Welcome all to a new quest by yours truly! For those fans of Stark Quest and Arryn Quest, don't...
A Lion's Pride (Closed Quest / ASOIAF)
- Thread starter Mazrick
- Start date
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
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- Threadmarks
- 45
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Statistics (45 threadmarks, 53k words)
Character Generation
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
A Lion Cub
You are Jaime Lannister of the House Lannister, first son of Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West, Hand of the King, and Joanna Lannister, his cousin and lady wife. Born in the year 266 AC, you spent much of your early years exploring Casterly Rock, the greatest Castle in the world. One day you will follow in your father's footsteps and rule the Rock and the West, but as of now, the time to be a page draws near as your sixth year approaches.
Which immediate family member are you closest to?
[]Your father, Tywin Lannister. Your father was the Hand of the King, and the second most powerful man in Westeros. He was seldom at home, and when he was, the man was a ruthless taskmaster. When you failed to learn to read as fast as your siblings did, and the maester declared you might never learn, father sat down with you for hours at a time. This continued for weeks. Afterwards, you read just fine. From him, you learned unrelenting determination and implacable resolve.
[] Your mother, Joanna Lannister. You've heard that while your father ruled the realm, your mother ruled him. While father was in King's Landing, she ruled the Rock and the West in his stead. Where father's dominating presence smashed resistance from lesser lords, mother's gentle nature and delicate touch eased them in the direction she wanted them to go. She often compromised, but her compromises always benefitted the house. From her, you learned deft words and subtle meanings.
[] Your twin sister, Cersei. Your other half. Since you two were born, you have been utterly inseparable. You often play tricks on the staff and your family by switching clothes and acting like one another. She has utter contempt for rules, a quicksilver temper, and treats servants and other non-lions harshly. However, she comes up with the best tricks to play, and you find yourself fiercely protective of her. From her, you learn cunning ploys, deep love of family, and an affinity for willful behavior.
[] Your brother, Gerold. Younger than you by one year, Gerold is an infectious bundle of energy. You two play with one another happily, and leave your sister to boring girly things. The Rock is your world, and you will explore it. As boys do, you scuffle back and forth, but your fights are forgotten as quickly as they begin. The two of you vie for dominance in whatever you do, and somehow you always seem to come out ahead. From him, you learn natural leadership and an inquisitive nature.
Which of the following best describes you?
[] Hear Me Roar: You are a Lannister of Casterly Rock and proud of it. Among the lesser lords and men of the Seven Kingdoms, you shine as a beacon of chivalry. You dream of cutting through your enemies with a shining golden sword and rescuing fair maidens.
[] A Lannister Always Pays His Debts: The gold from beneath Casterly Rock is the source of your family's power and wealth. Only through loaning out this gold, and collecting debts does your family prosper. You will keep track of the debts you are owed.
[] The Trickster's Heir: Lann the Clever took Casterly Rock not by force of arms, but through trickery and guile. You are a straightforward sort but you understand that some problems are better solved through a clever mind, not a strong arm. You will often try to find the most cunning solution to a problem.
You spend many hours daily in lessons with Casterly Rock's maester. After your lord father taught you to read, it has dragged on even further as you made up for lost time. Which is your favorite subject?
[] Reading. Ever since learning to read, you've grown generally fond of books.
[] Combat, Geography, and Warcraft
[] History, Politics, and the Noble Houses of Westeros
[] Math, Economics, and Management
[] None. You hate the boring lessons. You'd rather be out doing things.
A Fledgling Lannister
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
The first six years of your young life pass by in a blur, and your developing mind cannot form distinct memories. Instead, you are left with only vague recollections and deeply held feelings.
Your castle stands out in your mind. A playground with a thousand places to explore. A shining golden hall full of the revered kings and lords of the Rock, all dead but not forgotten. This place is in your blood. It is as much apart of you as your hands. But, the greatest castle in the world only serves as a backdrop, a tableau for your memories...
Family.
The shining smile and the delicate caress of your golden haired mother when she sings a soft lullaby. How soft her lilac scented hands are when she wipes tears from your eyes. The graceful way she speaks, so that even father listens to her. In father's absence, she rules both Casterly Rock and your life. All with a gentle smile that lingers in your thoughts and provokes a strange bittersweet sentiment that echoes with ever-present love and sadness to come.
The stern gaze and suppressed smile of father as you two watch the sun rise from the tallest tower in Casterly Rock. The strength of his arms as he holds you close to his chest. His relentlessness in teaching you to read, and his refusal to let you fail or give up. The proud gleam in his green gaze when you show him how good you are with your makeshift practice sword. He is oft gone running the King's kingdom, but when he is home, he makes time to be with you.
You and your twin sister, your other half, Cersei, drift apart as she is taught feminine pursuits and you are indoctrinated into more masculine pursuits. You want to be with her always, but something holds you back. Regret fills you as a Septa takes her by the hand to lead her away, and you are led off to your own lessons with the maester. When she is gone, the gaping jagged chasm feels like you've lost a hand. You cry out, but eventually it becomes a dulled calloused pain. Never forgotten, but overcome nonetheless.
Helping you to overcome the Cersei shaped hole in your heart is your brother, Gerold.
Gerold is an infectious bundle of energy. You two play with one another happily, and leave your sister to boring girly things. The Rock is your world, and you explore it. As boys do, you scuffle back and forth, but your fights are forgotten as quickly as they begin. The two of you vie for dominance in whatever you do, and somehow you always seem to come out ahead. He watches you with a strange intensity, which makes you want to be better. He is always full of questions, and his inquisitive nature rubs off on you. More than just your brother, he is your best friend.
Another brother, Jason, three years younger, fills a spot in your young life. He is a happy boy and still a baby, but you love him all the same. Sometimes, when you and Gerold are exploring, you carry young Jason along with you. And then he laughs and laughs at some jape Gerold makes or cheer you on whenever you get in a scuffle.
The tales of the your legendary ancestor, Lann the Clever, ignite your burgeoning imagination. He took Casterly Rock not by force of arms, but through trickery and guile. You are a straightforward sort but you come to understand that some problems are better solved through a clever mind, not a strong arm. After all, the Casterlys had the greatest fortress in the land, and Lann took it without so much as raising a sword. Or so mother said. This lesson imbeds itself deep down and something in your blood welcomes it.
Lessons.
Outside your family, you spend time with Maester Creylen and other members of the household. The maester teaches you many things as is his duty, but two subjects stick indelibly to you: Geography and Warcraft. The stories and locations of Westeros and beyond sink their claws into you and don't let go. The second is the long list of martial victories House Lannister has won over the millennia, and this gets you musing about the actual craft behind war.
This last leads you to watch the guards, knights, and men-at-arms, and to emulate them in secret with Gerold. Their gleaming armor and shining swords awaken an unquenchable flame in your soul, and the Warrior, one of the Seven whom septons and septas preach about, finds fertile ground in your heart. You know you are a warrior born.
Your sixth nameday fast approaches...
But first, you have some more questions to answer:
You have a three uncles and an aunt on your father's side. Which do you most relate to?
[] Kevan- Your father's first brother. Solid and Steady. Stout with a sword in his hand. Ever mindful of his duties.
[] Genna- Your father's only sister. Shrewd and Intelligent. Sharp and outspoken with words. She has a commanding personality.
[] Tygett- Your father's second brother. Angry and Stormy. Clashes with father often. He is the greatest fighter you've ever seen.
[] Gerion- Your father's youngest brother. Reckless and Mirthful. Always ready with a Jape. His eyes always seem drawn to the horizon.
As you grow older, your world expands and so do your skills. Choose one skill you excel at.
[] Riding- You were born to ride. Horses love you and you love them. As you grow, you can soon outride many experienced riders.
[] Weapons- With a little training, you excel with any weapon put in your hand. For the present, they are just practice weapons, but that will change.
[] Exploring- You have a knack for finding hidden things, and an unerring sense of direction. For instance, you find hidden ravines, and follow tracks easily.
Ambition- You are meant for great things. Choose one ambition.
[] Lord Lannister- You want to be the greatest Lord, the greatest leader, the West has ever seen. Casterly Rock will be yours one day, and you want to exceed your father's soaring expectations.
[] Unparalleled Warrior- You want to outshine the great warriors of the past and the present. You want to be acknowledged as the greatest fighter ever. The glory of the battlefield calls to you.
[] Knight Errant- As the heir to House Lannister, much is expected of you, however your father is hale and healthy. You want to joust, travel, and have adventures like the knights out of the stories.
[] Student- You are young and curious. You know that there is a world full of knowledge out there waiting for you. You do not know what will call to you, but you will actively seek out knowledge and teachers.
[] You don't know, yet. You're only six. Much too young for some lofty ambition. As time passes, you will discover something to strive towards.
Traits Acquired:
Trickster's Heir- You are not the most cunning nor the cleverest of your siblings. By nature you are a straightforward lad, but you do seek to emulate your famous ancestor, Lann the Clever. You approach problems with an open mind to find the desired solution.
Combat- Even as a child, you show flashes of the warrior you will become. You often find yourself watching the guards and knights, and then trying to crudely imitate their movements and techniques alongside Gerold. You make slow progress, and many mistakes, but never the same ones twice.
Geography- You learn of Westeros and the lands beyond. Father gifts you with a great number of maps which you assiduously study. Soon, you know the area around Casterly Rock very well indeed.
Warcraft- Tactics and strategy intrigue you. It's all very complicated, but your young mind is fertile ground for the maester and even your father's lessons. Your tutors are pleased at your progress.
Leader of the Pride- Where you lead your younger brothers follow. Cersei resists your leadership, but she's a girl... You stand taller, speak more assertively when trying to get others to do what you want.
Curious Cub- The world around you is full of mysteries to be uncovered and questions to be answered. You want to find out as much as you can.
Your castle stands out in your mind. A playground with a thousand places to explore. A shining golden hall full of the revered kings and lords of the Rock, all dead but not forgotten. This place is in your blood. It is as much apart of you as your hands. But, the greatest castle in the world only serves as a backdrop, a tableau for your memories...
Family.
The shining smile and the delicate caress of your golden haired mother when she sings a soft lullaby. How soft her lilac scented hands are when she wipes tears from your eyes. The graceful way she speaks, so that even father listens to her. In father's absence, she rules both Casterly Rock and your life. All with a gentle smile that lingers in your thoughts and provokes a strange bittersweet sentiment that echoes with ever-present love and sadness to come.
The stern gaze and suppressed smile of father as you two watch the sun rise from the tallest tower in Casterly Rock. The strength of his arms as he holds you close to his chest. His relentlessness in teaching you to read, and his refusal to let you fail or give up. The proud gleam in his green gaze when you show him how good you are with your makeshift practice sword. He is oft gone running the King's kingdom, but when he is home, he makes time to be with you.
You and your twin sister, your other half, Cersei, drift apart as she is taught feminine pursuits and you are indoctrinated into more masculine pursuits. You want to be with her always, but something holds you back. Regret fills you as a Septa takes her by the hand to lead her away, and you are led off to your own lessons with the maester. When she is gone, the gaping jagged chasm feels like you've lost a hand. You cry out, but eventually it becomes a dulled calloused pain. Never forgotten, but overcome nonetheless.
Helping you to overcome the Cersei shaped hole in your heart is your brother, Gerold.
Gerold is an infectious bundle of energy. You two play with one another happily, and leave your sister to boring girly things. The Rock is your world, and you explore it. As boys do, you scuffle back and forth, but your fights are forgotten as quickly as they begin. The two of you vie for dominance in whatever you do, and somehow you always seem to come out ahead. He watches you with a strange intensity, which makes you want to be better. He is always full of questions, and his inquisitive nature rubs off on you. More than just your brother, he is your best friend.
Another brother, Jason, three years younger, fills a spot in your young life. He is a happy boy and still a baby, but you love him all the same. Sometimes, when you and Gerold are exploring, you carry young Jason along with you. And then he laughs and laughs at some jape Gerold makes or cheer you on whenever you get in a scuffle.
The tales of the your legendary ancestor, Lann the Clever, ignite your burgeoning imagination. He took Casterly Rock not by force of arms, but through trickery and guile. You are a straightforward sort but you come to understand that some problems are better solved through a clever mind, not a strong arm. After all, the Casterlys had the greatest fortress in the land, and Lann took it without so much as raising a sword. Or so mother said. This lesson imbeds itself deep down and something in your blood welcomes it.
Lessons.
Outside your family, you spend time with Maester Creylen and other members of the household. The maester teaches you many things as is his duty, but two subjects stick indelibly to you: Geography and Warcraft. The stories and locations of Westeros and beyond sink their claws into you and don't let go. The second is the long list of martial victories House Lannister has won over the millennia, and this gets you musing about the actual craft behind war.
