A Song of Weiss and Fire
- Thread starter Krieg Schnee
- Start date
That's much worse, Weiss. Jorah Mormont would end up bringing shame to his family and The North when he resorted to... drastic methods of getting more money to make his Hightower wife happy.
Unless different circumstances changed of course, this would lead to Jorah's exile to Essos where he lived as a sellsword until eventually joining Danaerys Targaryen as a way to return home by putting her on the Iron Throne.
- Location
- Russia
Wait,wut? Where? I didn't noticed
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ned's eyes remind her of Ruby. Some people read into it one way. Others, another.
2-3
In the end, the two men that made it to the finals were Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Jorah Mormont, each defeating other famed knights and high lords. Ser Jorah had defeated Ser Lyle Crakehall and Ser Boros Blount easily, knocking them off of their horses in a single strike. Defeating such famous knights made him a favorite of the smallfolk, yet many still cheered for the Kingslayer. Knighted by the Sword of the Morning himself and known as one of the realm's finest swords, Ser Jaime's popularity in the heart of the Westerlands was only opposed by the legendary knights of old and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Weiss was personally cheering for her kin, despite what thoughts she had about his father. She would have cheered for Cousin Daven, but he had been unhorsed by Ser Boros, breaking about five lances in an impressive display for his first tourney.
The next day, Weiss wore a blue dress with silver lions sewn onto the sleeves and bodice. The joust finals would have the largest audience, with many attending just to catch a glimpse of the legendary Kingslayer. Whoever won would then be able to crown their 'Queen of Love and Beauty'. It was a political statement, used by the victor to declare his love for a lady, or intent to court if they were both single. Prince Rhaegar had named Lyanna Stark his 'Queen of Love and Beauty' over his wife, Elia Martell, and the realm bled for it. Ser Jaime, as a member of the Kingsguard, would likely name one of their cousins should he win, a nice, safe, neutral option unlikely to cause any chaos. Ser Jorah on the other hand…Weiss' eyes drifted towards the Hightower box, which was across from the Lannisters. Ser Jorah would likely name the Hightower woman he was infatuated with, the poor dear.
"How exciting!" Alysanne whispered. She was able to join Weiss in the Lannister Box today, which had the best view of the jousts aside from the Royal Box. Alis would join them before the melee, as she was spending time with her own family that had arrived to compete. Her Father and Uncle had been unhorsed by a Vance knight, nothing too spectacular, but at the same time, there'd been worse performers.
"It is." Weiss agreed. Ser Jaime and Ser Jorah had already broken three lances, and neither seemed ready to give up. Both men remained comfortable and steady upon their horses. Their squires handed them fresh and unbroken lances from a barrel stuffed with them.
Mother was busy with Lady Genna, having become friends during their visits to Casterly Rock. It was a wise and prudent political move on Mother's part, Lady Genna may have been married to a Frey, but she was still Lord Tywin's sister and acted as the Lady of the Rock. Even Lannisters needed allies within the family, and Lady Genna was one of the few with a direct line to Lord Tywin.
The two men charged at each other once more, and lowered their lances. With a loud crack, their lances shattered as they smashed into each other's shield. Neither man fell off of their horse, though they both shook in the aftermath. The crowd cheered as the two knights rode back to their starting positions. Strange, Weiss had heard that the Imp normally attended each of his brother's joust, yet the dwarf was nowhere to be found, just like her uncle. Maybe he was occupied elsewhere? Yeah, given his reputation, he was trying to drown himself in a barrel of wine, most likely.
During her excursion with Ser Robart the day before, a part of Weiss had hoped she would've been able to run into her Uncle to finally be able to get to know him. Family was important, even if they lived on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps she could convince Mother to allow Weiss to send letters to her Uncle Monford and Aurane?
The two knights charged once again, stirring up dirt and dust as they met again with the cracking for their lances, the fifth one. The sound was loud and splinters went flying which made Alysanne flinch and wrapped her arm around Weiss'. Ironic, considering the Lefford was physically the eldest of the two, though that didn't stop Weiss from placing a hand on top of the older girl's.
"Ser Jaime looks like a knight out of the songs." Alysanne said after a few minutes. She wasn't wrong, he reminded her of the Rusted Knight stories from back home. The two knights returned to their squires, most likely frustrated. Each broken lance earned them loud cheers, a testament to their skills.
"He does." Weiss nodded along. The joust, while the main event of every tourney, wasn't something that Weiss was sure she would never be interested in attempting. She was decent with a spear or lance, passable even, but Weiss always felt more comfortable with a sword in her hand.Weiss felt alive now that she was able to practice with a sword out in the open.
The lion great-helm that Ser Jaime wore was impressive, with the metal mane protecting the back of his neck. Weiss was sure the Lannisters would've been lion faunus had they existed back on Remnant. The joust continued for three more rounds, with neither rider ready to give in, which surprised Weiss. She had never expected Ser Jorah to have made this far, and certainly never expected him to last this long against her distant cousin. Their ninth lance left Ser Jorah's shield battered, scratched and dented, and Ser Jaime's shield wasn't any better.
"This'll go on all day until one of you lie dead. I have a melee to watch!" King Robert boomed, standing from his makeshift throne. The angle of the Lannister Box beside his gave Weiss a bad view of their liege, not that she wanted to see him groping another women like a piece of meat. "Kingslayer, can't knock a bear off of his horse? I suppose your lance isn't as good as your sword."
Men and women laughed at their King's bad joke. Asskissers and licklespits would always gravitate towards those in power, Weiss knew that very well. She pressed her lips in a thin line as King Robert ran his hands through his thick beard. It wasn't her place to judge, especially to say anything about the man who could overrule Tywin of all people.
"I declare Lord Jorah Mormont as the victor." King Robert suddenly declared with a grin. The crowd instantly erupted into cheers, from smallfolk to highborn they cheered for the man that had defeated the Kingslayer, who frowned for a few seconds before forming a lazy smile.That had offended him, but Ser Jaime seemed to be the type of person to not allow that to show publicly. Still, he had rode well and had not been knocked into the dust, there was honor in that. It wasn't like he'd lost to Blout, or worse. The Mormont had earned a victory, if only through endurance.
The only ones who did not cheer for Lord Mormont were those in the Lannister box. Ser Stafford, who was seated a few spots towards Weiss' left, had his jaw clenched with fiery eyes. Her other cousins had similar looks. They all knew the truth behind King Robert's decision, which was made to spite Lord Tywin.
"Go on! Choose your queen!" King Robert yelled with a giddy smile. The crowd paused, waiting to see who he would choose. Would this be a repeat of Harrenhal, or not? At least King Robert's wife wasn't present. That would really set the cat among the pigeons.
The announcer, dressed in colorful clothes with a queer hat, approached Lord Jorah, and handed him a crown made out of flowers. The Knight of Bears took it from his hands without another look, and urged his horse to a trot close to the Hightower Box. Weiss' aura enhanced vision gave her a clear view of Lynesse Hightower's cheeks turning a shade of pink. Oh good, it was her, and not Weiss. That would just be weird on so many levels. And probably lead to her trying to stab him, proprietary be damned.
The Mormont gently placed the crown on Lynesse's pretty hair, and she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek to the delight of everyone watching, aside from anyone with the name Lannister. There was only one thought going through Weiss' head as the joust came to an end.
Their marriage was never going to last.
The first melee was a dusty battlefield held on the outskirts of the tourney grounds. With fifty men, warriors from the North and as South as the Reach, it took nearly four hours for it to be done. Weiss had watched intently as her servants carried an umbrella to shield her from the sun. None of the Kingsguard had participated in this contest, likely to keep it fair, and because the joust was generally considered to be the more honorable of the two. Many knights and warriors still competed. Lannister, Frey, Piper, and even a couple Northern houses, with a representative from House Stark fought to bring their families honor and wealth.
It gave Weiss a chance to see how different every kingdom was when it came to their combat styles. Northerners preferred to wear chainmail and brigandine, sporting half-helms instead of full-helms. Weiss spotted more axes and greatswords in their armaments. The Riverlords were similar, though more seemed to be able to afford half-plate and great-helms had become more common.
The men from the Reach, primarily Hightowers, wore full-plate with surcoats with the sigils of their houses. They were the most similar to the Westerlands, the two being the richest of the Seven Kingdoms. The knights of the Vale also came close with their shining armor, though Bronze Yohn Royce wore a shirt that looked like it was made out of copper with runes carved onto it. Weiss wished she could've gotten a better look at them, but the confusion and the chaos of the melee had proved to be too much.
In the end, no one from those Kingdoms had won the melee, with the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr emerging as the victor. His skill at arms were just as the rumors said, with a blade lit with fire that caused many men to flee at the mere sight of the foreigner. He was a good swordsman aside from his one trick, though she had expected him to be leaner and not as portly. Weiss would've liked to have a conversation with him, but with Ser Robart and Alysanne spending every minute of the day with her, having such a private talk would be impossible. Add in her new religious status, and well, it might not go too well for her or him.
Weiss narrowed her eyes as she sat in the chair beside Father's, with Mother to his right. It didn't matter who won the joust or the first melee, none of that would be important in the long run. The melee to choose Weiss' new sworn sword would be the most important event of the tourney, in her mind at least. King Robert and many of the great lords had already ended their day, and were riding back to Casterly Rock for another feast.
A group of hedge knights and sellswords gathered on the melee grounds. Only a few had sigils on shields that were battered and well worn, and their armor varied from light chains to heavier plate. Even a few young lordlings had joined, likely far enough down the line of succession that this gamble was worth their time.
"I'm sure you all know the reward for being the victor." Father said dryly. "My beloved daughter is in need of a new sworn sword, one that is capable of protecting her."
