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As An Eagle Flies (A House Arryn Quest)

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Winterborn
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    • Winterborn:

    The Blizzard struck before you could properly leave the Eyrie. "Come on father, we have to leave." You exclaimed as you assisted the old man across the courtyard, as the wind howled, biting at your hands as you led him across to the lift.

    "Leave me, boy, get Rhaella and Rowena and leave!" your father replied with worry. "Go Arstan." He ordered.

    "I'm sorry father, but I cannot follow that order." You replied, looking at the woodswitch. "Listen to me witch, you told me you would same my wife and the children with your magic, so save them!"

    "I help women give birth, not conjure up storms, my lord." The witch replied. "We must bring them all to the interior of the keep, it's the only way we might survive this hell."

    "Do it." Your father replied, and he pushed himself to stand on his own. "Quickly, to the birthing rooms, bring the ladies off the lift, it's too dangerous for them."

    You and the witch ran towards the lift that was now frozen in place, the bull that moved it was lying down, shivering and dying in the blizzard, the guardsmen clearly giving up trying to save the thing. "Rhaella, Rowena, off the lift!" You ordered as the two women screamed in pain. "Fuck me." You whispered.

    Both women were in labor, and the midwives were trying their best to help them through their contractions.

    You looked at the two guards on the lift. "Help them up, we need to get them to the birthing room!"

    "But m'lord!" One of the guardsmen protested.

    "Now dammit!" You shouted.

    You and the men grabbed your wife and your mother in law and took them off of the lift, and not a moment too soon, as the bull finally gave way, causing the lift to start slowly but surely cereen down the mountainside.

    The only way out of the mountain now was by either climbing spikes or to wait for the snow to subside, and chance the goat paths, or through the old caves, and prey to not get lost.

    You and the guards finally met up with your father and the remainder of the retinue that had not left earlier. "To the birthing room now, we need to get fires going, or we may freeze to death." Your father ordered.

    The men and women of the retinue realized that the orders were not voluntarily, and went to their stations, to prepare fires and to get ready for a blizzard, and a potential escape to be thought up of.

    Your father sighed, as he clutched your shoulder. "We'll get through this boy… I promise."

    You did not enjoy the grimace on your father's face.

    It made you feel vulnerable and afraid.
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    You slept and dreamt of the Seven watching you.

    Each aspect stared at you as if you were being judged by them.

    Each one guarded a door… a door you dreaded wanting to open but felt compelled to anyway, as if they were showing you something that needed to be shown

    The mother was first, and you opened the door to see a woman standing before you, overlooking a small crib, and a slumbering child.

    "Hello, Arstan." The woman stated as she turned to face you.

    You did not recognize the woman that was in front of you.

    "Who are you?" You asked.

    The woman smiled, before embracing you. "I have long wanted to see you grow old Arstan… but that was not to be."

    "Mother?" You asked.

    She did not make a sound. "There is a difference between the life I could have given you, versus the one you have. You may not have known familial love, or the love of a mother… but you have gained so much more in its absence."

    You frowned. "But I didn't have anything."

    Your mother let go of you. "Yet you became a good man without that balance a mother could give you. So give your family the balance as a father."

    You closed your eyes and you were back into the room with the Seven, but the candle was out on the door of the mother.

    You found yourself walking towards the Maid.

    Entering the room was like entering another world, a world of happiness and joy.

    It was warm, a summer breeze blew in the air. You were sitting in the Eyrie, with blooming flowers, and grass.

    It was a quiet scene, and you saw yourself sitting next to… a growing godswood sapling?

    "Beautiful isn't it." Your own voice said quietly, as the older you looked at you with a smile. "Even with all the fears in the world, what is greater in facing the darkness than that of the love of your family, and the love they have for you?"

    You nodded. "Alone… Are we alone?" You asked.

    "You are never alone Arstan…" Your future self said cryptically. "Nor without love. For everyone around you is as capable as you are feeling it."

    Your eyes closed and you face the seven again… the Daughter and the mother's candles out.

    "Why are you doing this? Why are you tormenting me!?" You asked.

    "Tormenting you was never our intention Arstan Arryn, Andel, and First Man." You turned to see Steffon… or was it another Baratheon? You could not tell, as with the beard, you could only tell it was the black hair and blue eyes.

    He was dressed in Armor and covered in blood. "Only telling you that, as a humble servant, that pain and joy in equal measures shall befall you, and that there is much to be written before the end of your days." The Warrior replied.

