7. A Feast for Seasons - Part II
You are stunned a moment, to lead, to convince such men to a cause best left to a patrol. Yet you a prince, oft thought that rules apply differently to all manner of crowned beasts. Whether it be Stag, Dragon, or Lion.
"I will support you, Lord Janos. Only, from this day, until your last. Will you do your prince a favour?" You mutter in thought, your fingers drawing lines along the table. You only manage to catch the thinning lines of Baelish's lips, his eyes narrow on you.
"Just ask, my prince." Servitude, you just about manage to give him a genuine smile.
He may not be competent or inspire loyalty, but maybe you change things. One does not begin a legend with easy people, that is for certain.
D100 + 15 => 101
"I ask that when this is done, you clean up the city watch. Under orders from the crown, should you do this, I imagine that plenty of smallfolk praise you. They may well call you to be Janos the Loyal, a man who in the face of a looming corruption, roots it out and restores order." You paint the tale like a desire demon, seeing how his fingers twitch and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.
He wants that like no other, good. He may just do it.
"If I may, there are certain men in this hall that would have me ready to ride with them into battle, but on the field. Mandon Moore will carry my wishes, is that suitable Ser?" You call to your loyal shadow who shrugs, he's accepting of his role.
You are just about to be done, the moment does not call for celebrations or a toast but a call to arms. Yet, the master of coin must find his due.
"Prince Tommen," he bells softly, he wasn't a warrior but even those without a sword could be deadly. "There are few rumours about these bandits, you may just wish to be careful. The Kingswood is a friend to many bandits, you may wish to talk with the Spider." He leaves you then, talking in whispers to Janos and you wonder if you imagine Janos' glare.
As you walk, Mandon does not waste time accosting you. "Who will guard you? I don't trust that these organized bands do not have information of their own. Should we manage to rout them, I would see you safer, my prince." He does not mince words in his trust for Janos or Lord Baelish, the two of them did seem like friends of a kind.
"I am not going to join you in this daring battle for the Kingswood but if I ignore issues like my brother and father, am I any lesser or better? The smallfolk do not care for us, that is clear but these people," you wave your hand over the various tables and banners scattering the hall, the most prominent being that of Lannister and Baratheon. "They do. I will not sit idle whilst bandits pillage homes and slaughter our people." Your anger burns softly but into his eyes enough that he backs off, you are certain you've earned some respect.
Perhaps this is the right choice, after all, a city needs a firm hand, and perhaps it must be you.
[ Relations Gained! ]
[ Relationships Gained! ]
...
You are not alone, guards to your left and another to your right. You're certain that Nuncle Jaime and Mandon had some kind of rotation going on, one of them would guard mother and then you, it's as if they expected something or another.
The other guard is a bannerman of the Rykkers, long his reach was in the land of the crown. Renferd wished to be a friend, thus he sent a trusted knight sworn to him. You liked his ambition, though you disliked it came now of all things.
His other son, however, sat and drank with your Nuncle. You had never truly spoken with Tyrion but things change and so must you. A small smile as you approach them, their smiles soaked with ale and their eyes holding more than enough mirth for second sons.
"Ser Duncan! Lord Tyrion, I hope I'm not interrupting!" You stand with your hands in surrender and your own smile in place as soon they both laugh in twine.
"Sit! Young princeling! I was only discussing the finer-tasting wines of our dear kingdom. Your uncle seems to favour the dornish swill, I am more of a fan of Arbor Gold, a wine not too sweet but delicately dances along the tongue." His eyes roll back and Duncan sways pouring himself another cup, best you get to it then.
Sitting, you are only passed a cup by your nuncle who gives you a bright smile of his own. For one reason or another, you sincerely doubt he is as drunk as he says. You decline, waving your hand away and looking at them both...
"Lord Duncan, you came to me earlier in the evening. Your father wished to increase his trade, something with pirates and the stepstones. I do not have such sway to talk with my Kingly father but I do have other issues, to do with the smallfolk and the law of our land." Your voice strains, you manage to stifle the crack and your voice is stormy as it drums into their heads.