Weiss spotted a few of the hedge knights nodding and whispering amongst themselves. It was a generous offer, especially if many of them didn't have a place to call home. Weiss spotted a lock of white hair, hidden underneath a greathelm that looked too big on its small body. Uncle Aurane was competing? How strange, he was already the squire for Lord Stannis, the King's brother and the Master-of-Ships, a lofty position. Then again, he was a squire, and having a more permanent position, one close to his family, well, she couldn't blame him for trying. Uncle Aurane's surcoat was white, with a turquoise stripe in the middle instead of a seahorse, likely to hide his identity.
"Head to your positions and begin once the horn blows." Father ordered. The group of men scattered, each giving the other distance. Once they were sufficiently spread out, he gave Ser Lary's a wave of the hand. The head of their household guard nodded and lifted the horn to his lips and blew loudly. Weiss sat on the edge of her seat with hard eyes.
Time to see who would be the victor.
The second melee was as chaotic and brutal as the first the day before. It was rather barbaric if Weiss was being honest, these people didn't have access to aura and any injuries they had would be permanent or fatal. Melees might not go out of their way to kill people, but deaths did happen. Worse, injuries suffered in them might not heal properly, leading to more deaths. Without antibiotics, even a small cut could get infected if left untreated, and that assumed they could offer proper treatment. Leeching was still in vogue after all.
By the end of the first hour, only half of the men that had started remained standing, including Uncle Aurane, who had done well against men who were two or three times his age and height. It was a shocking display of violence, but she supposed in hindsight, it made sense. Going from sleeping in a hedge to working for one of the richest families in Westeros? That was an offer nobody would pass up lightly. Aurane's body armor was lighter than most of the other warriors, likely because of his age, to take better advantage of his agility and speed. Weiss was personally hoping for his victory, as it would allow her to finally get closer to family members that weren't Lannisters. And if nothing else, his loyalty would be assured, unlike the rest of this bunch.
Another half-hour passed, and soon, only a dozen men remained standing. The others having been forced to yield, or been beaten unconscious and dragged off of the field by the attendants. A man in full-plate stood the farthest from the rest, having skirted the edges of the main combat, biding his time. Sparks flew as steel met steel and a sellsword had to be dragged off of the field, their chest caved in by a mace. Weiss didn't flinch nor did she allow herself to turn her eyes away. Eventually, only three men stood upon the field, Uncle Aurane, the armored knight, and a Tyroshi sellsword with a purple beard and yellow mustache.
The Tyroshi spun his scimitar in his dominant hand, while he wiped some sweat off his brow with the other. He was a heavyset man, yet even from this distance, she could tell it was muscle and not fat. He carried himself very much like an experienced warrior, his eyes flickering around the arena, watching his opponents carefully. Many had underestimated him from his colorful appearance, only to discover he was a ruthless man, betraying even those he would temporarily ally with in order to gain an advantage over. Weiss felt that he wouldn't be a good bodyguard, simply from the lack of trust on his part.
Uncle Aurane was panting hard, while his eyes also flickered between his opponents. Despite wearing the least armor out of the trio, he was rapidly exhausted, having fought the hardest out of them. It was evident he was running on fumes, and would have to end this fight fast, less he pass out altogether. He picked his opponent, and charged the Tyroshi. A gamble, but probably a wise one, the other knight was in plate, he was likely just as tired as he was.
Their footwork was sloppy, and their swings lacked effort, they were both tired after fighting under the hot sun nearly nonstop. The Tyroshi's scimitar slid past Uncle Aurane's great-helm, causing sparks to fly. Instead of backing off, Uncle Aurane tackled the Tyroshi, using his helmet like a battering ram to the foreigner's stomach. The Tyroshi dropped his blade with a grunt, allowing Uncle Aurane an opening. He slammed his fist in the opening of the Tyroshi's half-helm, smashing his nose and bloodying his face.
The Tyroshi tried grappling with her Uncle, but he remained determined and another punch from his armored gauntlet to the Tyroshi's face sent the foreigner to the ground with a thud. He didn't get up, having been knocked unconscious by the blow.
"Yah!" Uncle yelled, raising a bloodied gauntlet in the air. He celebrated too early, for the armored knight moved quickly and struck him in the back of his great-helm with a longsword's hilt, sending Uncle Aurane into the dirt. He groaned loudly, but didn't get back up.
Father rose from his seat. "It appears we have our winner. What is your name, Good-Ser?" The attendants moved to help the Tyroshi and Uncle Aurane out of the arena at least. Given the Tyroshi was unconscious, that meant dragging him to the side and slinging a bucket of water over his head.
The Knight quietly approached them, as close as he could at the edge of the melee grounds, and quickly went to one knee removing his great-helm that hid his features. The great-helm landed on the ground with a light thud. He had sandy brown hair with dark blue eyes, and was younger than Weiss had expected, not even older than twenty five, his clean shaven face likely didn't help. Her first thought was that he was Jaune, grown up, but she dismissed it. That was crazy, if it was Jaune, he would've recognized her, right? Then again, if he'd arrived before her, he could've just stopped looking for them to avoid the heartbreak.
"Ser Cedric of House Payne, my Lord." Cedric Payne declared. He kept his gaze aimed towards the ground.
"Congratulations, Ser Cedric." Mother said, her voice cold, she was speaking as the Lady of Lannisport, appearances had to be kept up. Hm, so he would be her new sworn sword.
He looked like an idiot.
A/N
And with that, the tourney arc is over!
The next day, Weiss wore a blue dress with silver lions sewn onto the sleeves and bodice. The joust finals would have the largest audience, with many attending just to catch a glimpse of the legendary Kingslayer. Whoever won would then be able to crown their 'Queen of Love and Beauty'. It was a political statement, used by the victor to declare his love for a lady, or intent to court if they were both single. Prince Rhaegar had named Lyanna Stark his 'Queen of Love and Beauty' over his wife, Elia Martell, and the realm bled for it. Ser Jaime, as a member of the Kingsguard, would likely name one of their cousins should he win, a nice, safe, neutral option unlikely to cause any chaos. Ser Jorah on the other hand…Weiss' eyes drifted towards the Hightower box, which was across from the Lannisters. Ser Jorah would likely name the Hightower woman he was infatuated with, the poor dear.
"How exciting!" Alysanne whispered. She was able to join Weiss in the Lannister Box today, which had the best view of the jousts aside from the Royal Box. Alis would join them before the melee, as she was spending time with her own family that had arrived to compete. Her Father and Uncle had been unhorsed by a Vance knight, nothing too spectacular, but at the same time, there'd been worse performers.
"It is." Weiss agreed. Ser Jaime and Ser Jorah had already broken three lances, and neither seemed ready to give up. Both men remained comfortable and steady upon their horses. Their squires handed them fresh and unbroken lances from a barrel stuffed with them.
Mother was busy with Lady Genna, having become friends during their visits to Casterly Rock. It was a wise and prudent political move on Mother's part, Lady Genna may have been married to a Frey, but she was still Lord Tywin's sister and acted as the Lady of the Rock. Even Lannisters needed allies within the family, and Lady Genna was one of the few with a direct line to Lord Tywin.
The two men charged at each other once more, and lowered their lances. With a loud crack, their lances shattered as they smashed into each other's shield. Neither man fell off of their horse, though they both shook in the aftermath. The crowd cheered as the two knights rode back to their starting positions. Strange, Weiss had heard that the Imp normally attended each of his brother's joust, yet the dwarf was nowhere to be found, just like her uncle. Maybe he was occupied elsewhere? Yeah, given his reputation, he was trying to drown himself in a barrel of wine, most likely.
During her excursion with Ser Robart the day before, a part of Weiss had hoped she would've been able to run into her Uncle to finally be able to get to know him. Family was important, even if they lived on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps she could convince Mother to allow Weiss to send letters to her Uncle Monford and Aurane?
The two knights charged once again, stirring up dirt and dust as they met again with the cracking for their lances, the fifth one. The sound was loud and splinters went flying which made Alysanne flinch and wrapped her arm around Weiss'. Ironic, considering the Lefford was physically the eldest of the two, though that didn't stop Weiss from placing a hand on top of the older girl's.
"Ser Jaime looks like a knight out of the songs." Alysanne said after a few minutes. She wasn't wrong, he reminded her of the Rusted Knight stories from back home. The two knights returned to their squires, most likely frustrated. Each broken lance earned them loud cheers, a testament to their skills.
"He does." Weiss nodded along. The joust, while the main event of every tourney, wasn't something that Weiss was sure she would never be interested in attempting. She was decent with a spear or lance, passable even, but Weiss always felt more comfortable with a sword in her hand.Weiss felt alive now that she was able to practice with a sword out in the open.
The lion great-helm that Ser Jaime wore was impressive, with the metal mane protecting the back of his neck. Weiss was sure the Lannisters would've been lion faunus had they existed back on Remnant. The joust continued for three more rounds, with neither rider ready to give in, which surprised Weiss. She had never expected Ser Jorah to have made this far, and certainly never expected him to last this long against her distant cousin. Their ninth lance left Ser Jorah's shield battered, scratched and dented, and Ser Jaime's shield wasn't any better.
"This'll go on all day until one of you lie dead. I have a melee to watch!" King Robert boomed, standing from his makeshift throne. The angle of the Lannister Box beside his gave Weiss a bad view of their liege, not that she wanted to see him groping another women like a piece of meat. "Kingslayer, can't knock a bear off of his horse? I suppose your lance isn't as good as your sword."
Men and women laughed at their King's bad joke. Asskissers and licklespits would always gravitate towards those in power, Weiss knew that very well. She pressed her lips in a thin line as King Robert ran his hands through his thick beard. It wasn't her place to judge, especially to say anything about the man who could overrule Tywin of all people.
