__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ [size=2]This master directory displays active participants categorized by their primary region of operation or origin.[/size]
Quentyn Ball’s life has been one lead in the pursuit of uncompromising martial prowess and endless ambition. As the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep under Aegon IV, he was promised a place in the Kingsguard, a goal so consuming he forced his wife to join the Silent Sisters in preperation of the neccesary vows. When Daeron II took the throne and passed Quentyn over for a knight of House Wylde, he created one of the greatest champions of Daemon's cause.
It was Quentyn who extracted Daemon Blackfyre from King's Landing just as the net was closing. Since the start of the war "Fireball" has see the greatest success of the generals loyal to the Black Dragon. He descended upon the Westerlands with fury, defeating Lord Damon Lannister and his son Tybolt at the gates of Lannisport. During this brutal campaign, he slew Lord Lefford and Lord Penrose's sons, sparing but one in his pursuit of victory.
Following his success in the West, Quentyn is driven by the need to maintain the rebellion's momentum before the loyalists can reorganize. He seeks to unite with the main Blackfyre host to crush the remaining Crown forces in the Reach and the Riverlands. His ultimate goal remains the Iron Throne, not for himself, but for the student who truly understands the value of a warrior's oath, or simply out of personal vengeance.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Notable Skills: Capable battlefield commander and accomplished warrior. He is more renown for his use of the mace than the more delicate and poetic weapons of knighthood.
Prince Maekar Targaryen is the fourth and youngest son of King Daeron II Targaryen and Queen Myriah Martell. Born in 174 AC, he grew up in a court increasingly defined by the integration of Dorne and the simmering resentment of the Marcher lords. Unlike his eldest brother Baelor, who inherited their mother's Dornish features, Maekar possesses the classic Targaryen look: silver-gold hair and violet eyes. All that blemishes these quintessential Targaryen looks are the pox scars which mark his cheek. He is a man of a prickly and brooding nature, although his own personal slights never overpower his true care for those close to him.
Maekar was made the Prince of Summerhall, a newly constructed residence in the Dornish Marches. A lavish gift for a fourth son, some feel this may spite the two middle princes, but in truth Daeron granted Summerhall to Maekar not to be idle, but to keep the attention of his most hawkish son on the bellicose Marcher lords. Despite his youth, he has already established himself as a stern and capable military leader. He was married to Lady Dyanna Dayne, with whom he has already begun his own line, further anchoring his responsibilities to the realm and the defense of his father's controversial policies regarding the Dornish influence at court.
As of 196 AC, Maekar’s primary motivation is the defense of King Daeron II’s legitimacy against the uprising of his half-brother, Daemon Blackfyre. He views the rebellion not merely as a political threat, but as a personal affront to the succession and the stability of the Seven Kingdoms. Maekar is determined to prove his worth as a commander and a son of the dragon, seeking to suppress the insurrection through sheer martial discipline.
He currently operates in a command capacity alongside his brother Baelor. Maekar seeks a decisive military conclusion to the war, against which the Blackfyre forces will be crushed, ensuring that the lechery and chaos of their father Aegon IV's reign are finally purged from the realm.
_________________________________________________________ House Seat: Starpike _________________________________________________________ Region: The Reachmarch
◼ Appearance: A small and sensible woman the Lady of Starpike is neither outspoken or bold in the slightest. In fact she is quite skittish, preferring the company of her books and children to any gathering or ball. She is terribly thin and quiet, and it is often remarked that she might blow away on the breeze and none would know of it, because she wouldn’t wish to raise her voice and bother another person to call for aid. Her long blonde hair is tied back in neat braids and kept strictly in good order. The lady would never dare to be seen in public without her cheeks powdered and hair well made.
◼ Biography: Antonie was always a bit of a romantic as a little girl. She dreamed of being swept off her feet by a noble knight, and they would recite poetry together and spend their days beneath the Reachland stars gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. Her husband to be did arrive one day, in the form of a seventeen year old squire who saved her father’s life in a battle on the Mander. He might not have been the most handsome of men, nor a poet by any stretch of the imagination. In fact he was quite sourmouthed and surly. They never once sat beneath the stars and it took much effort for the man she was betrothed to even say he loved her. Nevertheless he was strong and brave, and he did not dishonor himself or betray her trust and for that Antonie could say she was grateful.
They were married, and lived together in Antonie’s father’s hall. They traveled often to tourneys or feasts throughout the realm. Though Antonie would have much preferred to stay at home she did not offer complaint, and thankfully not much was asked of her. Only to be present when her husband Gorman Peake rode the joust or attended a lord in some distant hall. She provided her husband three beautiful children, which became Antonie’s entire world. The eldest Able was a brash and rough and tumble child often getting into mischief and causing a ruckus. The second was her daughter Ellen, a cheery little girl as bold as her older brother and all smiles and elegance. The last was Meryn, who took much after his father. Sour and brooding with little patience for nonsense, he would attend his play with a seriousness not befitting someone of his tender years. Antonie loved them all, even her husband whose surly nature grew on her after years in his company. She never could have expected everything would change so fast. First came word from Starpike that Gormon’s family had suffered a terrible loss, and that his father was on his deathbed. They traveled for the first time to Gormon’s ancestral home, where he was now heir. The comforts of her father’s hall were scarce here, and her friends could be reached only by raven. Then came the summons to war, and Gormon departed, taking Able and riding northwest at speed with his host in tow. This is how Antonie found herself, a shy little woman with no experience in such matters and no one to teach her, commanding three castles with skeleton garrisons and circling enemies on all sides. The sand vipers to the east, an irate and thorny rose to the west, and a looming dragon in the north. Antonie can only pray for son and husband’s safety, and learn swiftly to prepare Starpike for the building storm that was about to be unleashed upon it.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Gormon Peake ◼ Age: Thirty ◼ Appearance: Board and muscular Gorman is the very picture of a Marcher lord. He is proud as he is tall, and possesses a short temper and a terrible wrath against Dornishmen. His speech is more befitting a barracks than lordly hall which does not serve to make him many friends, save those who recognize his martial talents. His hair is dark, and his features seem crudely carved from granite. His complexion is darker than the average Reachman, touched by the sun and weatherworn. Even in his relative youth there is a slight receding of his hairline, which is accentuated by his close cropped styling of his head and beard.
◼ Biography: Born the third son of a lesser lord, Gormon Peake always considered the path of war and service to be his only way forward in life. Raised in the martial and spartan upbringing in the small yet proud keep of Starpike he worked diligently to ingratiate himself to a demanding father in competition with three capable brothers. During his squiring years he served a Ser Tarly, joining the Reachknight in several campaigns against the Dornish, and one combative dispute against fellow Reachmen. Gormon became knighted at the age of seventeen for his courage and skill in the Battle by the Mander. Witnessed in his dubbing by several important lords including Lord Florent and Lord Amborse amongst multiple other knights from noble houses. His actions on the Mander earned him a betrothal with a daughter from the line of Ambrose by the name of Lady Antonie, and he wed her when she came of age two years later. Gormon remained in the service of House Ambrose for seven years, living in their hall. His good lady bore him three children. Two sons, named Able and Meryn, and his daughter named Ellen. His eldest son is of squiring age, and is in service to Ser Unwin Peake, Gormon’s younger brother. Gormon attended several tourneys in these days, earning notoriety in the melee at Lannisport, and the joust at Longtable for his spectacular performances at arms. He became famed for his duel against a Northern knight Ser Manderly, in which he slew the offending man for a grievous insult against his lady’s honor. His actions during his journeys to different tournaments and conflicts brought him into contact with the fearsome Great Bastard Aegor Rivers, with whom Gormon found much in common and became a good acquaintance.
Gormon’s entire world changed, whether for the better or the worse during the plague of Dornish Pox. His mother, and two elder brothers and their families were taken in total by the gods, and his father became stricken and bedridden. Thus elevated to heir of Starpike, Dunstonburry, and Whitegrove Gormon returned home after more than a decade away to bring order to the disease scarred lands. He served as regent well, scraping out a measure of prosperity for the people and administrating in a severe manner against all would-be troublemakers. In recent days his father passed, having never fully recovered from the pox, making Gormon the Lord of Starpike, just as the rebellion began. The new Lord Peake was swift to take action on behalf of the Blackfyres. He summoned his yeomen archers and household knights to Starpike alongside his fellow Marcher lords and their hosts. Disregarding the demand from High Garden to stand down Lord Gormon led his men to rendezvous with the fearsome “Fireball”, joining forces and scattering the Westerlanders with all the fury of the Marchermen.
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◼ Name: Ser Unwin Peake
◼ Age: Four and Twenty
◼ Appearance: The Fourth Little Keep, that is what they call the wily little Unwin, and that is what he is. In stark contrast to all his kin Unwin is lithe and wiry like a fox amongst boarhounds. His hair is a lighter brown taking after his Fossoway mother, and grown long in a clear break of Marcher custom. He is good natured and likeable, wearing an easy smile on his youthful features. He wears a unique coat of arms, similar to the traditional orange field and three black castles, except a smaller fourth castle is emblazoned below the rest and positioned off to the left hand side. As if tossed in as an afterthought.
◼ Biography: “The best things come in sets of three.” It was a line Unwin heard many times during his youth in the halls of Starpike. His father never showed him favor or scorn, only dismissive offhanded comments and little more. To be practically ignored by one’s dear father might have embittered most, but Unwin always saw the good in life and never once faltered in his loyalty to his blood. Never did a sour word escape him of his kin, nor a complaint about his lot in life. He felt fortunate really, to be set a standard so low, and yet to reach so far above it. He far outstripped his brothers in logic and wits, and though he could not match them in brawn he was quick on his feet and could keep up in their play. During his squiring years he was given to a landed knight in the Peake’s service named Ser Derrium Daring. It was meant to be a dismissal, to be squired to so low a knight when his brothers were trained amongst great families of the Reach, yet a more apt appointment there could not have been. Ser Daring was true to his name, and taught Unwin a great deal in the arts of chivalry. They fought together at the pass of Hell’s Grip in the Dornish mountains, and though he was a lad of mere fifteen when Ser Daring was wounded Unwin stood over him and guarded his knight against four Dornish warriors. “Though they were four, none could break the guard of the Fourth Little Keep.” Were the words of an impressed Lord Mullendore who bore witness to the display of courage and prowess. Unwin was knighted on the spot and offered a place amongst Mullendore’s household knights.
Unwin accepted this offer, proving himself a noble warrior, and a fearsome foe. He took no wife of his own, claiming there were many years left to find a worthy bribe, but he wooed many a lady thanks to his quick wit and handsome features. In the opening hours of the rebellion Unwin rode at all haste to join his brother in Starpike, bringing with him a small force of friends to put challenge to his brother’s foes.
House Peake is proud to trace its origins to the First Men and Florys the Fox, and they have not been idle since those storied days. Though they lack wealth, and their land is dry and rocky, the men of Peake have shown great ambition throughout the years. They are famous for the three mighty keeps, which stand in key positions at the border to the Dornish Marches. The first, and historical seat of House Peake is the keep of Starpike. Although smaller than the other two Starpike was the first, and stood in defiance of Dornish raids and armies guarding the Hellgrip pass against marauding riders for centuries. The second is Whitegrove, which was conquered from an extinct Dornish house, and secures the origins of the tributary leading down to the Torentine river. Whitegrove has found itself besieged and its lands raided many times during its possession by House Peake, but has defied all attempts to take her whitewashed walls. Finally, the long standing rivals of Peake, house Manderly was driven from their ancestral hall at Dunstonburry, during a bitter war between the feuding lordships. Dunstonburry is the largest of the Peake holdings, and the wealthiest thanks to its position on the shores of the Mander and the fertile land it inhabits. It provides significant incomes from taxes, though the Peakes consider the men at arms raised for her towns and villages to be subpar compared to the hardy Marchermen of Starpike and Whitegrove.
The Peakes saw themselves grow in prominence during the reign of Lord Unwin, who became hand to the king and brought many of his kin and friends into positions of power at the capital during the regency of Aegon III. Unwin grasped for more than he could hold and was unable to maintain his grip on power, and found himself forced to resign. Since then the importance of House Peake has faltered, even more so thanks to the waning hostilities with the Dornish. The customary position of the Marchers in being the shield against Dorne had been one of great honor and importance. The idea of a lasting peace, and a resignation of conflict seemed a bitter draught to swallow when blood still ran hot, even amongst the Marcher yeomen and landed knights whose memories were long and grudges deep.
The Peakes did not hesitate to declare their loyalty to the Blackfyre cause and summon the hosts of Starpike, Whitegrove, and Dunstonburry. Alongside their fellow Reachmarch lords, and a few others such as their allies in Ambrose, they gathered in force armed and chanting for war. Raising the orange banner beneath Starpike, Gorman has deployed multiple companies under trusted commanders to the heights of the border mountains, securing holdfasts along the numerous passes and sending forays to raid Dornish lands and scatter their smallfolk and delay their retaliation while the Marcher lords prepare. House Peake alone can summon five hundred men from Whitegrove, fifteen hundred from Starpike, and nearly two thousand from Dunstonburry, alongside fifty landed knights who swear their fealty to the Peakes. Half the levied soldiers are yeomen from the Marches. Well practiced in longbows, and experienced in knocking Dornish riders from their mounts in swift, deadly volleys.
The incomes from Gormon’s holdings have never been great, and the terrible plague that ravaged their lands in recent days has only worsened the situation. Meager though their wealth might be in comparison to their neighbors Gorman emptied his coffers and managed to acquire the services of some hundred and fifty hedge knights, bringing his total heavy cavalry to nearly two hundred. Thus formed and his own lands secured, Gorman marched northwest, joining Fireball in his campaign against the Lannisters, paying and feeding his troops off the fat of Westerlander wealth.
