Ruby

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

H O U S E B A L A E R Y S

_{Though House Balaerys follows the ancient Valyrian nobility in not having official heraldry, it is widely known that when necessary they use the image of Verrax and the words of their lady dragonriger who landed in Volantis after the Doom when asked how they survived.}

House Balaerys was fortunate. Unlike House Targaryen, fellow nobility of the Freehold of Valyria, House Balaerys did not move away following the dreams of a dreamer. Instead, they survived the Doom simply because the grand sire and mother of the current generation of House Balaerys simply happened to be traveling on the dragon Terrax over the coast of Sothoryos at the time. They heard a sound that sounded like the world breaking and saw the ground tremble and seas frenzy.

Though they attempted to guide Terrax back to the Freehold, the dragon would have none of it—he flew around where the Lands of Forever Summer had been, and landed in Volantis. The sights and sounds the couple saw from the back of Terrax during the trip removed any doubts in their hearts and minds that there would never be any going back to Valyria. When they arrived at Volantis, after seeing the couple safely to the ground, without warning, the dragon Terrax sounded his anguish and pain before launching into the sky, riderless.

House Balaerys largely believes this was Terrax being lost in grief for the loss he understood on a level they simply did not, could not, until reports of what remained of Valyria began to slowly trickle into Volantis as the result of voyage after voyage of the Volantene either not coming back, or coming back and almost immediately dying of mysterious illness and wounds. So chaotic was Volantis after the Doom that House Balaerys removed itself from the city, stealing away to a remote, fortified, manse manned by household guards and slaves named Casmus Valelyx by dragonlords long before House Balaerys moved in.

In time they released the slaves from bondage, though some would stay behind as free men and women and allowed the guards to share the residence as fellow Valyrian survivors instead of simply servants. Most of these men would perish in defense of the compound when it was attacked by a small, elite, force sent by wealthy Lyseni and Myrish merchants, believing House Balerys actively behind Volantene aggression in the chaos after the Doom. Those that survived, including the members of House Balaerys, survived only due to the timely return of the dragon Terrax.

Terrax was home, and had grown even larger than before, returning to his old riders. Slowly, over a generation, House Balaerys would begin to reintegrate with Volantis. Though they largely married the sons and daughters of the original Valyrian house guard that survived the defense of Casmus Valelyx. Though the property is still a well defended property largely hidden in a shallow canyon holding an oasis, the current generation of House Balaerys primarily resides in Volantis.

The death of the current generation’s parents still holds mystery in it, yet Volantis nobility has largely settled into the belief that their deaths were a tragic accident of higher mysteries gone wrong. Though very few of the original House guard descendants remain, politics have began necessitating House Balaerys begin at least entertaining the idea of marrying with other Valyrian pure blood nobility of Volantis. The current leader of their House is the eldest of four children, Vhandyr, a renowned warrior and poet. His heir is the second eldest of the current generation, Vaera, the two younger siblings, a girl and boy, not yet having reached adulthood and heavily taught and trained by a small army of priests, artisans, archivists, and more, secure in their Volantis home.

HOUSE BALAERYS

Dragonlord Vhandyr Balaerys, _{rider of Terrax}

Dragonlord Vaera Balaerys, _{his eldest sibling and heir, rider of Saeryx}

Rhaxes, _{boy of two and ten, called the Elder}

Aenara, _{girl of ten, called the Unseen}

Vhandyr

⫷ Six and Twenty Years Old ◾ Rider of Terrax ◾ Elected Ruler of Volantis ⫸

Vhandyr of Houes Balaerys was once often seen in Volantis. Dragonrider of the famed Terrax, Vhandyr was a quiet and shy child that grew into a quiet and determined, dutiful, young man known for Cyvasse and martial prowess. A large child became an immense man, widely known as a breathtakingly handsome man.

Those that know him best say he is as gentle and bookish, known to be more impressive with his wit to those he is comfortable with. Though many thought of him as shy, there is never a known instance where Vhandyr the boy shrank from a moment, or held his tongue when something needed to be said. There was, to any with eyes, a noticeable difference in Vhandyr after the loss of his parents. His connection with Terrax was immediate after the death of his parents, and it those who care to observe such things closely say the bond between Terrax and Vhandyr is deeper than nearly any rider of the dragon since the Doom, their shared grief of those lost a powerful connection between them.

In his adulthood he has became as well known for his voice and skill with lute and harp than he is his skill in cyvasse or fighting. Unlike his sister, Vaera, Vhandyr preferred teaching himself at Casmus Valelyx, alone with no one but the children of the original House guard as company. And even they would tell you there would be weeks and months that Vhandyr would simply climb atop Terrax, and the pair would disappear off the face of creation.

In his adulthood he has taken a more active role in leading the city of Volantis. Though there is a natural inclination for many of the Valyrian nobility to follow such a strong, striking, figure with a renowned dragon, there are quite a few who bristle under the idea of a single leader of the city. Yet that has not stopped the nobility from electing Vhandyr leader twice before. The third election seemed to be more of a debate, until the appearance of Prince Maegor of House Targaryen with Balerion the Black Dread.

The idea that the two remaining dragonlords of pre-Doom dragons would unite was enough to make the third election of the Volantene nobility the most lopsided yet. Interestingly, second place in the vote was Lady Vaela, his sister. There is a distance and melancholy still to Vhandyr, and his long absence from the city fighting alongside Maegor would been more of a problem…had the pair not spent their time devastating Dothraki hoards.

Few things please the Volantis nobility like dead Dothraki. It is enough of a boon in opinion to make news of Vhandyr planning a tour of Westeros at Maegor’s invitation pass with little in the way of dissent. Some believe Vhandyr a dreamer in the old Valyrian ways, and are glad to see him depart to Westeros.

Vaera

⫷ Four and Twenty Years Old ◾ Rider of Saeryx ◾ Heir to House Balaerys ⫸

Vaera of House Balaerys is often times viewed as the opposite of her older brother; outgoing where he is inward, charming where he is shy, and more prone to instinct and action than he. Whereas Vhandyr’s youth was filled with dutiful learning and service, Vaera would wander on the back of her young dragon for days, at times weeks. When pressed by tutors on her lack of discipline, Vaera would often simply response that she was born to fly. Indeed, before she was even a full grown woman she had seen more of Essos than most of those living in Volantis. She would be the first to admit, however, that it certainly helped having a dragon to grow up with.

Not even the death of her parents changed her, much, at least on the surface. Those close to the family say it is perhaps Vaera that was even more affected than her older brother, Vhandyr; it just took longer for the shockwaves of what she felt deep inside to break upon the surface of her character. Years later Vaera would declare she was to learn what there was to learn, throwing herself into learning of every stripe and standard from one end of Essos to the other, traveling fast and free on the back of Saeryx, but doing it with a newfound purpose of learning. Be it from the artisans of Myr, to the merchants of Pentos, to the bankers of Lys, to the smiths of Qohor, and the warlocks of Qarth. Even from the sailors of Braavos (though the Sealord refused her entry on Saeryx).

She has a long history of fighting pirates along the shores of Essos, Dothraki in the plains of the continent, and sellswords in the Disputed Lands. Not only does she claim to have seen more of Sothoryos than any other living soul in creation, she has sketched enough maps to back the claim up. As easy to smile and laugh as Vaera is, it is little wonder that she has made a great impression among the nobility of nearly every Free City she has visited, not the least of which includes her home city-state of Volantis. Though she is often a favorite of the war-minded party of Volantis, it seems easy enough for even those inbetween the two parties to find something to like in Vaera Balaerys.

And unlike her brother, Vaera is well known to the nobility of Volantis. She is often hosted at numerous feasts and functions, and is known to be a true child of the fires of the Freehold; she has the glow and charm of fire, and the fury and anger of a dragon. Vaera is even known to have something of a history of lovers, the complete opposite of her older brother, though it’s hard to say whether Vaera favors men or women.

Like her brother, she is dedicated to the upbringing of her younger siblings, though both seem keen on the idea that she join Vhandyr in a tour of Westeros, one of the few places Vaera has seen extensively. She is quite fond of tales of the Vale, and the North, and Beyond the Wall, to say nothing of a strong desire to see the Lonely Light, to the point where she has sent letters to Houses Arryn, Stark, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Targaryen, Hightower, and Farwynd announcing her intent to visit with Saeryx.

A fair warning given should a mysterious dragon appear over their skies, as, in her experience, a forewarning is usually best…

Marvel: Judgment Day

Is this RP still alive?

@Eviledd1984

Yep. I wanted to give some people besides myself and a few others time to post if they wanted. Doesn't seem to be happening, so I'll adjust storylines and go from there.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

_{Collab between @LadyRunic and Ruby}

She entered to find candlelight, and a plate of half-eaten food; he ate some of the roast squirrel, none of the bread, and most the sausage. The strong red Arbor wine looked a quarter gone, and the small camp bed was a matter of multiple bed rolls, and a wooden frame with leather straps in support.

She had used it during the Vulture Hunt, she knew it wasn’t that bad. She came in with just the green dress and a cream colored great cloak nearly completely covering her but for a few inches of her body. Leather riding boots had been replaced with more mundane leather slippers, and her hair was now tied with a cloth-of-gold ribbon behind her.

The tent had belonged to Ser Wyatt, but Ser Wyatt was one of the lucky fellows who drew the overnight sentry, and thus had packed for the departure to Oldtown due in the morning, leaving the tent all but empty so they had a place to Lord Elmo. The tent was in a ring of tents, across from Ser Dennet Tarly, with a single guard outside, a squire named Pate who smiled big at her as she passed him to enter.

She held up two candle sticks after walking in, “A gift, Lord Elmo, in case you want to stay up reading.” He seemed, to her, like the type of man who might just do such a thing out of habit, more than anything else. “Our Maester came by to do what he could?” she asked, staying just a few feet inside the tent’s entrance.

There wasn’t much room in a tent of this size, and she tried to be polite.

Elmo was sat on the camp bed, his frame not so hidden in the black tunic. It had been shed to reveal a cream lighter shirt beneath the stiff jacket. In one hand the man had a tankard, which he was in the process of setting aside with his left hand. A small tremor showing it had been through some strain causing the wine to swirl. The other held a book just as the Lady had expected to find. A battered thing talking of Essos and the various illnesses there of the title was aught to go by.

"A more welcomed sight I would be hard put to see," The young man drawled, squinting at the woman as she entered. Lines of that constant creasing etched about his eyes."Your Maester is a capable man, though there was nothing new he could console me on." From his tone it seemed bitter, but accepting of that fact. The said leg stretched out across the tent, in the limited light Vittoria could see the way it twisted under his leggings. The foot looking clubbed at an angle that was not natural. In truth, Elmo could sit and stand with it looking normal under long robes. It merely cost him pain and aches. Now, he let the leg rest, the muscles he had kneaded to relax. His cane set near his side. "I've more than enough medicine to dull it, and your Maester had a interesting concoction. Don't touch the wine." The advice was not quite an order but it was not idle. The pain dulling dose had been mixed with the tankard, a potent thing."Sit if you wish, Lady Ardent. I would bow, but getting up in this small a tent would be impractical."

“No one bows to me in this camp, Lord Elmo.”

The tone was as far from declarative as it could be; merely a casual statement of what was known. She nearly said that she had ‘seen worse’ in the Citadel, but she was no fool: it would have been no comfort to a man grown like Elmo. Maester Lyonel, though not the Archmaster of the silver link, was still the best she had known in the field during her time at the Citadel, and she would never forget the one time he remarked on such a thing:

”Broken men are still men. They will never forget their misfortune, but they would also rather everyone else did most the time.”

Vittora smoothed her skirts as she sat in a small chair near the entrance, setting the candlesticks aside. “We depart for Oldtown tomorrow. Your horse and saddle, or one of our wagons, it’s up to you. We got nothing from the brigands.”

A tired sigh came from her as she leaned her head back, her right hand going up to where her left shoulder and neck met, rubbing at it absently, “I will deposit you at the Citadel if you still want. Although, if so, I will walk you in myself. Women can’t be Maesters, or I’d be one. Still…they were kind enough to give me something for my time.”

Her right hand left her shoulder, as her left hand went to her right sleeve, and folded it up. In the dim light it was hard for him to see, but she removed it, and ably gave it an underhand toss to fall where he could easily retrieve it: a bracelet of Maester links.

“For the Initiates and Acolytes, it’s often back-breaking in the early years. I remember one scene, in particular, with the silver links…they were cutting flesh, and part of it was rotten and…” Her right hand came up, palm out, as her face twisted and eyes snapped shut. Her voice strained, like even here and now, she might vomit at just the memory, “Less said, mayhaps. I was just present, an observer, and yet the Maesters just said to me: ‘Then vomit, girl, there’s work to be done and you can clean it up later.’” Her voice mimicked the cold, dismissive tone the Maester had used that day. “So, I did, on both accounts. I think the Acolytes were grateful I returned to clean it up myself.”

A laugh, even if a hard-fought one. “I meant to ask,” she began, pivoting even after her laugh faded from her lips, “is there anything you can tell us about Harrenhal? Anything beyond the ordinary? Quite a castle, even in its melted form. I know next to nothing about the family that acts as its overlords…despite helping to clear it of Harren the Red.”

The bracelet surprised Elmo, for women were generally not welcomed in the Citadel. They may be amused and humored but they could not be Maester themselves. “A wagon.” He spoke evenly as he examined the links, his brows neatly raised in surprise. For whatever he expected from this woman? This was not it. “For while I do enjoy the mobility of riding, it is not worth this ache.” His words were absent as he let the links run through his fingers. There was a greed in his eyes, not for the links and chains a Maester wore but for the knowledge that he gained. The books, the scrolls and aught else.

“Harroways of Harrenhal…” Elmo’s gaze moved away from the bracelet and back to Vittoria, reaching out with his stronger hand, the book set aside, he offered the links back to the woman. “And while I know more than even they would expect… Tell me, what would make it worth my time to tell you more than the public faces?” His lips curved into a mocking smile as he took a deep swallow from the goblet, grunting at the sour taste that even with wine was not hidden. “Foul concoction.” He swore, coughing heavily into his arm. “Maester will either see my dead of their ramblings or their brews.”

Her mind traveled to the secret vaults of knowledge she should not have. That she was unsure should even exist, let alone wind up in her possession. She fretted the reaction to it more than she did the Faith Militant or the High Septon. Her momentary distraction broke only as she leaned forward and retrieved the bracelet. Her brow perking when he posed his question, as she slipped the bracelet back on and lowered her sleeve over it.

She leaned back into the small chair as her mind weighed the question as it might the timing to strike on a battlefield. Too early, and you risked exposing your own lines to a fault. Too late, and your host might lack the strength and will to execute as required for victory. In the end, she shrugged, “One cannot reasonably offer a price without knowing the value of the product of service in question. You ask a question there is no equitable answer to, Lord Elmo.”

“The fact I am the firstborn son to the heir of Harrenhal, Jon Harroway. The grandson of Lord Lucas Harroway himself and retain informants in the castle itself?” His languid and dry voice was humored as he revealed exactly who he was, or would have been if not for his deliberating accident. “Had a horse not fallen on me, I would have been Lord Elmo of Harrenhal in time.” He pointed out reasonably. “My price would not be a small thing, my Lady, but I am not so greedy as some I could name.”

The stillness ended not with a sound, but with a motion; her body raising from the back of the small chair, the top of her leaning forward, the only thing keeping her long dark auburn hair from spilling forward as she rested her knees on her thighs was the cloth-of-gold ribbon restraining it into a loose ponytail.

“I suppose, then, Lord Elmo…it comes to this: do you think me capable and willing to properly appreciate what it is you might say, compared to others you might say it to, given the limited opportunities to put two people in the same quiet room together that life naturally offers? That is your decision to make.”