"I declare Lord Jorah Mormont as the victor." King Robert suddenly declared with a grin. The crowd instantly erupted into cheers, from smallfolk to highborn they cheered for the man that had defeated the Kingslayer, who frowned for a few seconds before forming a lazy smile.That had offended him, but Ser Jaime seemed to be the type of person to not allow that to show publicly. Still, he had rode well and had not been knocked into the dust, there was honor in that. It wasn't like he'd lost to Blout, or worse. The Mormont had earned a victory, if only through endurance.
The only ones who did not cheer for Lord Mormont were those in the Lannister box. Ser Stafford, who was seated a few spots towards Weiss' left, had his jaw clenched with fiery eyes. Her other cousins had similar looks. They all knew the truth behind King Robert's decision, which was made to spite Lord Tywin.
"Go on! Choose your queen!" King Robert yelled with a giddy smile. The crowd paused, waiting to see who he would choose. Would this be a repeat of Harrenhal, or not? At least King Robert's wife wasn't present. That would really set the cat among the pigeons.
The announcer, dressed in colorful clothes with a queer hat, approached Lord Jorah, and handed him a crown made out of flowers. The Knight of Bears took it from his hands without another look, and urged his horse to a trot close to the Hightower Box. Weiss' aura enhanced vision gave her a clear view of Lynesse Hightower's cheeks turning a shade of pink. Oh good, it was her, and not Weiss. That would just be weird on so many levels. And probably lead to her trying to stab him, proprietary be damned.
The Mormont gently placed the crown on Lynesse's pretty hair, and she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek to the delight of everyone watching, aside from anyone with the name Lannister. There was only one thought going through Weiss' head as the joust came to an end.
Their marriage was never going to last.
The first melee was a dusty battlefield held on the outskirts of the tourney grounds. With fifty men, warriors from the North and as South as the Reach, it took nearly four hours for it to be done. Weiss had watched intently as her servants carried an umbrella to shield her from the sun. None of the Kingsguard had participated in this contest, likely to keep it fair, and because the joust was generally considered to be the more honorable of the two. Many knights and warriors still competed. Lannister, Frey, Piper, and even a couple Northern houses, with a representative from House Stark fought to bring their families honor and wealth.
It gave Weiss a chance to see how different every kingdom was when it came to their combat styles. Northerners preferred to wear chainmail and brigandine, sporting half-helms instead of full-helms. Weiss spotted more axes and greatswords in their armaments. The Riverlords were similar, though more seemed to be able to afford half-plate and great-helms had become more common.
The men from the Reach, primarily Hightowers, wore full-plate with surcoats with the sigils of their houses. They were the most similar to the Westerlands, the two being the richest of the Seven Kingdoms. The knights of the Vale also came close with their shining armor, though Bronze Yohn Royce wore a shirt that looked like it was made out of copper with runes carved onto it. Weiss wished she could've gotten a better look at them, but the confusion and the chaos of the melee had proved to be too much.
In the end, no one from those Kingdoms had won the melee, with the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr emerging as the victor. His skill at arms were just as the rumors said, with a blade lit with fire that caused many men to flee at the mere sight of the foreigner. He was a good swordsman aside from his one trick, though she had expected him to be leaner and not as portly. Weiss would've liked to have a conversation with him, but with Ser Robart and Alysanne spending every minute of the day with her, having such a private talk would be impossible. Add in her new religious status, and well, it might not go too well for her or him.
Weiss narrowed her eyes as she sat in the chair beside Father's, with Mother to his right. It didn't matter who won the joust or the first melee, none of that would be important in the long run. The melee to choose Weiss' new sworn sword would be the most important event of the tourney, in her mind at least. King Robert and many of the great lords had already ended their day, and were riding back to Casterly Rock for another feast.
A group of hedge knights and sellswords gathered on the melee grounds. Only a few had sigils on shields that were battered and well worn, and their armor varied from light chains to heavier plate. Even a few young lordlings had joined, likely far enough down the line of succession that this gamble was worth their time.
"I'm sure you all know the reward for being the victor." Father said dryly. "My beloved daughter is in need of a new sworn sword, one that is capable of protecting her."
Weiss spotted a few of the hedge knights nodding and whispering amongst themselves. It was a generous offer, especially if many of them didn't have a place to call home. Weiss spotted a lock of white hair, hidden underneath a greathelm that looked too big on its small body. Uncle Aurane was competing? How strange, he was already the squire for Lord Stannis, the King's brother and the Master-of-Ships, a lofty position. Then again, he was a squire, and having a more permanent position, one close to his family, well, she couldn't blame him for trying. Uncle Aurane's surcoat was white, with a turquoise stripe in the middle instead of a seahorse, likely to hide his identity.
"Head to your positions and begin once the horn blows." Father ordered. The group of men scattered, each giving the other distance. Once they were sufficiently spread out, he gave Ser Lary's a wave of the hand. The head of their household guard nodded and lifted the horn to his lips and blew loudly. Weiss sat on the edge of her seat with hard eyes.
Time to see who would be the victor.
The second melee was as chaotic and brutal as the first the day before. It was rather barbaric if Weiss was being honest, these people didn't have access to aura and any injuries they had would be permanent or fatal. Melees might not go out of their way to kill people, but deaths did happen. Worse, injuries suffered in them might not heal properly, leading to more deaths. Without antibiotics, even a small cut could get infected if left untreated, and that assumed they could offer proper treatment. Leeching was still in vogue after all.
By the end of the first hour, only half of the men that had started remained standing, including Uncle Aurane, who had done well against men who were two or three times his age and height. It was a shocking display of violence, but she supposed in hindsight, it made sense. Going from sleeping in a hedge to working for one of the richest families in Westeros? That was an offer nobody would pass up lightly. Aurane's body armor was lighter than most of the other warriors, likely because of his age, to take better advantage of his agility and speed. Weiss was personally hoping for his victory, as it would allow her to finally get closer to family members that weren't Lannisters. And if nothing else, his loyalty would be assured, unlike the rest of this bunch.
Another half-hour passed, and soon, only a dozen men remained standing. The others having been forced to yield, or been beaten unconscious and dragged off of the field by the attendants. A man in full-plate stood the farthest from the rest, having skirted the edges of the main combat, biding his time. Sparks flew as steel met steel and a sellsword had to be dragged off of the field, their chest caved in by a mace. Weiss didn't flinch nor did she allow herself to turn her eyes away. Eventually, only three men stood upon the field, Uncle Aurane, the armored knight, and a Tyroshi sellsword with a purple beard and yellow mustache.
The Tyroshi spun his scimitar in his dominant hand, while he wiped some sweat off his brow with the other. He was a heavyset man, yet even from this distance, she could tell it was muscle and not fat. He carried himself very much like an experienced warrior, his eyes flickering around the arena, watching his opponents carefully. Many had underestimated him from his colorful appearance, only to discover he was a ruthless man, betraying even those he would temporarily ally with in order to gain an advantage over. Weiss felt that he wouldn't be a good bodyguard, simply from the lack of trust on his part.
Uncle Aurane was panting hard, while his eyes also flickered between his opponents. Despite wearing the least armor out of the trio, he was rapidly exhausted, having fought the hardest out of them. It was evident he was running on fumes, and would have to end this fight fast, less he pass out altogether. He picked his opponent, and charged the Tyroshi. A gamble, but probably a wise one, the other knight was in plate, he was likely just as tired as he was.
Their footwork was sloppy, and their swings lacked effort, they were both tired after fighting under the hot sun nearly nonstop. The Tyroshi's scimitar slid past Uncle Aurane's great-helm, causing sparks to fly. Instead of backing off, Uncle Aurane tackled the Tyroshi, using his helmet like a battering ram to the foreigner's stomach. The Tyroshi dropped his blade with a grunt, allowing Uncle Aurane an opening. He slammed his fist in the opening of the Tyroshi's half-helm, smashing his nose and bloodying his face.
The Tyroshi tried grappling with her Uncle, but he remained determined and another punch from his armored gauntlet to the Tyroshi's face sent the foreigner to the ground with a thud. He didn't get up, having been knocked unconscious by the blow.
"Yah!" Uncle yelled, raising a bloodied gauntlet in the air. He celebrated too early, for the armored knight moved quickly and struck him in the back of his great-helm with a longsword's hilt, sending Uncle Aurane into the dirt. He groaned loudly, but didn't get back up.
Father rose from his seat. "It appears we have our winner. What is your name, Good-Ser?" The attendants moved to help the Tyroshi and Uncle Aurane out of the arena at least. Given the Tyroshi was unconscious, that meant dragging him to the side and slinging a bucket of water over his head.
The Knight quietly approached them, as close as he could at the edge of the melee grounds, and quickly went to one knee removing his great-helm that hid his features. The great-helm landed on the ground with a light thud. He had sandy brown hair with dark blue eyes, and was younger than Weiss had expected, not even older than twenty five, his clean shaven face likely didn't help. Her first thought was that he was Jaune, grown up, but she dismissed it. That was crazy, if it was Jaune, he would've recognized her, right? Then again, if he'd arrived before her, he could've just stopped looking for them to avoid the heartbreak.
"Ser Cedric of House Payne, my Lord." Cedric Payne declared. He kept his gaze aimed towards the ground.
"Congratulations, Ser Cedric." Mother said, her voice cold, she was speaking as the Lady of Lannisport, appearances had to be kept up. Hm, so he would be her new sworn sword.
He looked like an idiot.
A/N
And with that, the tourney arc is over!
Fried_Chicken
CRISPY, Terrific, EXCELLENT, Yummy, and DELICIOUS.
- Location
- An oven near you today!