This last leads you to watch the guards, knights, and men-at-arms, and to emulate them in secret with Gerold. Their gleaming armor and shining swords awaken an unquenchable flame in your soul, and the Warrior, one of the Seven whom septons and septas preach about, finds fertile ground in your heart. You know you are a warrior born.
Your sixth nameday fast approaches...
But first, you have some more questions to answer:
You have a three uncles and an aunt on your father's side. Which do you most relate to?
[] Kevan- Your father's first brother. Solid and Steady. Stout with a sword in his hand. Ever mindful of his duties.
[] Genna- Your father's only sister. Shrewd and Intelligent. Sharp and outspoken with words. She has a commanding personality.
[] Tygett- Your father's second brother. Angry and Stormy. Clashes with father often. He is the greatest fighter you've ever seen.
[] Gerion- Your father's youngest brother. Reckless and Mirthful. Always ready with a Jape. His eyes always seem drawn to the horizon.
As you grow older, your world expands and so do your skills. Choose one skill you excel at.
[] Riding- You were born to ride. Horses love you and you love them. As you grow, you can soon outride many experienced riders.
[] Weapons- With a little training, you excel with any weapon put in your hand. For the present, they are just practice weapons, but that will change.
[] Exploring- You have a knack for finding hidden things, and an unerring sense of direction. For instance, you find hidden ravines, and follow tracks easily.
Ambition- You are meant for great things. Choose one ambition.
[] Lord Lannister- You want to be the greatest Lord, the greatest leader, the West has ever seen. Casterly Rock will be yours one day, and you want to exceed your father's soaring expectations.
[] Unparalleled Warrior- You want to outshine the great warriors of the past and the present. You want to be acknowledged as the greatest fighter ever. The glory of the battlefield calls to you.
[] Knight Errant- As the heir to House Lannister, much is expected of you, however your father is hale and healthy. You want to joust, travel, and have adventures like the knights out of the stories.
[] Student- You are young and curious. You know that there is a world full of knowledge out there waiting for you. You do not know what will call to you, but you will actively seek out knowledge and teachers.
[] You don't know, yet. You're only six. Much too young for some lofty ambition. As time passes, you will discover something to strive towards.
Traits Acquired:
Trickster's Heir- You are not the most cunning nor the cleverest of your siblings. By nature you are a straightforward lad, but you do seek to emulate your famous ancestor, Lann the Clever. You approach problems with an open mind to find the desired solution.
Combat- Even as a child, you show flashes of the warrior you will become. You often find yourself watching the guards and knights, and then trying to crudely imitate their movements and techniques alongside Gerold. You make slow progress, and many mistakes, but never the same ones twice.
Geography- You learn of Westeros and the lands beyond. Father gifts you with a great number of maps which you assiduously study. Soon, you know the area around Casterly Rock very well indeed.
Warcraft- Tactics and strategy intrigue you. It's all very complicated, but your young mind is fertile ground for the maester and even your father's lessons. Your tutors are pleased at your progress.
Leader of the Pride- Where you lead your younger brothers follow. Cersei resists your leadership, but she's a girl... You stand taller, speak more assertively when trying to get others to do what you want.
Curious Cub- The world around you is full of mysteries to be uncovered and questions to be answered. You want to find out as much as you can.
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Who? Waifu!
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
This one's for you!
Okay, minions. Tywin, your lord father, will be choosing whom you marry. However, I know how much you LOVE your waifus, so as a kind and benevolent dictator, I will offer you some input. Choose one of the regions below, and papa Tywin will choose your betrothed from the winning group. This is a VERY IMPORTANT decision going forward. Betrothals are an absolute bitch to break. Choose wisely. (In the spoiler tags are the associated waifus for a region. Tywin only takes the best!)
[] Crownlands
Elaena Targaryen (275)
-A princess of Targaryen and Dornish blood
-Her beauty is expected to be greater than any Targaryen before her
-Though still very young, she has exhibited a strange and worrying disposition
Aemma Velaryon (266)
-Lovely Valyrian features
-A very wealthy family due to her father's voyages
-Dreams of traveling the Far East as the Sea Snake did
Elena Darklyn (267)
-Ties to the wealthy House Darklyn of Duskendale
-Sister to King Aerys' bastard son Daeron Waters
-As clever and ambitious as her mother
-A princess of Targaryen and Dornish blood
-Her beauty is expected to be greater than any Targaryen before her
-Though still very young, she has exhibited a strange and worrying disposition
Aemma Velaryon (266)
-Lovely Valyrian features
-A very wealthy family due to her father's voyages
-Dreams of traveling the Far East as the Sea Snake did
Elena Darklyn (267)
-Ties to the wealthy House Darklyn of Duskendale
-Sister to King Aerys' bastard son Daeron Waters
-As clever and ambitious as her mother
Lyanna Stark (266)
-The eldest daughter of Winterfell
-Supposedly very beautiful and willful
-Rumored to be accompanied by a direwolf
Marian Stark (267)
-A notoriously wild and willful girl
-Rumored to have bitten off a dude's nose once for getting handsy
-'Wolf's Blood' runs strong in her
Larra Manderly (267)
-The eldest daughter of White Harbor
-Father is from distant North but a very wealthy man
-A charming and courteous girl
-The eldest daughter of Winterfell
-Supposedly very beautiful and willful
-Rumored to be accompanied by a direwolf
Marian Stark (267)
-A notoriously wild and willful girl
-Rumored to have bitten off a dude's nose once for getting handsy
-'Wolf's Blood' runs strong in her
Larra Manderly (267)
-The eldest daughter of White Harbor
-Father is from distant North but a very wealthy man
-A charming and courteous girl
Catelyn Tully (264)
-The eldest daughter of Hoster Tully of Riverrun
-A beautiful and intelligent maid who has cared for her siblings since her mother's death
Lysa Tully (266)
-The second daughter of House Tully
-Closer in age than her older sister
-Sweet and plain
Betha Blackwood (269)
-A daughter of Raventree named for her great-aunt the queen
-Sweet mannered but surprisingly ambitious
-The eldest daughter of Hoster Tully of Riverrun
-A beautiful and intelligent maid who has cared for her siblings since her mother's death
Lysa Tully (266)
-The second daughter of House Tully
-Closer in age than her older sister
-Sweet and plain
Betha Blackwood (269)
-A daughter of Raventree named for her great-aunt the queen
-Sweet mannered but surprisingly ambitious
Sharra Arryn (266)
-The eldest daughter of Lord Jon Arryn
-Twin to Godric Arryn, healthier of Lord Jon's sons
-A well-mannered and beautiful woman with Arryn features
Kylie Waynwood (266)
-Niece to Jon Arryn and a daughter of House Arryn
-Very beautiful and very charming
-Perhaps a bit funnier than Sharra
Andrea Royce (276)
-A decade younger than Jaime
-As heiress to Runestone your second son might rule as Lord Royce
-A charming and pretty girl with promises of becoming a true beauty
-The eldest daughter of Lord Jon Arryn
-Twin to Godric Arryn, healthier of Lord Jon's sons
-A well-mannered and beautiful woman with Arryn features
Kylie Waynwood (266)
-Niece to Jon Arryn and a daughter of House Arryn
-Very beautiful and very charming
-Perhaps a bit funnier than Sharra
Andrea Royce (276)
-A decade younger than Jaime
-As heiress to Runestone your second son might rule as Lord Royce
-A charming and pretty girl with promises of becoming a true beauty
Audrey Crakehall (266)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-A confident woman from a bloodline known for its strength
Cerenna Marbrand (268)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-Sister to your friend Addam Marbrand and as kind and well-mannered as the rest of her family
Mariah Brax (267)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-House Brax is strong, with ties to both the Riverlands and West
Jeyne Farman (266)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-A close friend to your sister Cersei
-Obscenely fertile. Like in canon she had 12 kids so expect a +30 bonus on childbirth rolls.
Leonella Lefford (267)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-Twin sister to Leo Lefford, heir to the Golden Tooth
-One of the richer families of the Westerlands, which is saying something
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-A confident woman from a bloodline known for its strength
Cerenna Marbrand (268)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-Sister to your friend Addam Marbrand and as kind and well-mannered as the rest of her family
Mariah Brax (267)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-House Brax is strong, with ties to both the Riverlands and West
Jeyne Farman (266)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-A close friend to your sister Cersei
-Obscenely fertile. Like in canon she had 12 kids so expect a +30 bonus on childbirth rolls.
Leonella Lefford (267)
-Daughter to a loyal bannerman of House Lannister
-Twin sister to Leo Lefford, heir to the Golden Tooth
-One of the richer families of the Westerlands, which is saying something
Janna Tyrell (262)
-Daughter of Houses Tyrell and Redwyne, two of the richest in Westeros
-Brings an alliance with the Reach and all the power that it holds
-Several years older than Jaime
-D Cups minimum
Aelinor Hightower (273)
-Extremely beautiful and from a seemingly perfect family
-Several years younger than Jaime
-Ties to House Hightower of Oldtown
Myranda Tarly (266)
-Sister to the greatest military mind in Westeros
-A bit intense at times
-Won't stop talking about murdering your enemies
-Daughter of Houses Tyrell and Redwyne, two of the richest in Westeros
-Brings an alliance with the Reach and all the power that it holds
-Several years older than Jaime
-D Cups minimum
Aelinor Hightower (273)
-Extremely beautiful and from a seemingly perfect family
-Several years younger than Jaime
-Ties to House Hightower of Oldtown
Myranda Tarly (266)
-Sister to the greatest military mind in Westeros
-A bit intense at times
-Won't stop talking about murdering your enemies
Ravella Swann (266)
-Granddaughter to a Baratheon and has inherited their features
-A sweet and kind-hearted woman who will make a kickass mother
Fiona Rogers (266)
-A daughter of House Rogers and niece of House Stark
-As pretty as her Northern cousins but a bit less willful
Jocelyn Tarth (267)
-A granddaughter of Daella Targaryen and Ser Duncan the Tall
-Has inherited her grandfather's strength and her grandmother's beauty
-A bit taller than you
-Granddaughter to a Baratheon and has inherited their features
-A sweet and kind-hearted woman who will make a kickass mother
Fiona Rogers (266)
-A daughter of House Rogers and niece of House Stark
-As pretty as her Northern cousins but a bit less willful
Jocelyn Tarth (267)
-A granddaughter of Daella Targaryen and Ser Duncan the Tall
-Has inherited her grandfather's strength and her grandmother's beauty
-A bit taller than you
Arianne Martell (276)
-Several years younger than Jaime
-Ties to House Martell of Sunspear
-Beautiful and promiscuous both
Alyse Dayne (266)
-Ties to House Dayne of Starfall
-As beautiful as her sister (who is the most beautiful woman in Westeros)
-Your goodbrother would be Arthur Dayne
-Do you think he'd give you an autograph?
Nymella Yronwood (269)
-Born to the second strongest House in Dorne
-The Stone Dornish are best Dornish
-Her family has strong ties in Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands
-Several years younger than Jaime
-Ties to House Martell of Sunspear
-Beautiful and promiscuous both
Alyse Dayne (266)
-Ties to House Dayne of Starfall
-As beautiful as her sister (who is the most beautiful woman in Westeros)
-Your goodbrother would be Arthur Dayne
-Do you think he'd give you an autograph?
Nymella Yronwood (269)
-Born to the second strongest House in Dorne
-The Stone Dornish are best Dornish
-Her family has strong ties in Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands
Yes, I know there is no Ironborn option, and that's because Tywin would rather slit his own wrists than see his heir married to Ironscum.
Last edited:
Only Death Can Pay for Life
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
Your sixth name day is marked by a tournament in Lannisport. All of the chivalry of the west assembles outside the towering walls of the port city, and you squeal with delight as the shining knights atop their barded steeds face off against one another. A thousand different stories roil through your young mind, as you gasp and applaud at the skill and bravery of the knights.
When your uncle Tygett stands victorious, you know one thing: You want that. More than anything in your young life you want to be a knight, to go out and have daring adventures, and to slay dragons. For days after, you and Gerold and little Jason play the knight and dragon. Of course, you're always the victorious knight who slays the terrible two headed dragon.
You take up the duties of a page within Casterly Rock. On the rare occasions your lord father is in residence, you attend on him personally. More regularly you serve your Uncle Kevan, the Rock's castellan. He is a sure hand with a sword, and faithful and attentive to his duties. You find him to be a good man, but he's so boring. Still, you attend him without fault. Your lord father would hear of it if you did not, and he was always so creative with his punishments. Or worse you'd get a disappointed frown from your mother.