You are not sure of what's happened but they seem to sober up, meeting your eyes as Duncan only bows his head. Not a question is needed, not an answer to be given.
"I have learned of a grave injustice that has swept our borders. The Kingswood is under threat again, loyal villages and people are slaughtered, dragged off and taken as if they are meant to be used in Lyseni pleasure houses! I dislike that. My lord, I ask you, as a prince and hopefully, a friend. Will you assist me in rooting out justice?"
You wonder if the rain in your head is the one thing that quietens the music or how Tyrion's jaw has swiftly dropped. Jaime's fingers seem to no longer tap a beat at his sword as finally, Duncan meets your eyes with a daring pleased smile of his own...
D100 + 30 => 117
"You have my sword, Prince Tommen. As well as those of Duskendale, I shall speak with my father. We will get justice for you and our people." You wonder about that look in his eyes, and how he shakes at your words before glancing at Tyrion.
"Lord Tyrion, I must be on my way. Thank you for the wine." He sounds different, sterner as if he is now made of steel. He walks with clunking steps as now both Jaime and Tyrion look at you with awe in their eyes as you redden under their gaze.
Tyrion only manages to down his wine in a gulp before thunking it back down to his table.
[ Relations Changed! ]
[ Relationships Gained! ]
...
You are just about to get up, to hunt Cregan and Dorea, those two are the ones you've yet to speak to in truth. Cregan's words earlier in the night wracked you a while and made you wonder.
"Sit down, my prince." Yet it is your Nuncle who speaks with the barest hints of a lion's growl underneath it all.
You smile before leaning forward, he's only gone and ordered you, if you were a lesser man... well, better said.
"Lord Tyrion." He hides a tense smile with another gulp of wine, you imagine he's rather nervous but it's how he manages to share a teasing smile with Jaime. You only tap a rhythm on the table to watch him for a moment.
"You're nothing like they say you are, the rumours. I should know of rumours after all. Yet, I hear nothing from my princely nephew and all about his darling older brother. The handsome, winner of two tourneys and living up to the legacy of Baratheon. Of the line that descends from Durran Godsgrief..." He's prodding, yet in a moment of anger, you smile. It is a brittle one, easy to pick apart and that your nuncle knows.
He nods, smiling and once more he shares a look with Jaime. "The realm does not look favourably upon men like us, those with.. deformities, Prince." He speaks softly and it's a moment you realise, you share plenty enough with him.
The eyes, mismatched and a nose a tad big, you've not picked apart your features, you've never wished to. He too smiles, a bitter one, filled with all mistreatment and yet there's a light in his eyes.
"From what I've heard since I got here a week ago, you've managed to turn things around. A sworn member of the Kingsguard is your shadow, my brother smiles again, my sister... well, she is tolerable." He laughs a humming note but nonetheless filled with a mocking undertone.
"And just now, you've managed to have a knight and his house pledge to defend your home. My father would love to have a grandson like you, someone who can... change the way things are with but words. Do you train in the sword or are you like your father? With a Warhammer fit to break dragons and grind roses to dust in his midst." He's questioning your character, he's probably been sizing you up from the moment he arrived, to see how true the rumours were. A man who does his research, at least.
You hum. "I look to train with Ser Mandon, sword and shield, I seek to be different. What about you, Lord Tyrion? How is your home and that of your lords? You will soon rule the Westerlands won't you?" There's a bitter look in his eyes, even Jaime only hisses with a pause to look over the hall again.
It is he who looks caught a bit surprised, but you like it. For a moment you get to study him, to see how he reacts. His eyebrow arches and his eyes blink with wetness, perhaps a sore subject, you remember your father's words. To where would you go? Who would have a prince like you?
"There's been recent troubles, patrols missing. Lords report roaming wolves and lion hunting in unison, in packs as it were in the night and there seems to be whispering amongst the smallfolk of a band of murderers. Of course, my father disregards, even from his staunchest supporters. He wishes to focus his sights elsewhere, on securing our house." He murmurs and you have a glimmer, it's the horn of war again, distant and very much... louder than Asha's, as if potent and filled with age far more... calling.