Huh, I didn't notice, but this guy also had violent motion sickness doesn't he? Definitely related to Jaune somehow lol; maybe his bastard would be Jaune? Or maybe he's Jaune's counterpart in Westeros lol
Started binge reading this, but sad to say I lost interest at this point. Schenee reveals that she's different to not only her family but a major person of power, and people get Sunnydale syndrome and forget about it quickly as the latest gossip becomes more important. The vapid and vague maybe-plotting of high society is just not holding my interest while the plot kinda develops off-screen and deep in Wiess's mind. Sad, as it was showing a nice slow burn of promise until it just fizzled out.
2-4
Weiss
The months after the tourney passed by slowly, yet they all felt like a blur in the end. As Mother's stomach grew bigger and bigger, Weiss threw herself into her lessons, physical and mental. She spent her mornings in the training yard, defeating squire and the one or two knights that thought to show her the meaning of defeat. All of them failed and Weiss gave them the opportunity to taste the dirt. Her midday meals were spent with Alysanne and Alis, gossiping and complaining about their upcoming afternoon lessons with Septa Loria and Maester Harmune. Those were often the most boring parts of the day, memorizing the sigils of important houses and a brief excerpt of their history, but Weiss did it all in the end. If she could survive Professor Port's class and pass with the best grades out of the first years back at Beacon, then a maester and a septa should be easy enough to handle.
Ser Cedric Payne replaced Ser Robart as Weiss' new shadow. It was ironic really, Lord Tywin had a Payne serving him at one point, and now Weiss had one of her own, even though he was an idiot. Instead of joining the other knights and squires in the training yard, Ser Cedric spent his time sleeping in and flirting with the kitchen maids. Admittedly, she wasn't expecting miracles from the man, but some common sense was to be expected at least. It made her wish Uncle Aurane had won, who had sulked back to Dragonstone with Lord Stannis after his defeat in the melee. Uncle Aurane left without a word, though Weiss did manage to convince Mother and Father to allow her to write a letter to both of her uncles, once a month.
Only Uncle Monford had responded so far, which Weiss appreciated. Lord Stannis had left him in command of a small portion of the Royal Fleet to guard King's Landing during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. He had pretty handwriting, which made Weiss suspect it was his wife that was writing the responses. She would find out once she visited in the future, when Weiss was older.
Weiss pressed her lips together as another of her Mother's blood curdling screams echoed through the halls of the Maester's Tower. She swore it sounded like Mother being murdered, but she knew better. Mother had gone into labor a few hours ago, when her water broke just before they broke their fast. Father had wished for her to spend the day with Alysanne and Alis until more time had passed, yet Weiss wasn't going to abandon her Mother, not again. She'd missed the birth of Whitley, she wasn't going to miss the birth of her new sibling.
Ser Cedric's tanned face turned pale every hour and with every scream it looked like he was slowly turning green. He leaned against the wall besides the comfortable chair that Weiss had a servant bring for her. They were in the hallway, just outside the birthing room door where Father, Mother, Maester Harmune and a few other nurses remained busy. Weiss never would've guessed that her new sworn sword would've had a weak stomach, not with how he slammed his sword hilt onto the back of Uncle Aurane's great-helm. But she supposed it was a matter of perspective. Some men could lose arms and not even whimper, but would faint at the prospect of being given a shot.
"Would you like to enter, Ser Cedric?" Weiss drawled, narrowing her eyes at the taller man who was struggling to hold in his lunch. "I'm sure a knight such as yourself would enjoy such a battlefield."
"Tis no battlefield, my Lady." Ser Cedric answered breathlessly. He was wobbling and had weak knees now.
"A woman's battlefield is in the birthing chamber." At least in this world. Back on Remnant, men and women were equals, not just broodmares to breed. Not even her father was that misogynist. Admittedly, that was mostly due to the fact if it got out, all hell would've broken loose on him. Most of the squires here were starting to learn the hard way, after Weiss would beat them bloody in their spars. Robert Brax in particular kept challenging her, and she swore at least one of his friends had fainted upon seeing her walk towards the sparring yard.
"As you say, m-my Lady." Ser Cedric swallowed the bile in his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed he would have to learn the hard way. Once Mother was recovered from childbirth, Weiss would make sure Ser Cedric joined her in the training yard, and not as an escort..
Another scream escaped from the room and into the rest of the tower. Weiss was worried of course, with such rudimentary medical knowledge, childbirth here was even more dangerous than back on Remnant. If something happened to Mother, Weiss didn't want to be rushing from the other side of the Gold Keep. And then she still had to worry about the gender of her new sibling.
A boy would unravel all of her plans, and Weiss' position as heir to Lannisport would surely be taken away, it was the way of the world. Lord Tywin would likely try to marry her off again as soon as possible should that happen, and there weren't any wars on the horizon for a betrothed to die in. If she was being honest, Weiss wanted a little sister, one that she could treat well to make up for all of the mistakes she had made in the past, in another life. Of course, at the same time, they assumed they lived long enough to be a factor. Infant mortality was a serious issue in this time, after all.
She lost track of time, stuck in her thoughts about the past, present and future. Weiss was pulled from reminiscing about the time Winter had first demonstrated her Semblance in front of her,when the door to the birthing room creaked open, revealing Father's tired face. At that moment, he didn't look like the Lord of Lannisport. His eyes had heavy bags beneath them, and the white silk shirt he wore was drenched in sweat and with a few drops of blood. Father gave her a kind smile as she heard the cries of a baby emanate from behind him.
Weiss' eyes widened slowly as she sat up from her chair, not even bothering to smooth her skirt. Mother's screams and yelps of pain had been replaced by the cries of a baby and what she swore sounded like cooing. Ser Cedric looked away, to avoid ruining their moment. He already had orders to stay outside, orders which he seemed very keen to obey for once.
"You have a sister, Weiss." Father said, his voice tired and aged from the ordeal, even though he had been just a witness. He extended a hand, which she took as Father led her into the room. Maester Harmune was washing his hands with a bucket of warm water, his robes filthy with Mother's birthing blood and other fluids. His female attendants continued working, with one wiping the sweat off of Mother's brow as she held a bundle of the finest silk in her arms. Her normally pale skin was red and drenched in sweat.
"Weiss, Sweetling." Mother said softly, trying to not wake up her new sister. "Come, meet your little sister."
Weiss did so, remaining silent as the baby's cries sounded like an orchestra that infiltrated her ears. Mother smiled as she looked down at the bundle. She unwrapped it slightly, and held the baby at an angle for Weiss to see. Her little sister had the pale skin of the Velayron, but her hair was all Lannister. Light yellow hair decorated her head like the fuzz of a peach from the Reach. Weiss was sure that behind her closed eyelids were the green eyes of her Father. Her sister was going to grow up as a beauty, possibly even more so than Weiss.
"What is her name?" Weiss asked, looking up at her Father who stood beside her, one of his hands on her shoulder.
"Rosamund, Rosamund Lannister." Father answered. Mother nodded slowly, her strength zapped from the ordeal.
"Rosamund." The name easily left Weiss' lips. It caused the ends of her full lips to curl upwards in a smile. She was a big sister once again, and unlike last time, she vowed to do better. History would not repeat itself, not here. Not with her.
It was a pretty name.
Blake
Blake liked Dragonstone. That was a strange and queer opinion to have, especially for a girl her age. Sure, it wasn't her family home back in Kuo Kuana, but it was still an exciting place to grow up in. An actual castle, straight out of her books, but she wasn't living in just any castle. It was Dragonstone, where the mad Targaryeans had launched their campaign of subjugation onto Westeros. The place dripped with history, be it from the Painted Table to the statues of dragons and other mythical creatures that were long extinct. She had grown to love her new home, even after her memories of a past life started to return.
For countless knights after a powerful storm, Blake was incapable of sleeping. Whenever she closed her eyes, flashes, memories and thoughts of a past life returned to her. The pain, the nightmares, they all soon stopped once Mother used her book of spells, and Blake learned to stop fighting the memories, and embraced them instead. She saw the world in a different way after that. Now six name days old, Blake appreciated her hard Father and rather weird Mother more than she had before. Stannis Baratheon and Malora Hightower had nearly the opposite personalities, yet they still somewhat got along much to Blake's surprise. Sure, they weren't Ghira and Kali, but they loved her and each other all the same. Blake still missed them, along with the rest of Team RWBY.
She sat on the ledge of a high tower, her amber eyes staring out towards the sea. Father was due to arrive any day now, after smashing the Greyjoy Fleet at Fair Isle. Yet, no one would sing any songs dedicated to him, or praise him for having done his duty. The singers were already singing the praises of King Robert and Lord Eddard Stark, but they all remained silent about the one who made it all possible. It left a bad taste in Blake's mouth. She had never been a singer, that was Weiss' specialty.
The white haired huntress had an amazing voice, with a vocal range that allowed her to sing opera and heavy rock in a single song. Such music didn't exist here, and Blake missed it greatly, but she still made due with what she had.
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone." Blake sang off tune. The sound of the wind and the seagulls chirping would be her orchestra. "Jenny would dance with her ghost." She was sure the seagulls sang better than her, she must sound like a screeching cat. "The ones she had lost and ones she had found, and the ones who had loved her the most."
Hours passed as Blake skipped her lessons with Maester Cressen, simply finding the best spots to climb on the Stone Drum and the Windwyrm to gaze out at the horizon. The old maester was busy tending to Mother, who had given birth to another child, a daughter named Shireen. Blake was uncertain how to feel about this new development. Back in Remnant, she'd been an only child. Not for lack of trying on her parents' part, but she supposed there was a reason why Kali had joked about always wanting a litter when she'd been told about her Team. Blake continued to ruin her favorite song, when suddenly shapes started to appear on the horizon. Blake focused her vision, using her newly unlocked aura to get a better look.
