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I am certainly intrigued. But grand fantasy has always been my weakness.
Hey, I stumbled upon this by chance while looking through the interest checks. Any way I could get in on this one?
I imagine Brandon will partake of the tourney. If Willam does it will be in the joust. I haven't posted simply because I can't come up with much to post.
Or anyone for that matter.
Brandon Baratheon

Brandon woke slowly, enjoying the feel of sunlight on his form as the morning light bathed him in warmth. It was a good feeling, almost like a warm bath. After a time, the large man finally rose. He dressed himself quickly, strapping his blade to his back. Though he expected no enemies it was still a comfort to has greatsword with him.

Today was the day of the tourney, the day to prove the storm has come to King's Landing. He could already feel it brewing in his bones, swirling through his being. It felt good, as it always had. The thought of letting it go unrestrained filled him with excitement. With the timely interruption of his stomach, like a roaring dragon bellowing, he knew that before any fighting he would need food.

So Brandon descended the stairs into the common room where there was a very fine assortment of foods, as well as Reed Stark, Tiras Rivers, Iris Flowers, and her bodyguard. An interesting assortment. He recalled their breakfast with the Starks a few days prior. It was nice to catch up with them, to feel the old flame of friendship burn bright once more. That would be something he'd make an effort to keep.

Brandon sat himself at the head of the table, looking around to notice no one had started eating anything. "What are we waiting for? The food to spoil? Come, let us enjoy our share while it is still warm."

Willam Lannister

Willam was in a narrow hallway, the darkness clinging to him with every step. He was running, running from what, he did not know. All he knew was the fear screaming in his mind of what would happen if he was caught. The sight of Talea's broken form flashed through his mind as he could hear it come closer behind him. He always was the fastest runner he knew, but would that be enough? He could already feels himself grow tired, his short raspy breaths, the pounding in his ears, and his iron limbs dragging him down. No, he wouldn't keep this up for long. Finally he rounded a corner and into one of many side rooms. He stilled his breath to listen for it, but could hear nothing. Slouched against the wall he rested for a time. Finally he mustered his courage and gingerly walked toward the door.

"You're mine."

He heard the rasping voice behind him, it's sound brought dread and fear. A freezing ache to the bone that he could not shake. At that sound he froze, for he knew it was over. He felt a flash of searing pain as a shiny blade emerged from his chest. The pain was brief thankfully, as a deep cold took over, starting from his limbs it crept inward toward his heart. He heard a sharp gasp as the ground rushed towards him.
"Fear me..."

Willam woke with a start, gasping for breath. His hand darted to his chest, feeling where the blade had been. His hair stuck to his face, damp with sweat. His eyes wildly took in the room before finally settling to look on a wooden charm on the end of a leather cord, sitting on his nightstand. The charm was in the shape of a shield with a lion on it. Willam took it in hand, feeling the rough wood beneath his fingers. He knew there two of them, in fact he was the one who carved them. It's twin was with his baby sister, he'd given it to her and told her that as long as they had the charms they'd never truly be apart.

Funny, he told that to her to give her comfort. Yet here he was on the other end of the continent taking solace in it. He slipped it on and rose, dismissing his dream. Was it prophetic? Perhaps, perhaps not. More likely it was his mind warning him of the dangers of the capitol.

Willam dressed slowly, picking his attire with much care. A red and gold doublet, red breeches with fine knee-high leather boots. He wore a pin that bore the golden lion of his house. His decorative sword belt bore a different sword from the other day. This day he wanted function, not decoration. If that nightmare served any useful purpose, it was that Willam was now very cautious.

On his hip he bore a valyrian steel longsword forged from the great blade Ice. It had originally been named Widow's Wail, but that name, along with the overly gaudy hilt, were both destroyed. The new hilt was simple, engraved brown leather with a worn gold lion head adorning the pommel. Stamped on the blade are the words 'Courage and honor above all.' Willam took the words as a personal reminder, and these words served as a testament to the blade's new name, Lionheart. It's brown leather scabbard was decorated with a few engravings and the Lannister Lion towards the bottom. He drew the blade a bit, admiring the wave pattern of the steel. Finally he let it slide home, steeling himself for the day ahead.

Willam descended the stairs, hand resting on his sword. In the common room he found Reed Stark, Tiras Rivers, Brandon Baratheon, Iris Flowers, and her bodyguard. It pleased him to see his fellow wards seemingly getting on well. Maybe the dream of peace wasn't so far off after all? He seated himself on the arm of a chair. "Good morning lords, lady. I trust you all slept well?"
I'll have a post up tonight.
Willam Lannister

Willam gave a polite smile of his own, taking the offered arm. Ever the picture of courtesy and grace Willam took to a slow stroll.
"So, tell me my lady, how do you find King's Landing thus far? I can't imagine it even competing with Highgarden in terms of beauty, of course. Still, if I may, the dragon iconography at least is remarkably interesting wouldn't you say?"
He would stick to small talk, for a time. Until they were in a safer place. The conversation he really wanted to get to would have to wait until a more opportune moment. Willam was positive that Iris would figure out his intentions, if she hadn't already. The Westerlands and the Reach have historically enjoyed very profitable alliances in the past, and forging a new one certainly wouldn't hurt. Especially since allies were in short supply for a Lannister.