You know it's no mere fluke but you can't manage to handle two things at once, perhaps there was something you could say but it would leave the two suspicious. Yet, you knew it, glancing you were looking to Asha who sat with a plate-armoured axe-wielding giant of a man.
His eyes were hard and his lips set in a thin line as his eyes poured over the feast in shame. He shook his head before Asha catches him again, the two trading laughs and you wonder if you were right to distance yourself but it must be.
"Perhaps you do what I do, Lord Tyrion. Talk to the minor lords and root out justice, you are the son of Tywin Lannister, they may call you an imp but convince them to follow you, to root out justice. We all have our defining moments, let this be yours Nuncle Tyrion." You smile, seeing his smile before he too stands but it's wobbly and he stumbles as you reach out a hand, steadying him...
He doesn't say a word for a while before he has your hand in a soft grip, you two are trading looks with mismatched eyes. There's a moment which passes between you, enjoying it all for what it is worth.
"Thank you, nephew. Your words do me a great honour, and maybe I will. If I am to rule the Westerlands, I will need to know my people." He stumbles away and you watch him, the title imp does him no justice.
Perhaps he will be a better Lord than his namesake, but more than that. You wish him well in the battle to come.
...
The hall is no longer filled with dancing guests or prancing lords wishing to garner favour. It is left to few houses and those talking in secret, you are only right in your approach.
The wolf slinks in his chair, his cup no longer full and his mood a hazy one as if forgetting where he is. Perhaps this is the better of it, you may well catch him.
D100 + 30 => 109
"Lord Cregan, you are well." You sit opposite him and soon you see turmoil in his eyes, a frown marring his face as if he's made a greater blunder than his grandfather and grand-nuncle marching for justice only to die.
He snorts, however, meeting your eyes with a lost one of his own. Unlike others, he seems to be enjoying freedom not given to him before and he was loose-lipped before. Now it seems as if it has all come crashing down.
"No, I am not, my prince. I'm afraid I misspoke earlier when talking about family, I hold ill will to you or yours. I was merely... I was lost in times I would rather forget." He seems like he wishes to talk, but you take hold of him,
You don't say anything yet but see the turmoil in his eyes. How he manages to shirk himself away, the wolf was running from something.
"I have a strained relationship with my brother, Cregan. From the moment I was born, I have been disliked, hated, and vilified for my looks. The deformity of King's Landing, there's a reason that only a few here wish to curry favour. I understand that looks, its anger, its freedom. It plenty of things, but if we are to be... brothers, like my father and yours, we must share things, musn't we?"
You don't know what it is, but your speech moves him. He cracks with a sniffle and you find yourself on the end of a smiling wolf. Its not drunken or lost, he is happy, for a time you have made his trip an effort worthwhile.
He sobers enough, trading looks to his right and left. "I too do not get along with my brother, recently Robb has been different. There were raids on our lands, the lords of Karhold and Last Hearth suffered attacks from Wildlings, and they nearly slaughtered the likes of the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark, however, they were fought back." He speaks as if it's a wound, fresher than any other insult or sting on his person.
He stills a moment, a dark cast over his eyes and it's a moment too real that you must put another hand over his. He's in shock before uttering words.
"Robb rode out three weeks before, he rode with 30 household knights, disregarding father's orders. Leaving Winterfell without an heir, he slaughtered the wildlings but that was not it. Lords Karstark and Umber, my father's principal bannermen. They betrothed their daughters to my brother, as if he were a Targaryen, what is stronger than the bonds of an oath? That of blood, that of a union sewn to the heir." Your face goes slack, and you wonder how this seemed to have happened but you meet his gaze, is that not all?
He is still enough but the story does not end there. You remember what he said, but perhaps it would not be a clash of stags or a dance of dragons but a howling of wolves over the right for Winterfell.
In need of courage, he smiles bitterly and takes a hefty pull from his cup, having filled it as you were lost in your thoughts. This was different, it was not right but such were you with your... blood.