It was the Fury, Father's flagship, that rushed ahead of the other ships from the Royal Fleet. Soon, Father and kindly Ser Davos would return home. While it was a bit improper of her, she viewed him as an uncle, a bit more so than her biological ones. She didn't like the jokes Uncle Robert and Uncle Renly made about Father, Renly's were the worst though. Robert at least had the balls to do it to his face, but Renly did it couched in smiles, behind his back. And after Father had nearly died for him during the Siege, no less. Father was an honest and blunt man in a world full of liars and ambitious men, Weiss would've liked him. Yang would've hated him with a passion. Her growing smile quickly disappeared at the memories she shared with the beautiful blonde huntress.
She missed Yang.
It took a half-day for the Fury to arrive. With Mother still weak from having just given birth a few days before, and kept in bed by Maester Cressen to avoid any issues, it fell to Blake to greet her father at the dock. She would've volunteered for the duty either way. Honestly, she owed Weiss an apology once she found the girl again. It was very evident she'd been raised fairly informally in Menagerie, for all the jokes about being the Ninja Princess Yang had cracked, she never truly got the duties a upper class family had to endure.
Dale and Allard Seaworth joined her, alongside a handful of Father's household guards, since it would nearly be dark by the time the Fury docked. Thankfully, it did give Blake enough time to bathe and change into a yellow dress with black horizontal stripes. Uncle Garth stood beside her, befitting his position as Castellion of Dragonstone in Father's absence. He was a strong man, and had earned the nickname of Greysteel when he competed in tourneys.
"Gods know I wish I could've gone." Uncle Garth said under his breath. He was kind to her, despite the rumors that the color of Blake's eyes are due to the spells her Mother casted while she was still in the womb. Not that she could blame him on a logical perspective, the Baratheon look was fairly distinctive, and amber eyes certainly stood out from it. If he had gone with Father, the Greysteel likely would've tried preventing Auntie Lynesse from marrying some poor Northern lord. Based on Uncle Garth's and Mother's stories, the weather of Oldtown could never compete with the freezing cold that was the North.
Still, who was Blake to stop true love? She certainly had a few of her own regrets, Blake took too long in telling a certain blonde how she felt. Now she would never have the chance to tell Yang how she truly felt, and was now stuck in a backwards land. Blake bit the inside of her cheek, allowing her blank and neutral face to remain solid just as the Fury docked, with sailors and men-at-arms scurrying about.
Soon, a gangplank descended from the top deck of the Fury, and a large yet familiar man descended. Father looked like he lost a few pounds during the campaign, though it might've been the pitch black leather jerkin he wore that had the royal Baratheon sigil sewn on as the only sign of his rank. Blake had done that work herself, and it made her proud to see Father wear it regardless of how crooked and misshaped it appeared to her eyes. If she still had her ears, she was sure they would've flinched and pressed themselves flat against her skull. She missed them. It was so weird not being able to hear people coming from so far away, but also a relief. People said having enhanced senses was great, right up until they had to hear or see something. Could've been worse though, an old playmate of hers had a snake's tongue. Nothing worse than being able to taste an awful stench as well as smelling it according to them.
Father had barely stepped on solid ground when Blake started to move. She threw herself into his arms in a rather unladylike way. Father grabbed her awkwardly, he wasn't used to being touched still, even after years of raising her.
"I missed you Father." Blake said as he awkwardly returned her hug. She heard Ser Davos stifle a giggle behind her Father. She was fairly certain the sailors around her were also snickering, or at least better at concealing their joy at watching Father be welcomed home.
"I did as well." Father said gruffly, she knew that he meant it. Whatever his faults, he was honest to a T. "Come, I must meet your sister."
Blake gave him a small smile as she looked up at the man who looked like a giant at her height. Was this how Weiss viewed the world? Suddenly things made a bit more sense now. "Okay, Father."
She would do anything to protect her new family.
A/N
Time for the timeskips and interludes
- Location
- Europe
It's also very, very close to "Rose". Now, do we know anyone with that name?
Though TBF, the yellow hair doesn't fit.
That probably should be "nights", no?
"IS THAT A SHORT JOKE!?" - Weiss.
Thorgrim Grudgebearer: "I finally found you... Mood Kindred."
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
So there Is Blake Baratheon.
I wonder if she Will get to follow Stannis when he returns to Kings Landing as Master of Ships.
Because I believe now Blake has a better chance than Weiss to meet the Royal Family...and figure out how f**** the Future Is with Cersei and Joffrey around. Oh and totally despise More uncle Robert
PS: Just has this thought.
No way Robert won't be joking about Stannis only having daughters compared to him and His many sons...most which are bastards...
I wonder if she Will get to follow Stannis when he returns to Kings Landing as Master of Ships.
Because I believe now Blake has a better chance than Weiss to meet the Royal Family...and figure out how f**** the Future Is with Cersei and Joffrey around. Oh and totally despise More uncle Robert
PS: Just has this thought.
No way Robert won't be joking about Stannis only having daughters compared to him and His many sons...most which are bastards...
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There are, at most, only seven passes in a single joust. Because 7 is a holy number and all that. If they tie even after 7 rounds, the King will announce who the winner is, according to him.
nights
2-5
Dramen Lannister
Two years had passed since the birth of Dramen's youngest daughter, Rosamund. She had the classic Lannister hair and eyes, though her nose was all Ceria's. Dramen had no doubt that both of his daughters would grow up and flower into beauties that singers would kill each other to write about. Yet, that still left the Lord of Lannisport in a predicament. Despite his and Ceria's best efforts, Dramen still did not have a son. He was confident that Weiss would learn to be a fine Lady of Lannisport, yet that did little to stop the whispers that circulated amongst the rest of the family, and made his duty as her Father much harder. Any children she had would need to bear the Lannister name, something most Houses would refuse. The Redwyne boy had been a decent match, even if it was done against Dramen's will, and in hindsight, would've solved a few of his problems.
The Redwynes were one of the few houses that could rival the Tyrells, and had connections to countless others. Only a match between a Hightower, Tyrell, Rowan or Tarly could rival such an agreement when it came to the Houses from the Reach. Finding a House that was worth allying to, and was willing to a matrilineal marriage would likely lead to plenty of headaches. Even for the rich prize of Lannisport, Houses had their pride after all. And he couldn't simply look to a lower house, that would really go down poorly with all involved.
In the end, all of Dramen's efforts would be worth it, done for the future of his daughters and that of Lannisport. Dramen would do his best to ensure that Weiss' transition into power would be as unhindered as possible after his death. The walls of the Gold Keeo were barren, aside from the handful of Redcloaks that were out on patrol. With the sun starting to kiss the distant horizon, Dramen walked with his arm intertwined with his oldest daughter. Weiss had grown taller, and was starting to gain a bit of muscle which she hid with her dress.
Dramen paused after a few more steps, standing in between the two towers of the gatehouse and looked out towards the city. After much sweat, blood and coin, the docks had been rebuilt, bigger and better. His Steward had used the opportunity to finish off a few of the more lingering problems that he'd been writing letters about, as well as enacting some planned reforms. For starters, jetties and overhanging houses were banned as well as mandating all new houses must be made out of stone, not wood. That would be his legacy, though it would forever be tarnished by the sack.
"Weiss, what do you see?" Dramen said softly. Even from the hill the Gold Keep sat on, it was impossible to see all of Lannisport. Yet what he could see was impressive. Sure, he could see gaps where there were rebuilding efforts going on, but he could see the Grand Sept, the Docks, the shipyards, the manses, and even the Lighthouse, off in the distance out at sea.
"Lannisport." Weiss answered easily. She was mature for her age, extremely so. At times it was even frightening, yet Ceria's prayers always reassured Dramen that their daughter was truly blessed by the Seven. How else could a child kill four full grown men and remain undefeated in the training yard? It could be worse, he mused.
"What else?" Dramen pressed. He didn't wish for such a heavy duty to be placed upon her head, yet it was their duty. She would have to learn how to deal with the lords of the Westerlands, and Lord Tywin. Thankfully, the Old Lion had remained rather silent after the birth of Princess Myrcella the year before. He was aware their liege lord had eyes and ears everywhere, especially in the training yards. Yet, what was he to do? Lord Tywin was his liege lord.
A few claimed that Weiss was the Kingslayer reborn as a girl, or that she was the reincarnation of Prince Rhaegar with her flowing white hair. All preposterous ideas, Weiss had nearly seen two name days by the time of Prince Rhaegar's death during the Battle of the Trident, and the Kingslayer was still amongst the living. Even if he had to admit, with her hair and her singing voice, the Rhaegar comparisons were a bit more apt then he'd like.
"Buildings, people, horses, the Cub Gate." Weiss started speaking. Her blue eyes took in everything, even the inner walls of Lannisport. She continued listing what she saw until her lips turned dry. Dramen resisted the urge to snicker as she had to finally stop.
"Good." Dramen turned his eyes away from the city and gave his daughter a kind smile. "Lannisport is nothing without its people and buildings. We are not like our cousins who rely on their mines for their wealth." Left unsaid was a suspicion in his mind that sooner or later, those mines would run out. And when that happened, Lannisport needed to be able to stand on its own feet.
"Trade and taxes are our lifeblood." Weiss nodded. She was doing well in her lessons according to Maester Harmune and Septa Loria, though Weiss remained aloof in their sessions. Admittedly, for someone who was aloof, she was still doing well, so maybe it was a sign they needed to step up their efforts?
"It's good that you understand that." Dramen allowed her another minute to observe the city before resuming their walk around the walls. "As the future Lady of Lannisport, it will be your duty to look after our land and family after I'm gone."