A somewhat rotund older greybeard Harold Hayford gives the impression of someone who appreciates a bit of luxury in life. Nevertheless his powerful forearms, and general height and mass implies significant strength beneath the soft exterior. He carries himself boldly, and can seize command of a room by word alone, his no nonsense attitude cutting across chaos and noise with ease.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Weaponry: Although Lord Hayford is trained in lance and shield and sword he does not often carry personal armaments. In recent days, with rising tensions he has taken to carrying an unassuming arming sword at his hip for his personal security, and naught else. ◼ Notable Skills: Harold is a diplomat and peacemaker first and foremost. He has a grandfatherly presence of reason and wisdom that puts others at ease, and a reputation for being fair and trustworthy. There have been many occasions when others have requested his judgment in resolving disputes. He knows when to be stern, and when to be friendly and never lets his own wants command his decisions. ◼ Valuables: The most valuable things to Harold Hayford is his reputation, and his grandson and heir Steffon, who serves as his squire and assistant in court. ◼ Retinue: Besides his grandson Steffon, Hayford travels with only his sworn shield and trusted friend Ser Mallyn Merridan and a small host of servants and attendants.
The firstborn and heir to Hayford castle, and the family titles Harold began life as any noble lord would. He was betrothed in the first year of his life to a Rosby girl and spent many days riding back and forth between the keeps to give a good impression to his would be in-laws. Often he was away from home, following his lord father on many trips of state to the court in King’s Landing. The family had been important figures there for many years, and there was a motivated attempt to maintain a presence of respect and diligence after the many executions of Hayford patriarchs to irate Targaryen kings and usurpers. The Hayfords regarded the royal family with a healthy amount of suspicion, and Lord Hayford kept Harold on a short leash whenever duty demanded their attendance in the capital. They were proud to be faithful, but they were not fools. The lessons imparted here upon Harold taught him to be loyal and dutiful, but to practice caution amongst the dragons, for one never knew when they might be burned.
When Harold came of age to squire he was trained by a Rosby knight, uncle to his betrothed, and though there were not great feats or moments of unprecedented valor Harold served dutifully and earned his knighthood at twenty and one. Harold was a common figure in Red Keep, earning his reputation as a peacemaker through several important missions for Aegon IV, and the royal family. His personal actions no doubt forestalled several minor conflicts though he was never officially recognized for the efforts. There were those in court who would take note, and remember which was enough for him. His most important and impactful act as ambassador would come later under King Daeron.
Harold married after his dubbing, and his lady wife provided him two children, a daughter and a son. His young wife would pass during the second birth however, and Harold never remarried. He would become Lord Hayford at forty, and official ambassador for the Iron Throne shortly after. During King Daeron’s reign Lord Harold would be sent to Dorne, the initial presence representing the Targaryen’s to negotiate the official integration of the kingdom into the realm. Rumors began to rise that Harold could be blamed for being too weak spined during the negotiations and allowing the many rights and privileges granted to the Dornish to be permitted. Shortly after his success in Dorne tragedy struck his family. His only son perished during a riding accident, leaving only a young son of his own named Steffon as heir to Hayford. Harold returned to Hayford castle shortly after this loss, focusing his attention on raising his grandson. He spent years away from the Red Keep in the privacy of Hayford's walls, but a yearning to reenter the excitement and importance of the life he'd left behind weighed heavy on the aging lord.
During the rising Blackfyre rebellion Harold could no longer be derelict of his duty. Recognizing the realm needed his talents Lord Hayford offered his services to meet the Northerners and Riverlanders in the Twins, and do his best to calm the strife in the Riverlands.
Harold is a man of duty, and understands his skills might be best put to use in the Riverlands. There is a small measure of guilt in Harold, that he was idle during the opening stages of the conflict when more could have been done to prevent the wildfire rebellion from ripping through Westeros. His fresh grief at the loss of his son blinded him to the needs of the realm. Stirred from inaction Hayford rides at all haste along the King’s Road, determined to restore his name as a trusted servant, loyal to the end.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Prince Maron Martell, Lord of Sunspear ◼ Age: Thirty and Eight ◼ Appearance: Maron is every bit the visage of a Dornish Warrior Prince. His bold and dashing appearance would cause a young woman to swoon in his presence. The scars on display exhibit a man not shy to battle, but having thrived well in its embrace. ◼ Biography: Bold and gregarious in his nature, Prince Maron is quick to make a friend to others if they are willing to get past the stereotypes of Dorne. He and his brother in law, the king hold a very close friendship having worked together diligently to come to a peaceful settlement between the two houses. After marrying each other’s sisters, the Targaryens and Martells were finally at a cross roads in their relationship that should have brought peace to Westeros if it wasn’t for the traitorous ideas of others in the lands.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Daenarys Targaryen ◼ Age: Twenty and Four ◼ Appearance: Daenarys is a very beautiful young woman with classic Valyrian features; long silver-gold hair, violet-purple eyes, and pale skin. Daenarys is slender, small-breasted and often described as too skinny. ◼ Biography: As a girl in her early teens it was believed she had a love affair with her half-brother Daemon. Regardless of her relationship with Daemon, neither her father or her brother Daeron would allow this to interfere with their attempts to improve relations with Tyrosh and Dorne. Her use as a political pawn was far more important. Daenarys eventually grew to understand this and acquired admiration for her husband Prince Maron. Daenarys is not to be distracted by an emotion like love. It is within her best interest to remain loyal to the family. For her, in her situation, she needs to remain loyal to Prince Maron. It is believed that whatever intimate feelings she may have once held for her half-brother have long disappeared.
CHILDREN
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Prince Ronas Martell, 8 ◼ Name: Prince Dayron Martell, 7 ◼ Name: Prince Edam Martell, 5 ◼ Name: Princess Mariela Martell, 3 ◼ Name: Princess Tiyana Martell, 2
Members of Court in Sunspear
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Prince Maron's Bannermen
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Trevas Yronwood, Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, 47 ◼ Name: Ser Russell "Rusty" Yronwood, brother to Trevas, 41 (Ysabel Dayne, wife) ◼ Name: Ser Daltis Yronwood, son of Trevas, 19 ◼ Name: Ser Harrin Yronwood, son of Trevas, 17 ◼ Name: Ser Dorrin Uller, Lord of Hellholt, 50 ◼ Name: Ser Darris Uller, son of Dorrin, 24 ◼ Name: Lady Hayley Uller, daughter of Dorrin, 20 ◼ Name: Lady Eleana Allyrion, Lady of Godsgrace, 30 ◼ Name: Lady Glorina Manwoody, Lady of Kingsgrave, 44 ◼ Name: Squire Kingsgrave, 14 Ward to Ser Russell Yronwood ◼ Name: Ser Rohar Blackmont, Lord of Blackmont, 59 ◼ Name: Ser Richard Blackmont, son of Rohar, 30 ◼ Name: Ser Branton Toland, Lord of Ghost Hill, 25 ◼ Name: Ser Lawsen Qorgyle, Lord of Sandstone, 35 ◼ Name: Ser Jaran Fowler, Lord of Skyreach, 33 ◼ Name: Lady Ysabel Dayne, 32 Lady of Starfall & wife of Ser Russell Yronwood (3 children) ◼ Name: Ser Ulrick Dayne of High Hermitage (SotM), 30 ◼ Name: Ser Dayne, 29 ◼ Name: Lady Dayne, 27 ◼ Name: Lady Dyanna Dayne, 24 (King's Landing) ◼ Name: Ser Tavion Dayne, 22 ◼ Name: Ser Elden Jordayne, Lord of the Tor, 61 ◼ Name: Ser Eddard Jordayne, son of Elden, 39 ◼ Name: Ser Darick Jordayne, son of Elden, 35 ◼ Name: Lady Elna Vaith, Lady of the Red Dunes, 49
“That is Nymeria’s star, burning bright, and that milky band behind her, those are the ten thousand ships. She burns bright as any man. And so shall I.” --Arianne Martell’s thoughts
The Martells of old used a spear as their emblem, while Nymeria and her Rhoynar used the sun as theirs. When Nymeria wed Lord Mors Martell around 700 BC, the symbols were combined into a golden spear piercing a red sun on an orange field. This joined symbol came to represent the now conjoined houses as Nymeria Martell. Many years later, the house would simply be referred to as House Martell.
Long before the wedding that joined the Martells with Nymeria, the Rhoynish battle queen from Essos, Morgan Martell arrived in Dorne. He and members of the Martell family attacked lands loosely held by House Wade and House Shell, descendants of the first men and the Andals who inhabited these lands for millennia. The Martells defeated the defenders in battle, seized their villages, burned their castles, and established dominion over a strip of coastland a hundred and fifty miles long by thirty miles wide.
When Nymeria led the Rhoynar refugees to Dorne in southern Westeros, the lands of the Martells paled in comparison to those of House Yronwood. The marriage of Lord Mors to Nymeria gave the Martells the manpower to conquer the rest of Dorne and gave the Rhoynar a new homeland. The Dornish rulers have since styled themselves "Prince" in the Rhoynish fashion rather than "King".
At the time of Nymeria's arrival, Dorne was a poor land where a score of lords and petty kings quarreled over rivers, wells, and fertile water. Many viewed the Rhoynar as unwelcome invaders who should be driven back into the sea. However, Lord Mors Martell of the Sandship saw an opportunity in the Rhoynar, and singers claim that Lord Martell also lost his heart to the beautiful princess. With many trained in warfare, the Rhoynar added their strength to Lord Martell's own, increasing his host tenfold. Mors married Nymeria, and hundreds of his knights, squires, and bannermen wed Rhoynish women, uniting the two people by blood. The Rhoynar also brought considerable wealth with them, and their artisans and armorers' skills were far more advanced than those of their Westerosi counterparts.
To celebrate these unions and to ensure that her people could not retreat to the sea again, Nymeria burned her fleet, declaring her wanderings to be at an end, though some of her people mourned the loss of their ships. Nymeria named her husband Mors Martell "the Prince of Dorne", declaring his dominion over all of Dorne. However, such supremacy was not easy to achieve, and years of war followed, known as Nymeria's War. The Rhoynar and the Martells subdued one petty king after another, and no fewer than six kings were sent to the Wall to join the Night's Watch by Nymeria and her husband. Soon, only King Yorick V Yronwood remained, the greatest of the Dornish kings.
For nine years, Nymeria and the Martells battled against Yronwood and his bannermen. When Mors Martell fell to Yronwood's sword in the Third Battle of the Boneway, Nymeria assumed sole command of the Martell armies. Two more years of battle followed, but Nymeria eventually defeated Yorick V, and he bent the knee to her, ensuring Martell supremacy. Nymeria ruled thereafter from Sunspear, the new seat of House Martell, built around Sandship.
As the Princess of Dorne, Nymeria remained the unquestioned ruler of Dorne for almost twenty-seven years. Dorne was established as a principality, not a kingdom, for Nymeria preferred the Rhoynish style of prince and princess. Though she remarried twice to Lord Uller of Hellholt and Ser Davos Dayne of Starfall, her husbands served only as counselors and consorts.
Over the course of her long reign, Nymeria survived a dozen assassination attempts, quelled two rebellions, and threw back two invasions by the Storm King, Durran the Third, and one by King Greydon Gardener of the Reach. As Nymeria grew aged and infirm, the armies of House Martell were commanded by her heirs. When she at last died, Nymeria was succeeded as Princess of Dorne by her eldest daughter with Lord Mors, not by her only son by Ser Davos, for Dorne had come to adopt many of the laws and customs of the Rhoynar.
During Aegon's Conquest, Queen Rhaenys Targaryen confronted the aged Princess of Dorne, Meria Martell, at Sunspear. When Meria refused to submit to the Targaryens, Rhaenys departed Dorne. The Targaryens returned in 4 AC, starting the First Dornish War. When their forces arrived at Sunspear, Meria had vanished. King Aegon I and Queen Rhaenys Targaryen declared themselves victorious and left Lord Jon Rosby as Castellan of Sunspear as they returned to King's Landing. However, the Dornishmen quickly came out of hiding, retaking Sunspear. Lord Rosby was captured and thrown from a window atop the Spear Tower by Princess Meria herself. In later phases of the war, the Targaryens burned every Dornish stronghold at least once, except Sunspear and its shadow city. According to the Dornishmen, the Targaryens did not dare to attack Sunspear as they feared that Princess Meria might have purchased a device from Lys to slay their dragons. In his Conjectures, Archmaester Timotty suggests that Aegon hoped to turn the Dornish against the Martells by leaving them the only ones unharmed, and letters have been discovered in which marcher lords claimed to the Dornish that the Martells had bought their safety. However, the tactics did not work.
After nine years, the First Dornish War came to an end in 13 AC. When the elderly Princess Meria died, her son Nymor assumed rule over Dorne. Desiring peace, he sent his daughter Deria to King's Landing with an escort as a peace envoy. She brought with her the skull of Rhaenys's dragon Meraxes and a letter from Prince Nymor. Although at first determined to refuse the peace offer, Aegon agreed to it after reading Nymor's letter. During the remainder of King Aegon I's reign, the Martells and Targaryens remained on good terms. In 23 AC, King Aegon I and his son Aenys visited Sunspear for a "feast of friendship" celebrating the tenth anniversary of the peace accord with Princess Deria, now the Princess of Dorne. In 37 AC, as the Vulture King troubled the lands surrounding the border between Dorne and the Iron Throne, Princess Deria insisted to King Aenys I Targaryen that she was doing what she could to end the rebellion; many suspected that she was secretly giving the rebels her support.
In 110 AC, Prince Qoren Martell gave his support to the Triarchy in the war against Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon in the Stepstones. Daemon's brother, King Viserys I Targaryen, spoke of wedding his daughter Rhaenyra to the Prince of Dorne as a way of finally uniting the Seven Kingdoms, though ultimately this did not occur. During the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Qoren was contacted by Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, but refused the alliance, claiming he'd "sooner sleep with scorpions". In 132 AC, the small council of King Aegon III Targaryen considered a younger brother of Princess Aliandra as a potential husband to Lady Baela Targaryen, but ultimately decided on another match.
King Daeron I Targaryen conquered Dorne in 158 AC when the Prince of Dorne bent the knee at the Submission of Sunspear. Rebellion continued until Daeron died in 161 AC, after which his brother, King Baelor I, travelled to Sunspear and agreed to a peace with House Martell. This included a betrothal between Myriah Martell and Prince Daeron Targaryen. Myriah's brother Maron was Daeron's most important supporter, and upon Daeron's ascension, he agreed to join Dorne under Targaryen rule. This became official in 187 AC, when Maron married Daeron's sister Daenerys.
During Daeron II's reign, Dornish influence at court increased, while Daeron's other lords began to grow dissatisfied with the concessions Maron had won during the negotiations. These complaints, among others, were reasons causing several lords to oppose Daeron II's rule during what would become known as “the First Blackfyre Rebellion.”
