[center][color=Plum][h2]Conspiracy of the Mad[/h2]
[b]Starfall - Vorian[/b] [/color][/center]

[i]Stranger take them all![/i] Vorian was in a foul mood, skulking about his private library. He picked up items only to slam them down, angrily shuffled the piles of parchments that had taken over his desk. His face was a deep set scowl, his neatly trimmed beard even seemed to stand on end as a wave of anger roiled. The parchment contained some translation to complete a set he had been working on for nearly a year now. He had just looked at it the night before, before he had succumbed to restless sleep. 

His lady wife, Nymella, had approached, likely drawn by the noise that had sent the servants scattering. They knew better than to be nearby in his moments of rage. She said nothing, as she stood in the doorway, she watched him intently, but knew he needed no prodding. It seemed his [i]friends[/i] had retired already for the night. They told Vorian whatever he wanted to hear, and left her to do the real work.

Vorian returned her gaze, his eyes frantic. His tongue worked in his mouth, delayed to finding his words and pushing the frenzied thoughts to coherence. “We are the blood of an ancient and mighty empire. The last descendants, we are meant to be a bulwark of day against the death of night.” Spittle flew from his mouth as the texts converged together in his mind. “Instead we scrape our knees to the Rhoynish invaders of Sunspear. And they in turn force the heavy weight of tainted Valyrian bastards upon our backs. My own father sold my sister to them. And she has already whelped for him twice!” He wiped his chin with his arm but carried on with a crazed look coming to his dark violet eyes. “It is they who should bow to us. We brought the world from the brink of extinction and extermination into a glorious dawn. Yet these bastards and their simpering great houses ignore their duty to us and the world, so that they may instead play at war and peace with each other rather than prepare for true threat.” He was sweating profusely,  his dark hair slick as rivulets trickled down his face. Anger, exhaustion, lingering drunkenness mixed into a volatility that the Dayne household had become too familiar with. 

His lady wife looked back at him thoughtfully, and though she cared not for whatever it was he found in his parchments while in his cups, it was a useful thing after all. “My lord husband, if it is as you say - and I’ve no reason to doubt you though such matters are beyond me - what do you do now?” She spoke flatly, certainly her family held no love for the Targaryens, but words were wind; she had to know if he could be molded for more. 

"Pah! They travel to Summerhall to celebrate the end of summer. As if that is some cause for celebration. The Starks are an insufferable lot but at least they half-remember." Vorian was losing himself to a tangent, but he caught himself. "Now is the time. With so many eyes elsewhere, we may make moves without being perturbed." He turned back to his desk and searched for missives he had hastily scrawled.  “Now is the time, before that asshole cousin of mine can usurp what will be mine when father dies. You will help me contact the other houses who at least remember that the Iron Throne does not rule in Dorne. I will lead them, as soon as Ryon is dead and Dawn returned rightfully to my hands.” 

Vorian slumped against the desk, exhaustion overtaking the rage of mere moments ago. His wife approached at last to take the missives from his hand and the rest off his desk. She had work to do, though her husband need not know of it. “Go rest, I will do as you bid.” Before she could walk away, his hand grasped her arm, and she bristled coldly. 

“Ryon will be dead before that tourney ends.” Vorian twisted her wrist in his hand, watching the pain flicker across her eyes though she remained stoic as always. “You will bring your relations to heel.” 

The heir to Starfall watched as his wife walked away to deal with sending out his calls. He had paid good coin for a man to slit his cousin’s throat. Now he needed only to wait.

[hider=TL;DR]
This was short, go read it.

Fine...the heir to Starfall has come to believe in an absurd consspiracy theory and has plotted the death of his cousin so that he may claim the sword, Dawn.[/hider]