They walked through one of the gatehouse towers, not giving the Redcloaks another glance, even as they straightened to attention. Within a few minutes, they were out in the open once again, the wind playing with Dramen's beard and Weiss' long and loose hair. It trailed behind her like a wedding cloak, reminding him he needed to start looking for another suitor. Maybe this one should be from the Stormlands?
"I won't fail you, Father." Weiss said suddenly. She kept her gaze forward, matching Dramen's stride. He was blessed to have such a mature and wise daughter. Unlike all his vassals and fellows, who complained about their daughters being immature, he had a very intelligent young lady in the making. She would make some lucky man very happy indeed.
"I know you won't, dear daughter." Dramen couldn't help but smile. If Weiss had been born a man, she would've been the perfect heir. He would keep such feelings to himself, she didn't need to know about his past longing for a son. "I will take over a few of your lessons, starting in a fortnight." That would give him enough time to figure out any weaknesses Weiss had, and find solutions to snuff them out, for her sake.
"Father?" Weiss finally stopped looking ahead and turned to look up at her Father. He met her gaze with soft eyes. The blue orbs softened as she met his, and he swore there was a little water in her eyes as they looked at one another.
"Soon you shall be a grown lady, flowered and married. You shall be the one to rule Lannisport, not your future husband." Dramen said. His line would continue through Weiss and Rosamund, even if his youngest would bear husbands name once she married."It's about time I begin to teach you how to rule."
Weiss smiled and tilted her head slightly. "Thank you, Father!"
Dramen was sure that Weiss would grow up to be a lion that would lead the sheep. They may have been a simple cadet branch of the Lannisters, but the blood of Lann the Clever still ran through their veins. If Weiss was as skilled at ruling as she was with a blade, then Lannisport's future was secure.
What a fine daughter he had.
Daenerys
Myr smelled different than Braavos, or at least, her memories of it. Braavos smelled of sweetwater, fish and perfume, a not altogether unpleasant mixture of odors. Daenerys still remembered the smell of the lemon tree that had sat beneath the window of her room, in the house with the red door. Dany still didn't know why they had to leave. She remembered watching poor Ser Willem take his last breath, and the next thing she knew, she was out on the street with her older brother with just a couple of bags hastily packed.
Myr smelled like garlic and food seasoning, it was rather pleasant, if a bit smelly at times. The roof over their heads certainly helped a lot, with a rich Myrish merchant providing them with a manse for their use. Their Host was an old man, with olive skin, but he was a kind man. He even gifted Daenerys a new dress, a lovely red and black dress that looked like what a Queen would wear! Viserys didn't like it though, so she was forced into an older dress that she had managed to bring from Braavos. A faded blue dress, it wasn't as well fitting and showed some patchwork, but it still looked nice on her. Viserys was throwing a feast tonight, with men invited from somewhere called the Golden Company. Dany didn't know much, aside from what her brother ranted whenever they slept in the same bed. Admittedly, that didn't mean much, he ranted about almost everything in bed.
Collared servants scurried around the manse as Dany wandered the grounds, her hair hidden by a scarf, the Kind Host called it a wimple from Tyrosh. She didn't see the reason to hide the color of her hair, her lilac eyes would reveal who she was, as the younger sister to King Viserys Targaryen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. However, the Kind Host and Viserys agreed for once that she needed to be kept a secret at all cost. Her maid was a beautiful woman whose tongue had been removed, yet she still cared for Dany. It felt nice, having an older lady care for her.
"Daenerys." Dany whipped her head around to find the familiar voice behind her. She had wandered into the gardens, admiring the flowers which were rare in Braavos. It was a city of stone, not of greenery, with the exception of a scattered tree or garden. It was Viserys, wearing clothes in the Westerosi style, his finest set. He had the image of a three headed dragon sewn onto the right breast of the doublet signifying his royalty.
"Brother-" Viserys silenced her by roughly grabbing her chin. He pressed his thumb and middle finger into her cheeks, pressing them together in her mouth. Dany's eyes widened slowly, but did not resist his urges.
"You will remain silent during the feast." Viserys said with a low snarl. "Do not embarrass me, do you understand? I need to win over the Golden Company if we are to return home."
Home was the house with the pretty red door in Braavos, yet King's Landing felt familiar through Viserys stories. He always spoke of Mother, Father, and Rhaegar before they went to bed. And Dragonstone, their ancestral home. Ser Willem said that Daenerys was born in the middle of a storm, just before the Usurper's dog brother seized them to deliver them to his kinslaying king.
Viserys' dark eyes stared into Dany's, without remorse or pity in the orbs. "You do not want to awaken the dragon, do you?"
Dany frantically nodded her head as best as she could. Her brother's fingers were rough, but at least he hadn't pinched her this time. Viserys was kind and took care of her, he was just stressed about returning home. Once they were home, he'd calm down, for sure, wouldn't he?
Viserys lips pressed together to form a thin smile on his face that was both comforting, and foreign at once. She didn't like it. "Good girl."
Dany didn't want to awaken the dragon.
The men of the Golden Company certainly lived up to their name. The three men that her brother personally hosted wore golden rings on their arms, in addition to ornate clothes and other ornaments. Viserys sat across from a man that they called Myles Toyne, the Blackheart. He was ugly, with a crooked jaw, the biggest nose Dany had ever seen, and had jug shaped ears. Dany sat beside her brother, across from a rather portly man, with gray eyes that almost seemed familiar, and a big round head. Brother had said that his name was Harry Strickland, and served as a paymaster for the fabled company. The man that sat on the other side of the Blackheart lived up to their Captain-General's name, with skin as dark as the night, and he was addressed Balaq. He had hair as white as Viserys, and wore a cape of colorful feathers which looked magnificent. All three wore shiny golden armor, and golden rings that decorated their fingers and their arms.
"I can promise riches, lordships even, should the Golden Company pledge their loyalty and seat me on the Iron Throne." Viserys said, a collared servant filling his goblet with fine wine that was red and dark as blood. The three men of the Golden Company only laughed as they continued to eat their fill of the fine food offered to them.
"Who would rise?" The Blackheart said, his tone light despite his gravelly voice. He had hung a sword over the back of the chair he sat on. The handle was beautiful and ornately crafted, yet well-worn, with a golden pommel and crossguard. The handle being a deep blue that reminded her of the sea. It must've been Valyrian steel, yet the blade itself was hidden by the sheath.
"The Reach and Dorne, they faithfully answered my Father's command." Viserys said confidently. "And many lords of the Riverlands and the Stormlands would join."
Harry Strickland giggled, pulling a lamb leg out of his mouth, the bone missing most of the meat on it, and tossed it aside. It made Daenerys' stomach gurgle, Viserys said that she wasn't allowed to eat until the end of dinner. "The Reach and Dorne bent the knee to King Robert. I even heard that the Usurper's brother married a Hightower."
"You would make a fine spymaster, Harry." Balaq the Summer Islander added with an accented chuckle. However, even from Dany's limited lessons, she could tell this was a problem. The Reach and Dorne had been what she thought would be their biggest supporters, and yet, they had bent the knee. The Crownlands were under the direct rule of the Usurper, which meant there was no large group of supporters to rally. Her brother, though, didn't seem to care, launching into a rant about how the smallfolk kept Dragon banners in their attics, and would stream to their side once they landed in Westeros.
Dany paid no mind to their conversation, as it began devolving into another of her brother's rants, and kept her gaze focused on the hilt of the sword. For some reason, she was drawn to it, like she'd seen it in a dream somewhere. Could it be Dark Sister or Blackfyre? Viserys loved to speak about the Valyrian swords that had belonged to their House before they were lost to the sands of time. She seemed to have gained Blackheart's attention after staring a bit too hard at the blade.
"Never seen a sword such as this, girl?" The Blackheart said with a dark smirk decorating his face. He lifted a goblet of Tyroshi wine to his thick lips, taking a sip before continuing. "It belonged to Bittersteel himself, and is passed from Captain-General to Captain-General as a symbol of who would lead the company."
Dany sensed Viserys glaring daggers at her, yet she remained firm and nodded once. It was logical, people had different traditions, and passing a sword from Head to heir was familiar to her.
"I'd show off the blade, but it's rude to show steel during a feast." The Blackheart reached behind him and grabbed the sheathed bastard sword, showing it to her and the rest of the table. The sheath looked like it had been a cream color, once upon a time, but was long faded and battered and stained in many places. Once Viserys' anger passed, she would ask him for stories about this Bittersteel.
"Will you wield it and seat me on the Iron Throne?" Viserys pressed, interrupting Blackheart's next sentence. The three men shared knowing grins and chuckles until Blackheart shrugged. A worrying sign, to say the least.
"I shall sleep on such a generous offer, your Grace." His voice was low and sarcastic, which left a bad taste in Daenerys' mouth. They continued to feast with laughter and cheers, with Dany finally getting a chance to eat something once they had gone. Her brother was irate with her once they returned to bed, shouting at her and how she had disrespected his efforts to win back their Home.
The officers of the Golden Company left without a word on the morrow, and a fortnight later, the Kind Host threw Dany and Viserys out onto the streets. No explanation was given, but in her mind, Viserys had grown more unstable after the dinner, and one night, deep in his cups, had revealed that he had sold their mother's crown in order to pay for the dinner and to get them to even show up to the dinner in the first place.
She cried herself to sleep that night.
A/N
Chapters won't be out as fast as they used to be, to prevent burnout. I've never written this much in a short period of time. Wouldn't have been able to make it this far without Night_Stalker and the support of you dear readers!
We hope it was an enjoyable update.
- Location
- Europe
Are we sure it's not just Blackfyre?