Prince Maron Nymeros Martell was the younger child of the previous Prince of Dorne. Due to the conditions of a treaty signed by his father and King Baelor I Targaryen, Maron’s sister Myriah married Prince Daeron Targaryen in King’s Landing. With Myriah living in King’s Landing with her husband, crown prince of Westeros, this left Maron to succeed his father as Prince of Dorne.
When Aegon died in 184 AC, King Daeron II Targaryen replaced his father on the Iron Throne, and he immediately began negotiations with Prince Maron Martell. Since King Daeron had married Maron’s sister, Myriah, who was elevated to the pinnacle of politics in Westeros. Daeron II wanted to continue improving relations with Dorne through peaceful means. These discussions lasted two years and culminated with a treaty including a marriage proposal to Daeron’s sister Daenarys Targaryen once she was of age. With the two wed, the inclusion of Dorne under Targaryen rule was complete in 187 AC. Following the wedding, Prince Maron bent the knee to his brother-in-law and friend, King Daeron II at King’s Landing.
The treaty between the Targaryens and Martells gave significant rights and privileges that other houses in Westeros were not entitled to. The Martells retained the ability to use their royal title, which chafed many in the other houses of Westeros. The ability on the part of the Lord of Sunspear to levy taxes for the use by Dorne was another item that the great houses thought inappropriate. King Daeron brought many Dornishmen to court in King’s Landing which lead to many nobles thinking there was an excess of Dornish influences in King’s landing.
_________________________________________________________ House Seat: Oldtown & the High Tower. _________________________________________________________ Region: The Reach
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Jon Hightower ◼ Age: 49 ◼ Appearance: Surprisingly well-kept for his age, brown hair and eyes contrasted by pale skin make him have a very standard appearance of a Westerosi Lord. However as of late his clean shaven and orderly appearance has given way to a slow creep of stubble ◼ Biography:
Lord Jon Hightower was born in a good and peaceful times, the last savage wars of the continent distant memories. As his competence and loyalty to the crown was noted, some saw it as inevitable that he came to be Hand of the King. But as he did so, many contemplated if his unquestioning obeisance to Aegon was for the best of the realm, Lord Jon facilitating any whims and proclivities of the King if he so demanded them.
It was thus in the eyes of many not particularly surprising that upon his King dying, Jon was dismissed from his title. Though he took his imposed resignation peacably, all at court could tell he was dissatisfied to say the least.
So it was that returning home, he locked himself in a chamber of the High Tower, disappearing for a long time during which his eldest Morgan took running of the House. When he exited his self-exile, Jon was clearly unwell. Ravening about ancient readings and texts, his mood and thought changed more than the direction of the wind. While not outright out of play, Jon Hightower was now closer to a pawn than a proper piece of the Game of Thrones.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Morgan Hightower ◼ Age: 27 ◼ Appearance: Morgan can look far older than he is, with stress, time in the sun, and perhaps an unlucky roll of the bloodline's dice making him appear to be of the same age as his father sometimes with slightly wrinkled skin, occassional gray hairs, and the slightest bit of a hunch, his likely only pleasant traits being his great height and the hair many Ladies would be jealous of if not for Morgan's long working nights leading to it being washed less commonly than it ought be. ◼ Biography:
Morgan was born weak and frail, many thinking he would pass in infancy leading to a lack of attachment from both mother and father that believed he wouldn't make it to adulthood. But he overcame his sickness, his time alone leading to a strongly independent streak. But, lack of direction from his father ensured the youth growing into a man would dip his toes into many things, yet never master anything. He was never a master warrior, nor poet nor administrator nor anything else. Perhaps for running a House that would have been optimal, but it lead to many a would-be marriage arrangement falling through as nothing exceptional stood out from him.
Now the gargantuan task has been laid unto him of managing the House amidst his father's de-facto madness. While initially a not particularly difficult thing, it was just as his own ambitions started to rise of centralizing the House's power and being rid of things long troubling it that the ambition of his siblings and other people he was meant to trust grew, their efforts pulling the House into wholly different directions.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Fiona Hightower ◼ Age: 26 ◼ Appearance: Her father's daughter, long brown hair and dark eyes along with cheeks and a jaw too strong to be considered conventionally beautiful but at least pretty enough to not be ugly, everyone's eye first goes to her height, enough to dwarf all peasants and even some noble lords. While her father schemed to have her betrothed to one of the more nobly-behaved of the Targaryens, this fell through following Lord Jon's exit of the court. Now the poor girl is a bargaining chip disputed between her brothers, all the while rumours are abound she prefers the company of women in a carnal way. ◼ Biography:
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Parlan Hightower ◼ Age: 20 ◼ Appearance: Shorter than father and his elder brother, Parlan could be mistaken for a bastard with his slightly rounder facial shape, his exceptionally light features in eyes and hair, compounded with much more tanned skin. Much shorter than father or Morgan, the twins are nonetheless both well built, broad shoulders bearing martially capable not exaggerated or vain musculature. ◼ Biography:
Twin to Hengist, the siblings were bright and strong from an early age. Seen for some time as more viable heirs than Morgan by many, it was some time in puberty that the siblings began to quarrel. Competing for everything from parental attention to girls to the last bite of pie, it soon got to the point that they sought different paths in life almost out of spite for one another.
It was only when they left novitiate studies at the Citadel that the full chasm between them was visible. It was Parlan's twin that was the straight arrow, that much clearly observable when the boys were taught how to fight in their late teenage years. Parlan used hooks and daggers everything but a proper sword, he studied the campaigns of the Dornishmen against the attempts to conquer them and the guile they used to stay independent. In civil matters, he came to take charge of the family's banking and usury, of overlooking shady trade for bribes, of control over trade of herbs and other exotics passing through Oldtown. It was thus a shock to those that eventually came to learn that he was privately martialling the family's resources to aid the Targaryen loyalists, until they had learned his brother had already sought out to aid the Blackfyre cause.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Hengist Hightower ◼ Age: 20 ◼ Appearance: He looks the same as his brother, save for his body being covered with scars, whilst choosing to be clean-shaven with short, neatly combed hair. ◼ Biography:
As remarked, Hengist was a self-imposed foil to his brother. Lacking the sinister and grim nature of his brother, he became far more adept at walking the well-trod path. An honourable warrior, and administrator of the roads and granaries and smithies, he became interested in the cause of Daemon Blackfyre as rumours of the bastard origins of the current King were relayed to him in a quite convincing way, and thus he became certain the rotten structure had to fall. A letter was sent to the claimant, offering what resources of House Hightower that Hengist could bear for the cause.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Sara Hightower ◼ Age: 17 ◼ Appearance: Of black hair and gray eyes, the girl has always been seen as an exceptionally beautiful woman save for a set of crooked teeth that some in the family have considered knocking out to merely replace with perfect enamel or porcelain prosthetics. Just slightly taller than the average noblewoman, yet still somewhat shorter than most lads who would be prospective matches. ◼ Biography: Sara was a simple girl that didn't want for much save to please mother and father. Yet increasingly as time passed and the scheming of her family aside from her parents became clear, she soured on her kin. Knowing how even know her brothers seek to use the girl as an asset to be traded more than anything else, she took a religious path. Thus there is an uneasiness, for some believe her claim to wish to be a Septa is naught more than a threat, a bargaining tool for better treatment from her brothers, others wonder if it is sincere piety that can be used to improve the family's reputation.
House Hightower is one of the oldest of Westeros, their founding in dispute but its legacy not. Whatever the exact details of their mythic ancestry, they nonetheless followed a conciliatory path through their whole history peacefully acquiescing to their overlords in the Reach, the arriving Andals, and then later the Targaryens. This has ensured that despite the tumultuous history of the continent, they managed to not just survive but even flourish through the ages.
Having avoided entanglements of any kind after the Dance of Dragons, House Hightower's power and wealth grew as they maintained closeness to the crown. One culmination of this was appointment of Jon Hightower as Hand of the King. Yet, for all their faithful service, with the death of Aegon they were spurned as far as their patriarch was concerned. Removed from his position as Hand of the King, Jon quickly soured to the Targaryens. Briefly locking himself in to contemplate, he seemed turned almost mad. Having exited his isolation, he one one day rants about how House Hightower failed the Seven Kingdoms and hence had themselves to blame for rightfully being set aside, while on the other he gives long diatribes about how the Targaryens are now nothing without the dragons upholding their inbred rule, and how he had read prophecy in the Citadel of their imminent fall. In the absence of his stoic rule, his children, cousins, and the Maesters in their service are lead to marshal his resources.
Though by virtue of owning Oldtown and the Citadel the House can marshal enormous resources, the fact they are divided and in disarray can make the House in one moment appear on hard times when its representatives are acting against one another, and in another moment appear to suddenly be Kingmakers when its disparate cliques finally act in accord.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lady Ysabel Dayne ◼ Age: 32 (b. 164 AC) ◼ Appearance: Tall and broad, she was always stated to take after her lordly father rather than her mother. Her dark blonde hair, full and wavy, she keeps in functional plaits. Her face often shows exhaustion - more so now - as she grows heavy with her fourth child expected before the year is done. She shares her sister's purple eyes, though Ysabel's verge on the darkest of blues except when the sunlight reflects just so. ◼ Biography: Eldest child, no matter that she was a daughter, Dorne's inheritance practices ensured she was never considered anything but the heir to Starfall. She was raised as such from the time she could walk, with training from the maester and tutors in history and politics. The little girl had a shrewd enough mind for it, and while she never took to martial training as Dyanna one day would, she attended it all the same with the boys of similar age. Unlikely it was that she would ever lead them in battle, she demanded to be among them and earn their respect all the same.
Her father negotiated marriage with House Yronwood, to put an end - or at least a longer peace - after years of increasing tensions and scuffles between the houses. Though they disagree on much, Ysabel has found managing her husband not entirely unpleasant or without its joys. She finds her trust in him faltering the past few months as the rebellion drags on and Daemon's coinage has been found within her demesne.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Russell "Rusty" Yronwood ◼ Age: 41 (b. 155 AC) ◼ Appearance: Lanky and angular, he has not gained the softness many men do as they age. He hides of the sharpness of his face behind a well sculpted beard, now spotted white, but little can be done to mitigate the harsh lines of his cheekbones or nose. His eyes are pale brown, like the sun-bleached mud in a dry riverbed. He dresses regally, his clothes overstating his power within Starfall. ◼ Biography: A younger son, never likely to inherit Yronwood or titles, he was oft described as wayward. He earned the nickname that would follow him a lifetime, when as a young squire he left his knight's mail to rust. The knight, in part, punished the lad by making him wear it for training an entire fortnight.
His marriage to Starfall's heir was nearly missed when men wearing his family's colors attacked the party on their way from his family's seat to hers. Were it not for the actions of a young knight, Ser Rusty would have been returned home a widower. Rumors followed him for some time, and while he has not lost his hatred for House Martell nor the men of the Reach and Stormlands, he has been a steady man at Ysabel's side. In public, at least, he does not undermine her nor her rule. What he does in private, his communications and causes supported, has always been under scrutiny. Ser Rusty's caution has served him well so far, something that he can only test for so long.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Quentyn Dayne ◼ Age: 11 (b. 185 AC) ◼ Appearance: Sandy haired boy that takes after Ysabel but with brown eyes. He is at an age where his training and growth spurts exceed each other in turns. ◼ Biography: Currently the boy serves as a squire to House Dalt of Lemonwood, much as his famed cousin did. While Ysabel would prefer to have her heir home, she preferred a stronger influence from her liege-lord's supporters, and the safety in comparison.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Mychel Dayne ◼ Age: 9 (b. 187 AC) ◼ Appearance: Much more like his father, Mychel still retains the softness of youth, but he is slighter still than his peers. Light brown hair and brown eyes, he's often found dirty from adventures in the gardens. ◼ Biography: At home in Starfall, he prefers studies with the maester over time with their master-at-arms.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Cassella Dayne ◼ Age: 4 (b. 192 AC) ◼ Appearance: Some say she reminds of them Dyanna at the same age, though much could be said of any little girl with blonde hair and purple eyes. ◼ Biography: At home in Starfall
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ryon Dayne ◼ Age: 29 (b. 167 AC) ◼ Appearance: Average and unassuming, with darker blonde hair and dark eyes. Were it not for the finery he wears, he could be easily mistaken for just another courtier. ◼ Biography: Recently married to Gwyneth Fowler, serves as advisor to his sister. He has no children of his own yet, though there are rumors he fathered a bastard. He is often said to act more Rhoynish than his blood would allow for. Few would say to his face - or his lady sister's. He's a cunning man, but less astute in matters than his sister. He has a great propensity to making friends and ferreting out information.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Edyth Dayne ◼ Age: 27 (b. 169 AC) ◼ Biography: At Sandstone, married to a Qorgyle
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Jami Dayne ◼ Age: 26 (b. 170 AC) ◼ Appearance: ◼ Biography: Castellan of Sunspear
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Dyanna Dayne --see full sheet--
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Ulrick Dayne of High Hermitage (SotM) --see full sheet--
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Squire Anders Sand ◼ Age: 14 (b. 182 AC) ◼ Appearance: Pale and boney with dark brown hair he wears to his shoulders. He has begun the effort of growing a beard, though one has to squint to find it. ◼ Biography: There are rumors, uttered carefully, that he is Ser Rusty's bastard from before his marriage to Ysabel. Russell Yronwood has never claimed as such, in fact, one of his cousin's from a lesser branch has claimed the boy as his own. Yet the boy's arrival with Russell and continued interest the Lady's husband has shown in him has done much to cement the idea that the boy is in fact his. Anders, for his part, does not accept this, though he finds the Dayne's view of things troublesome with his own views and preferences aligning with House Yronwood's.
House Dayne claims to be one of the oldest of not just Dorne but of all the Seven Kingdoms, claiming First Men ancestry and not that of the eventual Rhoynish invaders. Their mythos asserts that Starfall was raised where their ancestors tracked a falling star and found a stone of magical powers. They ruled as kings, with Dawn, the great sword forged of the fallen star, passed to men of some generations. With Nymeria's invasion, House Dayne bent the knee and found a new ally against their ancient competition in House Yronwood. As much as there is long history of conflict with House Yronwood, they were often at war with the Kingdom of the Reach as well. One of their ancient kings, King Samwell called the Starfire, burned Oldtown. Engrained feuds die slowly, even in more modern times.
