[center][h2][color=f26522]Prince Gerald Crakehall[/color][/h2][/center]

Gerald was struck with a feeling of breathlessness, maybe it was the tight clothing he was forced to wear, a long black coat, held together in the front by a silver boar pin, it was near strangling him, and his nipples felt more chafed than they had been in a long time. But it may also have been due to the fact that he had finally returned home, nine years in the cold wastes up north, he thought he'd be happy to be warm over one night.

The Others take the heat.

He had struggled and sweat all night, five blankets and none of them were useful, he eventually fell asleep with half his body under the blankets and the other half out. And even then he sweat like a fat Reachman eating grapes. But hey, he was home, he had explored the castle again, there was still old bottles of his medicine in the cabinets, expired years before he even left for the watch. He stood looking out his window down at the courtyard, where he'd watched Brynn and Tyget training, day after day. The old yellow stepstones still laying under the sun. He smiled to himself, resting his hands on the windowsill and soaking up the sun. 

Two knocks rang out from his door, Gerald's eyes looked behind him, but he didn't look for long, continuing to allow the warm sun to beat down on him. He pushed his body down, resting his chest on his arms.
"The door's open." He allowed himself to say, though he was enjoying his solitude.

The door opened with a creak, and a smell of flowers entered the room, it tickled Gerald's nose, he moved it from left to right, trying to stop himself from sneezing, but he couldn't stop himself, and he sneezed loudly, almost sounding like a dog barking.
"Oh my, Gerald M'lord, are you bleeding?" A soft voice, like velvet or silk, the sound Gerald remembered most about his adolescence. He turned around, covering his nose, he looked in her direction, quizzically, and he smiled beneath his hand. Lady Charla Kenning, his wife, well, former wife. He still remembered the first time they met, when the betrothal was announced, he was bedridden, one of his worse days, he had been bleeding from the mouth all day. She had walked in with his father, and they both gasped when they saw the amount of bloody red tissues that laid around him, his father called for a maester, but Charla came over and massaged his chest until the maester arrived, it made him feel better, though it didn't help his cough.

A few years later, they were married, he, a short skeleton, she a beautiful woman, well, at least by his standards, she had a round face and a flat nose, brown hair and a shining smile, most would consider her fair at most, but she was the only one who ever showed interest in him. The consummation was difficult for him, he was barely strong enough to finish himself! Nevermind her. Despite that, she cared for him, he was a sick child, and she was his maester. He was in love, though the toxic environment at home made his visits with her uncomfortable, and he left for Essos.

During the crossing, he cried himself to sleep every night.

And now he was home, and there she was. She was just as he remembered her, considering she was fourteen and he was nineteen when they married, she still had the look of childhood about her, now that she was thirty, her pale complexion had darkened slightly, now she was more yellow than pink, her young face had aged, not to the point of wrinkles, but to the point where she appeared like a Lady, not a girl.

Gerald continued covering his nose, rubbing it a bit to clean off the updraft from his sinuses. He rubbed his hands together to clean his hands and put his chin up.
"I'm not the sick little boy you married M'lady." He said, chuckling to himself as he finished. Charla gasped and was taken aback when she got a good look at him, her eyes going up and down over him. He put his arms akimbo, smirking with raised brow.
"Like what you see?" He queried sarcastically. She continued to scan him, before smiling and walking up to him. They were about the same height, and they looked into each-other's eyes. 

Then her face turned cold, the corners of her mouth lowering and her brows near touching through folding skin. She raised a hand and smacked his cheek. It sent his head to the right, his body still straight. Gerald looked back, his face neutral.
"I get that a lot." He quipped, but then she raised her hand again and he apologized with his eyes as he damn near balled up. She looked at him again, the same face of tranquil fury, then she thumped over to his bed, taking a seat and glaring at the wall, as if the wall had hit her or something of the such.