At any rate, whether from ASoIaF or RWBY, Dany might actually have seen it in a dream - she's a Targaryen, after all (the Targaryen ATM, really), and they sometimes have prophetic dreams.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
If that sword Is Crocea Mors, It means Jaune arrived to this world way earlier. But from His description of how It passed, It would entail that Jaune Is long dead
These are not mutually exclusive.
So it definitely looks like Crocea Mors. If it wasn't relevant to the story, I doubt the author would've spent time describing it so carefully. So either Dany thinking it looks familiar is the point, or Crocea Mors actually being there is the point, or both.
2-6
Weiss
Four years had passed since the birth of Weiss' sister. Time passed by quickly, too quickly in Weiss' humble opinion. With a full schedule, the days passed by in the blink of an eye. Between Father's lessons, sparring in the training yard, spending time with Rosamund, and her classes with Maester Harmune and Septa Loria, Weiss had little time for herself. At the very least she understood why Winter and Willow had said Weiss had grown up so fast, it felt weird seeing Rosamund spring up like a weed from the outside. Cedric must've felt the same, raising his cousin Podrick Payne when he wasn't busy following her around. Apparently Pod's Father had died during the Siege of Pyke in the final assault.
And for some reason Pod's mother abandoned him just outside of the Gold Keep's drawbridge, leaving the young boy in the care of Cedric. To her surprise, Cedric actually tried to raise him, and wasn't doing too bad a job. Sure, he could be doing better, but the man was trying at least. He'd found a wet nurse, and was leaving Pod with her during his daily duties. Weiss still remembered the day he went before her Father, and begged him to allow Pod to stay. Father agreed of course, he was a reasonable man, and it would help cement his loyalty.
Her eyes briefly drifted towards her sworn knight, who rode on the horse beside her smaller pony. They were riding through the streets of Lannisport, and were approaching the Cub Gate, the innermost of the walls. Despite the reconstruction, she could see some signs of the previous battle, even years later. Pieces of stone chipped out of place, cracked stones, unusual stains no amount of scrubbing had removed.
"Don't be so conspicuous." Weiss said softly, trotting past a group of merchants that were pulling a cart. She wore a simple gray dress with a dark cloak, and had the hood cover her signature white hair. It did little to diminish her beauty of course, nothing could hide the color of her eyes here, contacts and sunglasses didn't exist yet. Still, a hood was better than nothing, and allowed her to walk around relatively unrecognized as long as her hair was hidden.
"Says my Lady with Valyrian hair." Cedric snarked at her as he tried to keep his head rotating around. He had become bolder during his service, sarcastic too. It annoyed Weiss occasionally, since he was an idiot that cruised through life carelessly, but it was entertaining whenever she was bored. Especially after she had whipped him a bit more into shape in the sparring ring, much to the relief and disappointment of some of the squires. Cedric still looked for ways to avoid training.
"At least I have hair, you're starting to bald." Weiss retorted, keeping her eyes aimed forward as they passed through the Cub Gate under the careful watch of the Redcloaks. Ser Jacelyn Bywater had risen quickly, and had already gained the position as Captain of the Cub Gate as a reward for his hard work and dedication. Her subtle patronage had only greased the wheels a tad, to his relief. The other knights Weiss had recruited had also gotten promoted, though not as quickly and as high ranking.
"I'm not balding!" Cedric's free hand immediately went to his hairline. Even if he was twice Weiss' age, he was still a young man and always concerned with his appearance. Especially around the maids and ladies in Lannisport. She was well aware of his fondness for red haired whores.
As the future Lady of Lannisport, building her own intelligence network was important, even if people didn't take her seriously due to her age and gender. Still, coin and the Lannister name worked wonders when she dealt with the kitchen maids and merchants that supplied goods to the Gold Keep.
"If you say so, Ser." Weiss shrugged. They passed the Cub Gate without any issues, the guards not giving her or her escort a second look as they trotted by. That was good, Weiss didn't need Father receiving word that she had snuck out of the Gold Keep, again. It would be hours before her absence became noticeable, since Mother was busy caring for Rosamund and Father was dealing with merchants. Alysanne and Alis were pretending to spend time with her, sewing in her room.
That gave Weiss enough time to visit the Street of Gold where all of Lannisport's best smiths had their shops. A previous visit had scouted out her destination, and dropped off her order specifications, along with the down payment. It was expensive, but her order would be worth it in the long run. The goldsmiths of Lannisport were among the finest in the world, and the blacksmiths were just as skilled. And for a project of such import, she had gone to one of the best and most discreet in the city.
Cedric gave her a sharp glare when he thought she wasn't looking. Weiss ignored him as they continued the rest of their ride in silence. As they drew closer to their destination, the smell of charcoal and heated metal began filling her nose. The cobblestones on the road started to turn black, years of ash having stained them, no matter how much cleaning one performed. The clanging of iron striking iron filled the air, like the beat of a song that Weiss would write in her room late at night.
After several more minutes of riding and allowing her eyes to wander, the duo arrived at the smithy where Weiss had placed an order several months before. It was hidden in an alleyway, away from the goldsmiths and the glamorous smithies that produced arms and goods for the gentry of Lannisport.
"It should be finished by now." Weiss muttered under her breath as they paused at the mouth of the alleyway. She didn't wait for Cedric to dismount, swinging her feet over to one side and jumping from her horse. It felt good, a proper lady would have waited for Cedric to assist her in dismounting a horse.
"Secure our horses, I'll be back, it won't take long." She said over her shoulder, pulling her cloak even closer.
"Are you sure? I should go with you." Cedric dismounted, nearly stumbling as he did so. It was natural for him to be worried, if even a single strand of her hair was hurt, Father would likely have his head, as well as a few other body parts he was rather attached to.
"I don't need you knocking over another set of armor." Weiss narrowed her eyes, which made her sworn sword back off. Cedric grabbed the reins of her horse in defeat, tying them to a nearby hitching post, along with his own steed's.
She turned and continued down the alleyway without another word. The smoke would've been blinding if her aura didn't protect her eyes, allowing her to somewhat see through the billowing fumes. A minute later, Weiss arrived at the smithy she had chosen to commission from. A full set of armor decorated the interior of the open space, an elaborate suit of armor, obviously intended as a demonstration of the smith's skills. An old man with a forked white beard was busy battering away at a glowing hot piece of metal with a hammer as she entered.
"Master Paenatis." Weiss said loudly, to gain the smith's attention. Master Paenatis paused mid strike, and turned his head to give her a look. Upon seeing his client, he waved over an smooth faced young boy to take over the forge while he walked towards her, kissing her proffered hand as he did so
"Ah, Lady Schnee I see. Here for your order?" Master Paenatis said with a slight accent, he was from the Free Cities. She hadn't told him her true identity, though Schnee wasn't a lie, per say. Weiss paid him to fulfill his commission and to keep quiet, not to know her true identity. Besides, she was a Schnee, technically.
"Yes." Weiss nodded. He was a fine smith, one that was pushed aside due to being a poor foreigner, and having to compete with a city full of blacksmiths and other metalworkers didn't help matters. She'd heard of him by sheer chance, with one of her
"I shall bring it out once I am finished." Master Paenatis turned back to the glowing metal, the apprentice silently stepping back away as his Master resumed his efforts. "I must strike while the iron is hot."
"Very well." Weiss pressed her lips together as he struck the metal once more.
She enjoyed watching the sparks fly.
Master Paenatis took another ten minutes before he was finally satisfied with the simple sword he was working on. Weiss didn't mind the wait, she was familiar with the process of creating weapons, she did create Myrtenaster with her bare hands, albeit with some help from the finest weaponsmiths on Remnant.
"My Lady." Master Paenatis carried an ornate box, likely carved by one of his goldsmith associates. Weiss had spared no expense in commissioning this piece of art masquerading as a weapon. He placed it on a wooden table one of his attendants brought out. "One of my finest works."
With a small and delicate hand, Weiss opened the ornate box. It was hard not to smile once she caught a glimpse of the object inside. The entire blade was a silver-gray, with the only colors being the six red ruby gems that were embedded just above the hilt, in the ricasso. Four metal prongs guarded the gems, and were decorated with runes, which also decorated the blade itself. It was a crude copy of Myrtenaster, and inferior in every way, but it was still beautiful by the standards of this world. This rapier would serve Weiss well. Hopefully she would never need to use it outside of the sparring ring.
In the hands of a normal person or any knight it would be useless against armored foes, a mace or hammer would be more useful, but in the hands of a fully trained huntress with her aura unlocked, it would easily be able to slice through plate like a hot knife through butter. Besides, even with Aura, she didn't have the body or mindset for using a mace or hammer. That was more of Nora's thing.
"Indeed." Weiss agreed, closing the box. Having a weapon that was made just for her felt nice, even if it wasn't Myrtenaster. She grabbed a hidden pouch filled with golden dragons from her dress, and held it out for the Smith. "Thank you for your service, Master Paenatis."
"Thank you for your patronage, my Lady Schnee." Master Paenatis said, taking the pouch and sliding it into the pocket of his dirty brown apron. Apparently he could tell by the weight it was the appropriate amount of coin. Or he was too trusting. "A fine blade such as this deserves a name, don't you think?"
"It does." Weiss nodded slowly, placing a hand on the box decorated with gold holding her new weapon. "I have already thought of one, during my ride here." It was harder than she thought it would be.
Master Paenatis raised an eyebrow as Weiss met his gaze with a small smirk. Myrtenaster could never be replaced, not fully, but that didn't mean she was going to mistreat this weapon. She'd heard far too many lectures from Ruby about proper weaponcare for that to happen, as well as talks about choosing a name that fit. Weiss was sure her eyes must've looked like they were shining.