Along with the more tedious chores expected from a page, you also begin your formal martial training. Your tutors and trainers push you hard, and you spend long days running laps around the training yard, learning the proper way to draw a sword, how to fight with fist and foot, and a million other tiring things. Even tired, you did not fail to note that you were progressing faster than the other boys your age.
The routine is interrupted in your seventh year when your mother becomes fat with a baby.
"Yes, my little lion, it's going to be your little brother. Or maybe a sweet sister." Lady Joanna had answered your question with a bright smile and a tight hug. The sweet smell of lilacs drifts off her. Her luminous blonde cascades down over you. She didn't let you go for long moments, and as you scampered off, you caught a pained expression flit across her face. It's gone before knew it, and you ran along.
That's the last time you see her. Alive. She is confined to bed for months.
Tyrion, your misshapen little brother, is born, and your mother dies abed. Your lord father's smile dies with her.
Whispers spread through the castle that Tyrion is a little demon. Cersei loudly declares as much. So, you and Gerold and Jason sneak into Tyrion's nursery late at night. In the candlelight, the babe in his frilly cradle looks stunted and ugly. Nothing like a Lannister. As if sensing your presence, the babe awakens. His mismatched black and green eyes stare up at you, and he remains utterly silent.
"Come on, Jaime." Gerold pulls on your sleeve. "We'll get in trouble if we get caught."
You shake free of your younger brother's grasp.
"No. Go if you're so afraid."
That stops Gerold cold.
Without breaking eye contact, you put your hand in the cradle, and his little hands grasp your forefinger. Tyrion gurgles and smiles happily, and a wave of shock reverberates through you. He's not a demon. For a moment longer you both stare at one another. Little Jason clings anxiously to you, and the spell is broken.
Tyrion wails.
"Come on!" Gerold says urgently. "Celia finds us in here. We'll be doing chores for a month!"
You shake your head, and stoop to carefully pick the baby up. Careful to support the overlarge head you picked up the tiny infant, and bounced him comfortingly in your arms. After a moment of bawling, he falls comfortably silent.
The sound of the door opening brings your head whipping around. Celia, the wet nurse. She is an old hag with a toothless grin. Her gnarled old hands are held out towards you.
"L... lord Jaime," She says, "Give me the baby, and you can go back to bed. Your father need never know you were out when you should have been asleep."
He cries out, and you instinctively clutch him tighter to your chest.
"No, he's my brother."
The fierce words come without thought, and you feel the visceral truth of them. Twisted and malformed he might be, but he is a Lannister. Even during the punishment that follows, that fact never leaves your heart. Gerold grouses about getting caught, but you just shake your head and clean out another particularly disgusting pot.
Casterly Rock without mother is a much changed place. Aunt Genna tries to fill in for mother, but it's not the same. Ser Kevan runs more of the household when father is away. Father is much sterner, and does not allow Tyrion into his presence. You can practically feel father's disdain for the babe, and it doesn't waiver over the years. He is not the only one to treat the babe with disdain. You can see it in the servants' eyes.
Worst of all was Cersei. And her poor treatment of the babe finally came to a head not long before your eighth nameday. Celia scuttled by, and her old face flashed with terror. The old servant fears Cersei. You walk quickly to Tyrion's chamber, and find Cersei standing over the crib
"Stop that!" You shout as you enter the nursery. Your voice cuts through the pained cries of your baby brother, and the awful things Cersei is saying to him. Startled, your twin whirls away from the crib. "He's our brother. He's a Lannister. Don't treat him that way."
You move to the cradle and pick him up. You try to soothe him, but his crying won't stop.
"A Lannister? He's a twisted little demon. A kinslayer. He killed our mother." She smirked as her green eyes flashed. "You're not father. You can't tell me what to do."
What approach do you take with Cersei?
[] Forceful- She will not treat Tyrion badly. You will see to it. You would be Lord of Casterly Rock one day.
[] Crafty- Cersei has done bad things in the past. You can use that knowledge to keep her from acting against Tyrion.
[] Appeal- You would tattle to Aunt Genna. She would get Cersei to treat Tyrion better. Aunt Genna could be convincing.
When your uncle Tygett stands victorious, you know one thing: You want that. More than anything in your young life you want to be a knight, to go out and have daring adventures, and to slay dragons. For days after, you and Gerold and little Jason play the knight and dragon. Of course, you're always the victorious knight who slays the terrible two headed dragon.
You take up the duties of a page within Casterly Rock. On the rare occasions your lord father is in residence, you attend on him personally. More regularly you serve your Uncle Kevan, the Rock's castellan. He is a sure hand with a sword, and faithful and attentive to his duties. You find him to be a good man, but he's so boring. Still, you attend him without fault. Your lord father would hear of it if you did not, and he was always so creative with his punishments. Or worse you'd get a disappointed frown from your mother.
Along with the more tedious chores expected from a page, you also begin your formal martial training. Your tutors and trainers push you hard, and you spend long days running laps around the training yard, learning the proper way to draw a sword, how to fight with fist and foot, and a million other tiring things. Even tired, you did not fail to note that you were progressing faster than the other boys your age.
The routine is interrupted in your seventh year when your mother becomes fat with a baby.
"Yes, my little lion, it's going to be your little brother. Or maybe a sweet sister." Lady Joanna had answered your question with a bright smile and a tight hug. The sweet smell of lilacs drifts off her. Her luminous blonde cascades down over you. She didn't let you go for long moments, and as you scampered off, you caught a pained expression flit across her face. It's gone before knew it, and you ran along.
That's the last time you see her. Alive. She is confined to bed for months.
Tyrion, your misshapen little brother, is born, and your mother dies abed. Your lord father's smile dies with her.
Whispers spread through the castle that Tyrion is a little demon. Cersei loudly declares as much. So, you and Gerold and Jason sneak into Tyrion's nursery late at night. In the candlelight, the babe in his frilly cradle looks stunted and ugly. Nothing like a Lannister. As if sensing your presence, the babe awakens. His mismatched black and green eyes stare up at you, and he remains utterly silent.
"Come on, Jaime." Gerold pulls on your sleeve. "We'll get in trouble if we get caught."
You shake free of your younger brother's grasp.
"No. Go if you're so afraid."
That stops Gerold cold.
Without breaking eye contact, you put your hand in the cradle, and his little hands grasp your forefinger. Tyrion gurgles and smiles happily, and a wave of shock reverberates through you. He's not a demon. For a moment longer you both stare at one another. Little Jason clings anxiously to you, and the spell is broken.
Tyrion wails.
"Come on!" Gerold says urgently. "Celia finds us in here. We'll be doing chores for a month!"
You shake your head, and stoop to carefully pick the baby up. Careful to support the overlarge head you picked up the tiny infant, and bounced him comfortingly in your arms. After a moment of bawling, he falls comfortably silent.
The sound of the door opening brings your head whipping around. Celia, the wet nurse. She is an old hag with a toothless grin. Her gnarled old hands are held out towards you.
"L... lord Jaime," She says, "Give me the baby, and you can go back to bed. Your father need never know you were out when you should have been asleep."
He cries out, and you instinctively clutch him tighter to your chest.
"No, he's my brother."
The fierce words come without thought, and you feel the visceral truth of them. Twisted and malformed he might be, but he is a Lannister. Even during the punishment that follows, that fact never leaves your heart. Gerold grouses about getting caught, but you just shake your head and clean out another particularly disgusting pot.
Casterly Rock without mother is a much changed place. Aunt Genna tries to fill in for mother, but it's not the same. Ser Kevan runs more of the household when father is away. Father is much sterner, and does not allow Tyrion into his presence. You can practically feel father's disdain for the babe, and it doesn't waiver over the years. He is not the only one to treat the babe with disdain. You can see it in the servants' eyes.
Worst of all was Cersei. And her poor treatment of the babe finally came to a head not long before your eighth nameday. Celia scuttled by, and her old face flashed with terror. The old servant fears Cersei. You walk quickly to Tyrion's chamber, and find Cersei standing over the crib
"Stop that!" You shout as you enter the nursery. Your voice cuts through the pained cries of your baby brother, and the awful things Cersei is saying to him. Startled, your twin whirls away from the crib. "He's our brother. He's a Lannister. Don't treat him that way."
You move to the cradle and pick him up. You try to soothe him, but his crying won't stop.
"A Lannister? He's a twisted little demon. A kinslayer. He killed our mother." She smirked as her green eyes flashed. "You're not father. You can't tell me what to do."
What approach do you take with Cersei?
[] Forceful- She will not treat Tyrion badly. You will see to it. You would be Lord of Casterly Rock one day.
[] Crafty- Cersei has done bad things in the past. You can use that knowledge to keep her from acting against Tyrion.
[] Appeal- You would tattle to Aunt Genna. She would get Cersei to treat Tyrion better. Aunt Genna could be convincing.
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The Women of House Lannister
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
You look at the smirk twisting her features, and the defiantly crossed arms of your twin, and bite back sharp words. An argument is what what she wants. Cersei thrives in such arguments. She always seems to come out the better in a war of words, and you decide not to stoop to her level. Instead, you hug little Tyrion tighter, brush past her, and start walking for the nursery's oaken door.
"Where are you going?" Cersei asks as you pass by.
"Away from you." You say simply, as you smoothly walk across the room. "Figured I'd show him around the Rock."
"Why?" Her voice carries a mixture of confusion and hate. "Jaime, he's an abomination! Don't you care that he killed our mother?!"
Your back stiffens at that, face ripples through you, and only Tyrion's incessant cries keep you moving forward . There were a dozen responses on the tip of your tongue, but only one felt right.
"He's our brother."
Your fierce words halt her following footsteps. You don't break stride. You don't look back. Cersei is your sister. You love her, but you aren't blind to her faults. Out of all your siblings, she took mother's death the hardest. Tyrion, the babe in your arms, is the scapegoat for her anger and fear and loneliness. However, you will not permit any member of your family to be so abused.
When you make out into the hallway, and realize Cersei hasn't followed, you take a deep breath. You know what you are going to do, but tattling will make Cersei hate you. At least for a while. But, grownups were meant to fix these kinds of things. Aunt Genna is the first idea that comes to you, and you immediately head towards her chamber. Your aunt is one of the smartest people you know, and she'd get Cersei to treat Tyrion more nicely.
Her husband Ser Emmon Frey is out hunting, so she should be in her solar.
The path through the winding corridors of the Rock is a familiar one, and as you walk, Tyrion finally calms down. He stares up at you with mismatched eyes, and the anger in your heart dissipates like smoke in the wind.
You arrive at aunt Genna's solar, and she's nowhere to be found. After interrogating a stuttering servant, you are pointed to a little used corner of the castle. A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar hallway staring at an oaken door. From beyond the door, you can hear muffled moans and grunts.
What do you do?
[] Go get the guards- Someone might be attacking your aunt!
[] Knock on the door- See what's going on.
[] Leave- You'll talk to your aunt later.
[] Write-in.
"Where are you going?" Cersei asks as you pass by.
"Away from you." You say simply, as you smoothly walk across the room. "Figured I'd show him around the Rock."
"Why?" Her voice carries a mixture of confusion and hate. "Jaime, he's an abomination! Don't you care that he killed our mother?!"
Your back stiffens at that, face ripples through you, and only Tyrion's incessant cries keep you moving forward . There were a dozen responses on the tip of your tongue, but only one felt right.
"He's our brother."
Your fierce words halt her following footsteps. You don't break stride. You don't look back. Cersei is your sister. You love her, but you aren't blind to her faults. Out of all your siblings, she took mother's death the hardest. Tyrion, the babe in your arms, is the scapegoat for her anger and fear and loneliness. However, you will not permit any member of your family to be so abused.
When you make out into the hallway, and realize Cersei hasn't followed, you take a deep breath. You know what you are going to do, but tattling will make Cersei hate you. At least for a while. But, grownups were meant to fix these kinds of things. Aunt Genna is the first idea that comes to you, and you immediately head towards her chamber. Your aunt is one of the smartest people you know, and she'd get Cersei to treat Tyrion more nicely.
Her husband Ser Emmon Frey is out hunting, so she should be in her solar.
The path through the winding corridors of the Rock is a familiar one, and as you walk, Tyrion finally calms down. He stares up at you with mismatched eyes, and the anger in your heart dissipates like smoke in the wind.
You arrive at aunt Genna's solar, and she's nowhere to be found. After interrogating a stuttering servant, you are pointed to a little used corner of the castle. A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar hallway staring at an oaken door. From beyond the door, you can hear muffled moans and grunts.
What do you do?
[] Go get the guards- Someone might be attacking your aunt!
[] Knock on the door- See what's going on.
