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Post by Vhagar on May 29, 2014 14:19:37 GMT -5
"Gods. Please, princess, you had better tell me the whole. If preparations are to be made, I will need to raise the necessary funds, and consult with my fellows of the Small Council, as well as His Grace the King. I am a little unclear as to who precipitated the conflict, our own men or the Dornish?"
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2014 14:26:01 GMT -5
"Alas, I do not know what precipitated the fight but..." She looked away, a finger on her pursed, pink lips. "Lord Yronwood and Lord Mertyne are dead as do a hundred dornishmen." She looked bacl at Reyne, a smirk appearing on her lips. "My cousin Prince Rhaegas was captured, as was Prince Qunetyn Martell... the former, however, disappeared."
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Post by Vhagar on May 29, 2014 14:39:50 GMT -5
Lord Reyne frowned. "That is most unfortunate. King Maekar had been hoping to mend fences in that respect. Lord Yronwood's death is...unfortunate. Of all the Dornish lords, he was known to be a rival to Princess Sarella. Had he lived, it might have been possible to stir up some difficulties between the two, but that will hardly be possible now. What about Prince Quentyn? Where is he now? We will need to keep him as a check against Princess Sarella, now."
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2014 14:56:39 GMT -5
Daenya shrugged. "Lord Baratheon no doubt has him safe under lock and key," She said, not sounding as if she cared much. "Where is... his Grace? And the Queen, for that matter. I was expecting somewhat of a bigger reception." A sad look crossed her face.
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Post by Vhagar on May 29, 2014 15:21:24 GMT -5
"Ah, yes. Her Grace is in the city, but I cannot speak for King Maekar. I have not seen him today, at any rate. He may well have gone to speak to the Crownlander lords, he may have taken his dragon for a flight. He may even be still abed. Ruling is surely heavy work. I regret that I cannot help you there, princess."
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Post by Lady Visenya Targaryen on May 29, 2014 16:56:59 GMT -5
Visenya descended to the throne room, dressed all in silver cloth studded here and there with violet stones set in little clusters of gold embroidery. It clung to her breasts and her growing pregnant belly, having been cut to accentuate the fact that the heir was growing inside her. She had heard that The odious Lord Baratheon and his entourage had returned. What she found waiting for her in the throne room was a somewhat more welcome sight; the Princess Daenya and Lord Reyne.
She allowed herself to be announced and swept down on them, all smiles. "Princess, my lord, hello. You are looking particularly lovely since last I saw you, cousin."
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2014 17:00:53 GMT -5
Daenya smiled at Reyne. "I am sure he will treasure any free moment he can find; no doubt I would spend it with my dragon as well... if I yet had one." She added bitterly.
When the Queen was announced, Daenya turned about and smiled, curtsying but not too low. She was, after all, a princess.
"Your highness, thank you. You look radiant yourself," She said brightly, showing her pearly white teeth in a sparkling smile.
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Post by Vhagar on May 29, 2014 17:48:19 GMT -5
Lord Reyne, of course, bowed low to Visenya. "Your Grace, you are beauty itself. Princess Daenya was telling me of her ransom party." He knew better than to ask what had become of Vandaras/
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2014 17:54:14 GMT -5
"I mentioned the unfortunate incident between Lord Baratheon's men and the dornish," Daenya said to the queen with a sidewards glance at Reyne. "It was ever so upsetting, seeing that many men slain!"
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Post by Lady Visenya Targaryen on May 29, 2014 21:59:04 GMT -5
Visenya quickly masked the look of annoyance and disbelief that crossed her face. The princess as certainly in on Baratheon's plans. Visenya had no doubt as to that. "Daenya, dear, I am so glad that you are well and back in the city at last. Now, is my brother about? I should like to see him."
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2014 7:36:04 GMT -5
Daenya kept a pleasant smile on her face as the memory of her sword cutting into Rhaegar's neck, blood spattering out like a fountain.
"I am afraid your brother is not with us anymore," Daenya said, shaking her head. "His guards were found dead one morning, murdered, and Rhaegar was nowhere to be found! I think he escaped into the desert."
