Voting closed
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Voting closed, -[X] Aelora Won
The Heir of the Dragon: A Rhaenyra Targaryen Quest
- Thread starter Teen Spirit
- Start date
Turn 7: Results II
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Turn 7: Results II
"I can see you are quite... passionate on this subject, my Queen." Your eyes focused on your feet as you muttered your reply.
"It is simply the truth as I have always been taught," Johanna replied evenly.
"Anyways. Not to change the subject," you said as you desperately tried to change the subject. "Those names you mentioned. Is there any one of the three you're particularly attached to?"
"Honestly? No." Her mood brightened as you returned to the topic of baby names. "Viserys suggested Helaena first, something about hearing it in a dream, but I don't know. Daena and Aelora both sound equally good if you ask me."
"Personally, I like Aelora," you offered. "It's unique, even for Targaryens, and I think it flows well."
You're not even sure where they even got Aelora from in the first place. You'd never heard of a Targaryen with such a name before. Maybe your father saw it in some ancient text, an old name from the Freehold or something. But that was fine. It being an unknown meant there was no bad history or expectations attached to it.
It wasn't Visenya by any means, but few names could come close to that. And you were beyond glad that Johanna wasn't considering Visenya. As much as the thought of having your own children terrified you, you had long ago placed Visenya on your short list of possible names for any daughter you had. You did not want to have to share it.
"It is pretty unique, in a good way," Johanna agreed thoughtfully as she considered. "No offense, but your family has too many Aegons and Rhaenys' in it's tree if you ask me."
"I'm sure my cousin would take issue with that," you said playfully, "but it's a fair point."
There had only been one King Aegon yet, but that was only by cirumstance. King Aenys' eldest son was Aegon the Uncrowned and even the old king's eldest son had been named Aegon though the babe did not survive long. Your family was often not the most original with names.
"Hmm, I think I might have to put Aelora at the top of my list," Johanna declared as she rubbed her belly. "Thank you, princess. I'm sure your sister will appreciate your efforts."
You winced internally at that last bit, but more than anything you were just glad to have steered this conversation into a less horrifically uncomfortable topic.
"I should take my leave." You took the first chance you had to exit this conversation gracefully with both hands. "There is so much I have to do to make ready for my royal progress."
"Of course, of course," Johanna waved you away. "You have very important duties to attend to."
You turned around and began to make your exit, your shoulders relaxing at last. Withstanding the insults, not only to your cousin but indirectly to you and Alicent as well, had been horrible to endure, but at least it was over.
"A word of advice, before you go," Johanna's words halted you in your tracks.
You turned towards her, dreading what would come next.
"When you're in the Vale, be careful," Johanna's voice was sympathic and sincere. "I worry what that cousin of yours will try to do since your father won't be there. Rhea Royce as well. Something about that woman makes me uncomfortable. Women like that can't be trusted, not even around family or Princesses."
Thankfully you were able to hide the spike of rage that flaired as she yet again insulted you cousin, adding one of the few people you could even come close to calling a friend as well to the mix. You wanted to scream and rip her a new one, but you had already decided against that before and at this point saying anything would just prolong this encounter.
"I will keep that in mind, thank you," you said in the most neutral tone you could muster before turning around and finally leaving.
+1 Stress
Relationship with Johanna Westerling Improved
You were a bit worried that Gwayne would refuse your challenge. As much as you've improved as a warrior over the past years, you were painfully aware that you had largely only gained respect for it from your sworn shield and perhaps a few of the other kingsguards. Gwayne had no duty to you, sworn no oaths, made no promises. All you had between you was your oaths to protect Alicent and a general understanding that he was not going to go around talking about her affection for you.
But Ser Tarly was clear that you needed to spar with new people in order to help improve your training. Not that he let up on your regular training to give you any chance to find anyone new to spar with. While the progress would soon give you the chance to spar with many knights across the realm, for now, your options were limited. You doubted there were any left in the Kingsguard who would agree to fight with you. A duel with one of the Red Keep's guards would do little to showcase your own strength and skills, and at the moment King's Landing was rather lacking in knights of any worth. Your father making it clear he never wanted to see another tourney again meant there was often little cause for a knight to come to King's Landing.
Thankfully, Gwayne agreed to duel you on the condition he could observe you train for a week before hand. So, for a week, you had two Hightowers watching you spar. The first day you saw Gwayne's expression visibly tense as you knocked down Ser Tarly. By now you had more muscles than most adult men, but it seemed Ser Gwayne didn't quite appreciate what that meant until you knocked over a seasoned knight with relative ease.