"Robb rode back but not with 30 household guards that he left with, he came with 70 men. All with banners of the Karstarks and Umbers. The North is fractured. Lords clamour to my father now, lords support my brother and they support me, the second son." He whispers it and stands to his feet, you look at him, does he look strong enough to lead men into a war?
You don't question him. No, no. The politics of the North, is it to be your business? If you are to be the man you have been throughout today-
You stamp the thought. It is best not to beget such a thought, you've read how the Black Dragon ended.
"My father sent me away. It is his will as he wields his strength to put rights back. I do not want him replaced or perish the very thought, dead, that is not to be his history. Yet I do not trust my brother, Robb is... Robb is a monster, a plague. He is a true wolf in human skin, and if it comes to certain moments in history, he will be no friend to you, Prince Tommen." He speaks to you softly once more, his fingers dig into his skin and you are not mistaken by the scent of blood in the air.
You watch as he walks away, something is off, not right with this. You know many things, but bandits in the Kingswood, the Westerlands, and now trouble in the North.
You suspect your former God, but if he is up to this mess, then will you right it? A thought wishes to vanquish the mere suggestion, but there is something within you, a more honourable sort.
You once did not bow to a demonic sight that cursed your maker You denied him every right, and a chill runs through you.
Urthemiel wished you to bow, you know it was him. To kneel at his feet, you do not what will come of that.
Yet, the mere thought scares you more.
[ Traits Unlocked! ]
[ Trait Gained! ]
[Relationship Gained!]
....
You are alone at the high table, your mother speaks in whispers with both Mandon and Jaime, the hall is cleared of food and only ale or wine flows. Bannermen are about the hall, dancing with various ladies and you wonder if this is to be it.
Only you are not to afford such peace with your thoughts. It is the scent of tangy oranges and sweet spice that invades your senses, her dark eyes meet yours and soon not much passes as you both smile.
"Princess, I regret that I have not had the time to know you much this feast. I know you may dislike me, for the... unsettling business between your house and my mother's. I have a hope, however..." She arches a brow and you wonder if she means to look a little shy, but there's something...
She's not shy at all, with the lingering sworn sword of Dayne a few feet behind her. A loyal and true house if there was one.
"When a Lannister-" you growl, tutting to her as if she means to mock you but she only deepens her smile. She smells blood.
"Prickly lion, I wonder if his claws are as sharp as mine." She mutters to you. "You offer hope, my father said hope died when my auntie did. What can you offer me, Prince Tommen?" She is bitter, but you wonder, how much of it is truly hers?
You do not give herself another chance, instead, you take her hand and give a glimpse to Dayne who steps forward but is only backed off by the clunking steps of Jaime and Mandon.
D100 + 50 => 149
"My Princess Dorea of Dorne, I have a hope that you see for me, Prince Tommen, son of Cersei and Robert Baratheon. I am not my father, nor am I to be my grandfather. I have hopes, I have wishes, and I have dreams. Just like you, people will look down on you as they have me. We are the future of our lines, are you to be saying your father's words? You are your own woman." You speak it with the same stormy thunder that you had with others and you hear it, the dull ringing in your head and chains snapping in twine as your eyes burn painfully...
You see her gasp, the fear in her eyes and how her jaw drops before you shake your head, trying to will away whatever she has seen. Only it does not happen, she continues to stare.
"I am sorry for Princess Elia, Rhaenys, and Prince Aegon. However, we must be better, we are to be friends. I would have you be a confidant if you will it, and as a prince, you might just see that we make our own destiny."
You watch as she stands to her feet, a blank mask has settled over her and she only manages a nod to the Dayne. He leaves with her and you are not sure if either of them knows what is to be next.
You've done many things tonight and been sure of them, but this is one you truly do not know about...
Perhaps another time, in a few moons perhaps...
....
The Feast is done, you are with companions and they wish to have fun as much as their childhood can provide.
There is the matter of factions with Stark against Stark in the North and how the spare is sent south, you think you've helped Cregan open up. Perhaps you do more...
Tyrion rides home, to the West, in order to restore peace to his home and gain some renown whilst doing so.
Many men of the City Watch hold you ill will now due to your intervention and Janos' new nature of removing corruption. You may wish to keep an eye on them.