House Dayne remains a staunch ally of their liege-lord, House Martell, and as such, strong supporters of House Targaryen and King Daeron II. The current lady's youngest sister being married into House Targaryen has further cemented that bond. Some of Starfall's neighbors view it with great suspicion. A love match, perhaps, but one greatly advantageous given the fourth son's outsized influence as Prince of Summerhall.
Lady Ysabel remains a steadfast supporter of House Martell's efforts and has made strategic placements of her siblings and children; taking in several squires, pages, and wards from other Houses that border their northern neighbors. She has been cautious about overly engaging with Summerhall directly, but it has not gone unnoticed that the Sword of the Morning protects Summerhall and not Starfall. So far, it has been only whispered about rather than direct action taken, given the close brotherly relationship he was known to have for his cousin, Dyanna.
All is not well within Starfall, however. In the decade before Lady Ysabel inherited from her father, tension between Dayne and Yronwood spilled over into bloodshed. Peace was restored through marriage of Starfall's heir to an Yronwood son, wards were exchanged, and the uneasy truce settled to barbed words and courtly slights. While Ysabel and Russell found they were otherwise well suited for one another and raised a new generation of Daynes, family ties and ancient beliefs threaten to bring the war in the north home to Starfall.
Dyanna is a product of Stony Dornish blood; fair-skinned, with sandy blonde hair that falls in loose waves and dark violet eyes. When court or company demands it, she dresses the part of a prince's wife, favoring the lilac of House Dayne, though the black and red of her husband's colors have crept more and more into her wardrobe since the rebellion. Left to her own devices, however, she is far more likely to be found in something practical, plain dresses, riding leathers, or whatever allows her to move freely on horseback or with a falcon on her wrist. There is always something slightly out of place about her when she has been forced into finery; a restlessness in the way she carries herself that suggests she would rather be elsewhere and dressed for it.
The High Lord of Starfall's youngest child, Dyanna, showed an early propensity for getting herself into trouble, and then masterfully extracting herself from it. She was precocious, a quick learner but stubborn. Her father rarely denied her any wish or fancy. She learned the same lessons as her brothers, rode harder than them, and took to falconry and archery young. She often begged to see what lay beyond Starfall's walls, and yet just as frequently would be found late at night with candles burned to nubs, deep in a book. By the time she approached womanhood, her wish was granted, in the year following King Aegon IV's death, Queen Myriah Martell requested Dyanna attend her in King's Landing.
King's Landing, however, was not to her tastes. The heaving throng of the city threatened to turn her youthful optimism to despondency. The queen took her under her wing and shielded her from the worst of the words and whispers still uttered about the Dornish, but there was only so much even a queen could do. The girl who had once been so fearless, felt herself faltering.
One night, in a fit of rebellion against her family's gentle insistence that she remain at court, Dyanna slipped out of her quarters in the Red Keep through servants' passageways she was not supposed to know, and made her way to a tavern known to be frequented by young nobles. There, she challenged a boastful young man. It was bravery fueled by flowing wine; she could never have imagined that the young lordling was in fact a prince, nor that he would bend so readily to her will.
Dyanna and Maekar were married quickly in 189 AC, and seemingly just as quickly she gave the fourth son a son of his own in 191 AC. King Daeron II had gifted his son the title Prince of Summerhall following the wedding, and the pair resided there together until the rebellion pulled Maekar north and away from her. In his absence, Dyanna holds Summerhall as her domain, keeping watch over young Daeron and baby Aerion, with her cousin Ser Ulrick dedicated to the safety of the prince's family.
Whatever fears she holds for Maekar's safety, Dyanna does not let them show. She governs Summerhall with a steady hand, determined that everything her husband left behind will be waiting for him upon his return. She oversees the protection of their lands, coordinates with nearby lords, and exerts a quiet but effective influence across the region. Though never a noted host prior, she draws surrounding lords to Summerhall, working to keep them loyal to the crown or, at the least, neutral toward the pretender.
Dark brown hair is not unheard of amongst those born to House Dayne, though Ulrick inherited his stony complexion from his mother, a lady of the knightly House Dalt. He keeps his hair long, past his shoulders, but his beard neat and cropped close. Tall and broad both, his physique leaves little to be desired. His skin bears a fair share of scars, old and new alike, and it is not uncommon for him to discover fresh bruises without any memory of which sparring partner gifted them.
He dresses well for a knight of a cadet branch, his position as Sword of the Morning affords him finely crafted armour. A shooting star adorns his pauldron, arcing front to back. Ostentatious or not, he favours a lilac cape; when attending court, he dons one embroidered with silver thread, the shooting star crossed with a sword. Ulrick has a taste for fine clothing more broadly, and has been content to borrow his cousin's tailors and seamstresses for his own purposes whenever she leaves them short of inspiration.
Ulrick was destined for a mediocre life. Born a cousin to the cadet branch at High Hermitage, his prospects were limited. It became clear from a young age that a life of scholarship or faith was not his calling. He was, however, remarkably good at swinging a sword.
Destined perhaps to serve as a knight for House Dayne, he first began service as a page for House Dalt, in the shadow of Sunspear. From page to squire, he began to make a name for himself. Always a head taller than his peers, he had an instinct and talent that caught the eye of House Martell's master-at-arms. From Lemonwood to Sunspear, Ulrick grew, and grew more confident.
Knighted at a tourney, he was not truly tested until a return home to High Hermitage. Called up as part of the retinue to guide Lady Ysabel's return from Yronwood to Starfall, a bloody skirmish in the Boneway measured his training and natural aptitude and found both anything but lacking.
Ser Ulrick, a man who had yet to see twenty namedays, against all odds, overwhelmed the larger rogue band and returned Lady Ysabel untouched to Starfall. Some months later, after much deliberation and further trials left unspoken, Dawn was bestowed upon him and he claimed the title Sword of the Morning.
Starfall remained his home, the growing tensions between Dorne and their northern neighbours keeping the young knight well occupied. When his cousin Lady Dyanna wed Prince Maekar and they took residence at the Stormland castle of Summerhall, Ser Ulrick began travelling there with increasing frequency, extending his normal patrol along the Boneway to visit his cousin. When rebellion broke out, he disregarded requests to return to Starfall, instead swearing an oath to Prince Maekar that he would keep his wife safe when duty called the prince away to battles far to the north.
Ser Ulrick's oath to Prince Maekar remains his primary motivation, though the role of glorified guardsman wears on him as time passes and news arrives of bloodier battles creeping ever closer. He spends his days offering counsel to Lady Dyanna when asked, indulging in sibling banter even when she doesn't, and directing threatening scowls at visiting lords he suspects of wavering in their loyalties. He sees, too, to training Summerhall's men that Maekar left behind as a protective force, alongside the castle's master-at-arms.
With news of Prince Baelor leading victory after victory, Ulrick has argued that their defensive posture is no longer sufficient — that their numbers should join the heir's forces and crush the pretender's support more decisively. Dyanna has been receptive, but Ulrick is not certain Maekar would share that reading of his oath.
Aegor is tall and muscular, lean and lithe as a panther, with the purple eyes of his Targaryen blood set above a close-cropped beard, little more than a shadow on his jaw. His black hair marks him apart from the silver-gold of his father's line, a bastard's distinction worn without apology. His armour is well-made but deliberately plain — grey steel and black rings, practical and without ornament. His helm bears a horsehead crest with a flowing mane behind it. His shield displays his personal sigil, the red stallion of House Bracken combined with black dragon wings from House Blackfyre on a golden field, the horse snorting fire. He does not smile. He has not smiled in some time.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Weaponry: A knight's warhammer and lance. He is a ferocious and capable warrior, having trained extensively in the martial arts expected of a knight of his standing. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Notable Skills: One of the foremost military commanders riding under the Blackfyre banner, considered alongside Ser Quentyn Ball to have had the largest hand in convincing Daemon to press his claim. A proven battlefield commander with a particular aptitude for cavalry engagements and a ferocious warrior capable of holding his own against the most dangerous opponents in the realm. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: Knights and men-at-arms sworn to the Blackfyre cause, many drawn from houses with Bracken connections in the Riverlands.
Aegor was born in 172 AC at King's Landing to Barba Bracken, the fifth of King Aegon IV's mistresses. He was born only a fortnight before Queen Naerys nearly died in childbirth, and with Naerys lingering near death, Barba's father began to speak openly of Barba marrying the king. When Naerys recovered, Prince Daeron and Aemon the Dragonknight forced Aegon to send Barba and her bastard son from court. Aegor was raised at Stone Hedge among his mother's kin, nurtured on her resentments and the ancient grievances of House Bracken, growing into the bitter and hard-edged man the court had made him before he was old enough to understand it.
The enmity between Bittersteel and Bloodraven runs deeper than politics. Many would blame the ancient enmity between their houses, their competition over their half-sister or even that Aegor's mother was set aside in favour of Bloodraven's. In truth the matter was more simple, Bryden was able to remain at court, becoming some distant part of the royal family in his own strange way. Aegor was cast out, permitted only temporary visits to the halls that should have been his childhood home.
When Aegon IV died, he legitimised all his bastards, but while his brothers have come to wield Valyrian steel, Bittersteel was left with nothing but the legitimisation itself. It was the final insult in a life full of them. It was Bittersteel and Ser Quentyn Ball who had the largest hand in convincing Daemon Blackfyre that he was the true heir and should press his claim.
Bittersteel rides in service to a king he helped create, prosecuting a rebellion he has longed to start. His loyalty to Daemon is genuine, the Black Dragon is the one man who has treated him as something more than a useful embarrassment, but it sits alongside a web of personal grievances that the rebellion gives him legitimate cause to pursue. He wants Daemon on the Iron Throne and his half-brother Brynden Rivers broken. He is a hard man who has little use for anything beyond war, and war, at last, is exactly what he has. He does not think beyond victory. He has never found it useful to.
As it stands the specific location of Bittersteel is unknown to the royalist forces, going to ground in the Riverlands. Unknown to even Bloodraven's spies, he heads North to the Twins.
_________________________________________________________ House Seat: Brightwater Keep, on the Honeywine _________________________________________________________ Region: The Reach
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lord Aubrey Florent ◼ Age: 54 ◼ Appearance: A tall, thin man who carries himself as though the weight of a crown rests upon his brow, even if the crown itself was lost generations ago. Lord Aubrey has a narrow, angular face defined by high cheekbones, a long straight nose, and a jaw that tapers to a clean, pointed chin. He has the prominent, slightly too-large ears that mark the Florent bloodline, though he has learned over the decades to hold his head at angles that diminish them. His eyes are a pale, washed-out hazel, almost amber in certain light, and they possess an unsettling stillness. His hair, once a dark reddish-brown, has gone to grey at the temples and thinned at the crown, though he wears what remains swept back and neatly oiled.
His hands are long-fingered and precise, more suited to a maester's quill than a knight's lance, and he is seldom seen without a signet ring bearing the fox-and-flowers of his house. He dresses richly but never ostentatiously, favouring fine wool in deep amber and ivory trimmed with fox fur at the collar, as if to remind every man in the room exactly whose blood runs in his veins.
◼ Biography: Aubrey Florent was not born to inherit. He was a second son, more interested in genealogies than swordplay, content to remain in his elder brother's shadow. That ended at the crossing of the Blueburn in 170 AC, when Denys took a Dornish arrow through the throat. Aubrey was seventeen.
Their father, Lord Garmon, spent his lordship nursing the ancient Florent grievance against House Tyrell without ever possessing the cunning to act on it. He drank, raged, and died in 178 AC, leaving Aubrey a house diminished in every way that mattered: coffers half-empty, bannermen restless, and a name spoken with pity rather than respect.
Unlike his father, Aubrey did not rage. He calculated. Over eighteen years he rebuilt, marrying Lady Lynaera of House Rowan to bind Brightwater to a powerful family. Lynaera became more than a political alliance: she was the spine of his household, balancing ledgers and quieting creditors while Aubrey played his long game. She bore him three children (Aladore, Jon, and Alysanne) and together they slowly raised a house that had nearly forgotten how to stand.
Then the rebellion killed his wife and daughter. Lady Lynaera and Alysanne were set upon while travelling the Honeywine with a small escort. The official account holds that bannerless renegades robbed and murdered the party. No survivors were left to confirm or contradict this. The truth, if it differs from the telling, is buried alongside the dead.
Lord Aubrey does not concern himself with the distinction. The rebellion created the lawlessness. The rebels are responsible. And so the rebels must pay.
The man who emerged from the sept after three days of vigil over two shrouded bodies is not the man who entered it. The patient schemer has been scoured away. What remains is something colder: a man with nothing left to lose but his sons and his name, and a fury that has cured his famous patience like fire cures green wood. He no longer speaks of the post-war reckoning as an opportunity. He speaks of it as a debt owed in blood.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Aladore Florent ◼ Age: 24 ◼ Appearance: Where his father is all angles and restraint, Aladore is warmth and motion. He stands just over six feet, lean and athletic, shaped by years of hard training and long rides along the Honeywine. His face is handsome in a less refined way: a strong brow, a slightly crooked nose broken at a tourney in Highgarden and never properly reset, and a wide mouth that falls easily into a cocksure grin.
He has his mother's colouring, with thick auburn hair worn longer than fashion dictates, often falling across his forehead in unruly waves, and warm brown eyes flecked with gold. He has inherited the Florent ears, though on him they seem less unfortunate and more characterful, giving his profile an alert quality that women at court have called roguish. He carries himself with the easy physicality of a natural athlete, loose-limbed and quick on his feet. In armour he wears burnished steel chased with amber and white enamel in the Florent colours, with a fox-head visor on his helm that has become his signature at tournaments. In court dress he favours rich russet doublets slashed with cream silk, a short cloak thrown carelessly over one shoulder.
◼ Biography: Aladore has spent his entire life being told he is the hope of his house. His father educated him in arms and in the arts of court, but where Aubrey is patient and calculating, his heir is bold. Aladore was knighted at eighteen after leading a mounted charge in a border skirmish near the Prince's Pass, scattering a force twice his own.