Her back straightened, as her pretty features tilted to the right, and the slowest shrug seen in a day full of them rolled about her slender shoulders, “Such judgment calls can be difficult to make with limited information. What do you think of me, Lord Elmo? Am I that one noble that you will meet in your life, at the right time, with the right appreciation of what you might say, both capable and willing to pay whatever price it is you desire most?”

For a reason known only to the ghosts of Highgarden and Harrenhal, both, in that exact moment, a tiny shadow of a smile crept over the pink lips of the Ardent Maiden.

“Your family holds sway with the Maesters and the Citadel. It is perhaps that we could achieve what we both desire. I desire for those lovely links without being bound to the Citadel by the Maester’s Vows as is expected.” His head cocked to the side, his pale hair and sallow looking features looking perhaps a bit more grim in the faint light. “You want information on the Harroways, Harrenhal, perhaps other places. If I can stay outside of those irritating orders while seemingly to comply with them as is expected of me, there need be no worry about a bastard taking the seat of Harrenhal’s Lord.” He did not wish to reveal that, but it would be a tasty tidbit for the woman to chew on.

If the Maesters don’t have me assassinated for what I already know… Her head dipped to the left, back to the right, before again to the left, and a pause…then the second child of House Tyrell nodded, firmly, as if she had debated it and come to a firm conclusion. “This can be done. There is precedent for going nearly to Maester and leaving. Rarer still, some examples of full Maesters leaving the service…but this requires mitigating factors, and is far more rare and difficulty done. Either way, once you leave, you will be exposed: it is doubtful House Harroway would welcome you back. Doubtless still any reputable Lord or even merchant would support you. The alternatives are dark, and unsafe,” she thought of the former Maester she found mutilated about Saan’s ship, immediately. “You sound half-whisperer in this night, already, Lord Elmo. Learn what you wish, and yes…I will make a full whisperer master out of you. Truth be told,” she admitted, her smile widening, “there are few things I value in this world half as much as whispers.”

His smile to some would be sinister, but it was often lopsided and rarely met his eyes. “Oh, then we understand each other. I have one important line I will not cross, my Lady.” Now flint was in eyes and voice and he spoke firmly. “No harm is to come to the maid in the Harroway House going by Elayne Rivers. She’s outside their House, despite being apart of it. Do you find these terms suitable? That you will leave this woman be and take her out of harm’s way if possible, that you shall aid me in this forging of my chain without being a Maester myself, and in return I shall give to you whispers and the full extent of my knowledge?” He offered out his hand, the grip strong and ready to accept the bargain if she was.

“Lord Elmo,” her voice took on a deeper, harder, sound than he would have ever heard from it before, “I am uncertain if there has ever been, will ever be, a Lord Commander in this realm that would be more apt to take a girl out of harm’s way than myself. These are terms I accept.”

Her smaller hand reached to his, and sealed their pack with as firm a shake as she could manage.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

_{@LadyRunic, [@Amorian], Ruby.}

The small pavilion crowned the tallest hill to be found this side of the northern Reach, a modest thing with three sides to it and a rough wooden table in the middle, only one simple camp chair assigned to it. A scattering of locked trunks lined the walls, and a few stuck outside on a wagon that rested next to it. Two Knights wearing the Golden Rose of House Tyrell stood sentinel outside the entrance. The only noise was the song of a camp, and the mixed voices of men and children a heavy stone’s throw from the pavilion.

Lady Vittoria Tyrell’s eyes glazed over as she set the quill down, her left hand gripping the wrist of her right, as the fingers of her right hand curled and stretched, curled and stretched, and curled and stretched. Sudden as a snake, her right wrist flicked—once, twice, and then thrice. She had read and written more letters than was proper, and her eyes, nevermind her poor hand, required reprieve.

She found it with a soft sigh as she stood, straightening out the green boiled leather armor with gold enameled plate at shoulders and chest, worn over a simple green dress, black leather riding boots, well made but simple, on her small feet. Her long auburn hair was dark without exposure to the sun, yet she brushed it away from the armor with a single brush of her left hand a backward dip of her head as she passed the sentries. There, in the early afternoon light, she watched Lady Mina and Lord Garrett drill with Knights of the Order.

No sooner did she smile at the sight than her smile was dashed as another sight caught the corner of her hair: Lord and Ser, Dennet Tarly of Horn Hill, approached with haste upon her position on his dirty brown courser. She waited until he was close enough hear her, his dark features and intense eyes flashing at her immediately.

“What is it, Den?”

His throat cleared as he swung off his horse and approached her, nodding a greeting to his brothers of the Order standing sentry outside their Lord Commander’s pavilion. “You ordered us to include your sellswords into our outriders—”

“—to get them acquainted with us, and us acquainted with them, yes.”

He grunted at that, but just moved on, “Well, they found something. A lordling with two men-at-arms for escort. The escorts are dead. They were searching the lordling when your sellsword captain and some of his men came upon them. They tried to make for the nearest treeline, but…”

Her smile returned. Say it, Den, she thought, as she tried to hide just how pleased she was, waiting for him to say it.

“…well, their horseback archers did their job.”

Oh? What was that you said? Instead, she hid her smirk from the large, sweaty, broad-chested son of Savage Sam Tarly that she had known since the Vulture Hunt. She turned to one of the sentries, “My palfrey, please, Ser Ronnet.”

The sentry moved with quickness, as Den turned his head in response, and unleashed the thunder of his booming voice to the group taking time with Lady Mina and Lord Garrett:

“WE’RE MOVING. SMALL ESCORT FOR THE LORD COMMANDER.” Den’s dark brown eyes smoldered in intensity even as his voice lowered and quieted to match the reduced distance between he and the other sentry, “You too. Mount.”

Most of them immediately moved for weapons and horses, while a half dozen from a nearby campfire moved for the same. She only sighed. It was enough to make Den snort. “Yes, M’Lady, we are.”

She walked close enough to the small opening and the two men left tending to Mina and Garrett, holding up a left hand, palm out, to her siblings, “I’ll be back soon. It’s nothing to worry about.” Then she turned back to Den, to the smoke gray palfrey that was brought up for her. Once out of camp, she instructed them to make a line, and encircle once they got closer, with their fourteen horses, including her.

Light clouds interspaced between pale blue sky in the early afternoon sky of the northern Reach, low hills rolling between vast plains of grass and wild flower, straps of wooded area surrounding the numerous creeks that woven in and out of the area. They had been headed south to Oldtown when they stopped for the night, before it was decided by Ren they would send outriders during their trip south, despite them being in the Reach with no known threat or conflicts to worry them. There was, she knew, too much energy in them since they had taken their vow as Knights of the Golden Rose just two nights before.

It also gave her an excuse to start incorporating the sellswords she was paying for. And that, she liked quite a bit. That it was Garin and his men that had found the highwayman at work only pleased her all the more. Eyes were on them as the sound of their procession announced their presence. The line breaking out in alternation behind Ren and she, making a loose encirclement around the dead men, and the living lordling.

She expected, given the term lordling, a little lord. What she found was a thin, pale, grown man on a thick, modified saddle. Crippled, she thought, immediately, knowing the handiwork of a Maester of the Citadel to accommodate a broken lord when she saw it. She and Ren stopped some ten long paces from Garin and his men. Ren stayed, and she slowly approached on her palfrey to come up next to Garin, her eyes on the dead, their horses, and then the mysterious broken Lord.

She looked off, to the tree line, and found two highwaymen held at sword point by Garin’s men, horses dead. Their horses were a rounsey and a dray. Finally, she looked back to the broken Lord, and saw no obvious heraldry. Her face was blank, her pretty green eyes narrowed. It matched well-enough the expression of her escort: stern, but otherwise detached.

Like Watchman coming upon criminals bungling a crime scene. Finally, she turned to Garin, and her expression changed in an instant. Her eyes warmed, drinking in the scattered sunlight of the valley, her pink lips breezed into an easy smile. “Well done, Captain. What do we have here?”

“Instead of asking your captain, who I assume he is, why not ask the one who happened to witness the matter?” The voice was dry and languid. The ‘lordling’ folded long pale hands over the pommel over the saddle, his pony looking grey about the muzzle and was missing half of it’s teeth. A beast merely to see him to the Citadel and then be sold along with the saddle per his grandfather’s orders. Of course, Lord Lucas had not expected his eldest grandson to be set upon by brigands, nor this rescue. “Though why a woman is leading a host…” Elmo mused and his thoughts flickered through that very short list as well as the heraldry he could see.

His two guards had been slain quickly as they had tried to run, there was no point in protecting a crippled son after all, and Elmo had better sense than running as the men had. In fact he was more than willing to go along and be ‘ransomed’. His grandfather would probably not have paid it but there would have been a rescue mounted by his father and uncles, perhaps there was some luck to be rescued by this woman. It was some how less humiliating. Still Elmo Harroway sat in his black tunic and leggings, looking like a crow if not for the trim of gold and silver that hemmed his clothes. The subtle keys and links of chain his mother had made for luck at the Citadel. The color did nothing to offset his pale skin or hair, making him appear all the more sickly. The choice of clothing had been his own and black suited his mood, it also made people pause and think him perhaps the Stranger, giving the young man some amusement.

Bowing slightly in his saddle lashed in as he was, Elmo arched a brow. “I presume I address the Lady Vittoria Tyrell? I can think of no other maiden with your colors and a company of… men.” His tone turning ‘men’ into something close to brigands, or the way some said Dorne.

Garin’s studiously blank expression remained unchanged. Beneath the silk-wrapped steel of his spired helm, his gray eyes were as cold and as dead as something from the depths of the roiling seas. He raised an eyebrow and turned to his new employer.

He had played this game before, many times in Essos. Whether you were a captain or some new addition to the company, a noble was much like any other, no matter where you went. Nobles could be an source of money or a foe, or both as was so often the case across the sea.

Vittoria’s smile stayed right where it was on her lips, as a tiny laugh of amusement escaped her. “The end of royal lines to the left of us, rebellion and bandits to the right, dragons over us, and women leading hosts about us…strange times, no, Lord…?”

“I would hardly call it strange. Rebellion and bandits are as common as rivers in the Riverlands.” Elmo intoned in his dry voice, sounding rather irritated at the fact. “Nor would I call myself ‘Lord’. Elmo of House Harroway, and as of current- sent off to study at the Citadel. As you seem not of the type of woman to simper or flutter about pathetically, I am sure you can see why.”

“Ah, well, welcome to the Reach, Lord Elmo of House Harroway. You will find a noticeable lack of bandits in this country.” She said as matter of fact, her head turned back to the bandits, then back to Garin.

“Please, Captain, have your men lead them just down the road. I’m thinking they stalked Lord Elmo and his escort for some time before striking.”

It was all done in handful of heartbeats. Garin stood in his stirrups, turning the small black mare he rode with a slight touch of his knee. The little sand steed turned in place as her master lifted the recurved bow he held lightly in his left hand. His standard bearer lifted the crimson banner high and waved in a circle three times. Five men in plated mail and orange silks turned and rode towards the captain at a steady canter, each gripped a heavy bow like that of Garin’s and had a quiver full of javelins hanging from their flat, high-stirruped saddles.

All rode in a loose line, their eyes constantly scanning over the rolling fields and the wood-shrouded patches of land around them. Vittoria smiled, these men seemed quiet, capable the sort who carry out a task with a minimum of fuss. So far her investment had proved well worth it. She turned back to Lord Elmo, her smile gone, her tone having changed to something with less mirth, a stricter thing. “You will provide the names of your escort. I will conduct the letters to their families. You will be coming with us. Do you have any weapons or correspondence on you, Lord Elmo?”

“Do I look like I have weapons? Unless you mean to take my mind, and I do wish you luck with that, there is a distinct lack.” Elmo drawled, his green eyes cast up the wide sky. “May the Seven save me from suspicious women with fluff between their ears.” He muttered in a undertone to himself, more than anyone else. In truth, the only weapon Elmo had was a dagger and eating knife. Neither he would be useful with in a fight. “My Lady,” His voice more audible. “I am tied to the saddle of a horse that would see it’s better days roasted on a spit. Do you think that I, even if I did may the Seven forbid, have weapons that I would have the ability to use them?” The disapproval in his tone could have drowned the God’s Eye.

“More to the point. No, I do not know which men were sent with me. I hardly saw a reason to care. Guards against my return I would think. The names I did catch were something along the lines of Royce and Sherd. My book,” His green eyes flicked to a book, now trample into the mud of the road by the bandits and horses, “, was far more appealing than conversation with men who rattled when they thought.” Perhaps he could be more polite, but Elmo was a realistic sort of man. He was a cripple and, more to the point, one who had been put under guards to go to the Citadel. Politeness was pointless in the general sense since the world was constantly going to dismiss him out of hand for a lame leg and a bad arm. As it was, he had been forced to squint as Vittoria approached to see her symbol. Yes, the manners of the gentle lords and ladies and their quibbling games could go and rot in the deserts of Dorne for all Elmo cared.

“Discipline and training are important things to an effective fighting force, Lord Elmo. These Knights would look for weapons and correspondence on any man of suspicion they came across. How do these men know what man may hold some choice scroll with valuable information? Daggers, knives can be used to cut more than flesh. They can be poisoned. Unlikely as it is, I do grant you, ‘fluff between my ears’ aside, I do expect my men to do what they are disciplined and trained to do. You can cooperate with me, or they can conduct their business in a much rougher style. I have spent quite a lot of time at the Citadel; I assure you they are even less patient of such a disposition as I am being.”

She looked to the dead escort, and heard herself sigh, a genuine sadness fresh on her face as she looked back to Elmo. “Truly, I am sorrowful for the traumas of the day that have befallen you and your escort. You are angry, resentful. Let us not make it worse. Declare what you have, you will be searched when we reach our camp, either way…Den?”

She said, turned in the saddle, twisted to look at him.

The large Knight of Horn Hill pointed to the two Knights closest to the dead men. “Take only their weapons and anything that might explain them better. Take them to the village down the creek, bury them there.”

“Here,” Vittoria said to get the attention of the two Knights, removing the purse from her belt and throwing it to the nearest of the two. The catch was far superior to the throw, but it made it into the Knight’s hands, just the same. “For their eyes. Get yourselves food and drink, there’s a small inn in that village.”

“Yes, Lord Commander.”

Elmo watched as the men were searched and then carried off, coins given by the noble lady for their eyes in a proper burial. A grudging respect was granted to the Ardent Maiden for the act. Even for her words and she was right to demand to know or else, to search, him. Relenting, Elmo’s expression was still cross as he sighed. “I contain several vials of willow bark and sourleaf, in my bags on this flea bag is a flask of milk of the poppy. On my belt is a dagger and my eating knife. I only carry a correspondence of my father and grandfather for the Citadel to admit myself.” Ruefully, he hesitated before adding in a more quiet voice. “I also have a vial of concentrated sweetsleep in my boot.” He did not wish to admit that, but it would be better to say such lest they think him some kind of assassin upon discovering it later. As the Lady Vittoria had said, it was a troubling time in their land. Chances were better not taken. He gaze was steady on her own, his hand twitching as he wished to rub at the ache in his leg. “Need I tell you of the cane, you can see strapped behind me?” It was a handsome thing of carved wood and ivory, brought from Essos by his Uncle Damon.

Her eyes had narrowed, again. This time, however, it was the intensity of trying to see what was not plain just to the eyes. The escort to guard against his return. The surly nature. Admittance to the Citadel to be presented on arrival. The sad horse in which he sat… Just then, her head tilted, as curiosity hit her, her eyes returning to their normal gaze.

He was being discarded.

“Do you wish to be a Maester, Lord Elmo? Truly?”

There was a bitter laugh from the man. “Truely? I wish for their books and knowledge. I have no wish to be locked away in a tower playing politics with slackgraced men who comb their beards and lose their wits.” He admitted, leaning back in his saddle and studying her over the flopping ears of his mount. “The answer you seek is not so straight forward. I would willingly wear a chain, but chains tend to bind and are quite heavy.”