When the day of the duel arrived, you could see Alicent watching. Much closer than she was normally, a nervous expression clearly written across her face. Gwayne was dressed in simple green armor. He insisted the two of you fight in training armor so as not to scuff up his personal arms.
You couldn't help but notice that Gwayne was well kept as he walked onto the training yard. Any hints of a beard were trimmed away, his hair pulled back and well groomed, and the distinct scent of flowers wafted across your nose as he approached. He was a pretty boy, that was for sure. Thankfully his defined, if a tad small, muscles and proper stance made it clear that this man had earned his knighthood. Though you could tell Ser Tarly remained unimpressed.
"I do hope his grace doesn't take issue if you come away bruised," Gwayne said with an easy charm. "I would hate to lose my head over a simple spar."
"My father has grown used to my bruises. You have little to worry about, Ser," you assured him.
"Very good," he smiled.
While Gwayne had a week to study your fighting style, along with your strengthens and weaknesses, he was a complete mystery to you. Perhaps that was why the resulting duel went as long as it did.
To his credit, you could tell Ser Gwayne was taking you seriously from the very beginning, unlike Ser Darklyn had. For the opening part of the fight he did his best to turn your blade away before you could use your strength against him, while also trying to goad you into over extending yourself. It worked a few times, allowing him to get in a few hits in. But as time wore on it quickly became clear that while Gwayne was a good fighter, though not on your level of skill, his tactics against you required a good deal of stamina. Stamina that he did not have.
Soon enough, you knocked the sword out of Gwayne's hand and your own dulled practice sword pointed at him. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Alicent, frozen halfway between clapping for you and looking dismayed at her brother's defeat.
"You fought well," you said as you lowered your sword and extended your hand.
"You fought better," Gwayne replied as he clasped your hand. "Good show. You certainly live up to what I've heard."
"Glad to hear it. No hard feelings?" You asked cautiously. From your uncle you knew well enough how easily some men's pride could be wounded.
"On the contrary," Gwayne smiled between hard breaths. "I deeply enjoyed that."
"Really?" you raised an eyebrow.
"Been a fair bit since I've fought someone who was both so skilled and fully of energy," he said eagerly. "Fighting you was a challenge. One I hope I can experience again."
Well, that was interesting. He enjoyed this fight quite a bit it seemed, even with his defeat.
"Anytime," you replied, returning his smile.
Your Relationship with Gwayne Hightower Has Improved. New Status: Friendly
Your Prowess has Improved
Finding a chance to actually talk with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard proved harder than you expected. The man was almost always on duty and clearly did not wish to be disturbed with idle chatter while doing so. You definitely couldn't talk with him during Small Council meetings and he had a habit of making himself scarce during his few hours off-duty.
One day you were able to get lucky. You caught him changing shifts as he was guarding your father and you walked by just as he turned over duty of watching your father's room to Ser Thorne.
"Ser Westerling, would you mind sparing a moment to talk with me?" You asked as you approached.
"For you princess, of course," the old grizzled man nodded with a warm smile, motioning for you to follow him as you walked.
"It has been too long since we last spoke at length, Ser Harrold," you remarked as the two of you made your way through the Red Keep.
"Agreed," he nodded. "Becoming Lord Commander is the greatest honor I could imagine, but I must admit I do regret what it has taken away from me."
"I share your regrets," you said with a hint of sadness.
Ser Tarly was great, but he was a trainer and teacher more than a protector. Which was fine. Great even. It was what you needed right now, but it wasn't the same as having a protector like Ser Harrold Westerling. He had also known you since you were a little girl. He had been by your side since Syrax was barely big enough to ride. Things between you and Tarly would never been the same as what you once had with the Lord Commander.
"I must commend you on your recent fights with Ser Darklyn and Ser Hightower," Harrold remarked as the two of you passed by a small group of maids.
"Thank you," you nodded. "It means a lot to hear that from you."
The Lord Commander sighed wearily.
"I must confess, princess, that I don't think I will ever be able to fully approve of what you're doing," he remarked "And I think Ser Tarly is being reckless in your training, but you have proven your skills and shown yourself to be to a fine warrior."
You felt both pride and frustration from his words. It had always been a struggle to get anyone in your life to accept your interest in the sword, but you had hoped after all this time you would get more than begrudging acceptance. Still. Even this slight handed compliments filled you with pride.
"I thank you again," you smiled. "I must confess I have long wished to study and practice under your tutelage."
Ser Westerling chuckled at your words. There was no malice or mockery in it, simply a good hearted laugh from an old man.
"I am honored," he replied tactfully, "but I must confess I do not share Ser Raylon's bravery for such things. The man risks his head on a spike every time the two of you duel."