He has grown up steeped in his father's ambition, raised on stories of the Gardener kings and the theft of Highgarden. Where Aubrey has quietly let the grievance guide his decisions over the years, Aladore burns with it. He has competed in tournaments across the Reach, unhorsing Tyrells and Tarlys alike, and earned a reputation as one of the finest young lances south of the Mander. Common soldiers take to him in a way his father will never inspire.
The deaths of his mother and sister have turned the burning into something hotter and less controlled. He does not grieve quietly. He rages, he drinks, and he sharpens his sword until the whetstone screams. The grin does not come less easily now than before, but there is an emptiness to it now. He loved his little sister Alysanne in particular with the fierce protectiveness of a brother who knew she was cleverer than him by half and destined for something great. That she and their mother died on a road he should have been riding is a thought that visits him nightly.
The coming war is what makes his pulse quicken now. He has sworn his sword to the Red Dragon and means to wield it at the front of every charge, not just for glory but for the scalding satisfaction of making someone pay.
His father worries about him. He is right to. But for the first time in his life, Lord Aubrey does not counsel restraint.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Jon Florent ◼ Age: 19 ◼ Appearance: Jon Florent almost looks more like a septon's apprentice than a knight of the Reach. He is of middling height, narrower in the shoulder than his brother, with a slender frame that lends itself more to quickness than power. His face is long and serious, dominated by thoughtful grey-hazel eyes set beneath heavy brows that give him a permanently contemplative expression, as though he is perpetually working through some problem no one else has noticed. His hair is a mousey brown, darker than his brother's auburn, kept cut short and practical.
He has the Florent ears (more noticeable on his thinner face than on Aladore's) and a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones that make him look younger than his years. He is clean-shaven, not by choice but because his beard comes in patchy and thin, a source of private embarrassment. Despite his scholarly air, his hands are calloused from training; Jon may not love the sword, but no Florent has ever been permitted to neglect the martial arts entirely. He dresses plainly by the standards of his house, in muted browns and creams with unadorned leather and functional boots.
◼ Biography: Where Aladore was the heir, trained and celebrated, Jon was the spare, and he learned early to find his worth in places his brother never thought to look.
He is the more intelligent of the two. He reads often and possesses a good memory for maps, genealogies, and the web of feudal obligation that governs the Reach. His father sent him to study at the Citadel, but Jon chose knighthood over the maester's chain. He may be studious and intelligent, but Jon never wanted to be a maester. He was knighted at seventeen and is a competent if not particularly noteworthy swordsman who fights the way he thinks: carefully, looking for the opening rather than forcing one. His primary edge in a fight may well be an opponent underestimating him due to his appearance.
The murder of his mother and sister has changed Jon in ways less visible than Aladore but no less profound. He does not rage. He goes quiet, and the quiet has a weight to it that unsettles people. He has read the accounts, questioned the outriders, studied the road where it happened, and drawn too few conclusions. The story of bannerless renegades may be true. It may not. The not knowing gnaws at him like rot in a beam.
What he does know is that his father and brother are no longer thinking clearly. Grief has made Lord Aubrey reckless; fury has made Aladore murderous. Jon shares their anger, but someone in this family must still think past the next battle, and with his mother gone, that burden has fallen to him. He is nineteen, and not sure he is equal to it.
Aladore will do something glorious and reckless in this war. Jon has resolved to be beside him when it happens, because someone will need to think clearly when the blood runs hot.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lady Lynaera Florent, née Rowan [deceased] ◼ Age: 49 at death ◼ Appearance: A handsome, sharp-featured woman with silvered honey-blonde hair, grey-green eyes, and the straight-backed posture of someone who refused to be overlooked.
◼ Biography: Second daughter of Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove, married to Lord Aubrey as a political match and transformed over three decades into the true spine of House Florent. She managed the estates, balanced the books, raised the children, and maintained a correspondence network spanning half the Reach. Killed alongside her daughter on the Honeywine road during the early chaos of the rebellion.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Alysanne Florent [deceased] ◼ Age: 17 at death ◼ Appearance: Small, slight, and elfin, with vivid amber eyes and deep auburn hair; the family beauty, though it was the sharp, unsettling kind that made men uneasy rather than enchanted.
◼ Biography: Lord Aubrey's only daughter and, by his own reckoning, his most valuable piece on the board. She had her father's patience, her mother's pragmatism, and an instinct for reading people that was alarming in a girl of seventeen. Every marriage offer had been refused; Aubrey was saving her for the match that would seal the Florents' rise. The war took her before he could play her.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Bertrand Florent ◼ Age: 48 ◼ Appearance: Thick-set and broad-shouldered with a twice-broken nose, a jagged scar from cheekbone to jaw, iron-grey hair cropped close, and the look of a man who has spent thirty years sleeping in mud and never quite forgiven the world for it.
◼ Biography: Lord Aubrey's younger brother, third-born son of the late Lord Garmon. He has spent his adult life as a household knight in the Dornish Marches, and was summoned home when the rebellion broke out. He serves as castellan of Brightwater Keep: a capable soldier, a reliable commander. A man whose years fighting alongside Marcher lords (many of whom now ride for Daemon) give him sympathies his brother would rather he did not have.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Maester Edwyn ◼ Age: 63 ◼ Appearance: Stooped and liver-spotted, with watery blue eyes and a fringe of white hair around a bald crown.
◼ Biography: Assigned to Brightwater Keep by the Citadel over twenty years ago. A competent but unambitious man who has served the Florents faithfully and without distinction. Since Lady Lynaera's death, much of the household correspondence has fallen to him by default, a duty he performs adequately but without her instinct for what matters and what does not.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ser Harmon Florent ◼ Age: 31 ◼ Appearance: A lean, sandy-haired man with a long jaw, the Florent ears, and the pinched, cautious expression of someone perpetually worried about giving offence.
◼ Biography: A cousin of Lord Aubrey's, son of a younger branch that holds a modest manor along the upper Honeywine. Serves as captain of Aladore's personal guard in the field. Loyal, solid, unimaginative, and quietly terrified that Aladore will do something that will get them both killed.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Rycherd Ashford ◼ Age: 15 ◼ Appearance: A slight, freckled boy with straw-coloured hair and an earnest face that has not yet lost its baby fat.
◼ Biography: Squire to Ser Aladore, second son of a minor Ashford knight. Worships his master with the blind devotion of a boy who has not yet seen real battle. Rides south with the Florent cavalry.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Septa Myranda ◼ Age: 56 ◼ Appearance: A broad, plain-faced woman with grey hair pulled severely back and calloused hands more suited to a washerwoman than a servant of the Faith.
◼ Biography: Served as governess and spiritual guardian to the Florent children. She travelled with Lady Lynaera and Alysanne but was left behind at a waypoint along the Honeywine the morning before the attack, recovering from a fever. She has not forgiven herself and likely never will.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lady Emphyria Florent, née Cuy ◼ Age: 72 ◼ Appearance: A tiny, sharp-eyed old woman with white hair, a hooked nose, and a tongue that could strip paint from a castle wall.
◼ Biography: Lord Garmon's widow and mother to Aubrey, Denys, and Bertrand. She has outlived her husband, her eldest son, her daughter-in-law, and her granddaughter, and carries each loss like a stone sewn into her skirts. Still resides at Brightwater, where she is alternately ignored and feared by the household staff.
House Florent is one of the oldest noble houses in the Reach, tracing its lineage to Florys the Fox, the cleverest of Garth Greenhand's many children. Legend holds that Florys took three husbands, each ignorant of the others, and from those unions sprang three great houses: the Florents, the Balls, and the Peakes. The Florents descend from Flement Brightwater, Florys's first husband, who built the original keep on the banks of the Honeywine. It is a lineage older than the Tyrells, older than most houses still standing in the Reach.
For generations beyond counting, the Florents served the Gardener Kings with distinction. The blood of the Gardeners flows in Florent veins through a direct male line descending from a younger son of King Garth X Gardener. When the dynasty ended on the Field of Fire, consumed by dragonflame alongside King Mern IX, the Florents had every reason to believe that Highgarden would pass to them.
Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Harlen Tyrell, the steward of Highgarden, opened its gates to the dragons and was rewarded with lordship over the entire Reach. A steward elevated to supremacy over the very bloodlines he had served. The Florents knelt. They had no choice. But they did not forget.
In the centuries that followed, House Florent pursued a path of bitter loyalty. They fought in the Faith Militant's rising, in the Dornish wars, in every conflict that demanded Reach swords. Lord Jarmen Florent perished on the Field of Fire alongside his Gardener king. Lord Patrek rode for the Greens in the Dance and was cut down at the Battle of the Kingsroad. Lord Symond marched with Tyrell into Dorne and was slaughtered at Sunspear. The pattern never changed: the Florents fight, the Florents bleed, and the Florents receive nothing. Each generation produces a lord who believes this will be the time things change, and each generation is disappointed.
By the time Lord Garmon Florent inherited Brightwater Keep, the house had entered a quiet decline. No single disaster, merely the slow erosion that comes from being perpetually passed over. Garmon spent his lordship raging against the Tyrells and drinking himself into an early grave, accomplishing nothing except ensuring that the name Florent became synonymous with impotent grievance.
His son Aubrey inherited a diminished legacy: a keep in need of repair, bannermen growing distant, coffers thinning, and a name that great lords spoke with pity rather than respect. But Aubrey was not his father. Where Garmon raged, Aubrey planned, slowly but steadily reversing the Florent fortune. Whilst not exactly prosperous, House Florent had become a house of some prominence in the Reach. Until tragedy once again struck.
When Daemon Blackfyre fled King's Landing with Aegor Bittersteel and Quentyn "Fireball" Ball, the Reach was thrown into chaos. Anti-Dornish sentiment runs deep here; King Daeron's marriage to Myriah Martell is a wound that has never healed. When Fireball rallied his banners, many Reach houses answered. The Peakes have declared openly. The Osgreys ride with Daemon. The Costaynes and the Balls have turned their cloaks. The Hightowers of Oldtown maintain a tense neutrality that satisfies no one.
House Florent chose differently, and has paid a price no one anticipated.
Lord Aubrey was among the first Reach lords to pledge his banners to King Daeron II, publicly and without equivocation. His reasoning was simple: the rebels would lose, and the lords who bled for the winning side would feast on the carcasses of those who did not. Then the war killed his wife and daughter, and calculation became something else entirely.
Lady Lynaera and Alysanne Florent were set upon while travelling the Honeywine with a modest escort. Every member of the party was killed. The official account holds that bannerless renegades (opportunists born of the chaos Fireball's campaign has sown) robbed and murdered them. There are no known witnesses to confirm or contradict this. Lord Aubrey has not sought the truth with any great vigour. The rebellion created the lawlessness. The rebels are responsible. That is enough.
The deaths have fundamentally broken the slow, steady path House Florent was set upon. Lynaera was Brightwater's spine: the woman who balanced ledgers, managed the household and acted as Aubrey's anchor. Alysanne was Aubrey's most valuable political piece, a daughter of ancient blood held in reserve for the marriage that would seal the Florents' rise. Both are gone. In their place is grief, rage, and a dangerous clarity. The ever-patient fox is patient no longer. Where once Lord Aubrey offered loyalty as an investment he now wages war as a vendetta, with his eye on the holdings of House Peake in particular.
Brightwater can field roughly fifteen hundred swords. Ser Aladore has ridden south with the bulk of the cavalry to join Lord Leo Tyrell's muster, burning to make someone pay. Ser Jon accompanies him as possibly the last steady mind the Florents possess.
Lord Aubrey remains at the keep, but it feels emptier than its garrison would suggest. There are rooms he does not enter. There is an unease permeating from the man always considered so calm and collected. The fox no longer has the luxury of patience, or the inclination for mercy. And the fox does not forget.
Ancient Reach house with better Gardener blood than the Tyrells, been salty about getting passed over for Highgarden since the Conquest. Spent the last few generations in slow decline thanks to a string of lords who were better at complaining than scheming. Current lord, Aubrey, is the first competent Florent in a while and has spent eighteen years quietly rebuilding.
When the Blackfyre Rebellion kicked off, Aubrey immediately backed the Red Dragon. Not out of love for Daeron, but because he did the maths and figured the rebels were going to lose, and he wanted to be first in line when the crown started handing out confiscated rebel lands (looking at you, House Peake).
Then his wife and teenage daughter got killed by bandits (allegedly) on the road during the chaos of the war. Now the calculating political operator has been replaced by a grieving father with a grudge, and his eldest son Aladore (the heir, a hothead tournament knight) is out for blood. The only person in the family still thinking straight is Jon, the kind-of-bookish younger son, who is nineteen and very aware he is not ready for this.
Uncle Bertrand holds the castle. He is a grumpy old soldier who spent thirty years in the Marches and has complicated feelings about fighting his former comrades.
Loyalist house. Motivated by revenge. Probably going to do something unwise.
Danelle has a long mane of fiery red hair, contrasted against the eerily pale hue of her skin. She boasts a curvaceous build, toughened by a not inconsiderable amount of hard muscle. A thick white scar lurches across the young woman’s neck, resembling a bolt of pale lightning.
Blade of the Black Goat: An esoteric knife, gifted to Danelle by Naessanara. This unholy blade bears the likeness of the Black Goat of Qohor.
Armour and Sword: Unusually for a woman of this era, Danelle has been trained in the basics of combat and can wield a sword competently. Wherever Danelle travels, she brings with her a suit of tight-fitting black armour and a bejewelled blade, which she has nicknamed “Visenya’s Fury”, after Visenya Targaryen, a woman from legend that she greatly admires.
Ravella Rivers: Danelle’s secret lover and partner-in-crime. Ravella masquerades as Danelle’s lady-in-waiting. Ravella is perhaps one of the only people that Danelle harbours a genuine fondness for.
Danelle Lothston was the niece of Lucas Lothston, the Lord of Harrenhal. Danelle grew up in Nighthold, a small, modest settlement in the Riverlands that had been the seat of House Lothston in the days before Harrenhal was granted to Lucas by Aegon the Unworthy.
When Lucas and his immediate family moved to Harrenhal, Danelle’s family remained in Nighthold.
Danelle was one of two children, growing up alongside her brother Edmure. Both were the offspring of Lord Dalton Lothston and Florence Lothston, née Frey.