There was nothing on her face in terms of reaction. Only a quick nod, as her mind moved onto the next thing: “Lord Dennet Tarly of Horn Hill will see you to our camp, Lord Elmo.” She didn’t, this time, turn around in the saddle to look at him, instead tilting her head back, and in a far more casual manner than had been thusly observed, simply threw her voice behind her, “Please be accommodating, Den.”

Den smiled, big, and sarcastic. “Northeast, Lord Elmo,” he said, pointing ‘that way’ with his thick gloved finger so the direction could not be mistaken, “after you.” Den’s eyes looked around once more, before turning his horse after Elmo once he passed by.

“As you say, Lady Ardent.” Was the ever dry and languid reply. His head inclining to Lady and Lord as he gave a sharp whack to his horse’s rear with his reins. The beast slowly plodding off as Elmo grimaced as his leg was wrenched by the movements. After passing the Tarly of Horn Hill and being sure the woman had turned away the man reached into his tunic, a small glass vial being pulled out. Wedging the cork in his mouth, Elmo pulled the stopped out then spat it into the grass off the road. Corks were easy enough to make. Pulling out the willow bark he slipped the now empty and drained vial into this tunic, chewing at the bark. “How long?” He asked the man shortly. His green eyes sharp as he grunted around the mouthful.

She could feel the pleasure in the man that she hadn’t had anyone else go with him and Lord Elmo. He wanted the escort to stay with her. All of them, now that two had been assigned away to burial duty. It irritated her, but she refused to let him sense that. Now, however, her attention was back on Garin. “Captain, ride with me. Let us go speak to those bandits.”

Garin bowed slightly in the saddle. “As you say, Lady Vittoria.”

He turned his little mare again and rode ahead with his standard bearer and two horsemen in tow. He held out a hand. “Squire, attend me.” The youth was big for his age and his dark skin and hair were reminiscent of a Dothraki. He lifted the polished steel of a great helm from his saddle and took his master’s lighter casque. Garin, his helm under his left arm, his bow sheathed in its case and with the plain hilt of his longsword hanging from his saddle, suddenly looked less like some foreign mercenary and more like the epitome of chivalric arrogance.

He gazed down at the beaten and filthy brigands, one hand on the pommel of his sword. “My Lady, in . . . my own land,” he refrained from mentioning Dorne at the last moment, “we’ve dealt with many bandits.

“If you like, we could hang them upside down from one of these trees. A man will tell you everything he’s ever done wrong in his life, it doesn’t even take a day.” He gazed down at the prisoners.

Garin’s words were as cold and empty of life as the winds beyond the wall. “I am knight milady. High justice, middle justice and low justice sleep in my scabbard. Say the word as these dogs will trouble you no longer.”

Though such a thing was cruel, even to think, much less say, it was all calculated. Garin had no real desire to kill them. Truth be told, he felt a certain pity for them. The difference between a loyal soldier and a bandit was often a matter of the last time a man had eaten. But on the other hand, a terrified brigand would happily turn on his compatriots if they thought it might mean a chance of mercy.

Once they came to a stop near the brigands, Lady Vittoria Tyrell just stared at them. They were dirty. Their clothing and armor, such as it was, amounted to little more than riding leathers. Their heads were bowed as Garin’s men hovered over them. After a rather brief, but intense, study of the two her eyes flickered back to the Captain speaking to her.

If any of what he said surprised or disturbed or pleased her, it would have been easier to read the future than read her face. In the end she, actually, softly, smiled at him. “These are hard times, Captain, I thank you for your capabilities in the unpleasant.”

Her head turned back to one near dozen knights of her escort. One had slowly gotten closer than the rest—as if this wasn’t the first time, and he knew what came next. When she nodded at him, he made up the ground between himself and the Lord Commander quickly, dismounting as she did.

He handed her the blood red leather pouch, cinched tightly. She spent a moment loosening it, her slightly longer fingernails making the task a little easier. The bag inside that was a brighter, blood red, dye in appearance.

From there, she walked to within five paces of the two men, the Knight wearing mail and leather, his blade at his hip, his half-helm kept on, became her steel shadow. His voice was no thunderous boom like Den’s, but it was deeper than her own. “Look up at her.”

They did, and she watched the eyes of one, before watching the eyes of the other. The younger, skinnier of the two was first. He simply spat in her direction, and had he not undoubtedly been dry of mouth, he might have reached his target. His hair was short, cut rough, like with a dagger. The other’s hair was longer, black, his pale skin reddened by exposure, his small eyes hardened, but not lost.

Her eyes stayed on the one with black hair.

“Do you know who I am?”

He looked first at the mercenary closest to him, then to the Knight that was her shadow, and then, finally, to her. A long look, before his head simply shook. “No, m’La—”

“—it’s Lord Commander,” she said, her voice trampling his own like a war horse on a charge. His eyes took new life as they stared at her, realization dawning upon him, the other, the spitter, suddenly snapped his head up and stared, too.

“…yes, you chased us across the bloody Riverlands, like the Stranger himself. Led the Hand straight at us.”

Ah, Harren the Red men. “Take that one to the camp,” she nodded to the spitter, before her eyes returned to the other one for good. “Tell Maester Etarin to begin his work with him,” she said it to the men around, even as she stared into the eyes of the other, older, brigand. She waited until two of her escort took the man away. A prolonged pause that seemed to stretch on and on as they grabbed the spitter up, slammed a mailed fist into his skull to leave him without consciousness, and tossed him over the back of one of their horses before taking off.

It was code. Maester Etarin was not fond of torture, and she did not relish forcing an ugly business on the Maester. She meant simply take the man out of sight and execute him. There were times she did not want it done in front of another prisoner, there were times she wanted the other man to imagine what Etarin might do. Death from a Knight? Known, expected, easily imagined. Death from a Maester? Unknown, and nothing scared men like the unknown. Their imaginations ran wild.

When they were clear, Vittoria knelt, and presented herself closer to eye level with the man. “Do you have a family?”

The longest stare she had encountered in a long while was stuck upon her by the brigand. Finally, he nodded, “Boy. His mum and her family. They live in a village near the God’s Eye, small farm.”

As he answered, she had opened the red dyed pouch, and retrieved from within it the small glass vial manufactured by Etarin. When he stopped speaking, her eyes flashed from the pouch and vial to his eyes once more, “What is your name?”

“Karl.”

Was he lying? She thought not, but it could be hard to tell in such moments. “Do you know what Sweetsleep is, Karl?”

He shook his head, his eyes on the vial, and her. As if he had completely forgotten the near two dozen men around them. When her big, bright, brown eyes kept staring, he gave a quick nervous stutter, realizing his mistake, before correcting it, “No.”

“You drink, you go to sleep. It’s peaceful, it’s fast, and you dream of the things you love on your way out. Do you believe in the Seven?”
It took him a few, long, beats to fully understand what she had just said. She could tell, as pure truth came from him on the question of his belief: men distracted by the former usually gave instinctive, honest, answers on the latter. It was a technique she had picked up from a book the Archmaester of Higher Mysteries lent to her.

“..I don’t believe in anything anymore.”

She nodded, smiling, and smoothed her skirts as she re-settled to sit upon the grass with her legs tucked neatly under her. “Do you know your son’s name, Karl?”

“Thom.”

“Was he born from love, Karl?”

“No,” his eyes drifted away from her. Skyward, this time, instead of downward to the grass. He sniffed, before going on just when she thought he might not, “just youth and wine.”

“Drink this, Karl,” she said, staring at his face, “Since you do not believe I will spare you prayers, instead I will sit with you and talk.” Though her tone had grown warm and her eyes were bright, she was intently studying what happened next. If he looked around, if he looked for the prospect of hope, it would be telling. But if he simply took the vial and drank, it would be all the more telling.

After a few dramatic, loud, beats of her heart, the man took the vial, sniffed again as emotion threatened to take hold of him, and threw his head back to empty the contents. The vial and cork dropped to the grass as he simply let go, and relaxed his body back.

This man has lost all hope in the world.

“Tell me about Thom?”

When he looked back at her, his eyes had become glassy. The absolute certainty of death now working on the man much harder, much faster, than a rope and a tree. He spoke of Thom, he spoke of the boy’s mother, Hella. He gave unimportant details that seemed to mean something to him. He spoke of his parents. He spoke of hard times, harder times. He asked her about her youth, he asked her about Highgarden. He had wanted to see it, one day, he said. So she described it for him as he cried.

His name was really Lyam, he revealed, with his first big yawn. They spoke of the days he spent with Harren the Red, war stories between veterans of the same campaign. They shared laughter at how Harren the Red cursed the ‘damnable girl’ during her chase of him across the Riverlands. She had them all scared, he admitted. Her men were everywhere they tried to go. No village or farm would willingly help them, always her men had been their first, with kindness and gold, while the Hand’s men had always just demanded and threatened.

It wasn’t much longer before he was laid down, curled up, asleep on the grass. He fell asleep talking of Thom, and his father, and asking her to look after the boy. When it was over, she straightened her body so she stood straight on her knees, pressed her hands together, bowed her head, and gave him prayer to the Father, the Mother, and the Stranger. She prayed to them for forgiveness for Lyam. She prayed for his soul. She prayed for Thom.

“Goodnight, Lyam,” she whispered, as she climbed up to her feet and walked back to her horse and Captain Garin. This time she accepted her steel shadow’s hand when it came time to remount her palfrey, looking at Garin with a side glance.

“Do you disapprove, Captain?”

The big mercenary shrugged his mailed shoulders with a metallic rustle of riveted links. In truth, the fate of the brigands was far kinder one than anything he or his men would have done to them. Especially if they had been given over to the handful of Dothraki he had under his banner.

“I once saw a man spitted on a spear near Slaver’s Bay and turned over a fire like he was a boar hog. You wouldn’t believe how long it took him to die, Lord Commander.” He said.

Garin’s tone was even, polite, as if he’d been discussing the weather with an acquaintance. But as he glanced down at the dead mercenary, something like pity shone in his eyes for a moment.

“In all honesty, I’ve seen far worse than you . . . and I took their money just the same.

“So I suppose, it doesn’t really matter what I think. Great lords and ladies can do as they wish. That’s the power of coin. It’s just a matter of how much you have.”

He turned his little mare, his eyes roving over their surroundings and nodded approvingly as his scouts continued to patrol around their position. Like any knight, he relished the chance for great deeds that storming a citadel or a massed charged afforded a man. But light cavalry allowed a commander to dictate the terms of a battle and set the stage for those great deeds.

“Signal them push further out, but not so far they can’t return by dusk.” He said to his standard bearer.

Signals were relayed and soldiers turned and moved off the rolling hills or down the narrow paths through the clustered stands of woodland that broke up the grassy land.

“The rest of you, fan out and set up a screen, but stay within sight.” He said to the soldiers who’d ridden with him. The largest among them, a scowling Dothraki nodded, barked out a single command and rode past with an arrow nocked on his great bow.

Her eyes never moved from their forward facing position. But her time changed dramatically; it became softer, tired. As if, in an instant, the Lord Commander was gone and the girl of Highgarden who spent most of her life on the road was all that remained. “It matters, Garin. Either that matters, most, or none of it matters at all. The war table will meet shortly after sundown at my tent to discuss tomorrow.”

The palfrey took off, the Knights of her escort picking up their pace to try to match her, at a distance. They were learning when it best to give her space.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

_{Lady Lorelai Lannister}

Sunset spanned endless across the horizon of the sea, crashing ocean waves charmed into gentler, rolling, waves from the seafloor at the bay. The wooden pier warmed by the sunny day now setting made warmer by the feel of her body resting backwards into his, as they watched the ships set out across the expanse of blues, purples, pinks, and golds burning with the setting sun, the happy day slowly winding to an end.

His voice was a ghost in her head, but she remembered laughing all the same, “What?!” She asked, incredulous and almost not believing what he’d just said.

“Oh, yes,” he began to explain, the sound of a smile in his whimsical tone, “If our children come to me asking to go on some grand adventure, I’m proposing they pack immediately. It’s a win for them, it’s a win for us: they get to go find the better life they don’t know they don’t need, and I get you all to myself. Bye children! Guards,” he mimicked the lordly tone of his own father, she recognized, “make sure to lock the gates after they’re gone, and leave the Lady and I alone for the evening!”

Strong arms squeezed her body even closer to his as twilight and the sea collided all around them. Yet, she couldn’t help herself but laugh. He was ridiculous. He always had been. When you meet your betrothed for the first time as he crashes through solar doors, falling on his back, dressed in the cushions and mock armor of a training dummy…it was hard to keep track of the twists and turns that took them from intended to friends to lovers counting down the days until marriage.

“Let’s do it, Lor,” he whispered it, a secret hushed thing that touched her ear like a secret language meant just for them. The way she turned her head, it was as if he knew the curious expression on her face, “let’s runaway. Let’s get married by the kind of Septon who won’t even ask our names. Let’s have these children so we can set them free and enjoy the rest of our days laughing at each other. Please.”

In a way, she had been eternally grateful her back was nestled into his chest, that he couldn’t see the stupid smile on her face, or the way she bit her lip, truly tempted. “Our parents,” she said through suppressed laughter, “would murder the both of us. Our children would never get to be born.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, as she turned in his arms, to look at him. To feel his lips touch hers. The endless starlight above resting in the haze of the twilight sky darkened as her fingers brushed his face, taking his face in her hands, as his arms pressed her closer than she could ever actually be.

“I need you so much closer…”

The world was black, silent. It happened so fast, the story about two ghosts in love, forever, as the dream of the memory cut out like a dagger to her heart, the chilled night air of Casterly Rock reminded her of where she was, and what she’d lost, all over again. Even as her body curled up in the bed, even as her eyes clinched shut and her hands into shaking fists, even as she begged it not to, the next memory that always came after the dream, came again. There he was, on that stupid horse, in that horrible armor.

”Don’t.” She begged him. “Let’s do it, Jules,” her voice more desperate than his had been, “let’s runaway. Let’s find that Septon that won’t even ask our names. Please.”

The way love softened his eyes as he looked down at her. The way his head tilted, the hint of mischief and warmth mixing as he tapped his index finger on her nose, threatening to make her laugh, “C’mon. I’ll be back. What would you ever do without me?” He asked, and she smiled.

Through the haunting, the world didn’t matter, she didn’t know where she was. She never stopped to think. She never bothered to look. She just opened her eyes, and the sharp gasp came out of her, as she stood on the railing of the balcony to her bedchamber, carved out of the same stone of the Rock as all the rest of it.

Jump, she thought, What can you ever do without him?

A deep breath like a chain reaction of gusts through mountain passes sent chills through her, the sea and the night darkened by clouds broken like stained glass as the tears pooled in her emerald eyes.

“Step down, dear Lady.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound, bare feet stubbornly holding onto the very edge of the thick stone rail, her head whipping to the left to trace the sound, finding it as the thick of her palms pushed salty tears from her eyes, alerting her to the strange foreigner standing on the balcony that once belonged to her brother, when he was still her brother, before whoever he was now came back with all the strange and eccentric foreigners.

He didn’t look scared, only sad, “Please.”

Blood rushed warmth back into her cheeks as she felt herself blush, as she suddenly felt embarrassed, trembling as she stepped down, and turned, terrified, shutting the slender double doors that led from her bedchamber to the balcony behind her, resting her back against the cold glass of the windowed slender doors, her body sinking as she only wished she could feel his warmth on her back once again.

Please. The word echoed. In Julien's voice. In her voice. Face burying in her hands as she felt herself break, as she felt the sobbing start again. Nothing ever stopped it. She would just find herself awake, still crumpled down on the floor of her bedchamber, sunlight flooding through the doors behind her. In the pitch darkness of her bedchamber, she wished for that sleep, for that sudden unconsciousness.