[] Leave- You'll talk to your aunt later.
[] Write-in.
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An Older Brother and a Page
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
You look at the thick oaken door for a long moment, and the strange sounds from within the room do not abate. If anything, they get even louder. You can almost make out the occasional word, but the heavy door muffles them beyond recognition. What are those sounds? Is Aunt Genna alright? Does she have company? Is she playing a game? Those questions and a million more flood furtively through your developing mind.
You raise your hand to knock, but it freezes a foot from the door. No one would hurt Aunt Genna here. Grownups like their private time sometimes. Maybe this is one of those times, and you don't want to bother her. When angered, she could be scary. You did not want to be on the wrong side of one of her infamous tongue lashings.
Shaking your head, you turn to leave. Your talk with aunt Genna will have to wait. Tyrion's light snores pull you from your thoughts. The tiny babe weighs almost nothing, and even in sleep his features are ugly. Men and women, great and small, gushed over how handsome and strong you were, how beautiful and graceful Cersei is. No one would ever say those nice things about Tyrion. People could be mean.
Still, you smile proudly, lovingly down at your napping brother. He had not killed your mother. The Stranger had taken her to be with them amongst the Seven Heavens. Mother loved Tyrion as much as she loved the rest of her children. In your blood, you know that.
You will protect him.
Despite your resolve, the days pass by in a blur. You have little time for your infant brother, and less for aunt Genna. Your page duties steadily increase as you grow older, and you can find no time to speak with aunt Genna. She's always busy with women duties or seeing to Cersei's education or a thousand other things. Your aunt steps in to fulfill much of mother's previous role, and that leaves her little free time.
During your time as a page, you are surrounded by other boys from across the Westerlands. Noble children sent to foster at the Rock, sent to increase their ties to the Lannisters, and thus further their standing. Many fall all over themselves to be friendly to you, and are often in naked competition for your favor.
Rank your fellow pages in terms of friendship. 1 = Closest friend. 9 = ??????
-Addam Marbrand- Heir to Ashemark and closest in age to you. Genuine, confident, and a natural subordinate. The other boys all respect him and he respects you. Has a bit of a crush on aunt Genna's daughter Jeyne.
-Tybolt Crakehall, heir to Crakehall. Quiet and kind of introverted, but very strong and tall. He is fierce in the training yard. Spends a lot of time in the Sept, and the Septons and Septas often point to him as an example to follow.
-Flement Brax is the second son of Andros Brax. Flashy and bold, he appreciates the finer things in life and is ambitious for a second son. He has a crush on Cersei.
-Gregor Clegane- Son of a landed knight. Quiet. Huge and incredibly strong for his age. Rather dull witted. Prone to fits of anger and severe headaches. Often quarrels with the other boys, but is deferential to you, as both his superior by blood and the only one who can overcome him with any frequency in the training yard.
-Alyn Frey- Your cousin and aunt Genna's oldest son. Blonde haired and green eyed, he looks like a Lannister. You don't see any of uncle Emmon in him. Not very able in the training yard, but he's very shrewd with finances and has a knack for ferreting out secrets.
-Titus Peake is heir to Starpike in the Reach. He's ashamed of his family's actions in the past and wants to redeem them through his own honor. He is the only boy who spends more time practicing in the yard than you.
-Arthur Banefort is the younger brother of Lord Quenten Banefort. He has a calm head in tense situations and a silver tongue. He also has a great love of and skill for the courtly arts. Music, poetry, dancing, he excels at them all.
-Alan Garner is a son of House Garner. He's the only boy in a family of six sisters and several aunts, and can be a bit headstrong. A prankster. Excels with a morningstar. Despite his small stature he is fierce and skilled in the training yard.
-Antario Jast is betrothed to one of your cousins, Lanna Lannister. He's the heir to House Jast of Lionshead Hall. Charming and popular with the girls. People often mention him in the same breath as you when it comes to good looks.
You raise your hand to knock, but it freezes a foot from the door. No one would hurt Aunt Genna here. Grownups like their private time sometimes. Maybe this is one of those times, and you don't want to bother her. When angered, she could be scary. You did not want to be on the wrong side of one of her infamous tongue lashings.
Shaking your head, you turn to leave. Your talk with aunt Genna will have to wait. Tyrion's light snores pull you from your thoughts. The tiny babe weighs almost nothing, and even in sleep his features are ugly. Men and women, great and small, gushed over how handsome and strong you were, how beautiful and graceful Cersei is. No one would ever say those nice things about Tyrion. People could be mean.
Still, you smile proudly, lovingly down at your napping brother. He had not killed your mother. The Stranger had taken her to be with them amongst the Seven Heavens. Mother loved Tyrion as much as she loved the rest of her children. In your blood, you know that.
You will protect him.
Despite your resolve, the days pass by in a blur. You have little time for your infant brother, and less for aunt Genna. Your page duties steadily increase as you grow older, and you can find no time to speak with aunt Genna. She's always busy with women duties or seeing to Cersei's education or a thousand other things. Your aunt steps in to fulfill much of mother's previous role, and that leaves her little free time.
During your time as a page, you are surrounded by other boys from across the Westerlands. Noble children sent to foster at the Rock, sent to increase their ties to the Lannisters, and thus further their standing. Many fall all over themselves to be friendly to you, and are often in naked competition for your favor.
Rank your fellow pages in terms of friendship. 1 = Closest friend. 9 = ??????
-Addam Marbrand- Heir to Ashemark and closest in age to you. Genuine, confident, and a natural subordinate. The other boys all respect him and he respects you. Has a bit of a crush on aunt Genna's daughter Jeyne.
-Tybolt Crakehall, heir to Crakehall. Quiet and kind of introverted, but very strong and tall. He is fierce in the training yard. Spends a lot of time in the Sept, and the Septons and Septas often point to him as an example to follow.
-Flement Brax is the second son of Andros Brax. Flashy and bold, he appreciates the finer things in life and is ambitious for a second son. He has a crush on Cersei.
-Gregor Clegane- Son of a landed knight. Quiet. Huge and incredibly strong for his age. Rather dull witted. Prone to fits of anger and severe headaches. Often quarrels with the other boys, but is deferential to you, as both his superior by blood and the only one who can overcome him with any frequency in the training yard.
-Alyn Frey- Your cousin and aunt Genna's oldest son. Blonde haired and green eyed, he looks like a Lannister. You don't see any of uncle Emmon in him. Not very able in the training yard, but he's very shrewd with finances and has a knack for ferreting out secrets.
-Titus Peake is heir to Starpike in the Reach. He's ashamed of his family's actions in the past and wants to redeem them through his own honor. He is the only boy who spends more time practicing in the yard than you.
-Arthur Banefort is the younger brother of Lord Quenten Banefort. He has a calm head in tense situations and a silver tongue. He also has a great love of and skill for the courtly arts. Music, poetry, dancing, he excels at them all.
-Alan Garner is a son of House Garner. He's the only boy in a family of six sisters and several aunts, and can be a bit headstrong. A prankster. Excels with a morningstar. Despite his small stature he is fierce and skilled in the training yard.
-Antario Jast is betrothed to one of your cousins, Lanna Lannister. He's the heir to House Jast of Lionshead Hall. Charming and popular with the girls. People often mention him in the same breath as you when it comes to good looks.
Secret Questions
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
"Shhhh! You're going to get us caught." With your forefinger pressed to your lips, you glare at your best friends. Addam might as well be a Lannister for his blonde hair and green eyes, and he glowers at your other companion, Titus Peake. The Reachman is dark of eye and hair, and he smirks glibly at Addam in turn.
Neither pay your command any mind as they stare daggers at one another.
"I mean it. Tygett will skin us alive if he finds out we're trying to sneak out." You continued. Of all your kin, you like Tygett the least, and if he catches you he will see you and your friends punished severely. Not three months ago, he had ordered you to clean dishes for being out of bed after curfew. Tygett Lannister was the best fighter in Westerlands (though to be sure there would be some who would disagree) but quite clearly the man had never been a child.
A moment later Addam and Titus fall silent.
Nodding with satisfaction, you lead them through the Rock. You three were on a mission. Tales had spread through the castle staff about a witcher woman, a grotesque from across the Narrow Sea who lived not too far away from the Rock. Cersei and her flock had been sternly rebuffed from going there. After all it isn't proper for a highborn lady to consort with the low type.
Your curiosity was aroused at the idea of the strange tales and unknown old woman, of what secrets she might hold. You could not stand being stymied. So, the three of you hatched this plot. Sneak out of the castle by way of a secret passage, visit this Maggy the Frog, and return with no one the wiser.
All is quiet as you and the two other pages thread your way silently through the castle. The castle is as familiar as your training sword, as the back of your hand. Ahead, all seems clear, but behind you in the dimly lit hallway, you hear shuffling footsteps. You instinctively flatten against the stone wall, and both Addam and Titus do so as well.
For long moments, your heart thuds in your chest. Then there's movement. A golden-haired figure dressed in a black cloak much like your own appears. You let out the breath you had been holding.
"Gerold." You whisper angrily. He had been busy with his lessons when you had planned this adventure, and you didn't want him to get in trouble if you got caught. You don't wonder how he found out. There are very few secrets between you two.
He approaches with a defiant grin. If he were a few inches taller, he might have been your twin.
"I'm coming with you," he said flatly.
You stare at one another for a long moment, and he doesn't break eye contact.
"Okay, but be quiet." You shake your head in acceptance. "Don't blame me if you get in trouble"
Gerold had a mind of his own, and when he had that look, that stubborn set to his jaw, nothing short of Father could put him in his place quickly. And you didn't have the time nor the inclination to try. Besides, he is your brother
Now, with another Lannister in tow, you and the other pages make your way into the depths of Casterly Rock, and toward the secret passageway. The passage is in one of the old abandoned mines. A clever mechanism keeps well it hidden, and the passageway itself is narrow. A full grown man in armor would not be able to pass through.
Luckily, you were only nine.
You easily fit through, and the only complication is getting the sword you filched from the armory free as it occasionally becomes wedged in the rough and uneven stone walls.
Silence reigns until your group moves out of the passage and into a dense stand of redwoods. The sun is setting, and it paints the sky in hues of purple and blue. You've used this passage before, so you know exactly where you are.
"The witch's hut should be an hour north of here."
Your friends and brother trundle out behind you.
"Peake, you ought bathe more often." Addam shot. He fanned his hand in front of his face. "You been playing in the cisterns?"
"Bugger off, Marbrand." Titus returned.
Both you and Gerold issue identical long suffering sighs. Addam and Titus made sport of one another. They fought endlessly, but also forgave quickly. That didn't mean it was any less tiresome for everybody else.
The trek to the witch's hut takes a little over a hour and a half, and the sun is fully set by the time you reach your destination. Halfway there, you light torches, and the open flames dance in the cool night air casting twisting shadows about the road and the grass and the trees.
You come upon the ramshackle hut in a forested area of your future demesne, and let out a little whistle. The air smells of spices and cooked meats and other things. Altogether it is an unpleasant aroma. Peasant's homes were often crude, but this hovel looked like one stiff wind would knock it over.
"How can someone live here?" Gerold asks, echoing your thoughts.
Before you can answer, Titus breaks in, "You gonna ask the witch if little Jeyne will be your wife."
Addam stiffens. It's common knowledge that Addam fancies Aunt Genna's daughter, Jeyne, and Titus did not shy away from picking at him for it.
"Better than marrying some Dornish slut." Addam shoots back.
"Peace." You command. Your voice is not as deep your lord fathers, but it works well enough. The pair look at you. "We're not here for you two to fight. We see what this Maggy is about, and then we get back to the Rock."
They acquiesce.
You raise your hand to knock, but a thin old voice filters through the door, "Come in. Come in."
and the quartet enters the shack. An open flame with a bubbling pot sits in the middle of the room, and skinned game hangs openly in the air. The strange, pungent stench intensifies. Vials of unknown liquids sit here and there.
All of that passes you by as you find your eyes riveted to the old woman, Maggy. The squat witch watches you with crusty yellow eyes, and offered a toothless smile in return.
"I'm Jaime Lannister, and we've heard tell that you can divine secrets, that you can see the future." Under her unblinking stare, you pull out a bag of silver stags and gold dragons. "We can pay."
Her head cocks sideways, and she stares at you as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle. She pays no heed to your companions, and you feel uneasy under her intense study. No I am a Lion of the Rock!
You stand tall and do not waiver, "Can you do this thing or not?"
She laughs loudly, and spittle flies from her lips. You clench your hand upon the sword. Madwoman.
You grunt in annoyance, and make to turn away.
