierce glare. An inquisitive raised eyebrow made the archmaester speak again, "I'm afraid I must accompany you. You can lead the way, if you wish." A bright smile on the man's face spoke loud enough. He wasn't frightened of some spoiled adolescent, no matter how volatile the young man had proven to be. Matarys easily towered over the man, too, as he walked beside him and down the staircase. The bastard had already abandoned his cloak, instead wearing his new outfit specifically made for his Westeros endeavors. An obsidian black gambeson strapped tightly against his body from throat to knees, precisely decorated with red and gold accents, and a small belt along his waist to hold up what looked like a shortsword's sheath. Tight leather boots hugged all the way up his leg, to his knees as well, with only his face and hands as visible skin. His maester's chain, halfway complete (Matarys had finished about seven links of his chain, six of those silver), was wrapped around his left shoulder, almost reaching his elbow. The shine of solely silver and valyrian steel chain was a strange sight to most maesters, even moreso with the chain hung around the boy's arm rather than his neck. The tower being so large also meant it took some time to reach the gates, a journey down the many stairs that wasn't exactly pleasant for the archmaester that silently trailed behind the tall boy. No weapon was allowed inside the Citadel, and the old man's eyes flickered to Matarys' sheath more than once. He'd seen it before, three years past when the bastard enrolled into the Citadel. A pure black shortsword, that the maesters knew well to be dragonglass. The sword had its guard and grip made of valyrian steel, which made the maester wonder why the boy hadn't opted for a valyrian steel blade instead. Alas, the man had been told to swallow his pride and let the boy wear and wield what he wanted, as long as he quit the Citadel for good. With no comment of his chain, Matarys walked out of the gates in between the two sphinxes and turned to greet the maester one final time. "I wish you fare better out there, Matarys." the old man spoke, distate clear in his voice. "And I wish you the best of luck, Maester. Lords know the realm needs it, too." A disturbing grin ruled over his lips as he spat his venom. The maester slowly closed the gates, and Matarys turned to freedom. His advisor had responded to his raven in time, traveling to Oldtown and now had already started packing Matarys' chests onto the wagon. The older man pointed his workers around, until he saw his master. "The wagon is ready, your Grace. Have you any other tasks here?" High Valyrian was sure a relief to the boy's ears, and for the first time seeing his slave made him exhilarated. It meant he was back, back outside of that tower and back outside of those dusty libraries. "We ride the wagon into Oldtown, we can't forget Jaos (val: dog)." he replied in noble tongue, quickly seating himself in the horse carriage as they rode into town. One particularly loud inn was their destination. Matarys went in alone, letting Lāra (val: crow) and the three slave-soldiers guard the wagon. Having never entered a peasant inn such as that one, Matarys had some trouble orienting himself with the loud noise and overcrowded space. His target was easy to see, however. A man one head taller than the young bastard - with copper skin and green stripes similar to that of a tiger's running along his neck and face. "Jaos, come." Matarys spoke, having walked closer to the man who sat alone at a table - two wenches dancing around him in attempts of seduction as he drank his ale. The soldier was quick to react, pushing the women aside and stepping closer to his master before starting to lunge down to kneel. The boy caught his shoulders, pulling the slave back to his feet as he spoke again. "Stand. Not here. Come, we're leaving this shithole." Hearing Bastard Valyrian as Matarys swore brought a smile to the slave's face. Matarys was his master, but the previous three years without him had truly been uneventful for the Volantene slave. The two men walked back to the wagon and set off for their long journey.

one week later

Lara's suggestion to enter the Citadel three years ago had been good counsel. The massive library was obviously the primary benefit, along with being hidden from the royal family. But the ravenry had been a massive aid that none of the two had foreseen. Lara had advised they stay in Essos until the political climate was softer for them to land in Westeros, but Matarys had insisted on sailing west. Now, the climate would shift because of his moves. The young bastard was a player in a game of chess without anyone knowing about it. His carriage was flanked by five horsemen per side, two leading before the carriage, and four more protecting the rear. Jaos hung on the carriage, a heavy arm wrapped around one of the wooden pillars of the window. "Our girl is riding the Kingsroad as we speak, she should be there just in time for the feast," Lara informed, keeping track of numbers on his thick book. "Then, the Royal Family should be stuck in their city until the coronation." the man continued with a shaky old voice. "Yes, yes.  This way we can move without distractions," They had opted to ride the dirt roads that branched off the Roseroad, traveling through forests, hills and rivers in orrder to avoid the jams of the Roseroad. With King's Landing feast coming up in a couple days, most of the noble houses from the Reach would be traveling that route. Instead, Matarys ordered his slaves to follow along the sides of the Roseroad, that way they could have eyes on any opportunity to cross beyond the road and continue north of the Reach. As it was, they would be following the curve of the road which would take them towards the Stormlands. Matarys concluded it might slow them down by one day or two at most, but that was a small sacrifice compared to the possibility being seen; what was more suspicious than the sight of a foreign carriage flying no banners riding exactly the opposite way of the Capital? Surely with the night – when most noble carriages would stop riding and camp overnight – Matarys could find open spaces along the Roseroad and ride across.