“Please,” she thought she heard it say, when the sound it made was different: CAW! It screamed at her as she spread her fingers just enough to look, and see it perched on the foot of her bed. CAW!

It screamed at her again, and her body jolted in shock, as she heard it say Please again. The shock was nothing to the confusion she felt when she realized the big, black, bird was staring straight at her…with three eyes. She gasped herself awake, still crumpled on the floor, still leaning against the slender double doors that led to the balcony, sunlight streaming in to flood her bedchamber with light.

A bedchamber with no one else but her, not even a bird with three eyes.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Lady Lorelai Lannister

Three and Twenty Years Old Daughter of the Last King of the Rock Bank and Merchant-Fleet Owner

Lorelai Lannister is a golden beauty that shines outward, while inward shadows haunt her deep enough to bury her heart completely. Life began interesting for the Lady Lorelai, the only daughter born to Loren I, the last King of the Rock. In another life, Lady Lorelai would have been Princess Lorelai of the Rock. Though she’s always been ashamed to admit it, she feels absolutely indifferent about the fact, other than heartache for her father.

The former King of the Rock would spend countless nights telling her about the histories of the Kings, Queens, Princes, and Princesses of Casterly Rock. She’s heard the tale of Lann the Clever more times than she would like to count. As much as she got Loren’s stories, it’s likely her brothers got them even more numerous. As she looks back on her past, it seems of little surprise to her that she and her older brother would constantly dream aloud of faraway places and adventurous journeys they would make together.

In time, her older brother would fixate on one quest above all else: bringing Brightroar back to their father. The two siblings would often spend evenings in one of the libraries of Casterly Rock, pouring over accounts and maps. If they were going to do it, Lorelai was fond of saying, they would do it right. Whereas her older brother threw himself into the training of combat, Lorelai spent her time with books and septas and ingrained within the social circles of Lannisport, and the Westerlands beyond.

When he was a young man, and Lorelai just becoming a young Lady, her brother pressed their father on his grand proposal: the journey for both of them to Essos, and further still, to see what they had always dreamed of, to hunt for the ancestral blade of Brightroar. Lorelai’s first great heartbreak was when the former King laughed at the mere suggestion that Lorelai would go, thinking her older brother meant for the youngest Lyman to go with him instead of Lorelai. Afterall, she was to marry the heir of House Crakehall—the first Lorelai had ever heard of such a plan.

To her credit, Lorelai worked their father for her older brother, and in the end may have proved a deciding factor in convincing the former King to allow the young heir of Casterly Rock to go on his grand journey that had once been her grand journey, too. Their parting was sad in more ways than Lorelai could count, and their father seemed to grow older by five years overnight after his heir left. Once in a while, in his cups, Loren would admit he considered it “likely” that his heir was dead.

Certainly, this would explain the emphasis he put on Lorelai being capable. Though he would train and treat Lyman like his heir, not the girl Lorelai, he would still allow her to learn the intricate ins-and-outs of Lannisport, and the Westerlands. She was also introduced to her intended, Lord and Ser Julien Crakehall. Much to the surprise of both their Houses, the two ignited in a fierce romance. Julien helped fill some hole in her that the loss of her elder brother, and the adventures her heart had been set on.

The hole crated the day Tyrell Knights arrived to Casterly Rock to present her with the news of Julien Crakehall’s death in a fierce battle that had also took the life of the Hand of the King. Her lips moved without her mind as shock drowned her as if she had been thrown into a frozen sea, thanking the Knights and their Lord Tyrell for the kindness of informing her so quickly. She didn’t register that they corrected her, that it was Lady Tyrell commanding the host, for nearly a fortnight.

Lorelai, in her grief for both her dreams of adventure and dreams of her beloved betrothed, decided she would take what her father provided for her in terms of gold and invest it in ships that would travel where she could not. They would go as far as Asshai by the Sea, and everywhere in-between, generating endless stories from their captains and sailors as much as they generated profit—and the ventures generated an excess of both for Lady Lorelai. She would be the one, not Lyman, to help her mother and maesters in caring for her father as the last King of the Rock slowly died, finally succumbing to the Stranger in 37AC.

By that point, young Lyman and their uncle Tytos, Castellan of Casterly Rock, would attend to Lyman’s training as a fighter and overlord of the Westerlands. Her mother would continue to hold court at the Rock and in Lannisport, and Lorelai would join her, the Westerlands still largely operating as if Lannisport and Casterly Rock were still the royal court of the Westerlands.

In the vacuum, a strange man who called himself Edwick the Acolyte appeared to Lorelai one evening at one of her mother’s events. Her mother, he explained, had directed him to her now that her father was gone. When she asked what his business was, he smiled at her: “Everything, Princess. Shall we begin?” For the rest of that night, and nearly every night thereafter, Edwick the Acolyte would teach and explain the world to Lorelai as the world was from his point of view—the world of secrets and deceptions, the world of a whisperer.

Lorelai buried Edwick in an unmarked grave on a hill half a day’s ride from Lannisport and the Rock, facing East, just as he had instructed her to do before his death. When she returned to Lannisport, small children and old men, both native and foreign, began finding her or sneaking her messages. Edwick’s chain of whisperers was now to be worn by Lorelai. It was Lorelei who informed her mother of her elder brother’s return, nearly a fortnight before he actually arrived.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

House Tyrell

House Tyrell of Highgarden

It's been but a full generation since the Tyrells went from High Stewards to High Lords. Much of their history since the Field of Fire and it's aftermath have been involved in conflict at nearly all sides. Lord Harlan, the man who submitted Highgarden to Aegon the Conqueror, spent his remaining years leading armies for Aegon's war of conquest, only to lose his life and his host in the sands of Dorne.

His son, Lord Theo, would be reluctant to continue any armed hostilities with Dorne. Instead, Lord Theo turned his efforts to the conflict of contestation, calling a council of septons and maesters to examine and dismiss the claims put forth by other houses of the Reach trying to claim Highgarden as their own. He married Lady Bethany from House Redwyne, a beauty, but more importantly, a Lady well practiced in the games of southern courts.

The result has been a consolidation of power in the Reach. To further that end, Lord Theo and Lady Bethany have busied themselves with raising five children; Lord Bertrand, Lady Vittoria, Lady Mina, Lord Garrett, and Lord Lorent. Lord Bertrand is the eldest, the heir, and known as a drunkard and fool. While Lord Theo has lost faith in his eldest and heir, the Gods have given him a blessing of an unusual kind: Lady Vittoria, his second eldest, is bright, charming, well read, and more accomplished than any man her age throughout the Seven Kingdoms as one of Westeros' finest Lord Commanders.

There is a gap of at least eight years between the two oldest children, and the three youngest. Lady Mina is half agony, half pride, to her parents; though she is loyal and bright, she eschews the traditional role of a young highborn Lady, more fond of horses and archery than needlepoint and courtesies. The youngest two, both young Lords, are capable and good lads. Garrett takes seriously his love of family and his duties as a Lord, even at the age of nine. The youngest, Lorent, is a charmer that can often be found at the side of one of his parents.

In a recent move that has surprised some, Lord Theo has transferred one of his hereditary titles, that of High Marshall of the Reach, to his second born, Lady Vittoria.

Lord Theo Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South

Warden of the South Lord Paramount of the Mander Defender of the Marches

Lord Theo's life has been a constant battle. Both literal, and figurative. He is as much a warrior as the Gods have allowed, and truth be told, had pushed himself in his youth in a way that likely exceeded even what the Gods thought to give him in terms of martial prowess. His sore knees of today remind him of his overzealous youth, but he has largely avoided the kind of injury that plague other lords his age.

He was ever more fond of books and running a realm than he was at the head of a cavalry charge, or among the lists. So when he inherited Highgarden from his own father, he sought to build the kind of defensive structure no other Lord of the Reach would see coming: that of wise men and tradition and authority of institutions well regarded. He called a council of Septons and Maesters to defend his family's claim. Though it never stopped the whispers from proud Reach nobility, it did end the immediate threat to the Tyrell claim to Highgarden.

On another front of the same battle, Lord Theo found his most stalwart ally in the form of Lady Bethany Redwyne. Always fond of the charming beauty from the Arbor, it was her ability to make friends and keep friends that has proven, over the years, unmatched by any other noble lady her age in the Reach. And just as importantly, Lady Bethany has proven a good mother, giving him five healthy children.

His children are a blessing he cherishes, though the Gods have been cruel with his oldest and heir, they have blessed him with every child since. And Lord Theo still holds out hope for his eldest, even though others around him have lost such hope, or placed their hope for House Tyrell in others, such as the little Lords Garrett and Lorent. Of Lady Mina he hopes she will remain her strength of will and love of life, but hopes her rough edges begin to smooth out with age.

He is closest with his second, the Lady Vittoria Tyrell. Unlike Lady Mina, Lady Vittoria was always a well spoken and elegant little Lady, he was always so certain he would be able to find the best of all possible matches for her. Yet she kept asking about his father, about the lost Host of Highgarden. Lady Vittoria always loved when he read her stories, but over years he knew this was different. When his eldest defied him and offended him and their entire bloodline, Theo admits he went mad. The madness found him in Lady Vittoria's room, waking her, unburdening himself on her little shoulders, sharing the weight of his world when he was too deep in his cups. She pleaded with him to let her learn, to give her a chance to defend their family's honor if Lord Bertrand could not. In his madness, and his wine, he promised her that he would.

For all the cruel japes men and women have casually thrown about regarding Lady Vittoria, Lord Theo would be lying to himself if he said he didn't secretly enjoy every one. Is their child leading armies and being celebrated from Westeros to Essos for their prowess? So what if Lady Vittoria kisses girls and boys alike? So what if she encourages Lady Mina in all the worse ways? She understands what almost no one else but his wife seems to understand: that the Tyrell struggle for legitimacy is a long game to be played, not one that can be won in his lifetime, of theirs.

He will do what he can, raise his children, and ensure his House and his lands are prosperous and bountiful. To that end, and to that of his family, he is an eternally dedicated man.

Lady Bethany Tyrell, Wife of Lord Theo and Lady of Highgarden

Lady of Highgarden ✿ née Redwyne

Lady Bethany has heard it all, and she has seen quite a bit. The Conquest was fresh in her youth, and the loss of life among Reach Houses was staggering, like some plague that swept across their verdant lands on dragon wings to cut down too many men, young and old, before their time. Despite House Redwyne's relative familiarity with the Conqueror, they still rode beside King Mern the III to the battle that would scar the Reach for generations to come; the Field of Fire.

She and her sisters were matched quickly in life; one sister to Casterly Rock, and she to Highgarden. Though the matches were good, few could say if the men they were matched to were as good as the matches, themselves. In her case, to her fortune, Lord Theo Tyrell was a serious man that took his responsibilities to heart, but in his private moments she learned he was also a loving man, playful, capable of being sweet as a honeycake in the right circumstances.

Even better, he was willing to listen to her, to lean on her when necessary, giving her a role she knew not all noble ladies enjoyed. Because of this, because of Highgarden, Lady Bethany was able to continue the role she had excelled at in her youth; the Lady at the center of all court happenings. Whether it was births, marriages, forbidden loves, rivalries, petty resentments, or fleeting fancies, the lives of the highborn went through court, and few were as effective or nimble at managing it all as she was. It is still a great pride to her that Highgarden's role in Reach society has only increased, instead of waned.

She is a partner to Lord Theo in managing both their household, and their seat. The accounts and stores and granaries of Highgarden are, simply put, a greater task than anything she could have imagined. The sheer size of Highgarden is something, she contends, best enjoyed from afar—as managing such a massive seat is a never-ending task that requires it's own army of stewards and servants, of which she and her husband are at the head of.

Of her children, she adores them all, even the wayward Bertrand. A sweet boy, quick to smile and to laugh, darker moods had taken him as he grew older, but he was never too old for her love, or for her counsel. She remains convinced Bertrand will, in time, figure it out, likely with the help of the right woman. Lady Mina, despite her best efforts, remains a challenge that delights her daily. She would love nothing more than to let Mina do as her wild heart would do, but Lady Bethany knows all too well the true demands of a noble lady, and Mina will have to learn them, too. Garrett is a big boy of nine, a sweet soul, though much like his father he can be too serious, too concerned with responsibility. She hopes he finds a partner to remind him to laugh, though for now, she is thankful Mina and Garrett are so close, children at play. Little Lorent is a young, fearless, boy who has never met a danger that didn't excite him. He loves laughing, he loves singers, he loves stories of knights and heroic deeds. In secret, Lady Bethany wishes she could keep Lorent this way forever, but as someone who grew up in the aftermath of the Field of Fire, she knows that is an impossibility.

And, then, there is her second child. Lady Bethany begged Theo not to send little Vittoria away to Oldtown. "Do not take my daughter from me," she recalls screaming at Theo, in a rare fit of hysteria. Nothing Theo said that night could calm her, yet it was the little Vittoria who calmly took her hand, and looked up at her, smiling, with the calmest voice Bethany had ever heard in her life: "It's okay, momma, you will see. Believe in us." Why the Gods give children such capacity to see the troubles of their parents so clearly, why they are so capable of brightening even the darkest moments...it will never cease to amaze her. In Vittoria, Bethany had a treasured daughter, the kind of daughter most mothers dream of. Dutiful, caring, and kind. They both loved to read until the candles burned out. They both loved riding, and talking of courtly matters to no end. The loneliness she felt when Vittoria left for Oldtown took years to lessen, and never really went away until Mina, Garrett, and Lorent.

Yet not even she could have imagined what her little daughter would become. At times, she doesn't know what to say to Lady Vittoria. Her Vitt, she could talk to endlessly, laughing and gossiping. Yet when Vittoria takes on the persona of the Ardent Maiden, her daughter feels distant, hard to relate to, as if there is a steel armor around her that not even a mother could get past. When people speak of the Ardent Maiden, she finds herself feeling as if they are speaking of some other person, surely not her little Vittoria.

Lord Bertrand Tyrell, Heir to Highgarden

Heir to Highgarden ✿ Resides in King's Landing

Lord Bertrand is a drunk and a fool, a sod. This description of the man can be heard from one end of the Reach, to the other, and back again. One would think a Lord and heir to one of the Great Houses of Westeros would be free of the jealousies and insecurities that plague some men, but Lord Bertrand has long been proof that even the highest born can fall victim to such gaps of character.

Lord Bertrand likes to gamble. He likes to drink. Most of all, he likes women. He isn't much of a warrior, and despite the strong tradition of Knightly chivalry in the Reach, never did spend much time in the training yard. He has quarreled with his Lord Father since an early age, and their clashes have become stories of infamy around Highgarden. He resents Lord Theo for enabling his sister, Lady Vittoria, and making him look like less of a man to their bannerlords. He apologies, sarcastically, to Lord Theo that the Gods gave him, Lord Bertrand, a cock and not his Lord Father's beloved Lady Vittoria.

Perhaps surprisingly, Lord Bertrand adores his Lady Mother, Lady Bethany. He's good friends with a number of his Redwyne cousins, and often prefers the Arbor to Highgarden. His closest friends are a collection of other noble sons from the Reach that also didn't take to the Knightly tradition, and like to enjoy what life has to offer, instead of just what life demands of them. There is a certain level of cunning to Lord Bertrand, and he does so love his youngest siblings, even the bizarre Lady Mina.

His earliest close confidant was his sister. Where once they were thick as thieves, now he cannot help but feel as if she mocks him behind his back, or feels as if she would never think highly of a man such as him, and such thoughts wound him deeply, creating distance and division between them, whether Lady Vittoria likes it, or not. One day he will show her, his father, and all the Realm what he is truly made of.

In the meantime, he largely resides in King's Landing, where he has begun to do what highborn men do: invest their gold in worthwhile ventures, and enjoy their station in life. He's even fathered a son or two, depending on how believable the mothers are.