"Why am I mad at you Gerald?" She asked angrily, accusing him with her tone. He stood back up, rubbing himself down.
"Because I left home without a word?" He answered, rubbing at his thighs. She looked back at him, the corners of her mouth nearly touching her chin.
"No, because you left your medicines back here, you barely took any at all!" He immediately felt a fire light in his chest, mixed with a sinking feeling in his abdomen. He gestured angrily, shrugging with open mouth and raised eyebrows.
"Why did you care? You weren't ever going to see me again!" Charla stood, stomping over so that they were two feet away from each other.
"I loved you Gerald! I wanted you to be safe!"
"Did you? Are you insulting me? Are you saying I cannot handle myself?"
"You moan like a babe Gerald! A broken man stood before me, and then he was gone, of course I worried!"
"Broken I might have been, but I didn't need a mother to fuss over me while I lived my life, while I followed what little hope I had." She breathed angrily through her nose, planting a finger in the indent of his chest.
"You were a fool to leave." Gerald could feel his sweat beading on his forehead.
"I was the smartest man in Crakehall to leave, no one cared about me!"
"I cared Gerald!"
"You cared for the weak broken man I was, not the man I wanted to be! I wasn't your husband, I was your babe!" She backed up, still frowning, but visibly calming.
"Then why do I still care?" Gerald opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He threw himself to the side, continuing to look out the window.

"I care about the man, just as I cared about the boy, I love you Gerald, I know it's hard to believe, and I didn't believe it myself for a time, but you're still my husband, as I am still your wife." Gerald's face was still twisted into a growl, but he took a deep breath. He stood back up slowly, turning towards Charla.
"We will have to remarry, I swore my vows and now I have to break them." Charla smiled, rolling her head to the left, then patting the bed beside her.
"Please join me, It's been too long since I last helped that cough of yours." And so he did, it didn't go any further than hugs and chest-rubbing, and Gerald enjoyed their talk much more than any fuck. 

[hr]
[center][h2][color=ed1c24]Daenys Targaryen, The Maester[/color][/h2][/center]

"Talk of shooting arrows accurately always makes be replace the word arrow with piss." The archer laughed at Daenys' statement.
"I can put piss in a squirrel's eye from ten feet!" The archer replied, putting on a dumb voice as he did. They both laughed, Daenys moreso, to the point that he continued when the archer stopped, getting an odd look. Daenys had found the archer travelling through Dorne, he was a part of a band of miscreants that set upon the "maester", capturing him and bringing him along as they went North. The archer was assigned to guard duty, and eventually Daenys struck up a conversation. The man had an odd way of speaking, his voice drifting along like a stream and never harsher than that, his skin black as the rock that they build Dragonstone with.

Eventually the archer took their gold and fled, bringing Daenys along with him.

He'd told the man of his real identity, and his purpose in travelling, and with promise of wealth when Daenys took the throne, he joined Daenys on his way.

"This weather though eh?" Daenys said, trying to make small-talk, the weather was pretty bad, overcast skies and high humidity, it was cold as well, just an overall bad atmosphere. The archer looked at him, nodding in recognition.
"Yeah, it is very odd isn't it? Isn't the Reach supposed to be sunny?" He asked. Daenys shook his head, looking back at him.
"I guess not." They nodded, then went back to riding.

After a few minutes, Daenys noticed a black bird flying over a nearby forest. His eyes opened wide.
"Shoot that bird!" He yelled, pointing at it. The archer jumped in the saddle, looking up at the bird. He quickly took out his bow, taking an arrow from behind his back and shooting the bird, it fell out of the sky, falling into the trees. The archer looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Why did you have me do that?" Daenys grinned, rubbing his broken arm for a second.
"That was for the Citadel, to send for a maester, looks like that maester is coming sooner than expected." Daenys began to laugh through closed teeth. Eventually transitioning into a full laugh. The archer moved his horse a few feet away, giving a look of confusion and worry.

"I love when a plan comes together."