[westeros-rp]

HERE IS AN EXAMPLE

[westeros-rp]

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec quis nulla nisi. In varius urna nec finibus placerat. Mauris varius tristique risus quis viverra. Curabitur pulvinar consectetur lectus, vel viverra lacus scelerisque et. Pellentesque tortor nulla, varius quis sagittis ut, vestibulum vel massa. Aenean fermentum sit amet risus id ultricies. Vivamus porttitor sit amet urna id dictum. Sed at magna ante.

Donec porta elementum blandit. Mauris ac nunc nulla. Aenean nisl turpis, facilisis id arcu consectetur, elementum interdum eros. Praesent dui quam, molestie lacinia lacinia quis, ultricies quis arcu. Mauris eget nibh magna. Nullam commodo turpis in mauris placerat egestas. Maecenas suscipit nisi nibh, sodales commodo arcu sagittis a. Maecenas at ultricies purus. Proin pharetra sem a ipsum fringilla ultrices. Nullam vel neque semper, eleifend sapien ac, dictum risus. Morbi lacinia commodo enim, quis elementum dui sollicitudin sit amet. Aenean id urna id dui scelerisque bibendum.

Maecenas tincidunt vulputate imperdiet. Phasellus massa arcu, faucibus sit amet dolor luctus, vehicula sodales orci. Vivamus nec consectetur purus, sed dictum risus. Nulla facilisi. Etiam iaculis nisl nibh, non vehicula mauris efficitur vitae. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Nullam iaculis dolor ac nisi semper, non convallis velit tempus. Vivamus vitae fringilla est. Etiam ornare quam at faucibus vestibulum. Vestibulum nibh est, gravida vitae odio ac, volutpat tristique justo. Mauris pharetra maximus pretium. Donec non urna tempor, molestie arcu at, aliquet justo. Quisque egestas fringilla massa, sit amet rhoncus mauris sodales a. Nullam ornare erat non consequat vulputate. Sed efficitur metus ac vestibulum suscipit. Praesent facilisis euismod elit vitae consequat.

Quisque gravida velit eget elementum fringilla. Vivamus mollis, justo id egestas tincidunt, ligula urna porta magna, dignissim tristique ex nulla sed dolor. Ut in velit ac nisl volutpat dictum eget non ligula. Praesent consectetur ipsum nunc, non posuere est viverra non. Aliquam iaculis libero vitae odio dictum, vel rhoncus enim congue. Duis molestie in ligula ullamcorper imperdiet. Sed sed urna sed ex eleifend aliquam id vel risus. Donec a libero enim. Integer tincidunt faucibus augue, vitae fringilla lectus porttitor eu. Sed at pellentesque turpis. Vestibulum sit amet dui at dolor tempus lacinia quis sit amet purus. Morbi et justo elit. Etiam tempus nulla lectus, dapibus sollicitudin risus pretium id. Aenean et sapien dui. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos.

Vestibulum lorem ipsum, ultricies sit amet ipsum id, dictum rhoncus ex. Praesent id pulvinar nisl. Nulla id arcu odio. Etiam dictum elit at tellus pharetra, nec laoreet diam aliquet. Nam vel tristique urna. Aliquam sagittis tellus felis, sit amet ultrices lorem sollicitudin sit amet. Etiam congue tristique purus, eu molestie arcu sagittis vel. Fusce quis augue augue. Ut eu diam in turpis vulputate gravida. Nunc hendrerit id nulla et semper. Vestibulum posuere lectus massa, vel volutpat sapien ultrices quis. Sed tristique scelerisque purus, ut bibendum turpis fermentum sed. Sed lorem magna, placerat sit amet dui eget, consequat tristique mi.