"No, no." She weezes out. "I'll take your gold, but I'll need a drop of blood to see the future. Be warned, my lordly lion: You may not like that which I have to say. The future can be a terrible thing. I'll see to you last Lord Lannister."
"I'll go first." Addam, pale faced and shaking, stepped forward.
He offered his hand to her, she pricked his finger, and sucked on the blood.
"Will I be a good lord?" His voice shook.
"You will be a lord of ashes. Golden flames will bring all you build to ruin."
Snatching back his hand, he said, "Can I stop that?"
"Put aside your dreams, little one, and look to the east. Your salvation is far from these lonely hills."
Addam sidled away. Shaken.
Next was Titus. Pale green jowls shaking, Maggy took his hand in her own, and accepted his blood.
"Will I bring honor to my family?" His voice quivers with emotion.
"You must lose one family to honor another. One will be your blood and the other your end. I see tears falling from the walls of Starpike, and a brave man drowning in them."
Then Gerold stepped forward.
"What's my destiny?" Gerold asks quietly.
"Your destiny is glory and shame, little lion. I wonder which you will choose, the horns or the fires? So much blood staining those golden hands. Wither in shadow or flourish in war."
Your brother staggers back as if struck, and then it's your turn.
"Lord Lannister, you may ask three questions." She cackles and smiles her toothless smile.
What do you do? (Plan Format please. Choose up to three questions for a plan.)
[] "Will I be a great knight like Uncle Tygett?"
[] "Will I be a Great Lord like my father?"
[] "Will I ever fight in a war?"
[] "Will I have sons of my own?"
[] Write-in
[] Refuse. If you have a destiny you will find it yourself.
[] The witch practices blood magic. She is evil. Use your sword and slay her.
Neither pay your command any mind as they stare daggers at one another.
"I mean it. Tygett will skin us alive if he finds out we're trying to sneak out." You continued. Of all your kin, you like Tygett the least, and if he catches you he will see you and your friends punished severely. Not three months ago, he had ordered you to clean dishes for being out of bed after curfew. Tygett Lannister was the best fighter in Westerlands (though to be sure there would be some who would disagree) but quite clearly the man had never been a child.
A moment later Addam and Titus fall silent.
Nodding with satisfaction, you lead them through the Rock. You three were on a mission. Tales had spread through the castle staff about a witcher woman, a grotesque from across the Narrow Sea who lived not too far away from the Rock. Cersei and her flock had been sternly rebuffed from going there. After all it isn't proper for a highborn lady to consort with the low type.
Your curiosity was aroused at the idea of the strange tales and unknown old woman, of what secrets she might hold. You could not stand being stymied. So, the three of you hatched this plot. Sneak out of the castle by way of a secret passage, visit this Maggy the Frog, and return with no one the wiser.
All is quiet as you and the two other pages thread your way silently through the castle. The castle is as familiar as your training sword, as the back of your hand. Ahead, all seems clear, but behind you in the dimly lit hallway, you hear shuffling footsteps. You instinctively flatten against the stone wall, and both Addam and Titus do so as well.
For long moments, your heart thuds in your chest. Then there's movement. A golden-haired figure dressed in a black cloak much like your own appears. You let out the breath you had been holding.
"Gerold." You whisper angrily. He had been busy with his lessons when you had planned this adventure, and you didn't want him to get in trouble if you got caught. You don't wonder how he found out. There are very few secrets between you two.
He approaches with a defiant grin. If he were a few inches taller, he might have been your twin.
"I'm coming with you," he said flatly.
You stare at one another for a long moment, and he doesn't break eye contact.
"Okay, but be quiet." You shake your head in acceptance. "Don't blame me if you get in trouble"
Gerold had a mind of his own, and when he had that look, that stubborn set to his jaw, nothing short of Father could put him in his place quickly. And you didn't have the time nor the inclination to try. Besides, he is your brother
Now, with another Lannister in tow, you and the other pages make your way into the depths of Casterly Rock, and toward the secret passageway. The passage is in one of the old abandoned mines. A clever mechanism keeps well it hidden, and the passageway itself is narrow. A full grown man in armor would not be able to pass through.
Luckily, you were only nine.
You easily fit through, and the only complication is getting the sword you filched from the armory free as it occasionally becomes wedged in the rough and uneven stone walls.
Silence reigns until your group moves out of the passage and into a dense stand of redwoods. The sun is setting, and it paints the sky in hues of purple and blue. You've used this passage before, so you know exactly where you are.
"The witch's hut should be an hour north of here."
Your friends and brother trundle out behind you.
"Peake, you ought bathe more often." Addam shot. He fanned his hand in front of his face. "You been playing in the cisterns?"
"Bugger off, Marbrand." Titus returned.
Both you and Gerold issue identical long suffering sighs. Addam and Titus made sport of one another. They fought endlessly, but also forgave quickly. That didn't mean it was any less tiresome for everybody else.
The trek to the witch's hut takes a little over a hour and a half, and the sun is fully set by the time you reach your destination. Halfway there, you light torches, and the open flames dance in the cool night air casting twisting shadows about the road and the grass and the trees.
You come upon the ramshackle hut in a forested area of your future demesne, and let out a little whistle. The air smells of spices and cooked meats and other things. Altogether it is an unpleasant aroma. Peasant's homes were often crude, but this hovel looked like one stiff wind would knock it over.
"How can someone live here?" Gerold asks, echoing your thoughts.
Before you can answer, Titus breaks in, "You gonna ask the witch if little Jeyne will be your wife."
Addam stiffens. It's common knowledge that Addam fancies Aunt Genna's daughter, Jeyne, and Titus did not shy away from picking at him for it.
"Better than marrying some Dornish slut." Addam shoots back.
"Peace." You command. Your voice is not as deep your lord fathers, but it works well enough. The pair look at you. "We're not here for you two to fight. We see what this Maggy is about, and then we get back to the Rock."
They acquiesce.
You raise your hand to knock, but a thin old voice filters through the door, "Come in. Come in."
and the quartet enters the shack. An open flame with a bubbling pot sits in the middle of the room, and skinned game hangs openly in the air. The strange, pungent stench intensifies. Vials of unknown liquids sit here and there.
All of that passes you by as you find your eyes riveted to the old woman, Maggy. The squat witch watches you with crusty yellow eyes, and offered a toothless smile in return.
"I'm Jaime Lannister, and we've heard tell that you can divine secrets, that you can see the future." Under her unblinking stare, you pull out a bag of silver stags and gold dragons. "We can pay."
Her head cocks sideways, and she stares at you as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle. She pays no heed to your companions, and you feel uneasy under her intense study. No I am a Lion of the Rock!
You stand tall and do not waiver, "Can you do this thing or not?"
She laughs loudly, and spittle flies from her lips. You clench your hand upon the sword. Madwoman.
You grunt in annoyance, and make to turn away.
"No, no." She weezes out. "I'll take your gold, but I'll need a drop of blood to see the future. Be warned, my lordly lion: You may not like that which I have to say. The future can be a terrible thing. I'll see to you last Lord Lannister."
"I'll go first." Addam, pale faced and shaking, stepped forward.
He offered his hand to her, she pricked his finger, and sucked on the blood.
"Will I be a good lord?" His voice shook.
"You will be a lord of ashes. Golden flames will bring all you build to ruin."
Snatching back his hand, he said, "Can I stop that?"
"Put aside your dreams, little one, and look to the east. Your salvation is far from these lonely hills."
Addam sidled away. Shaken.
Next was Titus. Pale green jowls shaking, Maggy took his hand in her own, and accepted his blood.
"Will I bring honor to my family?" His voice quivers with emotion.
"You must lose one family to honor another. One will be your blood and the other your end. I see tears falling from the walls of Starpike, and a brave man drowning in them."
Then Gerold stepped forward.
"What's my destiny?" Gerold asks quietly.
"Your destiny is glory and shame, little lion. I wonder which you will choose, the horns or the fires? So much blood staining those golden hands. Wither in shadow or flourish in war."
Your brother staggers back as if struck, and then it's your turn.
"Lord Lannister, you may ask three questions." She cackles and smiles her toothless smile.
What do you do? (Plan Format please. Choose up to three questions for a plan.)
[] "Will I be a great knight like Uncle Tygett?"
[] "Will I be a Great Lord like my father?"
[] "Will I ever fight in a war?"
[] "Will I have sons of my own?"
[] Write-in
[] Refuse. If you have a destiny you will find it yourself.
[] The witch practices blood magic. She is evil. Use your sword and slay her.
A Squire's Life!
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
Okay, minions. Jaime's a growing boy, and his time as a page is coming to an end. Because you are playing as a quest protagonist you get more say than would normally be the case. All five options below would be IC for Tywin to choose for his heir's fosterage. You get to choose, so choose wisely!
Your benevolent GMs like quality discussion waaay more than Bandwagons, and besides improving my writing skills, reading good discussion is the only real benefit I get from running quests. So, I'm introducing a 2 hour voting moratorium(TWO HOURS HAVE NOW PASSED). Please discuss, debate, and contribute to the quest, but don't cast your votes until two hours after this post. Additionally, we will reward good discussion by expanding on plot hooks and possibilities.
Squiring/Fostering Options:
[] Storm's End
Steffon Baratheon- One of your father's closest friends (the other being King Aerys of course), Lord Steffon has been blessed with five strong and healthy sons of his own. His eldest son and heir will be fostering at the Eyrie and his fourthborn at Casterly Rock, but that leaves three foster brothers even as you assist Lord Steffon in preparing for your tour of the Free Cities of Essos.
[] Crakehall
Sumner Crakehall- The aging Lord of Crakehall and one of House Lannister's most powerful bannerman, Sumner Crakehall is a respected lord and warrior both. His other squire is his nephew, Merrett Frey. Perhaps you will have a chance to make a name for yourself, as there have been rumors of bandits gathering in the Kingswood, and staying in the West will help you to interact with your future vassals.
[] Oldtown
Baelor Hightower- The heir to House Hightower and father of your future betrothed, Ser Baelor Brightsmile is a deeply respected man in and out of the Reach. Fostering at Oldtown will strengthen the ties that will be formed by your marriage, allowing you to meet the heirs to Houses such as Hightower, Tyrell, Redwyne, and Tarly. However, there have been strange rumors of Dornish emissaries riding too and from Highgarden.
[] King's Landing
Rhaegar Targaryen- The Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, nineteen year old prince Prince Rhaegar is renowned across the Seven Kingdoms for his chivalry and courteous nature. As the Hand of the King, your father works closely with Rhaegar, and he seems to think highly of him. Betrothed to his sister, Naerys, he is a suitable heir to the Iron Throne, but many whisper that he should sit on the Iron Throne, even while his father still yet lives.
[] The Eyrie
Jon Arryn- The Lord of the Eyrie is an aging man but shows no signs of slowing down. Deeply respected by many in Westeros for his honor, competence, and experience, Lord Arryn has accepted the foster children of many high lords (including Houses Baratheon and Stark) while sending out his own heir to Storm's End and a younger son to Casterly Rock, and the always fractious mountain clans offer a chance for combat.
Your benevolent GMs like quality discussion waaay more than Bandwagons, and besides improving my writing skills, reading good discussion is the only real benefit I get from running quests. So, I'm introducing a 2 hour voting moratorium(TWO HOURS HAVE NOW PASSED). Please discuss, debate, and contribute to the quest, but don't cast your votes until two hours after this post. Additionally, we will reward good discussion by expanding on plot hooks and possibilities.
Squiring/Fostering Options:
[] Storm's End
Steffon Baratheon- One of your father's closest friends (the other being King Aerys of course), Lord Steffon has been blessed with five strong and healthy sons of his own. His eldest son and heir will be fostering at the Eyrie and his fourthborn at Casterly Rock, but that leaves three foster brothers even as you assist Lord Steffon in preparing for your tour of the Free Cities of Essos.
[] Crakehall
Sumner Crakehall- The aging Lord of Crakehall and one of House Lannister's most powerful bannerman, Sumner Crakehall is a respected lord and warrior both. His other squire is his nephew, Merrett Frey. Perhaps you will have a chance to make a name for yourself, as there have been rumors of bandits gathering in the Kingswood, and staying in the West will help you to interact with your future vassals.
[] Oldtown
Baelor Hightower- The heir to House Hightower and father of your future betrothed, Ser Baelor Brightsmile is a deeply respected man in and out of the Reach. Fostering at Oldtown will strengthen the ties that will be formed by your marriage, allowing you to meet the heirs to Houses such as Hightower, Tyrell, Redwyne, and Tarly. However, there have been strange rumors of Dornish emissaries riding too and from Highgarden.