Edmure was Danelle’s elder, and irrefutably his father’s favourite child. Where Danelle was neglected, Edmure was showered in love and praise. This twisted Edmure into a vicious and arrogant young man, with a fondness for tormenting his younger sister.
Dalton and Florence Lothston did nothing to shield their daughter from Edmure’s sadistic games, which grew more and more depraved as he matured.
Danelle became an outcast in her own home, with her only friend being a strange old woman from Essoss called “Naessanara” who lived in a hut on the fringes of Lothston land.
As Danelle grew closer to the peculiar crone, Naessanara would enthral the young girl with fantastical stories of her supposed adventures in Asshai and the Free Cities. This was the origin of Danelle’s fascination with black magic and esoteric mysteries. The old woman gifted Danelle with a strange knife whose handle was wrought from black wood and carved into the likeness of a monstrous goat. Naessanara claimed to have brought the knife from a sorcerer in Qohor, many years prior.
Edmure, whose favoured pastime was harassing his sister, became jealous that Danelle was spending so much time with Naessanara.
One evening, Edmure followed his sister to the cottage, stalking stealthily through the darkness to ensure that she didn’t know she was being followed. When Naessanara opened her door to greet Danelle, Edmure shot her through the eye with his longbow, killing his sister’s sole friend.
Edmure then attacked Danelle, forcing himself on her as he attempted to rape her. As Danelle thrashed and struggled beneath him, Edmure pressed his blade into his sister’s neck.
Danelle retaliated, killing her brother with the exotic knife that Naessanara had gifted her. Knowing that her parents would never side with her over Edmure, Danelle dragged Edmure’s corpse into the cottage before setting it ablaze with both the bodies of Naessanara and her brother inside.
Danelle told her parents that the old woman had kidnapped her and Edmure, wishing to sacrifice them to some foreign god. She claimed that Naessanara had killed Edmure and came perilously close to killing her, using the bloody wound on her neck to substantiate the story.
The loss of their cherished son devastated Dalton and Florence. They became hollow, despairing shells of their former selves, who grew more and more reclusive as time passed.
Danelle came to resent her parents, growing bitter over years of mistreatment and neglect. Her hatred reached a zenith when Danelle butchered her parents in their bed, wielding the eldritch knife which Naessanara had gifted her.
The young woman once again used fire to cover her tracks, starting a blaze which would reduce Nighthold to a blackened ruin.
After what the realm viewed as a horrific accident, Danelle was sent to Harrenhall to live with her uncle Lucas and his son Manfryd.
Danelle had a far more amicable relationship with Manfryd than she had with her brother. The two were equally unusual and fascinated with mysticism, which formed a strong bond between them.
Manfryd introduced Danelle to Ravella Rivers, a young bastard girl who alleged that she was a witch. Whilst the triad bonded over their mutual obsession with secrets and sorcery, Danelle and Ravella were smitten with each other, becoming lovers in secret.
Danelle and Ravella took their dark hungers a step further, preying upon outcasts and unfortunates that were too unimportant to be missed. They would enact eldritch rituals upon their helpless quarry, eating human flesh and bathing in blood.
When the reignited feud between House Blackwood and House Bracken surged across the Riverlands, Danelle had been a guest at Raventree Hall, with Ravella attending as her “lady in waiting”.
Enthralled by all things sinister and macabre, Lady Danelle pledged to lend her strength to Raventree Hall under the guise of repaying the kindness of her hosts.
In reality, Danelle and Ravella are delighted at the opportunity to experiment with a delightful new host of fresh victims.
Danelle’s primary motivation is to learn more about dark magics and forbidden practices. Beyond her lust for magical power, Danelle is fiercely loyal to Ravella, whilst also hoping to accumulate wealth and political influence.
_________________________________________________________ Age: 21 _________________________________________________________ Allegiance: Nominally loyal to King Daeron II Targaryen
Rella Sand is unmistakably Dornish in her looks — olive-skinned and dark-haired, with the kind of easy, sun-warmed beauty that draws eyes in any court. She is buxom and carries herself with the relaxed confidence of someone who has never been made to feel small, a quality that reads as charm in some rooms and as arrogance in others. The single feature that betrays her father's blood is her eyes, a clear and startling purple around an inner halo of turquoise and yellow. She dresses well and with some extravagance, favouring the flowing Dornish styles she grew up with over the more structured fashions of King's Landing, and shows little interest in adjusting this to suit her audience. She has the hands of someone who has sailed and ridden and handled herself in foreign ports, though she would not describe herself as rough.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Notable Skills: An easy facility with languages, having picked up snatches of Valyrian, the Summer tongue and several Essosi dialects through her travels. A natural social intelligence that she consistently overestimates in politically complex situations. Comfortable at sea and in foreign courts in a way that most highborn women of Westeros are not. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Valuables: A collection of curiosities and gifts accumulated across her travels — jewellery, silks and small luxuries from the Summer Isles and the Free Cities. Combined incomes from two courts who would rather pay her than upset her. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: A Dornish serving woman who has accompanied her since childhood and has spent years quietly managing the consequences of Rella's decisions.
Rella Sand was born at King's Landing to a Dornish noblewoman who had come north as part of the attending party of Princess Myriah Martell, brought to court for the marriage of Myriah to the then-Prince Daeron. Her mother, Tamara Sand, was a natural daughter of the Prince of Dorne by a noble paramour, a woman of good blood but uncertain standing in a less accepting foreign court. This made her an entirely suitable conquest for Aegon, who had never been known to let political disaster trouble him. Rella was the result, and both babe and mother were quietly shipped back to Dorne before she had begun to show too obviously. They remained awhile at Sunspear, before Tamara returned as one of her sister's favoured ladies, with a young girl the court politely deciding to ignore had vibrant purple eyes.
She grew up between the two courts depending on the waxing and waning whims of the Unworthy towards the Dornish delegation. Knowing precisely what she was and finding it, on the whole, more interesting than troubling. Through her mother she carries the blood of the Prince of Dorne, making Maron and Myriah Martell her half-uncle and half-aunt by her mother's line, and through her father she is of the blood of the dragon. It is a curious doubling of connections, she has Dornish blood that the Martells do not quite claim and Targaryen blood that the court does not quite acknowledge. The Martells regard her with the an amount of warmth reserved for relatives whose existence is mildly inconvenient. The court of Daeron II tolerates her the way it tolerates a number of inconvenient consequences of Aegon's reign.
She has filled the gaps this distance creates with travel. By the time she was sixteen she had been to Tyrosh and Lys, had spent half a year at a merchant's court in the Summer Isles, and had accumulated enough stories to hold a dinner table for an evening and enough enemies to make a second visit inadvisable in at least two of the cities. She claims to have been fast friends with the Sealord but no one really knows enough to contest this. She returned to King's Landing because it remained the most comfortable place to be comfortable in, and because she has not yet found anywhere she would rather be permanently.
Rella Sand is nominally at court in support of Daeron II's cause, insofar as the court feeds and houses her and she has no particular wish to see it fall. Her loyalty is less a conviction than a default — she has never been given sufficient reason to choose otherwise, and the Blackfyre cause has not yet offered her anything interesting enough to change that calculation. She is aware that the rebellion makes her position somewhat delicate, given that her Targaryen blood, however bastard, makes her a figure of at least theoretical interest to both sides. She finds this more flattering than alarming, which is characteristic of her.
As the conflict increases in intensity, Rella has taken it upon herself to travel to the Reach, taking with her a small but loyal band of crew and marines from her journeys. If she seeks to do anything more than explore more of the world is unclear, but most could surely worry she's is absoulutely intending to do something.
_________________________________________________________ House Seat: Winterfell _________________________________________________________ Region: The North
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lord Brandon Stark ◼ Age: 46 ◼ Appearance: Stark's do not wither into bone and crumple, to live among a frozen land such as the North is to harden ones body as much as ones resolve, the fit live and strong live through the Winter's, all those who cannot pass on Brandon son of Cregan still stands. Large of frame with dark hair and icy blue eyes, strong of arm and skilled as he could has learned much of the world exploring as a youngest son, wiser than most and considering cunning beyond the measure of most Starks.
◼ Biography:
Though the Warden of the North is not as famed as his father or siblings, he has done much to recover the realm and prepare it for what is coming. He has done much to prepare them for conflicts like what Cregan was dragged onto with the Dance and the Conquest of Dorne, however Cregan's grudges still are spoken of in the courts and relations between the Dragons and Wolves are icy as the Winters of the north.
This stems from the deaths and woes the North has recently gone through from the time of the Dance it was thought they would have a chance to heal and grow more powerful. But a bride promised was never given, their heirs and sons as the loyal followers of the Targaryen's Conquest in Dorne died, not just House Stark's heir but many of their vassals as well. The Skag Rebellion would claim his older brother and Edric would die trying to bring him home. Now, bastards and dragons want aid? They must give in gold and blood before a single Northerner will die in this damned war.
The North remembers, always.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Rowan Stark ◼ Age: 25 ◼ Appearance: Strong of arm and tall, yet silent as the grave in all his movements, able to sneak without intending too. A big man who can move as silent as the grave with a preference for short blades, big axes. Brought up fighting Skagosi, he fights dirty as foes. Famed for smiles and laughter as he cuts down the foe, he is Bolton brutal and Stark stubborn.
◼ Biography:
First born son of Brandon Stark is a bit shorter than his father and considered a trouble maker enjoying sneaking around and pulling pranks. Good with a sling or a bow he is fleet on his feet, preferring short swords and axes to the annoyance of his father. He was a bit of a trouble maker around Winterfell until taken to battle against the Skagosi rebellion.
However he has shown great skill in learning about battles and organization, stealthy and silent he is not as popular as his younger brothers but enjoys good support. He is a trouble maker, having a reputation of sneaking out of Winterfell dressed up as a mercenary before being dragged back by his father by the ear.
He is as friendly and affable to allies, brutal and uncompromising to his foes. He is a come back or humorous joke when insults fly as if to strike with a fist. While not as big as younger brother, his quietness and stealth are unusual for someone of Stark bloodline. As well as his willingness to use dirty fighting to bring down his foes or fight dishonorably.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Alder Stark ◼ Age: 21 ◼ Appearance: Dark of hair with icy blue eyes, taller than his father and bear a striking resemblance to his father and uncle Rickon. Handsome, with a voice like whiskey over honey. Strong and built like the famed Northmen he broad and wide shouldered, steady hand and quick mind. ◼ Biography:
Strong of hand but sweet of voice, Alder Stark is claimed to be the best swordsman in the North in where he faces off against many of the other Lords of the North sons and champions. Yet time again the boy with a strong arm and better structure than his peers often takes the fight. He rarely speaks up but shows an unwavering devotion to his father and teachers who have forged him like steel.
His singing voice and musical skill have made him one of the most eligible bachelors of the North but more than any of that he is known for skill and temper, council his father on how to best deal with Skagos after their defeat such as rebuilding some defenses and seeing to adding a minor navy to ensure regular control and food shipments to Skagos as they try to end their cannibalism.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Ashe Stark ◼ Age: 17 ◼ Appearance: Shorter and stockier than his brother’s Ashe Stark can most be found ascending parts of Winterfell or rocky outcroppings by the outside. He is nimble for his size and can be rather sneaky. ◼ Biography:
The oddball of the family, not as serious as Stark or as withdrawn as a Bolton. Ashe is a cheery and friendly sort who finds Southron’s rather funny with their armor and knightly codes when arrows and rocks slay more knights than a sword ever will. Why bother with practicing with that?
A prankster and unwilling to give up his joys in life such as singing and performing in taverns, Ashe has been known to get into bar brawls where he has made more friends than enemies, among the sons of the other Northern houses. However, he believes the Southrons are fools in how they conduct themselves then again the North has always ruled differently than the south. -
House Stark were Kings in the North long before the Andals and Aegon rose, one after another they were felled until alone stood the Starks with a loyalty and love of their Bannermen. When Aegon came, the Northern King wisest of them all bowed his head and gave his crown to the Targaryen's. Loyal to oaths and honorable men, the Stark's have recently been famed for the Hour of the Wolf where they killed and exiled men of their enemies when taking the position of the Hand of the King. Having recently put down a brutal rebellion that killed his older brother, Barth the Blacksword infamous warrior Lord who served in the Conquest of Dorne.
House Stark has been on the rise, from it's great heights since the Hour of the Wolf when all the Lords of Westeros quaked at the sight of his father Cregan, House Stark has stumbled in the crisis after death of his father and the many heirs he left to squabble. They have recently gained the great influence marrying into House Bolton whom has no male heirs, with goals of adding the Dreadfort to their crownlands. Due to issues within the North of succession and rebellion, Moat Calin has seen some renovation as well as new keep being built on Skagos and loyal soldiers being placed there, with the goal of forcing the Stoneborn who killed thousands in their rebellion into the fold. It's armies are well practiced and more direct control established across the North, due to the recent rebellion and the need for ships House Stark and Manderly's have amassed a small and mostly defensive focused navy, as well supporting them 50,000 men across the North can be called upon, summer has been sweet as their stores swell as each day Winter grows closer the Starks cannot afford to send men to war, but once it comes their armies will happily march across Westeros and take from the mouths of Southron than deplete their own.
However the North is so spread out that it would take over a year to gather, as such house Stark can directly bring about half that number to bear in a shorter time.
"A woman’s tongue is sharper than a Northern wind."
P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S
_________________________________________________________ Age: 42 _________________________________________________________ Allegiance: House Stark & House Bolton
The Bolton presence is carried by Twyla even though she married Brandon. Skin like snow and hair like the depth of night with a gray blue stare that would pierce the best armor. Though severe in countenance her smile is quite warm when given. Twyla holds her head high and is famed for being unreadable. She is obviously intelligent and keeps her own council unless she feels that her council is beneficial.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Weaponry: Knives ◼ Notable Skills: Knife combat ◼ Valuables: House Stark Jewels ◼ Retinue: Lila Snow, her ladies maid that has been with her since she was a teenager.
Twyla Bolton was born the final living ember of a dying, feared legacy—the last direct descendant of House Bolton, raised beneath the flayed banners of the Dreadfort. Her childhood was not one of warmth, but of quiet observation and careful survival. The Boltons were not known for tenderness, and Twyla learned early how to read silences, how to measure danger in a glance, and how to endure without breaking. Where others inherited cruelty, she inherited restraint. Where others reveled in fear, she studied it.