Lady Vittoria Tyrell, known as the Ardent Maiden, High Marshall of the Armies of the Reach

Two and Twenty Years Old High Marshall of the Reach Order of the Golden Rose

“I swear to you, the little Lady Tyrell is half horse, half book.” – Ser Arlo Flowers, Man-at-Arms of Highgarden

The second child born to Lord Theo Tyrell and his wife, Lady Bethany of House Redwyne, there was little out of the ordinary for little Lady Vittoria for much of her young life. She did as any daughter of a Great House did during her earliest years, becoming a dedicated student of the Seven Pointed Star and the Faith of the Seven, becoming a fine dancer for her age, and becoming above average at needlepoint. At some point, Lady Vittoria is sent with her Septa at Highgarden to the city of Oldtown. The assumption has always been that Lady Vittoria was meant to become a Septa, herself, given her early mastery of the Seven Pointed Star.

Yet several other accounts paint a different picture; she was sent to Oldtown shortly after the most unsavory of fallings out between her Lord Father, and her older brother, Lord Bertrand. Bertrand, these sources claim, was a drunken fool even in his younger years, known for whoring. Determined to prepare his House for what he saw as inevitable struggle for their overlordship of the Reach, Lord Theo sent his daughter to Oldtown, to learn from the Faith, but also the Maesters. Indeed, several mundane scrolls of daily Maester business do list Lady Vittoria as a visitor to the Citadel, far more than is usual for any nobility, let alone a girl. It’s also noted she was present for Maester Benifer’s celebration at an Inn near the Citadel on the day after his elevation to Archmaester, as Benifer was a primary tutor for Lady Vittoria during her time in Oldtown.

The truth of it, though known only to Lady Vittoria and her Lord Father, and a select few Archmaesters, along with a few Acolytes, was, indeed, the latter account. By the time she left Oldtown as a young woman, she was given a secret gift of chain links: yellow gold, bronze, iron, copper, and silver. Later in life, these links were made into a bracelet. She was seen at nearly every open lecture of Archmaesters specializing in iron and copper, and there are rumors the most comprehensive history on the ill-fated campaign of Lord Harlan Tyrell in Dorne, authored by Maester Belis, a then young Acolyte who was given his chain only upon finishing the small book, only wrote what the true author, Lady Vittoria, dictated. Maester Belis was shortly after assigned to the Arbor, as his specialty had always been plants and growing.

Lady Vittoria spends the majority of her young life after leaving Oldtown on the road: she visits King’s Landing and spends months with Grand Maester Gawen, inspecting the (relatively) newly built walls of the capital city, learning everything the Grand Maester had to teach her about the raising of the walls, from manpower to construction to logistics. Her Lord Father purchases one of the first known Great House manses within the city of King’s Landing, a fortified compound within city limits. Though Lady Vittoria establishes the manse in truth, it is her elder brother, Lord Bertrand, who would later give the manse it’s reputation for day long parties overflowing with wine and sex, not Lady Vittoria.

“She is no normal Lady, this one; I’d have her beside me for every battle if I could. And I’d have her marry any of my sons she wanted.” – Lord ‘Savage’ Sam Tarly

Where she travels next remains a mystery. Dornish sources claim to have seen her in Dorne, while other sources claim she visited the Free Cities. Whatever the truth of it, Lady Vittoria for sure shows up again in 37 AC and in the strangest of places for a daughter of a Great House: leading an army of the Reach into the Riverlands to support Hand of the King Lord Alyn Stokeworth’s effort to dislodge Harren the Red from Harrenhal and bring him to justice. Though the Reach’s host is continuously mocked, and their lady Lord Commander constantly mocked behind her back and to her face, neither the host or it’s commander let the treatment affect them. Though official records say it was Lord Alyn who cornered Harren the Red and his outlaws, many others claim it was only done once Lord Alyn began listening to Lady Vittoria at his war councils. When asked, directly, Lady Vittoria does little more than praise the brave, lost, Lord Alyn. As friend of both, it is noteworthy Grand Maester Gawen has privately accused Lady Vittoria of dodging the question every time it surfaces.

It was in the face of her actions during the bringing of Harren the Red and his outlaws to justice that Maesters and bards alike gave Lady Vittoria the name she is undoubtedly best known as by high and low born alike: the Ardent Maiden. However fitting a name it may be, serious students of military matters and historical matters name her next feat one of her greatest: in a span of time that seemed impossible she marched her force to the border of the Reach and the Stormlands and Dorne, the Marches, even while taking on reinforcements from the Reach along the way. The Army of the Reach made such good time she joined the effort to repel the Vulture King from Nightsong. Her army would join with Lord Tarly’s, and here again there are questions as to who really led the successful routing of the Vulture King’s army, though it was worth noting that the King awarded Lords Dondarrion, Caron, and Tarly, while Lady Vittoria’s role seems to have been missed in the official records. She was recorded as being present at both war councils, and the Vulture King’s execution.

She returns to Horn Hill with Lord ‘Savage’ Sam Tarly, where it’s said both armies have a celebration feast before disbanding. She then returns to Highgarden, re-connecting with family, though there is a rumored ugly incident where Lord Bertrand beats Lady Vittoria to such an extent she is seen with bruises for the weeks following. While servants rumor of a jealous, drunken, rage there is nothing from the family itself, other than Lady Vittoria claiming she was tossed from a horse. Immediately after she departs for the Arbor with her mother. While her mother spends most her time at the keep of the Redwynes, it’s said Lady Vittoria spends all of her time at sea with cousins on ships of the Redwyne fleet. She notably helps repel a pirate attack on one of the ships with a bow, before returning back to the Arbor. With Lord Redwyne and his advisors, along with his sons, Lady Vittoria learns of a great increase in such attacks.

“The Ardent Maiden is the steel rose of Highgarden, make no mistake. She leads them now in all but title.” – Septon Pater of the Starry Sept

In the most clear-cut military action of the Lady’s to date, Lady Vittoria raises a small host of mostly sailors, along with a small unit of men she had led in prior engagements, and takes a mixed Reach fleet, supported by longship mercenaries, to engage the surging pirates at their own home ports. They find the self-proclaimed King of the Basilisk Isles, infamous pirate lord Saathos Saan, himself paid to clear out the isles of pirates by the Free Cities, only to turn pirate and declare himself pirate lord. Though some of the fighting is treacherous, the Lord Commander, Lady Vittoria, unleashes one surprise attack after another, often tricking the pirates into over-aggression, and herself leading a daring night time raid with nothing but small boats with muffled oars, on the ship of Saathos Saan himself. It is in the personal cabin of Saathos Saan that Lady Vittoria and her small raiding party find and rescue Lady Alys Oakheart, once sold to Myrish slavers by the Wyl of Wyl at the end of the First Dornish War, now one of Saathos Saan’s personal pleasure slaves found chained to his Captain’s bed. Surprisingly, Lady Alys is not the most surprising of the finds by Lady Vittoria on Saan’s flagship: she finds ancient Valyrian scrolls, the contents of which she has never spoken about to another soul. To her most trusted men she tasks with taking the scrolls, and Lady Alys, back to the Reach. Lady Alys, now in her late thirties, is returned to her home. The ancient Valyrian scrolls simply disappear, to where only one man, and Lady Vittoria, truly know.

Although Lady Vittoria asks Maesters with the force to attribute most recorded details of the campaign to the Lord Captain of the mixed Reach fleet, her Redwyne cousin, the Free Cities have many eyes and ears among both pirates and mercenaries, even some within her own force. When word quickly reaches the Free Cities, Lady Vittoria is requested at Volantis for celebration and reward. Though she and a small party are ambushed by Lyseni and Myrish slavers demanding compensation for the slaves freed to Westeros, the ruler of Volantis, the Valyrian Dragonlord Vhandyr of House Belaerys, repays the debts for Lady Vittoria, and introduces her to his companion in his own ongoing campaign against Dothraki; exiled Prince Maegor of House Targaryen. She shares a meal with both men, before accepting the rewards offered by the Free Cities representatives, and getting to meet Balerion and Terrax, the two largest living dragons in creation.

Besides increases to the payment due each man of the force, it’s unseen what Lady Vittoria did with the majority of her rewards, or even exactly what the rewards consisted of, beyond gold. It is also noteworthy that Lady Vittoria visits the Temple of the Lord of Light, twice, as well as meeting with emissaries from the Iron Bank of Braavos before departing to return home to the Reach. Her return home lacks any fanfare or celebration at Highgarden, other than most of her family, her oldest brother the most noteworthy absence, hosting her on their pleasure barge for a slow trip down the Mander. She begins a tour of the Reach that is interrupted with the news that the High Septon has called a council of Septons and Maesters to investigate and debate the recent actions of the Royal House of Targaryen, and that the High Septon, as well as several Archmaesters, have requested Lord Theo Tyrell. Given his now older age, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South asks Lady Vittoria to attend the conference in his place. She agrees, but only at the head of a force of One-Hundred Knights of the Reach. There are rumors of a mercenary company from Essos being hired by the Ardent Maiden, herself, and housed a day’s ride from Oldtown. What, if anything, Lady Vittoria suspects might happen remains a mystery to all.

Lady Mina Tyrell, young Lady of four and ten

_{Played by [@EspadaEmi]}

Mina Tyrell
Age: Four and Ten Years Old (Born 27 AG)

Appearance:

The Thistle of Highgarden

Description & biography:

Bio and Description is here

"Young Lady Mina can climb like a squirrel, fight like a wildcat, swim like a fish and track like a hound." - Ser Arlo Flowers, Man-at-Arms of Highgarden

"True, the only thing she can't do is act like is a proper lady." - Reply, Lady Falia Oldfowers, etiquette teacher and governess.

The third child of house Tyrell has been both a blessing and a vexation for her parents. From her earliest childhood Lady Mina has rebelled against almost all of the expectations and pursuits of a young noble lady in favor of more lordly activities. While other young maidens learned needlework and gossiped, the youngest Lady Tyrell would run from her lessons to join her Lord Father on the hunt, climb trees or tend to the horses. Her etiquette teacher all too often abandoned her lessons in a huff after Mina responded to attempts at polite conversation by repeating the off-color jokes of her older brother and her family's Men-At-Arms. With dancing her instructors found passable success and were elated, that was until it came out that she had only put in the effort after an offhand comment from her father compared the steps of a dance to footwork with a blade.

Encouragement from her eldest sister and indulgence from her father have turned her into a vivacious, quick-witted and strong willed girl, frequently clashing with her mother over her role and responsibilities as a young noble lady. She's taken up regular archery and dagger-fighting training since the age of ten, a compromise after her father's multiple refusals to train her as a page resulted in a months long sulk.

With her two younger brothers, Mina is free to be herself without judgement and loves them both all the more for it. Garret is probably the person she's closest to, a constant playmate who she gets into trouble with and helps in equal measure. At eleven and six respectively she shot an apple off of Garrett's head to the horror of onlooking servants. When she was twelve and Garret seven, she sneaked him out of the house on a 'private hunt' to avoid their lessons, then protected him from an angry boar they found by distracting it and climbing up a tree while he went to fetch help. Most recently when local lordlings were bullying him because they thought their fathers deserved to be Lord Paramount of Highgarden, she coached him on how to fight back then secretly helped send them on their way by dropping a beehive on their heads with a well-placed throwing knife.

More importantly now that he's old enough to start in on the knightly training Mina was denied, Mina's become determined that with her help he'll one day be the greatest knight in Westeros! To that end she's been watching his training and trying to pick up as much as she can to advise him, along with challenging him to improve his dagger fighting and equestrian skills.

She spoils little Lorent constantly, sneaking him sweets and cheese when she raids the kitchens, reading to him from books of stories, comforting him at night if their Lady Mother can't be reached and overall being the picture of a loving elder sister as best she can manage. That's not to say she doesn't still have her rough edges. She's been forbidden from riding double with him on her horse on more than one occasion when she thought leading him slowly on his little pony was too dull and taught him to repeat jokes and words she really ought not to have known herself to the horror of their parents.

Her relationship to her older siblings is a little more complicated, however.

Bertrand has always been relatively nice to her and tolerated her eccentric behavior, even finding it amusing at times. It was Bertrand who gave her the half-mocking, half-affectionate nickname of 'Thistle of Highgarden' after Mina pantsed a boorish associate of Bertrand's at a party and gave the first boy to approach her at King's Landing a particularly humiliating verbal lashing when he laughed at her challenge to 'prove his worth against her in a contest of skill' in the same week. Bertrand used to take her hawking and sailing, sneak her sweets and sips of strong wine and teach her things to scandalize their parents. More recently, she's started to become aware of Bertrand's darker side and fouler moods, especially after Vittoria's mysterious injuries and her parents cover-up. Still, she loves her brother and has been doing her best to shield Garrett and Lorent from any knowledge of his faults.

Vittoria is the sibling she knows the least, but also the one she loves the most. In her youngest years, she followed her sister everywhere like a little shadow, doing her best to copy what she did and actually reigning in her most tomboyish behaviors in her desire to be more like Vittoria, her rebellious trouble-making only worsening after the older girl left for Oldtown.

For Mina, her eldest sister's presence always means life is going to get more interesting. It was Vittoria who showed her King's Landing, inspired her with stories of her tactical victories and gave her the Dornish recurve bow she so treasures. During their stay at the Arbor, Mina was aboard the ship with Vittoria and their cousins when it came under attack by pirates, though she didn't fight apart from running arrows to the defenders and once backstabbing a man who boarded during the clash. To her frustration she was left out of the subsequent pirate hunt, but still talked about 'her first real battle' fervently for days. Best of all, when Vittoria returned from her trip to the Free Cities, she brought with her a Braavosi Water Dancing instructor for Mina. While she couldn't fight like a knight, she could finally learn to use a sword. Their parents were less than pleased about this at first, until Vittoria convinced them that given how much trouble Mina gets into regardless, she had best learn to defend herself.

Now traveling with Vittoria as part of her retinue and out from under her parents eyes, Mina feels more free than she ever has before. In spite of being there to attend some stuffy conference of Maesters and Septons, she's in high spirits and excited for the adventures to come.

Lord Garrett Tyrell, boy of nine

Second Son of Highgarden Traveling with Lady Vittoria Prospective Squire

Lord Garrett is a tall, heavy, boy for his age. He always has been. His Lord Father seems proud of the fact, and their Master-at-Arms always says it will make Garrett a fearsome Knight in the future. Garrett likes that, he loves stories and songs of knights and heroes. He also likes playing with his friends around Highgarden, he loves looking at all the bugs and animals. The Maester says a good curiosity is the whetstone of a fine mind.

Garrett spends a lot of time with his sister Mina. She's a lot of fun, she likes to ride, she likes to hunt, she likes to do all the things he likes to do. Other people seem to wish Mina was more like other young Ladies, but Garrett likes Mina just the way she is, and wishes people would just leave her alone and let her be. Why can't more people just be who they are? Garrett doesn't understand that.

People say not nice things about his older brother, Bertrand, but Bertrand is always nice to him. Bertrand tells him to learn all he can and practice hard in the yards, as the second born son it will be Garrett who has to lead the armies while Bertrand rules from Highgarden. Garrett likes that Bertrand will depend on him to lead armies, that sounds like an adventure. Bertrand is only not nice when he drinks too much wine, but Garrett doesn't see that a lot, and misses Bertrand now that he mostly stays in King's Landing.

But when Bertrand left, Vittoria came back. Garrett doesn't know Vittoria like he does Bertrand, but Mina knows Vittoria better, and says Vittoria is the best sister they could have. Garrett is excited about Vittora being home more, he hears all kinds of stories about her, she's even seen dragons, and been to Essos, and fought bandits and pirates and rebels. She's never lost a battle, all the men-at-arms in Highgarden say so. She's very sweet and very pretty, and wears neat dresses. She says when she goes to Oldtown with her Knights, that Garrett and Mina can go with her. That's really exciting!