[] King's Landing
Rhaegar Targaryen- The Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, nineteen year old prince Prince Rhaegar is renowned across the Seven Kingdoms for his chivalry and courteous nature. As the Hand of the King, your father works closely with Rhaegar, and he seems to think highly of him. Betrothed to his sister, Naerys, he is a suitable heir to the Iron Throne, but many whisper that he should sit on the Iron Throne, even while his father still yet lives.
[] The Eyrie
Jon Arryn- The Lord of the Eyrie is an aging man but shows no signs of slowing down. Deeply respected by many in Westeros for his honor, competence, and experience, Lord Arryn has accepted the foster children of many high lords (including Houses Baratheon and Stark) while sending out his own heir to Storm's End and a younger son to Casterly Rock, and the always fractious mountain clans offer a chance for combat.
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Leavetakings
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
The morning sun streamed through the thick clouds as it shone into the courtyard. The tall stone walls of the Rock loomed about you. Your retinue was gathered for the trip. Both Addam and Titus would be your companions alongside a strong contingent of hand picked guards. Ser Ilyn Payne, the head of your personal guard, loudly barked orders to his men behind you. Before you, stood your family lined up to say their goodbyes.
Little Tyrion, not content to wait his turn, bolted forward, his stunted legs carrying him swiftly into your waiting arms.
"Jaime, don't go! I'll be good! I swear! Just don't go." he sobbed out.
"You're a good boy, and I love you." you smiled soothingly. " But, I've got to go. It's my duty. Remember what I said about duty?"
He nodded hesitantly, "Lannisters always do their duty, and they always pay their debts."
You smile proudly. Tyrion was the smartest little boy in the Westerlands.
"It'll be alright, next time we see each other I should be a knight and you'll almost be a man grown!"
Tears began to well in his eyes. Wrong tack.
"We'll write to one another, and maybe we can visit sometimes." you said gently, as you held Tyrion in your arms. Tears were freely pouring from his mismatched eyes, and you gently wiped them away.
He looked entirely unconvinced.
"I'll make sure of it." Jaime said. "Even Gerold will visit from King's Landing when he can."
Gerold and Cersei had accompanied father to the capital not a fortnight ago. You already missed Gerold, and some part of you missed Cersei as well. Father's absence was nothing new, but it still gnawed at you.
"Promise?" the Five year old asked in between sniffles.
"My word as a Lannister." you assured him, as you ruffled his blonde hair. That dried his tears, and he gave you one of his ugly lopsided grins, which you happily returned.
After you set Tyrion down, Jason rushed forward and offered his hand with the air of seriousness. The nine year old was doing a better job of holding back his tears, but losing both you and Gerold must have been terribly hard on him. For as long as you could remember, he had tagged along after you. His absence would be keenly felt.
Ignoring the proffered hand, you pulled him into a tight embrace.
Then you brought him to arm's length. "You're my brother, you are a lion of Casterly Rock. You'll do well."
"Take care brother." He said, and you separated with fond farewells.
Aunt Genna hugged you tightly, as she had her own departing son. "I think you will be taller than your father when I see you next," she had said, and you had promised to write and made her promise to watch over Jason and Tyrion in your absence. Tyrion especially would need love and support. Life was hard for a dwarf.
Uncle Kevan had clasped your shoulder and given you a warm smile. "You are every bit Tywin's son," he had said. Highest praise that uncle Kevan could give "I know you will make us all proud."
Your uncle had not yet married, never had children of his own. Perhaps you and your siblings were the closest he would ever know to that. It was not a thought you had considered before, and you made sure to hug him tightly. He ruffled your blonde hair affectionately.
"Perhaps I will see you soon," Uncle Gerion had offered with a smile, "for my journeys often take me as far as Oldtown. Next time we meet, I'll bring you a present from across the Narrow Sea."
You smiled at that. While your youngest uncle was rarely at home you had a fondness for him and his stories of adventure and far-off places. The Rock was always a livelier place when he was home. Perhaps when next you met you would have some of your own to share.
Lastly you had sought out Uncle Tygett. Whatever your feelings for the difficult man he was family and father had always said family meant more than anything.
You had found him deep in conversation with a group of nobles. Ser Burton Crakehall, Lord Quenton Banefort, Lord Harwyn Jast, and Ser Rodry of Redpools. All save the last were a good deal older than you. You squared your shoulders, and took a deep breath as you approached.
The men's conversation cutoff as you drew near.
"Uncle Tygett," you offered hesitatingly, and his lips twitched downward as he regarded you, "I came to wish you farewell before I departed."
"Well, goodbye," was his dismissive response, and a flash of irritation rose in you. He was Castellan of the Rock and a busy man.
There was a reason that despite his martial skills, Tygett remained your least favorite kin. Quick tempered, contrary, mirthless, and uncompromising. The same qualities that made him a fearsome warrior also made him a poor companion. When you were older, when you were Lord of Casterly Rock there would be a reckoning.
Ser Rodry had let out an easy laugh. "Come now, Tygett. You will not see your nephew for a long time indeed. What harm can there be in some courtesy?"
Now Uncle Tygett's glare was on the grinning knight, and his hands were clenched so tightly they were nearly shaking. What was wrong with him?
"Farewell nephew. I pray that your time in Oldtown will be happy," he had said at last through clenched teeth before storming away across the courtyard.
"He can be a bit of a handful," offered the knight to you, "though I suppose you'd know better than I."
You cast a baleful look at your uncle, and then favored the knight with a smile, "Indeed, I do ser."
*********
The hustle and bustle of Lannisport's waterside engulfed you as you and your retinue came to a stop at the docks. Merchants sold their many wares. Sailors rigged their ships. Dockhands loaded and unloaded goods from across the world, from as far away as the Jade Sea.
"There she is, Jaime!" Addam said in an awed tone, as he indicated a massive galleon from atop his own pony. "Mighty fine ship Lord Tywin has gifted you."
"It is at that." you agreed with a grin. Before you sat one of the greatest ships in the entire world. Your father commissioned the Joanna's Pride, especially for you. It dipped four hundred oars, and towered over the other lesser ships in the harbor. The crew, gathered from the best sailors the Westerlands had to offer, stood at the railing awaiting your arrival. It was a match for any ship anywhere.
"A Lion must show his strength. The Hightowers, the Tyrells, and the other houses of the Reach are powerful and rich. But, they aren't lions. When you go to Oldtown, all will know you for a Lannister. And they will know that you are not to be trifled with. They will know that lions are to respected. If given cause, feared as well."
The memory of your Lord Father's fierce words, and the pride evident in his eyes made you sit up straight in your saddle. Many of the smallfolk of the city were staring at you, and you put on your most charming smile and waved in acknowledgement. A small cheer went up from the smallfolk, and your grin split.
Father said the love of the commons was a fickle thing, that it was better to be feared and respected. But, you loved the rush of the cheering crowd all the same.
Soon thereafter, you and your retinue were aboard the ship, and the ship was pulling out of the harbor. As Casterly Rock, your home disappeared over the horizon, you solemnly said your final farewell, and resolution welled up in your chest.
What is your resolution?
[] You would show the Hightowers and the Reach that you were a true Lion of the Rock, and teach them what that meant.
[] You would make your father and your house proud. In making them proud you would seek to make the most advantageous connections.
[] You would become a strong knight to protect your family and the Westerlands. A strong Lion was needed to protect from the other beasts.
Little Tyrion, not content to wait his turn, bolted forward, his stunted legs carrying him swiftly into your waiting arms.
"Jaime, don't go! I'll be good! I swear! Just don't go." he sobbed out.
"You're a good boy, and I love you." you smiled soothingly. " But, I've got to go. It's my duty. Remember what I said about duty?"
He nodded hesitantly, "Lannisters always do their duty, and they always pay their debts."
You smile proudly. Tyrion was the smartest little boy in the Westerlands.
"It'll be alright, next time we see each other I should be a knight and you'll almost be a man grown!"
Tears began to well in his eyes. Wrong tack.
"We'll write to one another, and maybe we can visit sometimes." you said gently, as you held Tyrion in your arms. Tears were freely pouring from his mismatched eyes, and you gently wiped them away.
He looked entirely unconvinced.
"I'll make sure of it." Jaime said. "Even Gerold will visit from King's Landing when he can."
Gerold and Cersei had accompanied father to the capital not a fortnight ago. You already missed Gerold, and some part of you missed Cersei as well. Father's absence was nothing new, but it still gnawed at you.
"Promise?" the Five year old asked in between sniffles.
"My word as a Lannister." you assured him, as you ruffled his blonde hair. That dried his tears, and he gave you one of his ugly lopsided grins, which you happily returned.
After you set Tyrion down, Jason rushed forward and offered his hand with the air of seriousness. The nine year old was doing a better job of holding back his tears, but losing both you and Gerold must have been terribly hard on him. For as long as you could remember, he had tagged along after you. His absence would be keenly felt.
Ignoring the proffered hand, you pulled him into a tight embrace.
Then you brought him to arm's length. "You're my brother, you are a lion of Casterly Rock. You'll do well."
"Take care brother." He said, and you separated with fond farewells.
Aunt Genna hugged you tightly, as she had her own departing son. "I think you will be taller than your father when I see you next," she had said, and you had promised to write and made her promise to watch over Jason and Tyrion in your absence. Tyrion especially would need love and support. Life was hard for a dwarf.
Uncle Kevan had clasped your shoulder and given you a warm smile. "You are every bit Tywin's son," he had said. Highest praise that uncle Kevan could give "I know you will make us all proud."
Your uncle had not yet married, never had children of his own. Perhaps you and your siblings were the closest he would ever know to that. It was not a thought you had considered before, and you made sure to hug him tightly. He ruffled your blonde hair affectionately.
"Perhaps I will see you soon," Uncle Gerion had offered with a smile, "for my journeys often take me as far as Oldtown. Next time we meet, I'll bring you a present from across the Narrow Sea."
You smiled at that. While your youngest uncle was rarely at home you had a fondness for him and his stories of adventure and far-off places. The Rock was always a livelier place when he was home. Perhaps when next you met you would have some of your own to share.
Lastly you had sought out Uncle Tygett. Whatever your feelings for the difficult man he was family and father had always said family meant more than anything.
You had found him deep in conversation with a group of nobles. Ser Burton Crakehall, Lord Quenton Banefort, Lord Harwyn Jast, and Ser Rodry of Redpools. All save the last were a good deal older than you. You squared your shoulders, and took a deep breath as you approached.
The men's conversation cutoff as you drew near.
"Uncle Tygett," you offered hesitatingly, and his lips twitched downward as he regarded you, "I came to wish you farewell before I departed."
"Well, goodbye," was his dismissive response, and a flash of irritation rose in you. He was Castellan of the Rock and a busy man.
There was a reason that despite his martial skills, Tygett remained your least favorite kin. Quick tempered, contrary, mirthless, and uncompromising. The same qualities that made him a fearsome warrior also made him a poor companion. When you were older, when you were Lord of Casterly Rock there would be a reckoning.
Ser Rodry had let out an easy laugh. "Come now, Tygett. You will not see your nephew for a long time indeed. What harm can there be in some courtesy?"
Now Uncle Tygett's glare was on the grinning knight, and his hands were clenched so tightly they were nearly shaking. What was wrong with him?
"Farewell nephew. I pray that your time in Oldtown will be happy," he had said at last through clenched teeth before storming away across the courtyard.
"He can be a bit of a handful," offered the knight to you, "though I suppose you'd know better than I."
You cast a baleful look at your uncle, and then favored the knight with a smile, "Indeed, I do ser."
*********
The hustle and bustle of Lannisport's waterside engulfed you as you and your retinue came to a stop at the docks. Merchants sold their many wares. Sailors rigged their ships. Dockhands loaded and unloaded goods from across the world, from as far away as the Jade Sea.
"There she is, Jaime!" Addam said in an awed tone, as he indicated a massive galleon from atop his own pony. "Mighty fine ship Lord Tywin has gifted you."
"It is at that." you agreed with a grin. Before you sat one of the greatest ships in the entire world. Your father commissioned the Joanna's Pride, especially for you. It dipped four hundred oars, and towered over the other lesser ships in the harbor. The crew, gathered from the best sailors the Westerlands had to offer, stood at the railing awaiting your arrival. It was a match for any ship anywhere.
"A Lion must show his strength. The Hightowers, the Tyrells, and the other houses of the Reach are powerful and rich. But, they aren't lions. When you go to Oldtown, all will know you for a Lannister. And they will know that you are not to be trifled with. They will know that lions are to respected. If given cause, feared as well."
The memory of your Lord Father's fierce words, and the pride evident in his eyes made you sit up straight in your saddle. Many of the smallfolk of the city were staring at you, and you put on your most charming smile and waved in acknowledgement. A small cheer went up from the smallfolk, and your grin split.