Praesent maximus dui imperdiet consequat eleifend. Nam mattis ornare elit eget sodales. Duis ultricies nisi vel ex vehicula tincidunt. Praesent finibus lacus eget dui vulputate, eu convallis leo consequat. Suspendisse metus ligula, facilisis nec semper vitae, scelerisque ac purus. Quisque viverra sagittis lectus quis eleifend. Nulla cursus ullamcorper tortor, a malesuada ipsum porta et. Vivamus sed efficitur neque.

Nulla pretium rhoncus augue, et ullamcorper elit sodales vel. Cras eleifend nulla ante, eget suscipit purus sollicitudin sed. Vivamus non tortor non nisl auctor euismod a vitae eros. Aliquam ultricies eleifend faucibus. Nulla facilisi. Vestibulum vestibulum nisl et libero euismod tincidunt. Mauris nec odio ante. Donec non sapien ullamcorper, finibus ante sit amet, interdum elit. Integer aliquet mi tellus, a ullamcorper magna gravida in. Nunc hendrerit bibendum magna, sit amet euismod ante efficitur ut. Curabitur rutrum velit a laoreet imperdiet. Nullam egestas eros vitae diam posuere, sed pretium tellus pharetra. In non viverra dui, et suscipit metus.

Vivamus non diam enim. Aenean et tellus ornare, sodales leo ut, facilisis nulla. Nunc sit amet faucibus quam. Integer imperdiet ut nunc ut volutpat. Ut fringilla, ante eget semper euismod, nisi nisl ultricies sapien, nec interdum nisi nisi quis nisl. Donec tempor lobortis odio ac tincidunt. Aenean feugiat vestibulum justo nec ornare. Cras imperdiet suscipit finibus. Pellentesque laoreet mi vitae mi dapibus, sit amet aliquam lectus vulputate. Pellentesque eget magna sed nibh pretium tempor. Integer non rhoncus ante. Curabitur lacinia quis massa sed lobortis.

Phasellus sit amet viverra erat. Suspendisse placerat cursus mi, sit amet vulputate eros dictum ac. Aenean sollicitudin felis vitae dui pharetra finibus. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; Sed lectus risus, tristique nec consectetur in, accumsan non ante. Quisque nec mi eu orci pharetra feugiat. Nam lacinia cursus leo quis finibus. Duis ultrices maximus arcu quis aliquet. Nunc ornare fringilla velit, sed lobortis lectus placerat et. Nullam feugiat iaculis dolor, et hendrerit ligula suscipit et. Nulla ac elementum tellus. Nullam a risus vestibulum, porta orci in, consequat est.

Donec non hendrerit tortor. Sed nec luctus lectus, sed volutpat nisi. Mauris non dolor augue. Praesent malesuada tellus laoreet, posuere massa vitae, vulputate risus. Nullam nec rhoncus elit, id rutrum ligula. Phasellus finibus urna non sollicitudin euismod. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ac nibh blandit, efficitur lectus sit amet, eleifend odio. Aenean fringilla purus at tortor varius venenatis. Praesent ac odio pulvinar nunc iaculis euismod id sed libero.

Mauris non semper magna. Nulla ante lorem, consequat nec porttitor nec, facilisis in ante. Donec risus tellus, sollicitudin faucibus volutpat in, sagittis efficitur mi. Praesent ipsum nunc, porta sed turpis ut, scelerisque mattis lacus. Vivamus non felis ornare, blandit metus id, tincidunt turpis. Fusce facilisis justo sit amet finibus maximus. Duis aliquam nisl ex, sed tincidunt turpis lobortis eu. Mauris sollicitudin, magna non feugiat elementum, risus justo euismod nunc, eu eleifend neque ipsum vel mi. Quisque bibendum aliquam feugiat. Etiam nec velit consectetur, luctus nibh vel, congue dui. Vestibulum mattis magna eget velit molestie ullamcorper.

Ut vitae consequat massa. Integer id nisl vehicula justo malesuada varius id ac nisl. Sed porttitor, urna vitae hendrerit consectetur, ex enim tincidunt lorem, vitae semper lorem tortor eget ipsum. Aliquam erat volutpat. Aliquam in ligula in libero congue rhoncus non sed leo. Nunc mattis aliquam est quis accumsan. Sed dictum felis tempor sodales tempor. Pellentesque consectetur metus ac tortor efficitur posuere.