Lorent is just old enough to play with now, and Garrett likes his little brother a lot more now because he's more fun. Garrett will miss Lorent when he goes with Vittoria and Mina to Oldtown, but Garrett has to learn how to lead armies for Bertrand like Vittoria does for their Lord Father. Garrett loves his Lord Father and loves most when he gets to go hunting with him and his men. His father teaches him all kinds of things, and is usually there during his training. He loves his mother most of all, she's the best mother in Westeros. He still loves staying up late with her as she reads books to him and his sister and brother. Plus she sneaks him sweetcakes even after the cooks say they can't possibly spare any more.

Lord Lorent Tyrell, boy of five

Third son of Highgarden ✿ Prospective Page

Lorent likes dogs, they're silly. Honeycakes are his favorite, but he likes cheese a lot also. His momma is the best momma, and Lord Father can be scary but he likes to teach Lorent exciting things like arrows and daggers and hunting and horses. Garrett is better when he has fun, Mina is his favorite, but Bertrand is always really nice and sneaks him sips of wine and cheese and tells him that one day he will match Lorent with the most beautiful lady. Lorent doesn't like ladies as much, but Bertrand says he will one day, and Bertrand is older so he know things, he says. Vittoria likes to snuggle and read like momma, so he likes her a lot more now that she's home and lets him fall asleep as she tells him stories of where she's been and her adventures. She has a lot of Knight friends that are very nice to him, it's a lot of fun!

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

House Tyrell

House Tyrell of Highgarden

It's been but a full generation since the Tyrells went from High Stewards to High Lords. Much of their history since the Field of Fire and it's aftermath have been involved in conflict at nearly all sides. Lord Harlan, the man who submitted Highgarden to Aegon the Conqueror, spent his remaining years leading armies for Aegon's war of conquest, only to lose his life and his host in the sands of Dorne.

His son, Lord Theo, would be reluctant to continue any armed hostilities with Dorne. Instead, Lord Theo turned his efforts to the conflict of contestation, calling a council of septons and maesters to examine and dismiss the claims put forth by other houses of the Reach trying to claim Highgarden as their own. He married Lady Bethany from House Redwyne, a beauty, but more importantly, a Lady well practiced in the games of southern courts.

The result has been a consolidation of power in the Reach. To further that end, Lord Theo and Lady Bethany have busied themselves with raising five children; Lord Bertrand, Lady Vittoria, Lady Mina, Lord Garrett, and Lord Lorent. Lord Bertrand is the eldest, the heir, and known as a drunkard and fool. While Lord Theo has lost faith in his eldest and heir, the Gods have given him a blessing of an unusual kind: Lady Vittoria, his second eldest, is bright, charming, well read, and more accomplished than any man her age throughout the Seven Kingdoms as one of Westeros' finest Lord Commanders.

There is a gap of at least eight years between the two oldest children, and the three youngest. Lady Mina is half agony, half pride, to her parents; though she is loyal and bright, she eschews the traditional role of a young highborn Lady, more fond of horses and archery than needlepoint and courtesies. The youngest two, both young Lords, are capable and good lads. Garrett takes seriously his love of family and his duties as a Lord, even at the age of nine. The youngest, Lorent, is a charmer that can often be found at the side of one of his parents.

In a recent move that has surprised some, Lord Theo has transferred one of his hereditary titles, that of High Marshall of the Reach, to his second born, Lady Vittoria.

Lord Theo Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South

Warden of the South ✿ Lord Paramount of the Mander ✿ Defender of the Marches

Lord Theo's life has been a constant battle. Both literal, and figurative. He is as much a warrior as the Gods have allowed, and truth be told, had pushed himself in his youth in a way that likely exceeded even what the Gods thought to give him in terms of martial prowess. His sore knees of today remind him of his overzealous youth, but he has largely avoided the kind of injury that plague other lords his age.

He was ever more fond of books and running a realm than he was at the head of a cavalry charge, or among the lists. So when he inherited Highgarden from his own father, he sought to build the kind of defensive structure no other Lord of the Reach would see coming: that of wise men and tradition and authority of institutions well regarded. He called a council of Septons and Maesters to defend his family's claim. Though it never stopped the whispers from proud Reach nobility, it did end the immediate threat to the Tyrell claim to Highgarden.

On another front of the same battle, Lord Theo found his most stalwart ally in the form of Lady Bethany Redwyne. Always fond of the charming beauty from the Arbor, it was her ability to make friends and keep friends that has proven, over the years, unmatched by any other noble lady her age in the Reach. And just as importantly, Lady Bethany has proven a good mother, giving him five healthy children.

His children are a blessing he cherishes, though the Gods have been cruel with his oldest and heir, they have blessed him with every child since. And Lord Theo still holds out hope for his eldest, even though others around him have lost such hope, or placed their hope for House Tyrell in others, such as the little Lords Garrett and Lorent. Of Lady Mina he hopes she will remain her strength of will and love of life, but hopes her rough edges begin to smooth out with age.

He is closest with his second, the Lady Vittoria Tyrell. Unlike Lady Mina, Lady Vittoria was always a well spoken and elegant little Lady, he was always so certain he would be able to find the best of all possible matches for her. Yet she kept asking about his father, about the lost Host of Highgarden. Lady Vittoria always loved when he read her stories, but over years he knew this was different. When his eldest defied him and offended him and their entire bloodline, Theo admits he went mad. The madness found him in Lady Vittoria's room, waking her, unburdening himself on her little shoulders, sharing the weight of his world when he was too deep in his cups. She pleaded with him to let her learn, to give her a chance to defend their family's honor if Lord Bertrand could not. In his madness, and his wine, he promised her that he would.

For all the cruel japes men and women have casually thrown about regarding Lady Vittoria, Lord Theo would be lying to himself if he said he didn't secretly enjoy every one. Is their child leading armies and being celebrated from Westeros to Essos for their prowess? So what if Lady Vittoria kisses girls and boys alike? So what if she encourages Lady Mina in all the worse ways? She understands what almost no one else but his wife seems to understand: that the Tyrell struggle for legitimacy is a long game to be played, not one that can be won in his lifetime, of theirs.

He will do what he can, raise his children, and ensure his House and his lands are prosperous and bountiful. To that end, and to that of his family, he is an eternally dedicated man.

Lady Bethany Tyrell, Wife of Lord Theo and Lady of Highgarden

✿ Lady of Highgarden ✿ née Redwyne ✿

Lady Bethany has heard it all, and she has seen quite a bit. The Conquest was fresh in her youth, and the loss of life among Reach Houses was staggering, like some plague that swept across their verdant lands on dragon wings to cut down too many men, young and old, before their time. Despite House Redwyne's relative familiarity with the Conqueror, they still rode beside King Mern the III to the battle that would scar the Reach for generations to come; the Field of Fire.

She and her sisters were matched quickly in life; one sister to Casterly Rock, and she to Highgarden. Though the matches were good, few could say if the men they were matched to were as good as the matches, themselves. In her case, to her fortune, Lord Theo Tyrell was a serious man that took his responsibilities to heart, but in his private moments she learned he was also a loving man, playful, capable of being sweet as a honeycake in the right circumstances.

Even better, he was willing to listen to her, to lean on her when necessary, giving her a role she knew not all noble ladies enjoyed. Because of this, because of Highgarden, Lady Bethany was able to continue the role she had excelled at in her youth; the Lady at the center of all court happenings. Whether it was births, marriages, forbidden loves, rivalries, petty resentments, or fleeting fancies, the lives of the highborn went through court, and few were as effective or nimble at managing it all as she was. It is still a great pride to her that Highgarden's role in Reach society has only increased, instead of waned.

She is a partner to Lord Theo in managing both their household, and their seat. The accounts and stores and granaries of Highgarden are, simply put, a greater task than anything she could have imagined. The sheer size of Highgarden is something, she contends, best enjoyed from afar—as managing such a massive seat is a never-ending task that requires it's own army of stewards and servants, of which she and her husband are at the head of.

Of her children, she adores them all, even the wayward Bertrand. A sweet boy, quick to smile and to laugh, darker moods had taken him as he grew older, but he was never too old for her love, or for her counsel. She remains convinced Bertrand will, in time, figure it out, likely with the help of the right woman. Lady Mina, despite her best efforts, remains a challenge that delights her daily. She would love nothing more than to let Mina do as her wild heart would do, but Lady Bethany knows all too well the true demands of a noble lady, and Mina will have to learn them, too. Garrett is a big boy of nine, a sweet soul, though much like his father he can be too serious, too concerned with responsibility. She hopes he finds a partner to remind him to laugh, though for now, she is thankful Mina and Garrett are so close, children at play. Little Lorent is a young, fearless, boy who has never met a danger that didn't excite him. He loves laughing, he loves singers, he loves stories of knights and heroic deeds. In secret, Lady Bethany wishes she could keep Lorent this way forever, but as someone who grew up in the aftermath of the Field of Fire, she knows that is an impossibility.

And, then, there is her second child. Lady Bethany begged Theo not to send little Vittoria away to Oldtown. "Do not take my daughter from me," she recalls screaming at Theo, in a rare fit of hysteria. Nothing Theo said that night could calm her, yet it was the little Vittoria who calmly took her hand, and looked up at her, smiling, with the calmest voice Bethany had ever heard in her life: "It's okay, momma, you will see. Believe in us." Why the Gods give children such capacity to see the troubles of their parents so clearly, why they are so capable of brightening even the darkest moments...it will never cease to amaze her. In Vittoria, Bethany had a treasured daughter, the kind of daughter most mothers dream of. Dutiful, caring, and kind. They both loved to read until the candles burned out. They both loved riding, and talking of courtly matters to no end. The loneliness she felt when Vittoria left for Oldtown took years to lessen, and never really went away until Mina, Garrett, and Lorent.

Yet not even she could have imagined what her little daughter would become. At times, she doesn't know what to say to Lady Vittoria. Her Vitt, she could talk to endlessly, laughing and gossiping. Yet when Vittoria takes on the persona of the Ardent Maiden, her daughter feels distant, hard to relate to, as if there is a steel armor around her that not even a mother could get past. When people speak of the Ardent Maiden, she finds herself feeling as if they are speaking of some other person, surely not her little Vittoria.

Lord Bertrand Tyrell, Heir to Highgarden

✿ Heir to Highgarden ✿ Resides in King's Landing ✿

Lord Bertrand is a drunk and a fool, a sod. This description of the man can be heard from one end of the Reach, to the other, and back again. One would think a Lord and heir to one of the Great Houses of Westeros would be free of the jealousies and insecurities that plague some men, but Lord Bertrand has long been proof that even the highest born can fall victim to such gaps of character.

Lord Bertrand likes to gamble. He likes to drink. Most of all, he likes women. He isn't much of a warrior, and despite the strong tradition of Knightly chivalry in the Reach, never did spend much time in the training yard. He has quarreled with his Lord Father since an early age, and their clashes have become stories of infamy around Highgarden. He resents Lord Theo for enabling his sister, Lady Vittoria, and making him look like less of a man to their bannerlords. He apologies, sarcastically, to Lord Theo that the Gods gave him, Lord Bertrand, a cock and not his Lord Father's beloved Lady Vittoria.

Perhaps surprisingly, Lord Bertrand adores his Lady Mother, Lady Bethany. He's good friends with a number of his Redwyne cousins, and often prefers the Arbor to Highgarden. His closest friends are a collection of other noble sons from the Reach that also didn't take to the Knightly tradition, and like to enjoy what life has to offer, instead of just what life demands of them. There is a certain level of cunning to Lord Bertrand, and he does so love his youngest siblings, even the bizarre Lady Mina.

His earliest close confidant was his sister. Where once they were thick as thieves, now he cannot help but feel as if she mocks him behind his back, or feels as if she would never think highly of a man such as him, and such thoughts wound him deeply, creating distance and division between them, whether Lady Vittoria likes it, or not. One day he will show her, his father, and all the Realm what he is truly made of.

In the meantime, he largely resides in King's Landing, where he has begun to do what highborn men do: invest their gold in worthwhile ventures, and enjoy their station in life. He's even fathered a son or two, depending on how believable the mothers are.

Lady Vittoria Tyrell, known as the Ardent Maiden, High Marshall of the Armies of the Reach

Two and Twenty Years Old ✿ High Marshall of the Reach ✿ Order of the Golden Rose

“I swear to you, the little Lady Tyrell is half horse, half book.” – Ser Arlo Flowers, Man-at-Arms of Highgarden

The second child born to Lord Theo Tyrell and his wife, Lady Bethany of House Redwyne, there was little out of the ordinary for little Lady Vittoria for much of her young life. She did as any daughter of a Great House did during her earliest years, becoming a dedicated student of the Seven Pointed Star and the Faith of the Seven, becoming a fine dancer for her age, and becoming above average at needlepoint. At some point, Lady Vittoria is sent with her Septa at Highgarden to the city of Oldtown. The assumption has always been that Lady Vittoria was meant to become a Septa, herself, given her early mastery of the Seven Pointed Star.

Yet several other accounts paint a different picture; she was sent to Oldtown shortly after the most unsavory of fallings out between her Lord Father, and her older brother, Lord Bertrand. Bertrand, these sources claim, was a drunken fool even in his younger years, known for whoring. Determined to prepare his House for what he saw as inevitable struggle for their overlordship of the Reach, Lord Theo sent his daughter to Oldtown, to learn from the Faith, but also the Maesters. Indeed, several mundane scrolls of daily Maester business do list Lady Vittoria as a visitor to the Citadel, far more than is usual for any nobility, let alone a girl. It’s also noted she was present for Maester Benifer’s celebration at an Inn near the Citadel on the day after his elevation to Archmaester, as Benifer was a primary tutor for Lady Vittoria during her time in Oldtown.

The truth of it, though known only to Lady Vittoria and her Lord Father, and a select few Archmaesters, along with a few Acolytes, was, indeed, the latter account. By the time she left Oldtown as a young woman, she was given a secret gift of chain links: yellow gold, bronze, iron, copper, and silver. Later in life, these links were made into a bracelet. She was seen at nearly every open lecture of Archmaesters specializing in iron and copper, and there are rumors the most comprehensive history on the ill-fated campaign of Lord Harlan Tyrell in Dorne, authored by Maester Belis, a then young Acolyte who was given his chain only upon finishing the small book, only wrote what the true author, Lady Vittoria, dictated. Maester Belis was shortly after assigned to the Arbor, as his specialty had always been plants and growing.

Lady Vittoria spends the majority of her young life after leaving Oldtown on the road: she visits King’s Landing and spends months with Grand Maester Gawen, inspecting the (relatively) newly built walls of the capital city, learning everything the Grand Maester had to teach her about the raising of the walls, from manpower to construction to logistics. Her Lord Father purchases one of the first known Great House manses within the city of King’s Landing, a fortified compound within city limits. Though Lady Vittoria establishes the manse in truth, it is her elder brother, Lord Bertrand, who would later give the manse it’s reputation for day long parties overflowing with wine and sex, not Lady Vittoria.

“She is no normal Lady, this one; I’d have her beside me for every battle if I could. And I’d have her marry any of my sons she wanted.” – Lord ‘Savage’ Sam Tarly

Where she travels next remains a mystery. Dornish sources claim to have seen her in Dorne, while other sources claim she visited the Free Cities. Whatever the truth of it, Lady Vittoria for sure shows up again in 37 AC and in the strangest of places for a daughter of a Great House: leading an army of the Reach into the Riverlands to support Hand of the King Lord Alyn Stokeworth’s effort to dislodge Harren the Red from Harrenhal and bring him to justice. Though the Reach’s host is continuously mocked, and their lady Lord Commander constantly mocked behind her back and to her face, neither the host or it’s commander let the treatment affect them. Though official records say it was Lord Alyn who cornered Harren the Red and his outlaws, many others claim it was only done once Lord Alyn began listening to Lady Vittoria at his war councils. When asked, directly, Lady Vittoria does little more than praise the brave, lost, Lord Alyn. As friend of both, it is noteworthy Grand Maester Gawen has privately accused Lady Vittoria of dodging the question every time it surfaces.