Father said the love of the commons was a fickle thing, that it was better to be feared and respected. But, you loved the rush of the cheering crowd all the same.
Soon thereafter, you and your retinue were aboard the ship, and the ship was pulling out of the harbor. As Casterly Rock, your home disappeared over the horizon, you solemnly said your final farewell, and resolution welled up in your chest.
What is your resolution?
[] You would show the Hightowers and the Reach that you were a true Lion of the Rock, and teach them what that meant.
[] You would make your father and your house proud. In making them proud you would seek to make the most advantageous connections.
[] You would become a strong knight to protect your family and the Westerlands. A strong Lion was needed to protect from the other beasts.
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Arbor Red
Mazrick
Shai'tan
- Location
- The Pit of Doom
The mighty ship lurched through the churning sea, bile rose in your throat, and you emptied your stomach for what felt like the thousandth time.
Ser Ilyn let out a bark-like laugh, as he had every time. "Thought you'd at least be empty by now. I remember my first time on the sea. That was back in your grandfather's day and…"
You let out a low rasping groan and drowned out the blabbering knight as you spat out the foul taste in your mouth and wiped the remnants on your coat's sleeve. A knight errant, traveling across the realm in search of maidens to rescue and villains to slay, that had been the plan. But, it looked like any traveling you did in the future would be by land.
"...and that's why I can never return to Blacktyde. You be needing another bucket, my lord?" asked Ser Ilyn, and you nodded your head feebly.
Titus at least had the good grace to stay quiet about how well he was taking to the sea. The Peakes were marcher lords, but their lands bordered the River Mander where they had once squabbled with the Manderlys over spilled blood, broken oaths, and access to the river and its riches. In the end the Manderlys had been driven from the Reach, but you couldn't help but view them as the winners in that particular squabble when looking at how things had gone for Titus' ancestors.
His father had been a ward (or hostage) of the Hightowers, the last Peake left living in Westeros after the rebellion that had killed King Maekar. It was while sailing with Ser Baelor that he had met Lady Marlene Chester, Titus' mother. Titus had been born there on Greenshield and remained for two years before the new Lady Peake became aware of her husband's nightly visits to the brothel and the two departed for Starpike without her.
All that amounted to the simple fact that Titus could run about the deck without misplacing his last meal and you couldn't.
Your one consolation was that Addam was as miserable as you were. He had not left his cabin for anything but meals since his first time adeck claiming illness, though Titus insisted that his heart was broken instead.
"This is a lovely ship it is," continued Ser Ilyn, clearly not appreciating that you were both dying and deep in thought. "Your grandfather had one like it when I was a lad, a real beauty. Named for his mother, the Red Lady it was. Ended up loaning it out to some merchant company and never saw it again. People didn't fear the lion back then, not like now."
You sighed. Ser Ilyn was one of the finest blades in the West and loyal to the point of absurdity, but he had clearly not learned the value of silence from his sworn sword tutors.
"You two, what are you still doing up here?" shouted one of the crewmen, "get below!"
You were happy to comply, but Ser Ilyn seemed discontent with the simple instructions, standing between the two of you with a cautious look to him. "Why? This is the lad's ship after all."
"Look to the skies, fool!" yelled the pockmarked man, and as the rocking of the ship sent another wave of nausea through your stomach, your gaze leapt upwards.
The skies were grey and turning black, and it had begun to rain. A storm.
Panic began to rise inside of you before you forced it down. Being afraid would do you no good and your father would not approve of losing your head. The best thing to do would be to get to safety and let the sailors do their jobs.
"Ser Ilyn," you said in your best commanding voice, "we should go."
At that your sworn sword had nodded and led you down to your cabin. "Don't worry milord," the sailor said as you passed him, "We'll make port and wait the bastard out."
***
"Young Lannister," said your gracious host, "be welcome in the Arbor."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Paxter," you replied as you had been trained, accepting the offered bread and salt. Behind the lord and his main table, a scene of two fleets clashing was depicted in a large stained glass relief. Rain fiercely beat against the windows, and you felt the chill from your wet clothing seeping into your weary bones.
Your tired eyes roved took in the Arbor's great hall. It was not so large or as grand as the Rock's, and the castle itself was a dwarf in comparison to your home. However, few of your bannermen could rival the strong walls, the fine architecture, and rich decor.
"It is our pleasure to welcome a son of Casterly Rock for as long as we are able, and one who will soon be family at that."
You eyed Lady Redwyne at that, remembering the lineages your maester had made your memorize. Lady Malora was Lord Leyton Hightower's eldest daughter and had wed Paxter Redwyne after his first wife (a sister of Mace Tyrell) had died childless. When you wed the Lady Aelinor she would be your aunt by marriage, her children your cousins.
She was not much older than you, nor was her husband for that matter. You flushed slightly as golden brown eyes regarded you with a warm comely smile. Silvery blonde hair framed her face and cascaded down her back. Your cheeks flushed, and the back of your neck felt like it was burning under the midday son.
She was very pretty.
Their children were present as well, a girl at her mother's breast who could not be older than a season and a boy clutching at his mother's hand. He looked, you realized with a slight start, worse than you did. His skin was too pale and his green eyes unfocused as if from sickness. He sniffled and Lady Malora tightened her grip, though her expression did not change. The third boy was closer to Jason or Tyrion in age, too old to be Malora's, and after a moment of thought you placed him as Lord Paxter's brother Desmond.
"It is a fine thing that you were so nearby," offered Lady Malora, and you could not help but smile back as her eyes met yours. You wondered if Aelinor would look like her. "Such a sudden storm, and on such a calm night."
Lord Paxter nodded absently. "It seems your travels have been hard. I'll have you shown to our guest chambers. In the morning we would be honored to have you join us breaking your fast."
"And my companions," you added before you could help yourself, "for they will be hungry as well."
Lord Paxter had paused for a moment before a grin emerged on his face. "Indeed. Let us feast your whole crew, young lion, for it is a fine day the Arbor plays host to our Lord Hand's brave men and his noble son."
***
You rose from bed with a groan, your stomach growling in anguish. Outside, your chamber's window the storm still howled through the pitch black night.
You would need to add islands to the list of places never to visit. The Hightower was on Battle Island. Was it too late to squire for Prince Rhaegar or Lord Steffon Baratheon?
Well, there was no point in sitting here with windchill and the occasional dry heave. It might be improper, but perhaps a walk through the castle would do your head some good.
It took only a minute to dress yourself and then you were off. The Redwynes were an ancient house and a rich one, surely they had some interesting tapestries. Not that you were a huge fan of tapestries, but you'd find a plain stone floor or watching paint dry on a wall interesting, if it kept your mind well off of the ocean.
You are Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin and Joanna, heir to Lann the Clever and a bloodline thousands of year old back into the mist of the Age of Heroes. You can do this. You will do this.
With that comforting thought you marched onward.
"Father Above, I'm lost."
Really, who would have thought hallways could all look so alike? Was this how visitors felt when they tried to navigate the labyrinthine halls of Casterly Rock. The occasional tapestry might have helped if the Redwynes weren't universally red haired and green eyed. How could every member of one family have the same look for generations? You shook your head tiredly as you remembered the blonde hair and green eyes of your own lineage.
Well, there were worse ways to die than alone and forgotten in the depths of a foreign castle. In the maw of a great dragon. Or worse... drowning.
You shivered as a low rhythmic mumbling caught your ear, and you turned toward it. A voice? That was rather anticlimactic. You would probably be in a bit of trouble for wandering, but that was a concern for later.
You made your way toward the voice. It sounded like… singing? But, in a tongue you had never heard, a tongue that pulled at your senses. At your very mind. The tongue was unfamiliar, but the voice, conjured up a heart shaped face, which tugged at your chest.
"Lady Redwyne?" you said as you walked through the door and your heart froze in your chest.
Malora Hightower reclined in a hardwood chair, her sheer purple dressing gown stained red with blood. Her son nursed at her breast, while the dead bound man at her feet left a bloody pool on the floor. Strange chalk markings etched into the stone floor surrounded her, her babe, and the corpse.
You forced your eyes from the floor and to the beautiful blasphemer.
"Hello Jaime. Please come in." her voice was light, as if she were discussing the weather over tea.
Even as your mind screamed at you to run, you felt yourself step forward. Running would do you little good with your allies sleeping and your ship uncrewed. Lions didn't run. If she wanted to kill you, well, she would not find you easy prey. You had not spent countless hours in the training yard to be overcome by a mere woman. No matter how stunning… or mad.
You eased into the room. Your feet slightly apart, knees bent, and callused hands ready for violence.
"A pirate," she remarked coldly, gesturing at the corpse below. "The Ironborn glorify their parasites and prey on those who cannot defend themselves. 'Each man a king on his own ship' they say, 'and a king may take what he desires'."
"You killed him? Why?" your voice shook slightly.
"Why?" she asked, and a hint of something mad shone in her eyes, "because I am desperate. Because my son clings to life by the faintest thread and it is all I can do to hold him close. Look."
And you looked. Harrold Redwyne giggled innocently under your gaze, the color restored to his skin and eyes.
"You're making him stronger," you whispered, "using blood magic to cure his sickness."
"I am. But it will not last. Each time I buy him but a few months. A more potent solution is necessary."
"Like what?" you asked cautiously. Each time. If she moved you would make a grab for the dagger and damn the consequences. The gods would understand.
"You, Jaime. Your blood is the blood of heroes and kings. Of Corlos and Lann and all who followed them. In you is the strength that could save my boy. All I would need is a few drops to save him forever. Please, Jaime, help me."
It was blood magic, everything that you had run from with the witch woman and her damnable prophecies. Everything the septons and septas preached against. And yet… could you leave a child to die when it was within your power to save him? A child that was kin to your betrothed? Standing tall, and wary of any sudden movement, you met her desperate, pleading gaze. Green bore into brown gold. You measured her, measured the babe, measured the dead pirate.
No. Not while you drew breath. Not when you had a choice.
"I'll help him," you promised. Her smile lit up the room, but you still felt cold.
She rose, cradling her son in her arms. She proffered a rune carved knife, but you shook your head slightly. Your hand found the blade you always kept on your person. "Never get caught without a knife," Ser Ilyn's words echoed through your head. "Can never have enough good knives."
Taking the knife in your hand, you ran the cold clean steel across your palm, wincing slightly. Malora took her son out of his swaddling. A small rune carved into his chest still oozed blood, and pressed your palm to it.
A feeling of vertigo overcame you as Lady Redwyne whispered nonsense words under her breath. And then it was over.
"It is done," she said, her eyes wide. "He will live. He will be strong. Thank you. Thank you." She pressed her full rosy lips to your forehead and she laughed. The sound filled you with joy, it was light, airy; it was the sound of pain and fear of two years abandoning her. Washing away like so much filth down the cistern.
"We should get you back to bed, my little lion. It wouldn't do for you to be found at this hour."
For a moment you considered asking what she planned to do with the pirate beginning to stink on her floor. You smothered it. You really didn't want to know, and you made sure she led the way back to your chambers.
After barring the door, you didn't sleep a wink that night.
***
That morning you broke your fast with House Redwyne and all your crew. The commons sat along the great hall's lower tables. The skies were clear and the sea was calm, and you would be departing later that day.
"Is everything alright?" asked Addam, a concerned look on his face. "I'm fine," you assured him, clenching your fist beneath the table. Malora beamed at you, and Lord Paxter seemed a little more brisk this morning. Both her children, now hale and healthy, sat on either side of her. Little Harrold's bright green eyes never left you.
Before you left the hall, Lady Malora pulled you to the side and pressed something into your hand. "A token of my gratitude," she said, and then she leaned forward and whispered in your ear, "A shield to keep you safe from harm. Wear it and no poison shall harm you. It will burn on your hand should you drink such a foul concoction, and you will know your enemies are at work."
You eyed the silver ring warily. There were strange runes worked into the metal, and the ruby set at its center blazed with an inner fire. Meeting her brilliant smiling eyes you slid it onto your finger. If she meant you harm, well, now was hardly the time. It felt warm. Safe.
"Thank you, my lady." you said politely.
Pleased laughter and another kiss on the cheek met your words.
"Unfortunately, my young lion, you won't get drunk with that ring on your finger. Not ever." Malora chuckled lightly. Her ample breast pressed against your hard muscles, and you wondered how you had ever thought her mad. "But, that's for the best I'm sure. You're such a delight. We wouldn't want you muddled by drink."
Hours later, you gazed out at the ocean, Joanna's Pride rocking gently beneath you as Oldtown emerged on the horizon.