"I think my father is more reasonable than that," you rebutted.
"Your father is very reasonable," he agreed. "But the most reasonable man in the Seven Kingdom can lose his wits when it comes to their children."
"I suppose it would be hard to argue against that," you said casually as the two of you rounded a corner.
"So, I imagine you wish to ask about my cousin, the Queen," Harrold said with a hint of a smirk.
"That obvious am I?" you asked.
Ser Westerling nodded.
"Well," you found yourself caught off guard, "I was hoping to catch up with you as well."
"It pleases me to hear that," the kingsguard nodded.
You sighed in resignation, you didn't like questioning someone like Ser Westerling, someone you considered a friend, for info. But you knew the Queen could be your rival or a friend, though the latter seemed nearly impossible in the long term after your last conversation. Either way, the better you understood her the better.
"I don't know the Queen as well as I should," you said diplomatically, "and I figured since you were cousins, you might have some insight."
"I have not been to the Crag in decades," Ser Westerling explained. "In truth, before she arrived, I probably knew less about my cousin then you did."
You looked down, unable to hide your disappointment.
"But," he went on, "I have spoken a great deal with her father and have seen much of how she interacts with your father and others. She reminds me much of her cats in a way."
"Oh?" you raised an eyebrow. "I hope you do not mean Lancel. That beast took a swipe at me when I first entered the Queen's chambers."
That produced another chuckle from the aging knight.
"It is quite the bold animal from what I've seen," he agreed. "No. I mean more she is usually a relatively calm and easy-going woman most of the time, but if she's provoked or she feels her family is threatened, that woman can be fiercer than any lion in the Westerlands."
You had not seen the Queen angry before. Annoyed? Yes. Full of strange hate for women who held interest she considered obscene? That too. But not angry. You were curious when the Lord Commander had seen her in such a state, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask.
"The two of you are more alike then you realize," he went on. "She may lack your raw physical ability, but she is plenty strong in her own way."
That left your stomach twisting within as worry bubbled to the surface. You didn't want to be dealing with a strong, fierce queen. A woman like that would fight for a son's claim.
"I do not wish to make an enemy of Queen Johanna," you said softly.
"It pleases me to hear you say that, Princess," he nodded, his expression turning dour. "And I am certain the Queen will be pleased to hear that as well. I believe she shares that sentiment."
"I am glad," you nod, "I hope nothing changes that."
Ser Harrold stopped and looked at you, your intent clear to him.
"The King was quite clear on the matter. Your are first in succession, above any other children he may sire," Harrold explained. "I sworn to uphold his decree. And I will. Just as I will uphold it should he change his mind."
"I am not asking you to choose me over your family," you clarified.
"Good, because I cannot," Harrold said bluntly, "just as I cannot choose to side with my family against you."
"I am sorry I don't understand," you replied, starring at your former sworn shield in confusion.
"You are not the only one who has thought of what may happen if the Queen gives you a half-brother," the knight said with clear grief. "I pray to the Seven that peace will prevail in such a matter and none of my kin are swayed to foolish ideas."
"I am sure they won't be," you replied, barely able to hide your own doubts. "Have they said anything on the matter?"
The knight starred at you, hard this time.
"Do not ask me to betray the Queen's confidence, Princess," he warned.
"I apologize," you said quickly, "I did not mean to put you in such an awkward position."
The older man sighed, shaking his head.
"You need not apologize," he replied. "And do not worry. The Queen does not plot against you."
Well that was comforting, somewhat at least. You were grateful no one was around to hear what you were speaking of.
"I pray that holds true once her child is born," he added. "If not, I pray that I do not outlive your father, lest the gods ask me to choose between my vows to the Kingsguard and my vows as a knight."
The two of you starred at each other for the longest time, unspoken fear and worry clinging to both of you.
"I think we need not worry," you finally broke the silence. "You said yourself that the queen does not wish to be my enemy, and she prays for a girl."
The King had decreed you were heir above all others. No child of Johanna's would change that, even if they were a boy. The Westerlings would surely understand that. They weren't as powerful as the Sea Snake after all and they had no dragons to support their cause.
There would be trouble enough from Daemon when you took the throne. You didn't need another claimant adding to it.
"Well then, let's hope the gods answer her prayers," Ser Harrold replied with an uneasy smile.
Your Relationship with Harrold Westerling Has Improved.