It was in the face of her actions during the bringing of Harren the Red and his outlaws to justice that Maesters and bards alike gave Lady Vittoria the name she is undoubtedly best known as by high and low born alike: the Ardent Maiden. However fitting a name it may be, serious students of military matters and historical matters name her next feat one of her greatest: in a span of time that seemed impossible she marched her force to the border of the Reach and the Stormlands and Dorne, the Marches, even while taking on reinforcements from the Reach along the way. The Army of the Reach made such good time she joined the effort to repel the Vulture King from Nightsong. Her army would join with Lord Tarly’s, and here again there are questions as to who really led the successful routing of the Vulture King’s army, though it was worth noting that the King awarded Lords Dondarrion, Caron, and Tarly, while Lady Vittoria’s role seems to have been missed in the official records. She was recorded as being present at both war councils, and the Vulture King’s execution.

She returns to Horn Hill with Lord ‘Savage’ Sam Tarly, where it’s said both armies have a celebration feast before disbanding. She then returns to Highgarden, re-connecting with family, though there is a rumored ugly incident where Lord Bertrand beats Lady Vittoria to such an extent she is seen with bruises for the weeks following. While servants rumor of a jealous, drunken, rage there is nothing from the family itself, other than Lady Vittoria claiming she was tossed from a horse. Immediately after she departs for the Arbor with her mother. While her mother spends most her time at the keep of the Redwynes, it’s said Lady Vittoria spends all of her time at sea with cousins on ships of the Redwyne fleet. She notably helps repel a pirate attack on one of the ships with a bow, before returning back to the Arbor. With Lord Redwyne and his advisors, along with his sons, Lady Vittoria learns of a great increase in such attacks.

“The Ardent Maiden is the steel rose of Highgarden, make no mistake. She leads them now in all but title.” – Septon Pater of the Starry Sept

In the most clear-cut military action of the Lady’s to date, Lady Vittoria raises a small host of mostly sailors, along with a small unit of men she had led in prior engagements, and takes a mixed Reach fleet, supported by longship mercenaries, to engage the surging pirates at their own home ports. They find the self-proclaimed King of the Basilisk Isles, infamous pirate lord Saathos Saan, himself paid to clear out the isles of pirates by the Free Cities, only to turn pirate and declare himself pirate lord. Though some of the fighting is treacherous, the Lord Commander, Lady Vittoria, unleashes one surprise attack after another, often tricking the pirates into over-aggression, and herself leading a daring night time raid with nothing but small boats with muffled oars, on the ship of Saathos Saan himself. It is in the personal cabin of Saathos Saan that Lady Vittoria and her small raiding party find and rescue Lady Alys Oakheart, once sold to Myrish slavers by the Wyl of Wyl at the end of the First Dornish War, now one of Saathos Saan’s personal pleasure slaves found chained to his Captain’s bed. Surprisingly, Lady Alys is not the most surprising of the finds by Lady Vittoria on Saan’s flagship: she finds ancient Valyrian scrolls, the contents of which she has never spoken about to another soul. To her most trusted men she tasks with taking the scrolls, and Lady Alys, back to the Reach. Lady Alys, now in her late thirties, is returned to her home. The ancient Valyrian scrolls simply disappear, to where only one man, and Lady Vittoria, truly know.

Although Lady Vittoria asks Maesters with the force to attribute most recorded details of the campaign to the Lord Captain of the mixed Reach fleet, her Redwyne cousin, the Free Cities have many eyes and ears among both pirates and mercenaries, even some within her own force. When word quickly reaches the Free Cities, Lady Vittoria is requested at Volantis for celebration and reward. Though she and a small party are ambushed by Lyseni and Myrish slavers demanding compensation for the slaves freed to Westeros, the ruler of Volantis, the Valyrian Dragonlord Vhandyr of House Belaerys, repays the debts for Lady Vittoria, and introduces her to his companion in his own ongoing campaign against Dothraki; exiled Prince Maegor of House Targaryen. She shares a meal with both men, before accepting the rewards offered by the Free Cities representatives, and getting to meet Balerion and Terrax, the two largest living dragons in creation.

Besides increases to the payment due each man of the force, it’s unseen what Lady Vittoria did with the majority of her rewards, or even exactly what the rewards consisted of, beyond gold. It is also noteworthy that Lady Vittoria visits the Temple of the Lord of Light, twice, as well as meeting with emissaries from the Iron Bank of Braavos before departing to return home to the Reach. Her return home lacks any fanfare or celebration at Highgarden, other than most of her family, her oldest brother the most noteworthy absence, hosting her on their pleasure barge for a slow trip down the Mander. She begins a tour of the Reach that is interrupted with the news that the High Septon has called a council of Septons and Maesters to investigate and debate the recent actions of the Royal House of Targaryen, and that the High Septon, as well as several Archmaesters, have requested Lord Theo Tyrell. Given his now older age, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South asks Lady Vittoria to attend the conference in his place. She agrees, but only at the head of a force of One-Hundred Knights of the Reach. There are rumors of a mercenary company from Essos being hired by the Ardent Maiden, herself, and housed a day’s ride from Oldtown. What, if anything, Lady Vittoria suspects might happen remains a mystery to all.

Lady Mina Tyrell, young Lady of four and ten

_{Played by [@EspadaEmi]}

WIP

Lord Garrett Tyrell, boy of nine

Second Son of Highgarden ✿ Traveling with Lady Vittoria ✿ Prospective Squire

Lord Garrett is a tall, heavy, boy for his age. He always has been. His Lord Father seems proud of the fact, and their Master-at-Arms always says it will make Garrett a fearsome Knight in the future. Garrett likes that, he loves stories and songs of knights and heroes. He also likes playing with his friends around Highgarden, he loves looking at all the bugs and animals. The Maester says a good curiosity is the whetstone of a fine mind.

Garrett spends a lot of time with his sister Mina. She's a lot of fun, she likes to ride, she likes to hunt, she likes to do all the things he likes to do. Other people seem to wish Mina was more like other young Ladies, but Garrett likes Mina just the way she is, and wishes people would just leave her alone and let her be. Why can't more people just be who they are? Garrett doesn't understand that.

People say not nice things about his older brother, Bertrand, but Bertrand is always nice to him. Bertrand tells him to learn all he can and practice hard in the yards, as the second born son it will be Garrett who has to lead the armies while Bertrand rules from Highgarden. Garrett likes that Bertrand will depend on him to lead armies, that sounds like an adventure. Bertrand is only not nice when he drinks too much wine, but Garrett doesn't see that a lot, and misses Bertrand now that he mostly stays in King's Landing.

But when Bertrand left, Vittoria came back. Garrett doesn't know Vittoria like he does Bertrand, but Mina knows Vittoria better, and says Vittoria is the best sister they could have. Garrett is excited about Vittora being home more, he hears all kinds of stories about her, she's even seen dragons, and been to Essos, and fought bandits and pirates and rebels. She's never lost a battle, all the men-at-arms in Highgarden say so. She's very sweet and very pretty, and wears neat dresses. She says when she goes to Oldtown with her Knights, that Garrett and Mina can go with her. That's really exciting!

Lorent is just old enough to play with now, and Garrett likes his little brother a lot more now because he's more fun. Garrett will miss Lorent when he goes with Vittoria and Mina to Oldtown, but Garrett has to learn how to lead armies for Bertrand like Vittoria does for their Lord Father. Garrett loves his Lord Father and loves most when he gets to go hunting with him and his men. His father teaches him all kinds of things, and is usually there during his training. He loves his mother most of all, she's the best mother in Westeros. He still loves staying up late with her as she reads books to him and his sister and brother. Plus she sneaks him sweetcakes even after the cooks say they can't possibly spare any more.

Lord Lorent Tyrell, boy of five

✿ Third son of Highgarden ✿ Prospective Page ✿

Lorent likes dogs, they're silly. Honeycakes are his favorite, but he likes cheese a lot also. His momma is the best momma, and Lord Father can be scary but he likes to teach Lorent exciting things like arrows and daggers and hunting and horses. Garrett is better when he has fun, Mina is his favorite, but Bertrand is always really nice and sneaks him sips of wine and cheese and tells him that one day he will match Lorent with the most beautiful lady. Lorent doesn't like ladies as much, but Bertrand says he will one day, and Bertrand is older so he know things, he says. Vittoria likes to snuggle and read like momma, so he likes her a lot more now that she's home and lets him fall asleep as she tells him stories of where she's been and her adventures. She has a lot of Knight friends that are very nice to him, it's a lot of fun!

Marvel: Judgment Day

_{Commission Co-Chair General Fredericks, [CLASSIFIED], [CLASSIFIED], CIA Deputy Director of Metahuman Operations Greg Joseph
Location: [CLASSIFIED]}

“Next you’ll tell me Tucker Carlson is going to be the next Avenger.”

There was a low rumble of laughter across the half-lit room, at the metal framed wooden conference table between the two halves.

“Jesus Christ, give me that over a mutant like Maddow.”

Some smirked wider than others, but all showed at least some level of amusement at the low muttering the oldest man in the room, a man with the green uniform of a US Army officer in service dress uniform, the gold on his shoulders denoting a three-star General.

“Does this mean I have to stop undressing her in my mind like I did when she was on Fox?” Another man, wearing a dark suit with US flag pin under a thick, bushy salt and pepper mustache, asked to another round of chuckles from the table. “Right? No accident she always wore button up blouses, right?”

“Have you seen how tight her suit is? Who needs to undress anything about that in their mind.” A clean shaven, tall, lanky man of silver hair and sharp facial features snorted the critique out, shaking his head at near smirk.

Of the youngest in the room, it was almost no surprise the man in his late 40s, blue suit, blue tie, US flag pin, tie loosened and face wearing a day and half’s growth tried to veer the conversation back where it started. “Some of the analysts in the Agency worry. We really want a metahuman front and center with a past we don’t know much about?”

The older man with the dark suit and the thick mustache gave an impatient groan, however playful, “Greg, we know who she is: she’s a country mouse who will do almost anything—or anyone—to get her success and her spotlight. She’s a fucking Broadcast Journalism major from Florida State, how deep do you think this girl goes? You’ve seen the video of her and the former Senator. She’ll do what she needs to do to get make us happy and succeed.”

“…that don’t bother you? Her mother set that up. The Senator, at the time, had the gulf stream pilot film it without her knowledge.”

“Smart woman,” the uniform said, after a sip of a drink of brown liquor held in a heavy-based, crystal, Scotch glass. The room rumbled in low laughter again. “We know what her father did. We know she bounced back, and used what God gave women to claw her ass out of that nothingness. You don’t make it from that to national platforms if you’re some traumatized, scared, little girl. Hell, I respect what she did on some level, and I think if we keep her head on straight we can count on her continuing to do what she has to do to survive. We give her what she wants: we make her feel like the spotlight is on her, we make her feel special, like she’s the princess of the Commission and it’s metahuman strike force. I’m on board with it, Hal and his NSA boys are on board with.”

It was the other old man, with the mustache, and the voice like gravel, that leaned forward in his chair and took on a more serious tone, “Look, Greg, all we need from your X-Desk is what you’ve got on Krakoa. We want to brief them both, her and the black kid, the soldier…the fuck was his name?”

“Deacon,” the three-star General recited, like a General that knew his troops. At least, the important ones.

“Right,” the NSA man with the mustache continued, “And he’s active duty, so his ass is ours, anyway. We’ve been watching them, both, and we think he can help us with her. Maybe she trusts him, maybe she’s just a lonely woman and likes a young soldier. So we give them the brief, and we manage them both. If we’re lucky they both work out for the Project.”

Greg Joseph nodded, his brown eyes looking tired all of a sudden, even as he looked up and smiled, “Well I all we need is a little luck for the Commission…” And he trailed off, the sarcasm of the comment getting a quick laugh from some. His hands came and pressed upon the surface of the table, “Whatever the Commission needs, I’ll have my people forward over the SIPRnet. It’s not as much as we’d like right now, but—”

The three-star at the end of the table patted down at the air, slowly, as he nodded slowly, the authority of his voice a gentle thing in the moment, “Of course, Greg. No one expects anything else yet. I’ll be there at the brief to cover any holes. Don’t worry.”

_{Ripley Ryan, SGT Troy Deacon
Location: Pentagon Lower Levels, Washington, DC.}

“Hi, yeah…can I have a Skinny Vanilla Latte with almond milk? Thank you,” She said, smiled, and handed the middle-aged woman wearing the barista apron behind the coffee stand her phone to scan. Tucked away into the corner of an intersection of underground walkways, Ripley found herself just a little surprised, and more than just a little relieved, to find the coffee stand after being directed into a part of the Pentagon she had never even thought about before.

The woman scanned the phone, and Ripley shuffled off to the side, tugging at the designer grey linen, silk lined, blazer jacket over the white button-up she tucked, with matching slacks, and a darker grey leather belt with silver, square, buckle, and gray suede pumps on her feet with a slight heel. Somehow, she thought she’d feel more confident in the super suit, but she really hadn’t wanted to be that kind of spectacle on her first major visit to the Pentagon.

It was pure relief when she saw the taller man in his own Army uniform walk out from the crowd. Another polite smile and an attention snatching wave motioned from a momentary tippy-toes to make herself tall enough to stand out from the moving torrent of bodies, suited and uniformed, that made their morning commute to the deeper sections of the Pentagon.

She almost shouted his name, but a moment before, his eyes caught her, and his direction changed to angle towards the direction of her, and the coffee cart. She nearly jumped when her heels touched back on the shiny floor of the walkway, and there were two people just feet from her, staring at her, with handsome smiles. She knew one was Navy, and one was Marine Corps, both O-4’s given the rank insignia on their different colored camo uniforms. She’d been up half the night learning every uniform, every insignia.

Some people could say what they want about her, she had always been an incredibly hard worker.

“Hey there, Ms…Ryan?”

The bright smile of the social media and cable news starlet came out, as her right hand combed back her blonde hair behind her ear, her shoulders dipped, and she gave an enthusiastic nod, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Ms. Star, I know you’re not in your suit but…can we still get a picture?”

For half a heartbeat, Ripley felt her stomach sink, even if the sensation was gone just as fast, and her radiant smile never budged an inch, her body never seeming to tense for a moment. She was polite, charming, and inoffensive…but in her head, for that half-beat, she wished she would have worn the suit. If these two were disappointed, they couldn’t have been the only ones.

Her mistake. “A picture with two patriots? Absolutely, thank you both so much for your service!” Her tone got a little higher, a little softer, a little more feminine. After the selfie of the three of them taken by the Navy officer, they thanked her and moved on, leaving her to pick up her drink and sheepishly approach Troy, who had stopped to wait for the scene. “Hey, sorry…part of the gig. Ready for this? This is my first ‘brief’, I’m sure you’ve had plenty.”

He did not answer immediately due to having his dark browns affixed to the back of the heads of the military officers that had just taken a selfie with Ripley. Sometimes it was strange for Troy to realize he was buddy-buddy with someone considered a celebrity on two fronts.

As his eyes returned to Ripley, a slight smile formed in greeting her. His face was clean-shaven, an appearance he had put aside for weeks. It was a slight perk he indulged in now that he was not required to be in uniform five days a week. His adorned service uniform was set up to perfection. Every ribbon in its place, and every crest perfectly set in line. Despite not being particularly fond of wearing it, he made sure the damned thing looked good. The left side of his chest was lacking "candy" compared to what most had here but the 82nd Airborne Division deployment medal drew a few passing eyes. None of which he particularly cared for. At the end of the day, he simply considered himself another sergeant in the sea of uniforms.