By the time she reached womanhood, the North had begun to shift. The old brutalities of House Bolton had made them powerful—but also isolated. Twyla, unlike her forebears, understood that fear alone could not sustain a house forever. She became something rare: a Bolton who could adapt. Her marriage to Brandon Stark was no accident—it was a calculated union, one that shocked the North. To wed a Stark to a Bolton was to stitch together ice and blood, honor and infamy.
Many whispered that Brandon had taken a wolf into a den of vipers. Others believed Twyla had escaped something far worse.
At Winterfell, Twyla remade herself—not by abandoning her past, but by mastering it. She is composed, sharp, and deeply perceptive, often speaking less than those around her but understanding far more. The Northern court learned quickly that she was not to be underestimated. While Brandon rules with the steady, honorable strength expected of a Stark, Twyla governs in subtler ways—through alliances, quiet counsel, and an unerring instinct for threats before they surface.
Yet her greatest struggle is not political—it is legacy.
As the last true Bolton, Twyla carries a name that cannot pass through her bloodline. Though she bore five children—Rowan, Alder, Briar, and the twins Ashe and Wyllow—they are Starks, not Boltons. The flayed man will die with her unless another path is forged. This truth weighs heavily on her, not out of pride alone, but out of responsibility. A house, no matter how dark its history, is still a piece of the North.
Now, she and Brandon quietly search for a distant Bolton cousin—someone who can take up the name and reshape it, or at the very least, ensure it does not vanish into legend and ash.
Privately, Twyla is torn. She does not mourn the cruelty of her ancestors—but she fears what happens when history is erased instead of remembered. She teaches her children both Stark honor and Bolton awareness: mercy, but never naivety. Her sons are strong, her daughters sharper still, and in each of them lives a balance she fought to create.
In the end, Twyla Stark stands as something the North has never seen before:
A Bolton who chose not to become a monster— and a Stark who never forgot how monsters are made.
Briar is very much her mother’s daughter. She has been known to be called the Ice Princess due to her stillness and difference. Honorable to a fault she would never break a pledge. She is more relaxed outside where walls don’t contain her. She is very faithful to the old gods.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Notable Skills: Archery, listening to conversation and picking out truths, an almost uncanny perception. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Valuables: A bow and quiver of arrows, House Stark Jewels, _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: Genna Hobbs, a ladies maid that has been working for the Starks since Briar turned thirteen.
The third child of Twyla Stark and Brandon Stark—and their eldest daughter—Briar grew up caught between two legacies: the unyielding honor of House Stark and the quiet, dangerous awareness of House Bolton. Where her brothers were given room to grow into warriors and heirs, Briar was watched. From the moment she could walk, it was clear she had inherited something different—not just her mother’s dark features, but her stillness… and her ability to see too much.
As a child, Briar was not loud, nor openly defiant. She listened. She lingered in doorways, memorized conversations not meant for her, and learned the rhythms of Winterfell as if it were a living thing. The servants learned to mind their tongues. The guards learned she noticed who cut corners. Even as a girl, she had a way of making grown men uneasy—not through cruelty, but through understanding.
Her mother, Twyla, recognized it immediately.
Rather than softening Briar—as many in the North expected of a noble daughter—Twyla refined her. She taught her the unspoken rules: how to measure truth from lies, how to let others underestimate her, how to wield silence like a blade. But where Twyla had been raised in fear, she made certain Briar would never be ruled by it. From Brandon, Briar learned honor, duty, and restraint—lessons she accepted, though not blindly.
This made her dangerous in a different way than her ancestors.
Briar does not believe in cruelty. But she understands its uses.
By her teenage years, Briar had already begun shaping her own place within Winterfell. She trained in archery—not for sport, but for precision. She preferred the godswood to the great hall, finding clarity among the trees where others felt watched. Some whispered she had the old blood of the North in her more strongly than her siblings—that the weirwoods listened when she spoke, and remembered when she did not.
At twenty, Briar has become something quietly formidable. She is not the heir—that role belongs to Rowan—but many in Winterfell know that if Rowan is the face of the future, Briar is its shadow. Advisors tread carefully around her. Visitors often mistake her calm for passivity, only to find themselves outmaneuvered in conversation before they realize the game has begun.
Her relationship with her siblings is complex but fiercely loyal:
Rowan challenges her, their clashes sharp but never truly hostile.
Alder trusts her instincts even when he does not fully understand them.
The twins, Ashe and Wyllow, adore her—though Wyllow, especially, sees more of Briar than Briar would like.
But it is her bond with her mother that defines her most.
Twyla sees in Briar the question she herself once faced: What do you do with darkness when it lives in you, but does not control you?
Briar’s answer is still unfolding.
She does not seek to restore House Bolton—but neither will she pretend it never existed. She studies its history in secret, not out of pride, but out of necessity. If monsters are born from silence and denial, then Briar intends to ensure the North never forgets what created them.
Some in the North already call her “The Thorn of Winterfell.” Not because she is cruel—but because she is sharp, rooted, and impossible to ignore once she draws blood.
And should the day come when Winterfell is threatened from within or without, it will not be Briar who rides at the front of the banners—
—but she will be the one who ensures the enemy never sees the end coming.
Soft, quiet, sweet, gentle, and an extraordinary aura that just seems to relax and calm others. Wyllow brings a sweet softness with her that can be mistaken as weakness but is not. She does not go out of her way to be spiteful to people but she will not hesitate to set them on the right path. She becomes an almost different person on a horse. Free and wild she seems to mesh with horses so easily and well that you could say that they communicate without words.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Notable Skills: Songs, stories, playing the lap harp, horsemanship, embroidery and memorizing history as well as several languages. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Valuables: Lap Harp, House Stark Jewels _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: Genna Hobbs, a ladies maid that has been working for the Starks since Briar turned thirteen. A stallion named Dārys that is eighteen hands and only lets Wyllow ride him; he tolerates others touching him but barely and you know if you’re not liked by him.
Wyllow Stark, the youngest child of Twyla and Brandon, entered the world in a hush of falling snow—a twin born moments after her brother Ashe, small and quiet where he was loud and restless. From the beginning, it was clear Wyllow was different. While her siblings seemed shaped by the weight of legacy, expectation, and conflict, Wyllow seemed… untouched by it.
Or so most believed.
She grew into a gentle presence within Winterfell, known for her soft voice, patient smile, and the way she seemed to bring calm simply by entering a room. Servants adored her. Guards relaxed around her. Even the most hardened northern lords found themselves lowering their voices in her presence, as though instinctively unwilling to disturb something fragile and rare.
But Wyllow is not fragile.
She simply chooses kindness.
From a young age, she took to music, drawn especially to the delicate, haunting sound of the lap harp. Where others trained with sword or bow, Wyllow practiced melodies—soft songs that drifted through Winterfell’s stone halls in the evenings. Her music became a quiet constant, something that stitched warmth into the cold North. It is said even the direwolves would settle when she played, their restless pacing soothed by her touch on the strings.
Books came next.
While many noble daughters were taught histories as obligation, Wyllow devoured them out of genuine fascination. She read not just of great victories, but of failures, forgotten houses, broken oaths—stories others skimmed past. Unlike Briar, who studied history to understand power, Wyllow read to understand people. She remembers details others dismiss, drawing connections that often go unnoticed until much later.
In this way, her sweetness hides a quiet depth.
Her greatest contradiction, however, lies in the saddle.
Despite her gentle nature, Wyllow is an exceptional horsewoman, fearless and instinctive. Horses respond to her as they do to few others, trusting her without hesitation. She rides not for display, but for freedom—often slipping away at dawn or dusk, her pale cloak trailing behind her as she disappears into the snow-covered lands beyond Winterfell. There is something almost wild in her then, a glimpse of the untamed North that lives beneath her softness.
Among her siblings, Wyllow is the thread that binds them:
She tempers Rowan’s temper with quiet words that somehow reach him when others cannot.
She lightens Alder’s burdens, reminding him he does not have to carry everything alone.
She sees through Briar more clearly than anyone—and loves her without fear of what she finds.
And with her twin, Ashe, she shares an unspoken bond—his fire to her still water.
Her relationship with her mother is perhaps the most telling.
Twyla, shaped by darkness, does not quite understand how Wyllow became what she is. Yet she protects her fiercely—not because Wyllow is weak, but because she represents something Twyla never had: a life not defined by fear. Still, there are moments when Twyla watches her youngest daughter too closely, as if searching for something hidden beneath the softness.
And perhaps there is something.
For all her gentleness, Wyllow sees more than she lets on. She hears what is not said. She feels shifts in mood, tension in the air, the weight of unspoken truths. She does not confront these things like Briar would—she carries them, quietly, until the moment comes when a single soft word can change everything.
Many in Winterfell believe Wyllow Stark will grow to be a lady of songs and stories, remembered for her kindness.
They are not wrong.
But they are not entirely right, either.
Because in a world of wolves and ghosts, of bloodlines and buried sins, sometimes the most powerful force is not the sharpest blade—
—but the one person who reminds the North what it is fighting to protect.
"Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day."
P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S
_________________________________________________________ Age: 49 _________________________________________________________ Allegiance: The Faith of the Seven — Starry Sept, Oldtown
Rhaena Targaryen has aged into the kind of woman that the Faith seems to produce at its best. Her hair, always more gold than silver even in youth remains so, worn beneath her septa's veil in the careful, coiffed manner she has maintained since girlhood. Her Targaryen blood shows in the softness of her violet eyes, though they are warm rather than piercing. She was ever the softer of her sisters, in form as well as manner. Not having to bear the burdens of childbirth or rearing like her sisters, her silhouette remains much as it was. Some part of this is no doubt a hidden aspect of her vanity, and perhaps memories of harsher words from her sisters in youth, does continue in the way she dresses, hiding any additional softness the years have brought with them. Her robes are the finest permitted to a septa — white with gold trim at the cuffs and hem, always impeccably maintained, often embroidered at the sleeves with her own needlework, the Mother's face, the Maiden with a white hart, small devotional scenes she has been stitching since she was a girl in the Maidenvault. She retains her love for silk and often embellishes her outfits with it, although most of her creativity for such things benefits others in the form of gifts for the ladies of Old Town.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Weaponry: None. She is a septa and carries no weapons, nor would she. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Notable Skills: An exceptional reader and correspondent — her letters are models of clarity and discretion. Two decades of managing the Starry Sept's charitable works have given her considerable administrative competence. She is a patient and skilled teacher of novices, and has a sharp facility for separating reliable intelligence from rumour. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Valuables: Her embroidery tools and materials, of unusually fine quality. She has a fairly expansive wardrobe and collection of jewellery for a humble Septa, for she is still the blood of the dragon and travelled to Old Town with no small means of sustaining herself should the need arise. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: Novices who attend her directly and carry her correspondence. Lay brothers and sisters who manages the practical logistics of the sept's charitable distribution and reports to her daily.
Rhaena was born in 147 AC into the diminished court of Aegon III, the Dragonbane, a king whose grief and trauma had settled over the Red Keep like a permanent weather system. She was the second daughter, softer and quieter than her elder sister Daena, and from the earliest age she seemed to find the world of devotion and needlework more comprehensible than the world of courts and politics. Where Daena chafed and struggled, Rhaena seemed to quietly accept her role. It is possible she was simply better at hiding what she felt, though she would not say so.
When her brother Baelor came to the throne and confined his sisters to the Maidenvault, it was Rhaena alone among the three who did not resent it. She was, by that point, already more than half a septa in her habits and her heart, and the confinement gave her libraries and silence and time for prayer in a way that she had not known she was hungry for until it was provided. She was almost as pious as Baelor himself, or at least that is how it is remembered. Those who were at court during the later reigns of Viserys II and Aegon IV may remember a royal princess more involved with the gossip and goings of court than the histories say. She had a particular fondness for the pious lords and ladies of the Vale at court, even as her nephew's reign became increasingly corrupt. There were rumors, at one point or another, that she may have married a Valeman of good title and greater piety, a match she would have approved of dearly. Instead, the mercurial whims of the King turned away from seeking an alliance with any Vale house, and Rhaena's happiness was never considered again.
When the opportunity came to take her vows properly, she did so with a conviction that was entirely her own. That it was also politically convenient for a Targaryen princess to be removed from the board of succession in a period of instability was not something she ignored, she simply did not find it diminishing. One could serve the Seven and still understand the world.
She has been in Oldtown for the better part of two decades now, a respected figure at the Starry Sept, known for her needlework, her patience with novices, and a quiet competence in the management of the Sept's considerable charitable work among the city's poor. She is liked rather than feared, which suits her. She is also more informed about the state of the realm than most would expect of a woman who has spent twenty years in prayer and domestic devotion. Letters arrive at the Starry Sept from a great many places, and Rhaena has always been an attentive reader.
Rhaena's primary purpose is the Sept and the people in her care; the novices she trains, the sick she tends to, the charitable works she has spent years quietly expanding. She is not naive enough to think the rebellion will leave Oldtown untouched, and she is engaged in the practical work of ensuring that whatever comes, the Sept and its people are protected. She is the sort of woman who will not tell you she is doing anything in particular, and will have already done it by the time you think to ask.
Beneath the practical work is something more calculating. A woman in the second half of her life examining what she has been, what she chose, and what it cost. She does not regret her vows, but she is forty-nine years old and has spent the last twenty of them in a city that is not her family's, serving an institution that is not her house, and sometimes in the small hours she thinks about her sisters and what became of them. She is grateful for the silence and the candlelight that do not require her to resolve those thoughts into answers.