Kalimeris had a nice ring to it.
Blake
Dragonstone reeked of death and disease. It was an old, familiar smell, yet not one that Blake had seen since she left Remnant and arrived in this strange world. She was reminded once again, that medieval times were rife with disease and death for a reason. They had no knowledge of sanitation or how to treat an infection. Greyscale had come to her home, brought by a doll that Father had bought for Shireen, from a traveling merchant that was on the way to King's Landing. That merchant and his entire crew had been purged, by order of her Father to prevent the spread of the disease, likely preventing a pandemic. Cold, but given the horror stories she had heard from Maester Cressen, she could begrudgingly accept it.
Blake stared out from the balcony that connected to her room. The Royal Fleet was blockading Blackwater Bay, ensuring no ships could dock at Dragonstone, or reach King's Landing should other merchants be carrying the disease. The only vessels allowed to leave port were a few fishing vessels hoisting an obvious red flag, and those were just to keep the populace alive and not starving to death.
The pit in Blake's stomach had only grown since Shireen caught the disease. Dragonstone was filled with maesters and healers from the Free Cities, yet none of them seemed effective in combating the disease. Not for lack of trying though, even if their methods were a bit questionable, even by this level of technology's standards. Not even the maesters had known leeches could get Greyscale, apparently. Father, Mother, and Blake were fine, yet Shireen, her baby sister had caught the disease. Blake wished they could swap spots, her aura would've been able to fight off the disease without too much issue. As it was, she was relegated to carrying messages from Shireen to her parents, and vice versa. Of course, a darker thought occurred to her that she was a carrier, but she dismissed it.There was no evidence of it, and she'd been interacting with non infected people who remained that way, so odds are it was just her aura protecting her.
"I miss modern medicine." Blake mumbled under her breath when she froze. If her aura was able to combat the disease, maybe it would work for Shireen! At the very least, it wasn't like it could hurt Shireen's chances at survival. Blake couldn't sleep most nights, worried to find her sister's passing once she woke up.
Yeah, granting her sister the gift of aura was a good idea.
Shireen's nursery was deep within the Stone Drum, partially for security, and partially to keep her away from any possible uninfected people. Thankfully, that meant Blake could enter her sister's room without being spotted by a guard or servant. Even if she had to carefully path her way around the guards and wait for the middle of the night, when everyone, including Shireen, was asleep, it would be worth it.
With a gentle push, Blake opened the door to Shireen's nursery, the oiled hinges opening without a sound. She quickly entered and closed the door behind her, this should be a quick and easy thing, and she didn't need to be interrupted. The dark haired girl quickly made her way to the small bed where her sister slept.
Blake flinched softly upon seeing the scales that were growing on the left side of her face. The greyscale was progressing slowly, likely due to the efforts of Maester Cressen and the healers, but Shireen's skin was still flaking and cracking. Unlike some of the faunus back home, these scales didn't look natural, reminding her very much of actual stone.
"Hi." Blake whispered, her heart tugging. She had been taught to unlock Aura during her time with the White Fang, and was decent with its use, even if she wasn't at Ren's or Weiss' level. Still, it would help her. She would survive, and grow up. She'd always wanted a blood sister, and she wasn't about to lose this one. Not without a fight.
Shireen stirred, but didn't wake. Taking Shireen's hand into her own, Blake closed her amber eyes and pulled upon the power of her own Aura. She had done this before, on Ilia and some of her former friends. It was easy. All she had to do was awaken the fire of her soul, and she could fight off this infection.
"For it is in deliverance that we achieve change. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in truth and unbound by the past, I release your soul and by my shoulder, protect thee." Blake chanted low enough that only Shireen would've been able to hear. She opened her eyes, ready to see the color of Shireen's aura. Would it be blue, like her Baratheon eyes? Or would another color decorate her soul?
Blake's eyes slowly widened in shock as she held her sister's hand. Shireen laid there as if nothing had happened, Blake couldn't even sense her Aura.
"What?" Blake's head drooped slightly. That should have worked! What went wrong? She gently held Shireen's hand even tighter, and repeated the chant once more. This time, she carefully made sure she was doing every step correctly, like she'd been taught to do back home.
Nothing.
Blake narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She knew she did it correctly. What was going on here? The former faunus was about to try a third time, when she sensed someone approaching. Gently placing her sister's hand on the bed, Blake's light steps quickly had her hiding behind an elaborate pair of Myrish curtains; they would likely be burned once the greyscale had been driven off the island. Thankfully, they were long enough to hide even her slipper clad feet.
Shireen's door creaked open, and along came the sound of several footsteps from down the hall and voices as well.
"None of the healers have been able to cure her." Blake heard Father's voice. "From the Citadel and as far as Volantis, they speak false and arrogant words. 'This potion shall rid the Young Lady of the gray death', 'A proper leeching will rid the blood of the disease', they've all failed me, they failed her."
"I need my books, the ones you left behind in Oldtown." Mother's voice joined him. "I'll be able to find a spell that will purge the disease."
Blake heard heavy footsteps draw closer and held her breath. They were likely near Shireen's bed. She was a bit worried, her parents were talking about spells? They were going to cast magic?
"Ser Davos is already on the fastest dromond in my fleet." Father said, his voice hard, yet filled with concern. "I fear he may not return in time."
There was little that could strike fear into Father's soul. He was a hard man despite his age, surviving for almost a year while being starved by the Tyrells, and smashing the Ironborn off of Fair Isle years ago. Blake could understand his fear, she didn't want to lose Shireen either.
"The Lord of Light is capable of performing miracles." A third, unfamiliar voice joined them, making Blake nearly jump in her slippers, as she had slipped by without being heard. It was a woman, with a sultry and foreign accent. For a second, Blake swore that it was Cinder, with the way she used to speak back at Beacon, when she had fooled everyone. She shook those thoughts out of her head. The Lord of Light? Was that some deity from the Free Cities?
"Nothing more than a mummer's farce." Mother scoffed at the stranger's voice. "I managed to snuff out your flames with a simple spell."
"A fire can never truly die, even a small spark can ignite a forest." The Mysterious Woman countered. She sounded confident, self assured. Yet there was something more in those words, an air of conviction. This was not some mindless septon spouting doctrine, no, she truly believed in it.
"I care not for the Seven, nor your Lord of Light." Father grumbled, breaking up the verbal sparing before it could escalate into a catfight. "You claim you can cure my daughter. Do it."
She heard the shuffling of more footsteps and the room was silent for a few seconds before the Woman spoke again. Her voice still retaining the confidence it had before, but with a hint of satisfaction now present. "As you command, my Prince."
Blake didn't like the sound of that.
A/N
Sorry this was very late. A storm hit Texas and I was left without power for a few days, and the internet for a little longer.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
So the Butterlfy Effect Is going strong.
I have found no mention of Melissandre arriving at Dragonstone by the time Shireen got Greyscales, so what drived her to arrive earlier....
And now Is confirmed that you can't unlook Aura in Westeros. Which BTW Is very fair since even a weak goon-level Aura would be capable of taking some beating from normal humans before breaking
And the RWBY cast are already BS enough on their own
Finally, Weiss
I remember you using Myrtenaster both right and wrong. Is a Rapier, a thrusting sword mean to strike exposed and small parts. Not slashing
While I don't doubt you can use Kalimeris as a Longsword and cut plate, would be way better for Aura expense to use it like a proper Rapier
Edit: Nothing RWBY show would say Aura makes you inmune or more resistant to desease, so Blake should be wrong. Then again, despite being so relevant Aura never got an actual proper description. Just More RWBY Lore the creators probably didn't thought about
I have found no mention of Melissandre arriving at Dragonstone by the time Shireen got Greyscales, so what drived her to arrive earlier....
And now Is confirmed that you can't unlook Aura in Westeros. Which BTW Is very fair since even a weak goon-level Aura would be capable of taking some beating from normal humans before breaking
And the RWBY cast are already BS enough on their own
Finally, Weiss
I remember you using Myrtenaster both right and wrong. Is a Rapier, a thrusting sword mean to strike exposed and small parts. Not slashing
While I don't doubt you can use Kalimeris as a Longsword and cut plate, would be way better for Aura expense to use it like a proper Rapier
Edit: Nothing RWBY show would say Aura makes you inmune or more resistant to desease, so Blake should be wrong. Then again, despite being so relevant Aura never got an actual proper description. Just More RWBY Lore the creators probably didn't thought about
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Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Pretty much. It's fanon, but there's logic behind it.
And I pushed hard for this bit about Blake trying to activate Aura to answer the thread's question on here and SB if Weiss can do it.
Aura users are a endangered species in Westeros.
Akasha
The Only Truth
- Location
- 「̛̛́́ ͏̨҉̕͏ ͏̶̴」
Definitely for the best. It'll stay secret only for so long before it inevitably gets out, and if they could give it to others, there's no way in hell their respective families or factions would not take advantage. Tywin, for example, would absolutely lock Weiss up and just have her churn out Aura-enhanced thugs under the threat of killing someone she cares about. Hell, he'd probably have her enhance Clegane and his rape squad, just to build up his rep even more. Stannis would also do the same, though he'd hide behind "it's your duty to your family to ensure I win". Not to mention any other RWBY characters that may show up and up with some group. And then we're stuck reading about a princess locked up in a tower while the canon Westeros crew makes Westeros even shittier with superpowers.
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I see the Hightower wife of Stannis the Mannis really has magic and I can imagine her reaction to Blake having "magic" of her own aka Aura and Semblance.
Although she already doesn't like Melisandre and hopefully she ain't letting the old hag try burn Shireen alive for a sacrifice with Stannis not letting it happen compared to himself in the show.