“Not like this. The roster is a lot higher up the totem pole than what I'm used to.” There was a hint of stress in his voice even as he tried to hide it but the rubbing of his jaw was a tell. To think a guy who wouldn't hesitate combat was a little nervous about receiving a briefing. He bounced back as he quickly attempted to change the subject “And no need to apologize. Wouldn't be the first time… and won't be the last, Ripley Ryan,” Troy said as he put some flare into her name just to tease her. “Just try not to drink that too fast. Caffeine and meeting brass don't always mix well from my experience.” He nodded in the direction of the conference room, so they could start walking. Tardiness didn't mix well either.

_{Commission Co-Chair General Fredericks, GEN Fredericks Chief of Staff Lt. Colonel Dietrich, Ripley Ryan, SGT Troy Deacon
Location: [CLASSIFIED]}

The Lieutenant Colonel awaiting them was young, for what she had seen of Lieutenant Colonels; her immediate guess was mid to late thirties. His hair was a soft brown, his eyes a light blue, and skin pale enough with a reddish tint, suggesting he at least got outside from time-to-time. He greeted her very politely, downright friendly, before being professionally polite with “Sergeant Deacon.”

Ripley found herself twitch. It’s Construct, she wanted to correct the Air Force officer, some pettier part of her bemoaning the fact that even the Air Force wore the same camouflage she saw nearly everyone wearing. It made her think of Carol Danvers, and that wasn’t the pleasant kind of thought.

But ‘Construct’ wasn’t his metahuman alias. Troy didn’t have one, yet, but it seemed as if it crossed a line for the officer to treat Troy like he was just another E5 in this building. They would be risking their lives on missions that would break and shatter most humans. It was something Ripley would keep to herself, for now, until Star had the kind of clout to do something about it.

Instead, she flashed a pretty smile when the officer motioned to seats in the middle of the conference room. The air smelled recycled, overly purified, and though she had little doubt that had something to do with the building they were in, it didn’t help put her at any kind of ease.

“Two minutes,” the officer said, and Troy stood up. Mid-sip of her coffee, Ripley blinked, and slowly followed the example. Why were they standing? What was two minutes? It was Troy who leaned over to whisper at her:

“General Fredericks is two minutes out.”

Oh. Of course, she knew people stood when a CEO entered a conference room, so it made sense. But something about that, too, didn’t sit all too comfortably with her. Or…maybe she was just anxious, and nothing was sitting well with her?

“AT-TEN-HUT!”

Troy snapped to attention, while Ripley took a sip of her coffee and stared at the eyes of the three-star General in Army service dress uniform. He was clean-shaven, with a thin mustache. His skin looked that of a rough-old bastard, like the type she’d known growing up in Texas. He sat at the end of the table, staring at her before facing the podium, and the Air Force officer at the podium. A screen descended from the ceiling as the door was closed by someone on the outside.

“Ms. Ryan, Sergeant Deacon. Thank you for coming, we’re here to give both of you information regarding the mutant threat, and their new homeland. Colonel?”

The younger officer nodded, as Ripley and Troy sat again, “Yes, Sir. The first thing we should be aware of is the island itself; this is a sentient, living, island. We aren’t sure if it’s a mutant, we only know it has formed some kind of mutually beneficial relationship with the mutants. It’s allowed them to grow fauna from which they produce three drugs,” the screen activated and the three drugs, and their names, appeared. “Odd as it is, their names really are ‘Human Drug L’, ‘Human Drug I’, and ‘Human Drug M.’ You’ll often see these abbreviated by the Hellfire Trading Company, the commercial face of this operation by the mutants, as H.D.-L, H.D.-I, and H.D.-M. Each comes in synthesized pill form. L extends human life by five years, assuming a natural death. I is an adaptive, universal antibiotic. So far the Hellfire Trading Company has resisted efforted by the DoD to obtain large enough quantities to make it operationally significant for our forces. M is a general cure-all for diseases of the mind, from Neurodevelopmental Disorders, to Schizophrenia, to even Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder—the mutants have shown a willingness to allow the Department of Veterans Affairs to purchase larger quantities of this, though not enough to give to all. The mutants have used these drugs as a ‘carrot’, it’s how they got their UN vote giving them sovereign nation status. And speaking of that diplomatic status…”

There was a slight narrowing of Troy's eyes in contempt. The schemes of international relations were matters he was rarely keen to, so the hearing of pharmaceuticals that could help so many as a bargaining chip did more than just bother him. It was a good thing he had been hardened to maintain his composure.

The next slide showed a list of countries and their official diplomatic status with the island nation of Krakoa, at the top was a short list of nations with irregular relations with the mutant nation, “Not all nations accepted the drugs as a pay-off. Notably Iran, Madripoor, North Korea, Latveria, Russia, Brazil, Santo Marco, Terra Verde, Venezuela, Honduras have all rejected the drugs, and voted against Krakoa in their U.N. vote. Wakanda abstained, along with their three Economic Protectorates; Azania, Canaan, and Kenya. Only Russia, Latveria, Madripoor, Brazil, Venezuela, and Honduras voted against Krakoa for political reasons. The rest have stated they did so for ideological reasons. For most of the world, Krakoa is a sovereign nation with full diplomatic status. For those listed, Intelligence tells us there are under-the-table, perhaps black market, dealings for the drugs to get into the hands of the elite of those nations, except for Latveria and Wakanda, both Lord Doom and King T’challa state their nations have no need for the mutant drugs.”

The next slide showed little more than an image of Krakoa from sat-imaging, “There’s very little information from here. Their governing body is a council of mutants, we believe it’s a nine- or thirteen-person body. We know Charles Xavier, Magneto, and Emma Frost are on it. We believe the super-villain Apocalypse is also on it, as well as former X-Men Storm and Cyclops. It’s possible, given recent intelligence reports, that Sebastian Shaw is also on it. Rules seem fairly simple; no humans are allowed. We aren’t quite sure how hard a rule this is, as mutants have families, sometimes even non-mutant children. Defenses are likely both from technology and the island itself, in the air and in the sea, as well as we believe constant telepathic monitoring, given the sheer number of telepaths on the island.”

“They have more telepaths than any other metahuman population in the world,” stated the Three-Star General, giving the two metahumans a long look before moving his eyes back to the Colonel.

“Yes, Sir, they do. And our government believes they have the most powerful telepaths, as well. It’s a dangerous situation, as we all heard Charles Xavier in our heads when Krakoa was announced to the human population of the planet. The X-Desk has been busy collecting data while the Commission begins drafting a response. General.”

Fredericks looked back at Ripley, staring for half a beat of her caffeinated heart, before moving his eyes to Troy, “The two of you will be part of that response. Officially, you will be a Rapid Response Team assigned to the Commission. Orders will be issued for you, Sergeant. Unofficially, you are both being evaluated for Project Thunderbolt. Other metahumans will begin to join your team. We will dispatch you when a metahuman response is required on US soil. For now, you both stay on US soil and US air space. Questions?”
Ripley took a much longer sip, and let her eyes dart to Troy who cleared his throat.

“Sir.” Troy immediately stood from his seat at attention, his face emulating the epitome of confidence as he looked directly at General Fredericks. “The briefing gave-” Instinct made him think twice before addressing Ripley casually by simply using her first name. “-Miss Ryan and myself have a good idea on the situation and some aspects on the way ahead with this team being assembled. With that being said, what's the actual mission for this team? If this team is the response to Krakoa, what kind of response are we talking about here?” Troy kept poised, knowing his questions could easily be snuffed out or met with hostility.

“The hope is this task force becomes to your nation’s government what it used to be able to depend on the Avengers for. I understand that’s a tall task. So, for now, we’re simply looking to build cohesion and education. Education in factions you’re likely to run into, like Krakoans. Or Avengers. Or Latverians. Or Orchis, and so on. We focus on smaller pairings, let each of you gain a level of comfort. In time, the full team will begin to operate together. Miss Ryan, over there,” he said, motioning with a flat hand, “is one of our powerhouses. Do what you can to support her, find ways to compliment each other in theater. Right now I can tell you that the team leader is Colonel James Rhodes, War-Machine. When you’re both ready, you’ll meet and familiarize yourselves with him. For now, you’re a two-person rapid response element. When something happens that may warrant metahuman response, you will be called. Is that plain enough, Captain?”

Captain? Troy couldn't even hide the bewilderment he felt from surfacing on his face that he had kept so stoic. His next thought was that perhaps the General had gone a few years past his cerebral peak and was mistaken.

Frederick finished his response as he dug into one of his coat pockets and tossed the silver bars, still in their Vanguard packaging. “Personnel is doing the paperwork and will deliver you a new I.D. A large one-time additional uniform allowance has been processed to you, please get within regulations in no less than two days. Make sure you give Colonel Dietrich, there,” a quick nod to the Air Force officer in the room, “your ‘codename’ before the end of business. It’s good to have an Enlisted man on such a team, but for a variety of reasons it’s better to have an O3 on the team, and former Enlisted is about as popular as Enlisted, according to the people who care about these things. You’ll have additional Commissioned orientation in the following few weeks. Miss Ryan?”

Her eyes perked up to him.

“You go with him to this orientation. You’re an observer, but maybe some of it rubs off on you, as we’ll need you to have some familiarization with this unique culture. You’re both dismissed.”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” Troy looked like a deer in headlights despite his strong and enthusiastic tone.

Ripley didn’t say a word. Not until she, and what remained of her coffee, were outside and Troy was closing the door behind him as he stepped into the smaller corridor that branched off the main through-way on this particular sub-level of the five sided building. “…congratulations? You don’t look super thrilled.”

Troy wiped down on his face with a single hand as let loose a sigh while the other held the packaged captain rank. He wasn't sure if he felt relief or stress at the moment. Perhaps both as he was trying to take everything in at once. He was just glad his face hadn't been dripping with sweat. All his time in combat hadn't prepared him for anything like this. “I don't even know how to feel. Shit.” He gave her a look of uneasiness. “This type of thing doesn't happen to people like me… But then again, I guess it does when you can do things I can. It's just-” A collection of multicolored constructs appearing to be several excited uniformed soldiers in a partial box formation.

“Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!”

“Stop!” The constructs immediately shattered into thin air as quickly as they appeared. Troy knew those soldiers, as well as the moment they were reenacting. It was his first promotion ceremony when he made Private First Class. Among them was Specialist Bates, Specialist Dell, Private Boone, Private Wells, and his squad leader, Sergeant Santiago.

“I really need to find a way to keep that shit from happening.” He let loose another sigh before continuing. “As I was. A lot's happening, fast. That's all.” He gave Ripley a forced smile with a swift upward head tilt “How do you feel though? I was trying to take some of the attention off you. Not an easy thing to do by the way.”

Ghosts of willpower and ‘hard’ light, energy projection. They were all people he knew. Or, given the reality of soldiers, at least had known at some point. ‘As I was,’ he said, like a drill instructor giving the Pavlovian whistle to a recruit, forcing deep breathing, relaxing the anxious, unsettled, mind. Ripley Ryan would know trauma when she saw it for the rest of her life. Any survivor would. The last of the coffee was her excuse for science in the moment, giving her mind a moment or two to process. When she finished, she weighed the empty cup in her hand, staring at it, as she gave a few, slow, nods. “Yeah,” she finally said, her big blue eyes looking back up to him.

Whatever the briefing was, it wasn’t what it was presented as. No powerful man ever gave her adulation without some goal in mind. And she had never seen large promotions without motivations, without strings. Though few people in the world would believe it, Ripley Ryan spent more time and attention on the journalism aspect of her degree than she had the broadcast aspect. By the time she got to college, she was already a professional at looking pretty, saying the right things at the right moments, and making those around her feel comfortable.

It’s time to learn more about this General Fredericks, and the Commission.

The walk from where he stood outside the conference room, to the trash can stationed in the corridor just ten feet away, was enough time for her mind to finish, and her reporter’s mind to solidify in determination. Now when she walked back, it was the comforting, radiant smile of the pretty Texas blonde and the easy charm that came with it. “I’m good, Troy…c’mon, there’s a Ramen shop not far from here I used to frequent when I worked the Hill. Beer and steamed gyoza always slows the world down. It’s near the metro station.”

The metro station, and more importantly, she thought, Locker 1011.

Marvel: Judgment Day

Gatling gun go brrrrr

Name. Colonel James Rhodes
Alias. War Machine
Age. 52
Place of Birth. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Powers.
James Rhodes is a skilled pilot and an experienced soldier, and also possesses a degree in Aeronautical Engineering. He has enough technical skill to do some maintenance of Power Armor and other modern weapon systems.

He operates the War Machine armor, a derivative of Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit. It is less sleek and incorporates less cutting edge technology, but what it loses in elegance it makes up for in practicality. War Machine is built with a more modular approach, allowing it to incorporate different systems depending on the mission type. If Iron Man is a race car, War Machine is an armored car. The specific loadout will differ based on the mission, but the suit always has supersonic flight capabilities, repulsor beams, and enhanced strength. His most common add-ons are a missile launcher and a high power gatling gun, often referred to colloquially as his BRRT gun, owing to the noise it makes.

History.

Colonel James Rhodes’ story starts with going from the mean streets of South Philly to becoming a decorated pilot in the US Marines. His time in the military is what led to him meeting Tony Stark, and his life was never the same afterwards. They were friends even before Stark built his first Iron Man armor, but afterwards they became even closer, with Rhodes being a trusted advisor to Stark and very helpful as a liaison to the US Military. For a while that was all Rhodes was, until Tony’s personal struggle with alcoholism impeded his ability to fulfill his duties as Iron Man; Rhodes stepped into the vacuum and donned a modified version of one of Tony’s old armor designs, becoming War Machine for the first time.

Now equipped with his own equipped with his own power armor, Rhodes would fight alongside Tony, fighting to make the world safer. It was difficult to balance his loyalty to his friend, his duties as serviceman and his desire to protect the world, but James gave them all his best effort. At one point he took a prolonged break from direct combat because the government thought he would be more useful as part of the Office of National Emergency, serving as commander of a squad of manned Sentinels. The main things this job taught him was how much he missed the action of the front lines.

As soon as he got the chance, James Rhodes jumped back into action, but on his first mission back he had trouble shaking off the rust. While attempting to thwart a terrorist attack, he was injured so severely that he almost died; Tony was able to save his life, but only through heavy use of cybernetic parts. Now less than 50% organic by body mass, Rhodes returned to the action, but never got used to his new augments, always feeling that he was something other than himself. Even with the increased combat capabilities of his cyborg body, Rhodes found himself less and less willing to don the armor, to shut himself inside a metal suit apart from the world.

Just as he was about to retire permanently, a lucky stroke came to James. He found that his DNA had been backed up before his injury, and so he called on Tony for aid one further time. It took a lot tinkering even for Tony, and some irreplaceable salvaged technology stolen from AIM and the High Evolutionary, but Stark was able to come through and perform the minor miracle of giving Rhodes a new, fully human body. Rhodes returned to his duties as War Machine with a new enthusiasm, eager to make a difference at such a pivotal time. With the founding of Krakoa and The Avengers relocation to Avenger’s mountain, things have only gotten more complex, but Rhodes believes he can help, bringing sensible solutions and working with the military powers towards common interests instead of rushing headlong and creating more infighting.

Story Arcs.

X-Day: The day he feared arrive as the world sees a confrontation between Krakoa and human forces. Will calmer heads prevail, and will Rhodes be one of the ones pushing for peace or pushing for the use of force?

The Gift of Life: When a secret about mutants and cheating death is made public, Rhodes joins the outraged masses, becoming one of the public faces of the movement. Inside himself, he feels guilt as the situation brings back memories of his own luck with avoiding death.

@Fiber

Approved.