_________________________________________________________ House Seat: Kingshouse _________________________________________________________ Region: Skagos | The North
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Lord Magnar ◼ Age: 62 (b. 134 AC) ◼ Appearance: ◼ Biography: The current Lord of Skagos, though illness has robbed him of active governance. He understood and sanctioned his sons' scheme during the Skagosi rebellion. A capable warlord in his time, he is now dependent on Torvin for the management of his own household, a dependence he both needs and resents. His death is anticipated by every faction on and off the island.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Torvin Magnar ◼ Age: 28 (b. 168 AC) ◼ Appearance: ◼ Biography: The firstborn twin, Torvin chose to remain on Skagos while his twin went to Winterfell. It was a decision made by cold assessment of aptitude, not sentiment. He governs the island in all but name, framing every decision as his father's will while quietly making it his own. Patient, hard to read, and acutely aware that the plan he is holding together was designed for two men who may no longer both exist.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name: Aldric Magnar ◼ Age: 28 (b. 168 AC) ◼ Appearance: ◼ Biography: Torvin's twin, currently residing as an honoured guest of House Stark. Yet from the Magnars' perspective, he is a potential blade close to the heart of their overlords. More socially fluent than most Skagosi, he was the natural choice for Winterfell. That has done little to change the fact that he is viewed as barbaric and uncivilized by those on the mainland.
House Magnar is among the oldest families of Skagos, their name itself said to mean "lord" in the ancient tongue of the island. They have a claim to precedence older than the Stark dominion over the North. They ruled as petty kings in the age before the Starks extended their reach across the Bay of Ice.
The island of Skagos is a hard place, it is remote, difficult to supply, and populated by people who feel little kinship with the mainland lords who nominally rule them. Unicorns roam its highlands. Its people are regarded by the rest of the North as savage and unknowable.
The Skagosi rebellion against House Stark has ended, crushed two years past at no small cost. House Magnar emerged from the conflict as the only Skagosi house Winterfell believes it can trust. What the North does not know is the shape of what House Magnar actually did. They aided Stark selectively, timing their support to let their rival houses Stane and Crowl bleed themselves weaker first.
The architect of this scheme was the current lord's twin heirs, Torvin and Aldric. Lord Magnar, sharp enough to understand the full shape of the gamble, agreed. He has since been too ill to govern, leaving Torvin to hold the island together in all but name while Aldric sits at Winterfell as a guest.
Even at seventeen, Shiera Seastar carries herself with the ease of someone long accustomed to being looked at. Her hair is thick and curling, silver-gold as one of Valyrian blood, worn longer perhaps than is entirely practical. Her face is heart-shaped, her lips full, and large mismatched eyes; one dark blue, one bright green, both of them watchful. Those who find reason to disapprove of her call it a defect though, those who have spent any time in her company tend to stop saying so. She favours ivory, lace, and cloth-of-silver, and considers cloth-of-gold too vulgar. At her throat she wears a heavy silver necklace set with alternating star sapphires and emeralds.
Lady Serenei of Lys died giving birth to her, and so Shiera came into the world already defined by absence. Serenei had belonged to an ancient but impoverished Valyrian noble family, the last of Aegon the Unworthy's mistresses, and rumours spread quickly that she had practised dark arts, that she was far older than she appeared. Whether Shiera inherited those gifts or simply the suspicion of them, the effect has been much the same.
Of the Great Bastards, she has always stood apart. Daemon was the warrior made flesh, Aegor a man sharpened by grievance, and Brynden something stranger still, pale and quiet and watchful, trusted by few. Shiera was closest to him, having grown up alongside him in the Red Keep when so many of the others were kept away or were too much her elder for any real closeness. They grew to share a love of reading even as their interests diverged, and it was enough, for a long time, to make the Red Keep feel less like a cage.
She was thirteen, perhaps fourteen, the first time she encountered Aegor. He was fully a man grown, with a cold hunger already evident at that age. She had barely exchanged words with him before, and yet the way he regarded her was different, different from Brynden, different from the way other men had begun to look at her, though she could not yet say how. She had not expected him to speak to her, but in the brief conversation that followed she found him less repulsive than the stories Brynden had told, even if she could not deny the darkness in him either.
Over the years, her closeness with Brynden deepened, and many assumed that the two oddities would eventually wed. He proposed it himself for the first time when she was fifteen and she laughed, not unkindly. While he accepted it at the time, he was clear that she would one day change her mind and accept her offer. He has asked more times than she cares to count since. She gives him her bed, although not exclusively, but not her hand, and he has never made peace with the distinction.
She did not expect to see Aegor Rivers again, though she did once more, in early 196 AC. Brynden may have warned her to avoid him, but if nothing else, the refusal to be told what she should or should not do drove her to seek him out and see again what the fuss was all about. Her memories of him held true, for the most part. Whatever passed between them while the kingdom's unity hung in the balance, she did not speak of to anyone, not even to Brynden, though in her youthful petulance she still took pleasure in stirring his jealousies. Neither did Brynden say anything when she returned. The look in his eyes and the tightness of his lips suggested he had much he would have wished to say, though.
Many things would likely be easier had she accepted any of Brynden's offers, particularly now that war has come again to the Seven Kingdoms. But she wants more from life than that, even with a man as singular as Brynden Rivers. She can see clearly what it would require of her, to become smaller than she is. Her aunt Elaena's words return to her often, the counsel of a woman who chose duty over love twice and has not stopped regretting it.
At court Shiera is admired, circled, written about in verse she finds largely unimpressive. Duels have been fought over the right to sit beside her. None of it satisfies her. She is restless in a way that jewels and songs and even Brynden's careful devotion do nothing to ease, and she suspects, though she would not yet say so aloud, that her place, if she has one, lies somewhere the court cannot see from its windows.
Few would have approved of Shiera attending the summit at the Twins, yet her aunt Elaena Targaryen found means to circumvent it all in bringing along the pretty young woman. Shiera had wanted to see what she could do away from the capital and intrigue of the Red Keep, wanted to prove that the hours she spent with her nose in books was not for naught. Now she would be given the chance. She attends the summit ostensibly as an observer, possibly as a distraction, but mostly, she attends it in the hopes of finding a path forward and of her own choosing.
Elaena was never the beauty her sisters were, and she has long since made her peace with that. What she has instead is something harder to quantify and more difficult to dismiss. At forty-six she carries herself with the particular authority of a woman who has outlived every expectation placed upon her and declined to be grateful for it. Her platinum hair, once her most remarked-upon feature, still carries that singular gold streak down the middle, still worn short in a style practical enough to suggest she has little patience for ornament and elegant enough to suggest she has not forgotten how to wield it. Her eyes are soft lilac, her mouth thin-lipped; both have a tendency toward expressions the court has learned to read carefully.
She has been keeping accounts since before most men at court learned to read them. Elaena Targaryen was born the youngest daughter of Aegon III, and grew up in a Red Keep that was by turns a gilded cage and something considerably less gilded. She remembers Baelor's reign with the particular clarity of someone who was locked away for eleven years and has declined to forgive it, even now, even with him long dead and canonised in the sept. She remembers Viserys II with the warmth she reserves for very little else, a beloved uncle, the only king of her lifetime who looked at her and saw the mind rather than the bloodline. She watched Aegon the Unworthy spend the realm's treasury on his appetites and smiled at none of his jokes, and she has watched Daeron II work patiently to repair what his father broke, and thought that this, at least, is something worth preserving.
Her relationship with her sisters has never been simple. Daena and Rhaena are complicated loves, ones forged in the Maidenvault, tested by everything that came after, and never entirely resolved. She will not speak against them. She will defend them with a ferocity that surprises people who have only seen her across a ledger. But closeness is not the same as ease, and ease is something the three of them have never quite managed.
She has been married twice now by a king's decree. Ronnel Penrose is a good man and a poor mathematician, the arrangement suits them both well enough. He lends his name and seal to letters she writes; she lends the marriage a legitimacy that benefits them both. It is, she understands, a more honest arrangement than most. When the dispute arose recently over taking the Master of Coin seat in her own right, she said nothing she did not mean and left for the Twins with her head high and a trusted man quietly in place behind her. The others know and will not admit they do. She will not require them to.
That Daemon Blackfyre's cause has found purchase, that her sister's son takes up a pretender's banner, she finds reprehensible in a way that has settled somewhere beneath anger into something colder and more permanent. She has buried too many people to feel surprise. She has not yet stopped feeling contempt.
She brought Shiera to the Twins because someone ought to, and because the girl has a mind that deserves more than the Red Keep's intrigues to sharpen itself on. Elaena has her own reasons for attending, she always does. The north's loyalty to Daeron is not a thing to be assumed, and she has spent forty-six years learning that nothing worth having is. She attends the summit without a title to her name in the room, without a seat at the table she has more right to than half the men occupying it, and she intends to be the most useful person there regardless. She has done more with less.
_________________________________________________________ Age: Twenty-four _________________________________________________________ Allegiance: The Faith of the Seven
Septa Cerenna is the sort of woman who is immediately and instinctively trusted, which is arguably the most dangerous thing about her. She is fair in the Reach fashion, with the light blonde hair, not the Westerlands gold or like beaten silver, but of pale straw. Her green eyes are warm rather than sharp. Her face is open and expressive in a way that grey septa's robes do nothing to dampen. She has never quite mastered the serene and composed look favored by her mentors, and tends instead toward an animated attentiveness that makes everyone she speaks to feel they are the most interesting person in the room. She is of middling height and carries herself with the comfortable confidence of someone who has never doubted her welcome anywhere.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Notable Skills: An extraordinary memory for names, faces, and personal details shared in confidence. A genuine gift for making people feel heard and cared for. An extensive web of connections accumulated across noble households throughout the Reach and beyond, built entirely through pastoral care and deployed entirely without strategic intent. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Valuables: A well-worn copy of The Seven-Pointed Star with extensive personal annotations in the margins. A small collection of letters from noblewomen across the Reach who consider her their most trusted confidante. _________________________________________________________ ◼ Retinue: A young novice of fourteen who follows her everywhere and has already developed the haunted look of someone who has seen too many of her superior's plans reach their natural conclusions.
Cerenna Peake was born the youngest daughter of a second cousin to Starpike, which is to say she was born into the comfortable outer ring of a proud house that had little to spare and much to protect. While her branch of the family kept a modest hall near enough to Starpike to attend feast days, it was far enough to be largely ignored by the main line in matters of inheritance and marriage. She grew up knowing she was a Peake and all that it meant while understanding clearly that the name would not do a great deal of practical work on her behalf.
She was sent to the Faith at thirteen, which suited everyone including her. She had already by that point demonstrated a talent for being present in conversations she had not been invited to, for passing along information she had not been asked to, and for arranging meetings between people based on her sense that they should know each other but with no grounding in the actual circumstances of their lives. The sept gave this energy a home and she thrived. She was warm and attentive and genuinely devout in the way that comes from feeling rather than performance, and the noble ladies who came to her for counsel left feeling cared for and understood. She was not focused enough to serve as a governess, one attempt at that ended in disaster not spoken of, but her cloister could not deny the effect her charm had, especially on funding.
She has spent the years since moving between the septs and households of the Reach, gathering connections the way other women gather embroidery. She knows the wives and sisters and mothers of men on both sides of the rebellion, because she has ministered to all of them without once noticing that this might be complicated. When Lord Gormon declared for the Blackfyres and marched northwest, Cerenna felt a quiet and private pride she would never voice aloud. She is a Peake. She has written to Starpike once since the rebellion began, a warm letter to Lady Antonie expressing her prayers for the safety of the family and mentioning in passing that she had recently met a most interesting young woman of Dornish descent who reminded her somehow of the Lady of Starpike in her cleverness. It seems that Lady Antonie has not yet had time to respond, perhaps the letter sits on her table still.
Cerenna is currently traveling through the Reach in the company of a certain woman of Dornish descent after meeting her under circumstances that Cerenna has decided were not accidental. The Seven work in ways that are mysterious to others and perfectly legible to Cerenna, and it is clear to her that this young woman of uncertain standing and vibrant purple eyes has been placed in her path for a reason. She has appointed herself Rella's guide and protector with the wholehearted warmth of someone who has never once been wrong about this kind of thing, because she has never stayed in one place long enough to observe the consequences.
She does not think of what she does as political. She thinks of it as her duty of care. She just wants everyone to be alright. She believes, with the deep and unshakeable conviction of the genuinely well-meaning, that most conflicts can be resolved with the right conversation between the right people. She is going to arrange that conversation. Worse, she has already begun to think of who ought to be in the room.
_________________________________________________________ Age: Fifty and Four years _________________________________________________________ Allegiance: House Targaryen (with some flexibility)
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Weaponry: Long Sword, Lance, and Bow ◼ Notable Skills: Lord Blackwood is an experienced battlefield commander and seasoned warrior. He is an excellent swordsman.
Lord Quentyn was born at Raventree Hall, his family’s domicile to Lord Benjicot Blackwood in 141AC. The Blackwoods are an old house in the Riverlands, descended from the First Men, and may be the only remaining house of the great houses of the Riverlands that follow the Old Gods.
When Lord Benjicot, a seasoned warrior in his own right, passed away, Lord Quentyn was named Lord of Raventree Hall. He swore allegiance to House Tully and to House Targaryen. He took Felurian “the Fertile” as his wife. It was rumored that Felurian was a witch from Essos who charmed Lord Quentyn with her guile. Or maybe she was merely an attractive woman whose personality so endeared the Lord of Raventree Hall that he was compelled to be with her. In either case, Lady Felurian gave her husband several offspring, from whom her title of “The Fertile” was derived.
Lady Felurian is a beautiful woman with long raven-black hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin. Felurian is slender, large-breasted, with well-defined birthing hips. Felurian has a great sense of humor, keeping everyone in the family on their toes with her quick wit. Many of her daughters share her sense of humor. At age thirty and four years she has provided the following children to her husband Ser Quentyn: Melissa (11), Melantha (10), Benjicot (9), Robin (8), Bennifer (6), Robert (5), and Roland (3). She is currently pregnant with their eighth child.
Ser Quentyn has a few individuals at Raventree Hall who provide assistance with the day-to-day maintenance of the castle and surrounding regions. They are Ser Floren Rivers, 49, master-at-arms & Castellan, Maester Simon Grell, 60, Ser Alister Wayn, 44, Master of coin and Septa Lelith Smallwood, 58
As of 196 AC, Quentyn’s goal is to defend the Riverlands from invasion by the usurper Daemon Blackfyre. His family, at one time, sat at the pinnacle of society in the Riverlands. He is proud of his heritage and desires to serve his liege Lord Tully as well as the King Daeron II Targaryen. Due to his personal experience and age, he is of the mindset that he would rather survive than give up his life to a king who may not appreciate his sacrifice. He is more interested in self-preservation and the survival of his house than the realm. The history of Blackwood has seen several kings come and go. Who knows how long this one will last?