Ser Ilyn approached, bucket in hand and mouth wide open, but you waved him off absently, rotating the gemstone around your finger.
You wondered...
[] It's a trinket, nothing more. While you'll wear it out of friendship to Lady Redwyne you have more important things to worry about than magic.
[] You are curious despite yourself. You have shied away from magic in the past, but there is something about the shining ruby which calls to you.
[] You did what you did for the sake of the child, but sorcery cannot be tolerated. If you ever return to the Arbor it will not be as a friend.
Ser Ilyn let out a bark-like laugh, as he had every time. "Thought you'd at least be empty by now. I remember my first time on the sea. That was back in your grandfather's day and…"
You let out a low rasping groan and drowned out the blabbering knight as you spat out the foul taste in your mouth and wiped the remnants on your coat's sleeve. A knight errant, traveling across the realm in search of maidens to rescue and villains to slay, that had been the plan. But, it looked like any traveling you did in the future would be by land.
"...and that's why I can never return to Blacktyde. You be needing another bucket, my lord?" asked Ser Ilyn, and you nodded your head feebly.
Titus at least had the good grace to stay quiet about how well he was taking to the sea. The Peakes were marcher lords, but their lands bordered the River Mander where they had once squabbled with the Manderlys over spilled blood, broken oaths, and access to the river and its riches. In the end the Manderlys had been driven from the Reach, but you couldn't help but view them as the winners in that particular squabble when looking at how things had gone for Titus' ancestors.
His father had been a ward (or hostage) of the Hightowers, the last Peake left living in Westeros after the rebellion that had killed King Maekar. It was while sailing with Ser Baelor that he had met Lady Marlene Chester, Titus' mother. Titus had been born there on Greenshield and remained for two years before the new Lady Peake became aware of her husband's nightly visits to the brothel and the two departed for Starpike without her.
All that amounted to the simple fact that Titus could run about the deck without misplacing his last meal and you couldn't.
Your one consolation was that Addam was as miserable as you were. He had not left his cabin for anything but meals since his first time adeck claiming illness, though Titus insisted that his heart was broken instead.
"This is a lovely ship it is," continued Ser Ilyn, clearly not appreciating that you were both dying and deep in thought. "Your grandfather had one like it when I was a lad, a real beauty. Named for his mother, the Red Lady it was. Ended up loaning it out to some merchant company and never saw it again. People didn't fear the lion back then, not like now."
You sighed. Ser Ilyn was one of the finest blades in the West and loyal to the point of absurdity, but he had clearly not learned the value of silence from his sworn sword tutors.
"You two, what are you still doing up here?" shouted one of the crewmen, "get below!"
You were happy to comply, but Ser Ilyn seemed discontent with the simple instructions, standing between the two of you with a cautious look to him. "Why? This is the lad's ship after all."
"Look to the skies, fool!" yelled the pockmarked man, and as the rocking of the ship sent another wave of nausea through your stomach, your gaze leapt upwards.
The skies were grey and turning black, and it had begun to rain. A storm.
Panic began to rise inside of you before you forced it down. Being afraid would do you no good and your father would not approve of losing your head. The best thing to do would be to get to safety and let the sailors do their jobs.
"Ser Ilyn," you said in your best commanding voice, "we should go."
At that your sworn sword had nodded and led you down to your cabin. "Don't worry milord," the sailor said as you passed him, "We'll make port and wait the bastard out."
***
"Young Lannister," said your gracious host, "be welcome in the Arbor."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Paxter," you replied as you had been trained, accepting the offered bread and salt. Behind the lord and his main table, a scene of two fleets clashing was depicted in a large stained glass relief. Rain fiercely beat against the windows, and you felt the chill from your wet clothing seeping into your weary bones.
Your tired eyes roved took in the Arbor's great hall. It was not so large or as grand as the Rock's, and the castle itself was a dwarf in comparison to your home. However, few of your bannermen could rival the strong walls, the fine architecture, and rich decor.
"It is our pleasure to welcome a son of Casterly Rock for as long as we are able, and one who will soon be family at that."
You eyed Lady Redwyne at that, remembering the lineages your maester had made your memorize. Lady Malora was Lord Leyton Hightower's eldest daughter and had wed Paxter Redwyne after his first wife (a sister of Mace Tyrell) had died childless. When you wed the Lady Aelinor she would be your aunt by marriage, her children your cousins.
She was not much older than you, nor was her husband for that matter. You flushed slightly as golden brown eyes regarded you with a warm comely smile. Silvery blonde hair framed her face and cascaded down her back. Your cheeks flushed, and the back of your neck felt like it was burning under the midday son.
She was very pretty.
Their children were present as well, a girl at her mother's breast who could not be older than a season and a boy clutching at his mother's hand. He looked, you realized with a slight start, worse than you did. His skin was too pale and his green eyes unfocused as if from sickness. He sniffled and Lady Malora tightened her grip, though her expression did not change. The third boy was closer to Jason or Tyrion in age, too old to be Malora's, and after a moment of thought you placed him as Lord Paxter's brother Desmond.
"It is a fine thing that you were so nearby," offered Lady Malora, and you could not help but smile back as her eyes met yours. You wondered if Aelinor would look like her. "Such a sudden storm, and on such a calm night."
Lord Paxter nodded absently. "It seems your travels have been hard. I'll have you shown to our guest chambers. In the morning we would be honored to have you join us breaking your fast."
"And my companions," you added before you could help yourself, "for they will be hungry as well."
Lord Paxter had paused for a moment before a grin emerged on his face. "Indeed. Let us feast your whole crew, young lion, for it is a fine day the Arbor plays host to our Lord Hand's brave men and his noble son."
***
You rose from bed with a groan, your stomach growling in anguish. Outside, your chamber's window the storm still howled through the pitch black night.
You would need to add islands to the list of places never to visit. The Hightower was on Battle Island. Was it too late to squire for Prince Rhaegar or Lord Steffon Baratheon?
Well, there was no point in sitting here with windchill and the occasional dry heave. It might be improper, but perhaps a walk through the castle would do your head some good.
It took only a minute to dress yourself and then you were off. The Redwynes were an ancient house and a rich one, surely they had some interesting tapestries. Not that you were a huge fan of tapestries, but you'd find a plain stone floor or watching paint dry on a wall interesting, if it kept your mind well off of the ocean.
You are Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin and Joanna, heir to Lann the Clever and a bloodline thousands of year old back into the mist of the Age of Heroes. You can do this. You will do this.
With that comforting thought you marched onward.
"Father Above, I'm lost."
Really, who would have thought hallways could all look so alike? Was this how visitors felt when they tried to navigate the labyrinthine halls of Casterly Rock. The occasional tapestry might have helped if the Redwynes weren't universally red haired and green eyed. How could every member of one family have the same look for generations? You shook your head tiredly as you remembered the blonde hair and green eyes of your own lineage.
Well, there were worse ways to die than alone and forgotten in the depths of a foreign castle. In the maw of a great dragon. Or worse... drowning.
You shivered as a low rhythmic mumbling caught your ear, and you turned toward it. A voice? That was rather anticlimactic. You would probably be in a bit of trouble for wandering, but that was a concern for later.
You made your way toward the voice. It sounded like… singing? But, in a tongue you had never heard, a tongue that pulled at your senses. At your very mind. The tongue was unfamiliar, but the voice, conjured up a heart shaped face, which tugged at your chest.
"Lady Redwyne?" you said as you walked through the door and your heart froze in your chest.
Malora Hightower reclined in a hardwood chair, her sheer purple dressing gown stained red with blood. Her son nursed at her breast, while the dead bound man at her feet left a bloody pool on the floor. Strange chalk markings etched into the stone floor surrounded her, her babe, and the corpse.
You forced your eyes from the floor and to the beautiful blasphemer.
"Hello Jaime. Please come in." her voice was light, as if she were discussing the weather over tea.
Even as your mind screamed at you to run, you felt yourself step forward. Running would do you little good with your allies sleeping and your ship uncrewed. Lions didn't run. If she wanted to kill you, well, she would not find you easy prey. You had not spent countless hours in the training yard to be overcome by a mere woman. No matter how stunning… or mad.
You eased into the room. Your feet slightly apart, knees bent, and callused hands ready for violence.
"A pirate," she remarked coldly, gesturing at the corpse below. "The Ironborn glorify their parasites and prey on those who cannot defend themselves. 'Each man a king on his own ship' they say, 'and a king may take what he desires'."
"You killed him? Why?" your voice shook slightly.
"Why?" she asked, and a hint of something mad shone in her eyes, "because I am desperate. Because my son clings to life by the faintest thread and it is all I can do to hold him close. Look."
And you looked. Harrold Redwyne giggled innocently under your gaze, the color restored to his skin and eyes.
"You're making him stronger," you whispered, "using blood magic to cure his sickness."
"I am. But it will not last. Each time I buy him but a few months. A more potent solution is necessary."
"Like what?" you asked cautiously. Each time. If she moved you would make a grab for the dagger and damn the consequences. The gods would understand.
"You, Jaime. Your blood is the blood of heroes and kings. Of Corlos and Lann and all who followed them. In you is the strength that could save my boy. All I would need is a few drops to save him forever. Please, Jaime, help me."
It was blood magic, everything that you had run from with the witch woman and her damnable prophecies. Everything the septons and septas preached against. And yet… could you leave a child to die when it was within your power to save him? A child that was kin to your betrothed? Standing tall, and wary of any sudden movement, you met her desperate, pleading gaze. Green bore into brown gold. You measured her, measured the babe, measured the dead pirate.
No. Not while you drew breath. Not when you had a choice.
"I'll help him," you promised. Her smile lit up the room, but you still felt cold.
She rose, cradling her son in her arms. She proffered a rune carved knife, but you shook your head slightly. Your hand found the blade you always kept on your person. "Never get caught without a knife," Ser Ilyn's words echoed through your head. "Can never have enough good knives."
Taking the knife in your hand, you ran the cold clean steel across your palm, wincing slightly. Malora took her son out of his swaddling. A small rune carved into his chest still oozed blood, and pressed your palm to it.
A feeling of vertigo overcame you as Lady Redwyne whispered nonsense words under her breath. And then it was over.
"It is done," she said, her eyes wide. "He will live. He will be strong. Thank you. Thank you." She pressed her full rosy lips to your forehead and she laughed. The sound filled you with joy, it was light, airy; it was the sound of pain and fear of two years abandoning her. Washing away like so much filth down the cistern.
"We should get you back to bed, my little lion. It wouldn't do for you to be found at this hour."
For a moment you considered asking what she planned to do with the pirate beginning to stink on her floor. You smothered it. You really didn't want to know, and you made sure she led the way back to your chambers.
After barring the door, you didn't sleep a wink that night.
***
That morning you broke your fast with House Redwyne and all your crew. The commons sat along the great hall's lower tables. The skies were clear and the sea was calm, and you would be departing later that day.
"Is everything alright?" asked Addam, a concerned look on his face. "I'm fine," you assured him, clenching your fist beneath the table. Malora beamed at you, and Lord Paxter seemed a little more brisk this morning. Both her children, now hale and healthy, sat on either side of her. Little Harrold's bright green eyes never left you.
Before you left the hall, Lady Malora pulled you to the side and pressed something into your hand. "A token of my gratitude," she said, and then she leaned forward and whispered in your ear, "A shield to keep you safe from harm. Wear it and no poison shall harm you. It will burn on your hand should you drink such a foul concoction, and you will know your enemies are at work."
You eyed the silver ring warily. There were strange runes worked into the metal, and the ruby set at its center blazed with an inner fire. Meeting her brilliant smiling eyes you slid it onto your finger. If she meant you harm, well, now was hardly the time. It felt warm. Safe.
"Thank you, my lady." you said politely.
Pleased laughter and another kiss on the cheek met your words.
"Unfortunately, my young lion, you won't get drunk with that ring on your finger. Not ever." Malora chuckled lightly. Her ample breast pressed against your hard muscles, and you wondered how you had ever thought her mad. "But, that's for the best I'm sure. You're such a delight. We wouldn't want you muddled by drink."
Hours later, you gazed out at the ocean, Joanna's Pride rocking gently beneath you as Oldtown emerged on the horizon.
Ser Ilyn approached, bucket in hand and mouth wide open, but you waved him off absently, rotating the gemstone around your finger.
You wondered...
[] It's a trinket, nothing more. While you'll wear it out of friendship to Lady Redwyne you have more important things to worry about than magic.
[] You are curious despite yourself. You have shied away from magic in the past, but there is something about the shining ruby which calls to you.
[] You did what you did for the sake of the child, but sorcery cannot be tolerated. If you ever return to the Arbor it will not be as a friend.
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