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Post by Lady Visenya Targaryen on May 30, 2014 9:51:12 GMT -5
Visenya smiled back, looking as winsome and cheerful as a daffodil. "I find that very hard to believe, cousin! Surely such an important prisoner would be unable to just murder his guards and slip away? For another thing, he seemed very interested in coming home to King's Landing and being the Queen's brother."
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2014 9:59:06 GMT -5
Daenya smiled and shrugged. "Your highness, I cannot predict what your brother's thoughts must have been. I cannot say I had much, if any love for him, but I hope for you that he shows up." She looked into Visenya's eyes. "As for Lord Baratheon's guard arrangements... you will have to speak with him."
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Post by Lady Visenya Targaryen on May 30, 2014 10:08:57 GMT -5
Visenya wanted to believe her cousin with all her heart. She did have some fondness for Daenya, after all, since the girl and Daenerys Velaryon had both been so kind to her when she was naught but traitorspawn. As for Baratheon, well, though he was a very handsome man, there was no love lost between the two of them. The loss of a dragon was a great thing, though, and one that Visenya thanked the gods to never have experienced every day. She kept her smile pasted on her face, though her suspicion was strong. "I hope we can perhaps work together to get to the bottom of this. Until then, would you like tea? You must be tired from traveling. My, but you are as dark as my Dornish mother."
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2014 10:52:24 GMT -5
"The sun has been kind to me, at least," Daenya said with a cheerful little giggle. "And yes, I'd be only willing to see you happy. If that means reuniting with your brother, then so be it. Some tea would be nice, thank you. Blood orange, if you have it."
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Post by Lady Visenya Targaryen on May 30, 2014 11:05:30 GMT -5
"Good day to you, Lord Reyne," said Visenya, giving him a respectful nod. He, too, had been kind to her, and she would never forget that.
"I suppose we should take tea in my chambers? Then you can tell me everything that's happened." Visenya gestured toward the stairway leading into the upper reaches of the Keep. Before leaving the hall, she beckoned to a servant and ordered the tea, as well as some light refreshments.
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Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on Jun 6, 2014 15:49:03 GMT -5
--------------
The court had fled, the Iron Throne left unattended. There were no kings or queens or princes or princesses left in King's Landing left to claim. Except for one.
Orys Targaryen had been the son of a king, but he had never really been a contender for the crown. Not really. He had been discarded at a young age, even as there were moreclaimants born ahead of him every year. So Orys had never really given much thought to the idea of ever actually sitting on the thing.
Until now.
Orys practically tiptoed up to the thing, and when noone cried, 'halt', he sprinted towards it. It was majestic, like out of a lesser man's nightmares. The steps were just the size of Orys's feet, and the chair itself... it was warm. Orys stroked it for an eternity, admiring the individual blades, before finally, slow, inevitably sitting down.
He stared at the empty hall, grinning. Eventually, Orys decided his coronation should have an audience, and so three sprites were born from the air. To an onlooker, they seemed to resemble fireflys more than semi-sentient beings formed of heat and air. They flitted about, kneeling as Orys placed the invisible crown atop his head. In his mind's eye, it was nought but bright rubies upon smoking black iron, and it would scorch any pretender who dared claim his title.
His Grace's first edict was 'All men must die,' and sent forth his dragons to purge the land of such criminal activity. The New Kingdom would have no use for their imperfect life cycles and flimsy excuses for civilization. There would be no need for laws, where there would be harmony. No need for coin, where there was no greed or hunger. No hands or ships where one had wings.
And there would be whispers, only the gentle hiss of flames and fresh ash.
Orys' sprites danced for him and his secret glory, until he had grown bored and ended court for the day. The Iron Throne was just a chair, he thought. It was prettier than most, but it was still a chair. Before finishing his trek down to earth though, an idea found its way to Orys. He turned and walked around the throne, until he found a chose the small tip of a blade, lost among its brothers. Orys reached out, his finger hovering above the point... and proceeded to melt it.
For later generations, he smiled and thought.
A hidden reminder of the secret reign of King Orys I.
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all alone and also really bored 
Hopefully going to kickstart the festival too