Writing poetry was hard, you discovered. Writing in general had never been a weak point for you. You could write for most of the day if needs must, and as you discovered, there was a lot you could write about when it came to Alicent. The way she watched you when you trained, those days you spent in the Godswoods with your head on her lap, how her hair seemed to flow in a light breeze, how the two of you used to gossip together every time there was a major event in King's Landing, her deep brown eyes and the way you could just find yourself lost in them when she was talking. Eyes that in the right light could catch your breath in your throat and leave your hear hammering. Eyes that-
If nothing else this whole effort had helped you realize there was a great deal about Alicent that you liked and appreciated. Finding things to write about wasn't the problem. The problem was you couldn't figure out how write about Alicent in a way that sounded more elegant than a foolish little girl babbling about how much she liked another girl. With a blade you were an artist. With a quill you felt like a brutish thug.
You had read as many bits of love poetry as you could find, though, in truth, finding any good examples proved tricky. There were a few books on the subject, but these were written by boring old Maesters and Septons and thus contained some of the most dry and chaste bits of writing you had ever endured, largely about brave and heroic knights pining after some unnamed princess or Queen they knew they could never have. There were some good ones among the dreck but they were a rare sight indeed.
Thankfully, you had become quite familiar with the Red Keep's libraries at this point and knew where to look for things others might wish to keep secret. By chance, you stumbled across a collection of poems hidden within a book on the history of house Darklyn, each poem tucked between different pages. The poems shared no single author and ranged from the works of men even less skilled with their words than you to chaste but well written words signed by various knights, to some of the most disgustingly lustful words you had ever seen put to parchment, written by men who wisely dared not share their name. All of the poems dedicated to Saera Targaryen, one of the Old King's most infamous children.
You assumed this must have been Saera's private collection, forgotten about when she escaped to the east. Your exiled great-aunt clearly loved the attention these poems represented.
Some of the poems were actually quite good and spoke of love and longing in a way you could relate to, could understand and learn from. You practiced off of these poems for a few weeks and eventually you were able to figure out how to put your own feelings of love, loss and longing into words that weren't obvious copies of the examples you learned from. It was still an agonizing experience to actually write them, but by the end you had something that was fairly decent. In your opinion at least, and thankfully you weren't too prone to self doubt.
The problem was that these poems were about you. Your feelings. Your pining. Your desires. Anytime you tried to write directly about Alicent, you found yourself stumbling through your sentences. The poems you had weren't aggressive, they wouldn't scare Alicent off, but they felt selfish for a lack of a better word. Alicent was your lady, so shouldn't your poems be about her? How her beauty compels you and such?
You could wait, work on your writing some more while you were traveling, and present Alicent with something better a few months from now.
During your readings you did encounter a rare bit of interesting information. A Maester with a name who even ancient Valyria would have found absurd noted that those with experince in music had a better ear for poetry than those without. Perhaps you could wait until you had learned music? It would take a while, but surely Alicent would be impressed by a poem accompanied by the sounds of you playing on the harp?
Then again, maybe Alicent would like a poem about your feelings. After all, she spent so long pining after you from afar, filled with such deep emotions for you it downright tormented her at times. It might do your relationship well if she knew just how deep your feelings ran. You could produce better poems in time, but mayhaps Alicent deserved to know your true, honest feelings sooner rather than later.
Are You Ready to Read Alicent Your First Poems?
[] Yes, serenade her with poems of your love and affection.
[] No, focus on improving your Alicent-focused poems first
[] No, wait until you're skilled enough with some kind of music.
[] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
QM's Note: I have no idea why, but the Poetry section unironically gave more trouble writing than anything yet so far in this quest. I felt like beating my head against a brick wall. So, that +1 Stress is kind of a warning of what is going to come. This won't be an every time thing, so don't worry about that. Defiant doesn't just mean extra options in dialogue, it means Rhaenyra is not the type to take being told what she's doing is wrong or improper and just be quiet. Johanna was unintentionally insulting the heck out of both her and Alicent. That's not something that someone like her easily keeps quiet about.
Voting closed
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- He/Him
Realized I had started working on the next update before I properly closed voting
Turn 8: The Royal Progress Begins
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Turn 8: The Royal Progress Begins
You knelt on one knee as Alicent sat on a padded bench in your room. You had wanted to do this in the Godswood, but Alicent was nervous about doing this out where you may be seen. A song was easy to play off as innocent, but she worried how others would see this poem you wrote. She was being over-cautious in your opinion. Certainly most who saw you would just assume your poem was about your feelings for a man and were practicing in front of Alicent to ask for advice. But you knew that you had to do this at Alicent's pace.