    "Than why are you showing me any of this?" You asked.

    "Because life is not only duty." You turned and saw your father… The Father stares at you with a glare. "It is an experience you must share with others, and learn with them so that in the end, you can leave the world better than when you found it."

    You turned again and saw… an elderly woman with white hair and striking purple eyes. "You have the wisdom to be great.

    You turned again and saw Aerys, and old, bearded, wizened Aerys sitting on the Iron Throne. "And the will to create something that will last longer than you."

    And finally, the stranger spoke, their… face morphing and turning from both men and women equally. "But remember you are mortal… and you must remember you shall die."

    Its finger touched your skull and you screamed awake.
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    Your brother was born first, screaming with a pair of healthy lungs. Rowena's birth was far easier than what you had thought for a woman of her age.

    But he was alive, and Rowena rested.

    You had never seen your father so happy before… with tears in his eyes and the gentleness, he displayed to both of them.

    And it made you realize one thing for sure…

    No matter how you may feel… he would love you always.

    But he would protect his youngest with his life, as you knew you would as well.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Rhaella's birth was… far harder than you believed.

    She screamed for hours and as the cold gripped the entire keep, all you could do was watch and beg the gods not to take her away from you.

    But as the blizzard began to stop, and the wind died down… you saw your little girl.

    Blue eyes like your own, with a tuff of white hair on her head.

    And you knew for the rest of your days… it would be alright.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    What would you like you to name your daughter:
    []Write in

    Reward: you survived the snowstorm, and your brother Alsander Arryn is born.

    Your daughter is born as well, and both mothers will make a full recovery.
     
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    • I was going to go with something else, but I'll be content with Aemma.

    I'm goddamned thrilled with the silver hair.
    Silveraith said:
    The name Alexander is so jarring and out of place, particularly in this setting where all the names are essentially regular names with a twist. maybe it's because the name is so long, or doesn't follow the traditional naming convention of House Arryn.
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    George would probably mangle it down to 'Alsander' or something on that order.

    I'm going to push for our pouring attention onto both children like it was bathwater. We're going to teach both of them how to ride a horse when the time comes.
     
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    Dunno, Aemma sounds a bit too awkward imo. And do remember, we are not Targaryen. We are Arryn, as such we don't have to give our children Valyrian names.

    Tempted to go with Skaði to be honest, for the Norse Goddess of Winter, but I realize it would sound somewhat out of place in Westeros. Tho Freya is a good name and does fit in a bit better.
     
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    I was originally going to suggest something like Rhea, which is Valeman to the core, but hearkening to the Bronze Bitch is probably not the way to go. It was somewhat sad.
     
    I know the midwife was paid through a sample of our blood, which we now know is a damn effective fuel for magical chicanery. Enough for a single reignition of ancient Royce runes, or possibly something to burn out some of the age and disease in her own bones. Or concecrate a freshly carved weirwood heart tree. It gave us our child and, barring outright voodoo or monkey's paw chicanery (still praying on that possibility), it was a deal well made.

    That old woman, the mountain clanswoman named Helen, needs to be sent off with an additional stack of gold dragons and a promise of shelter anywhere our word carries weight. We have 900k gold in our name alone, not counting the Realm's, so be generous. We should even throw a small bone to her clan if asked and overlook the fact that most of them are assholes.

    Always tip the help. Always tip the help.

    Hell. Fuck it. Its not going to win... but I'll go against my normal policy and post an actual vote. Just out of principle.

    [X} Helen
     
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    Modus_Tollens said:
    Admittedly thundersnow is a thing.
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    I know, but I have never actually seen it to really want to mention it or try to describe it.
    Modus_Tollens said:
    I know the midwife was paid through a sample of our blood, which we now know is a damn effective fuel for magical chicanery.
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    I did tell you that going to Summerhall did some magic fuckery that will affect you in some way. Here is just one of the examples of such fuckery.
    Modus_Tollens said:
    Enough for a single reignition of ancient Royce runes, or possibly something to burn out some of the age and disease in her own bones. Or concecrate a freshly carved weirwood heart tree. It gave us our child and, barring outright voodoo or monkey's paw chicanery (still praying on that possibility), it was a deal well made.
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    Well... I'm not going to say anything but... there's going to be some fuckery going on with the kids.

    Maybe the good kind, maybe the Bloodraven kind, and maybe, just maybe the Targaryen kind
     
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