Your brother, Durran, invites some friends of his own. From the Stormlands, Vale, and Westerlands. Perhaps to curtail you and your growing... reputation.
The hunt for the Kingswood bandits begins soon, Mandon worries for you and your father seems to... take notice of your new image in court and with the Kingsguard.
Dorea seems to be... playful with you now, calling you a prickly lion whenever she can. Yet, she smiles with you now. You say its rather worth it.
It has been quite a year, you have trained with Mandon and you have grown further, but yet things continue to move and so must you.
...
A/N: Woo. This took a lot out of me, mainly because of the rolls and a lot being revealed, a lot being given and now some traits being unlocked.
Also, if you rolled that well with the Hedge knights, you would have gotten sworn swords to your banner. Now, good luck with the next votes, because things are only going to get more interesting. Especially with that Stark arc... hmm.
May the dice favour you as they did this turn.
...
Traits Unlocked....
Path-Forger Bonus: (Bonuses to Speech and ???)
Of Storm and Blood Bonus: (Bonus to Leadership, ???, and ???)
Commanding Aura: You've convinced men five times your age to take up the sword and dispense justice. You are a leader, and men look to you for command. (Bonuses to leadership when commanding an Army. A bonus to speech when convincing men to follow your banner...)
...
Skills Upgrade
Courtly Intrigue: Unskilled > Skilled (A Bonus of +20 when speaking with people and uncovering motives.)
....
Relationships Gained:
Janos Slynt: N/A > Acquaintance
Cregan Stark: Acquaintance > Friend
Dorea Sand: Acquaintance >>> ???
Ser Duncan Rykker: Acquaintance > Friend
Lord Renferd Rykker: Acquaintance >> Friend
Tyrion Lannister: Acquaintance >>> Friend
Lord Petyr Baelish: N/A > ???
...
Relations Gained:
The City Watch: N/A > Annoyance
House Rykker: Acquaintance > Friendly
House Lannister: Neutral > Acquaintance
....
Plan Vote - Pick 7 - A New Year.
Social
[] - People take notice of their prince, the smallfolk clamour for attention and wish to see you in such glory. Why not pay a visit to some orphanages?
[] - Lord Renferd wishes to talk, plainly, his son seems rather taken with this idea and he wishes to negotiate something about this... Kingswood gambit.
[] - Adventures one and all, your friends wish to explore the red keep! Well, it's more you and Dorea, so why not dive headfirst into adventure
[] - The Prince's Melee, in honour of your nameday, your mother "convinces" father into throwing a grand tourney in your honour! Knights from all corners of the world are ready to participate...
[] - Lord Varys wishes to talk with you, of course, you are ever so with a guard and he has a particular interest in you...
[] - Nuncle Stannis wishes to talk with you as well, there's something in his words about the Velaryon and an old idea in the Stepstones...
[] - The Reach of Roses: Nuncle Renly's squire, Loras wishes to talk. He has a gleam in his eyes, something about this tourney...
[] - The Imp's Roar: Nuncle Tyrion sends word, there's something in his words. He sounds confident about a win or another.
[] - A Silk Stag: Nuncle Renly sends a word, he's an odd sort, yet he is a Lord Paramount. To deny him could be... terrible.
Personal
[] - Mandon continues to drill his work of the sword and shield, he doesn't hold back an inch and maybe you shouldn't either. You've missed the thrill.
[] - You open dialogue with Lord Stark, with what Cregan has said about the North. Will he need help in the future? Houses Stark and Baratheon have been allies even before the rebellion. Why should you not honour that?
[] - Your grandfather, Lord Tywin. The old lion who crushed the Reynes and Tarbecks, Nuncle Tyrion said he might wish for a grandson like you. Maybe you should give it hope and send him a raven.
[] - You know, you have yet to be in your dreams, perhaps you should venture the fade. See what it brings, it cannot be so bad, can it?
[] - You wish to have an adventure, explore the city! See the sights, perhaps it's best you know it well.
you simply defied it, what happens after is truly in the will of the (dice) gods.