Eventually they reached what Willam guessed were his chambers. They had already been decorated, crimson and gold with Lions all over the place. Truthfully it was a bit garish but somehow he'd live with it. Willam pulled out a chair for Iris, expecting her to sit then taking a seat himself. "Lady Flowers tell me, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

Brandon Baratheon

Brandon's jaw clenched as Lyanna expressed her concerns, after Reed approached Lyanna further elaborated, causing Brandon stand to his full height and crack his knuckles. "I'm sure we'll be fine. After all, none of us are exactly weak. We can kill anyone who comes after us.

He froze at the mention of his father, giving Lyanna a hard look. He felt the familiar swirl of the storms in his blood as his mind dwelt on that despicable man. He could feel every muscle in his body twitching, begging him to hit something, anything. He tried to calm the storm, really he did. But nothing was working. That is, until he gazed at Manasa, or more specifically her bright green eyes. He couldn't place it but there was something about them that fascinated him. He felt every bone in his body drain of tension and strife, like the storm was being sucked out of him. It felt strangely hollow.

Brandon had a hard time tearing himself from her gaze to look on the Tyrell's bodyguard who'd come with an apology. It sounded sincere enough and at the least it didn't sound like he'd make a threat against them again s that was something. "No harm, no foul lad. Just remember what I said, some aren't as lenient as I and would take your tongue for less." With that he turned back to his companions, motioning out of the room.
I'll have a post up tonight.
Brandon Baratheon

Brandon was very pleased with a chance to finally meet the King. His mind was racing with thoughts as to what the King would say to them, possibility after possibility running through his mind. Of course, there was always the possibility that we'd all die here, he thought grimly.

He shook that thought from his head, choosing instead to focus on Alyssa Arryn whom was being lead ahead of him. How her hair swayed as she walked, the dark circles under her eyes, and how she seemed to always fidget with her fingers. Brandon's study was meant to determine if he wanted to make an ally of her or not. To that, he had no answer. But he did find his eyes and mind wandering to other places, places he had to willfully pull himself from.

Eventually they arrived in the throne room. Brandon felt his breath, and all of his with and thoughts escape through his mouth as he took in the sheer magnitude of the Iron Throne's visage. Nevermind who sat upon it the Throne itself was a marvel, one Brandon was having a hard time looking away from.

Brandon hardly heard the King's speech, he was otherwise engaged. And he was sure Lyanna would be willing to summarize it for him later. Though he did catch the last part, the one about breakfast being served in their quarters. After they were informally dismissed, Brandon gave Lyanna a 'follow me' jerk of his head and upon passing Reed whispered. "Care to join us for breakfast?"

Willam Lannister

"A trifle, nothing but a fortnight." Willam said to Reed Stark. It was truth, his journey was very short and very uneventful. After that, the conversation tapered off to awkward silence, silence that the young lion was desperately trying to fill to no avail.

Finally an escape was had in their summons to the to see King. This at least would prove to be remarkably interesting. So he gave Talea a meaningful look and started following the rest of the wards. As they went, Willam was thinking about what awaited them in the throne room. Probably a speech about peace and friendship. That's what this exercise seemed to be about. Yes, he was content with that answer.

Though Willam was worried about Talea, particularly her mouth. With which she has unwittingly insulted quite a few nobles back in the Westerlands. No, that wouldn't do here. Here such and affront might cost her life. Or her tongue. And unfortunately the behavior of the Tyrell's bodyguard didn't help. Willam was afraid she'd take that display to mean she could do the same. He'd have to speak with her later, just in case.

They entered the throne room and Willam's eyes took it all in. All of it's magnificence and splendor. From the Iron Throne to the mighty hall, to the windows and tapestries. Works of art all of them. Finally he focused on the man sitting on the Iron Throne, King Daerys Targaryan. Willam had seen him before, even met him, but that was a long time ago.

Willam listened pointedly to the speech, taking the words very seriously. It was as he expected which was a good sign. Finally the speech concluded with a satisfied smirk from the King. Willam took that as a sign of dismissal, though he loitered a few seconds to ensure there wasn't anything else.

His brain shifted gears then, from Willam to Lord Lannister, time for his personal feelings to be locked and let his diplomatic personality and training kick in. To that he approached of all people, Iris Flowers from the Reach. He was very curious about her, though her volatile guard was a liability in his mind he couldn't let the thought of an alliance with the Reach go without trying for it. "Lady Flowers, would you please join us for breakfast?" He made a slight bow, exercising his knowledge of court manners.
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