So, you had serenaded Alicent with a poem about the storm of emotions you felt for her, the longing that gripped your heart when you saw her from a distance, your desire to hold her in your heart and have her do the same in turn. It's all veiled and obscured of course. If someone found this poem, which they wouldn't, they would simply think a knight or some squire had deep feelings for one of the ladies at court. No names were used, but even if you had not directly serenaded her, Alicent would know who this was meant for.
To your eyes, your work was passable. There were lines you were proud of and sentences that took every ounce of your strength not to wince at as you read them, but they were your honest feelings. Prettied up and put to rhyme but your feelings all the same.
And now you knelt there, waiting for Alicent to reply.
She was silent, though her face was a familiar shade of red thought she had little reaction beyond that. Every moment of silence felt like agony, daggers of worry burying themselves deeper and deeper into your chest. Did she like it? Did she hate it? Was it the worst thing a person had ever put to ink and parchment?
Finally, she spoke.
"I. Uh. What am I supposed to say in these situations?" Alicent asked sheepishly.
You bit down a laugh as your mind scrambled for an answer. From what you read, the knight usually did these things without any expectations of a response or at most the Lady's favor. You had the latter already and neither of you wanted to do the former.
"Oh wait," Alicent whispered before composing herself and adopting the air of a stuck up noble lady. "Very well, my aspiring knight. I believe such a poem has proven you worthy. You may grace me with your affection once more."
She presented her hand gracefully.
"You honor me, my lady," you said with all the chivalry you could muster before taking her hand and kissing it gently.
You looked up to see Alicent all but squirming in her seat, turning away as she bit her bottom lip and blushed furiously. Your own heart was about to burst through you chest at the sight. As silly as this felt, you couldn't deny you loved seeing Alicent's reaction to your little poem.
"In all seriousness," Alicent said as you stood up. "Thank you Rhaenyra. It was wonderful to hear you say that. How your heart filled with such passion just at the sight of me."
"I meant every word of it," you assured her.
Unexpectedly Alicent hugged you tightly.
"Thank you," she breathed. "I won't lie. I think part of why I resented you so much while I watched you train was struggling with these feelings I didn't want to understand while you didn't seem to feel the same way. It's good to know I was wrong."
She felt warm and comforting, part of you wished you could stay like this forever.
"I admit it took me a while to even begin to figure things out," you confessed as you returned her hug. "Writing this poem helped me figure out how to even put some of what I'm feeling into words. I promise you, my lady, you're not alone. I care for you as much as I think you care for me. I promise."
"I'm glad," you could hear the warmth in Alicent's voice. "Promise me you will write me more poems. I wish to know just how much my dear aspiring knight longs for me."
"I promise this is just the start," you assured her.
Relationship with Alicent Hightower Improved
Your Name Day was a large affair, full of feasting, music and gifts galore. Tragically, no one gifted you a sword or new armor, though Rhea did give you a rather eye catching bronze dragon pin and Alicent gave you a lovely piece of embroidery. Hightower sigil, of course. Your uncle sent you a gift as well. The Crabfeeder's hammer. Daemon had apparently slain the admiral a few weeks prior. Resistance in the Stepstones was beginning to crumble as more and more islands fell to Daemon and the Sea Snake. There were even rumors that Lord Corlys had crowned Daemon the King of the Narrow Sea, though there was no confirmation yet. Fighting was still far from over though and rumors were that Dorne was now arming pirates to go after the Rogue Prince.
The gift would be fine, if slightly odd, were it not for the note accompanying it, writin in High Valyrian. It read simply "You have caused me more fustration then the wielder of this hammer ever did."
Rhea Royce would later confirm that he had sent her a far nastier letter as well. It seemed Daemon had caught word of the Annulment and while he had long sought to be free of Rhea, he did not take kindly to your involvement in the matter.
Daemon Targaryen Now Considers You a Rival
You couldn't bring yourself to be all that concerned about Daemon's reaction at the moment. He was leagues away and was unlikely to return anytime soon. This was your nameday. A time for celebration and celebrate you did.
You ate and japed and drank to your heart's content, though you probably did a bit too much of the last one considering how much your head hurt the day after.
Now you were ten and six years of age, arguably an adult in the eyes of much of Westeros. Were something, Gods forbid, to happen to your father, there would be few calling for you to have a regency, on account of your age at least. You could easily see many saying a woman needed to have a regent regardless of age. That was a concern for far in the future though.
You barely had time to rest as only a few short weeks later you departed for your Royal Progress. Crowds gathered to watch as as numerous carriages were prepared and filled with maesters, nobles, dragonkeepers, servants, and guards. Syrax flew overhead in lazy circles as she waited. You stood at the front of it all, wearing a high collared black dress that was textured all over to resemble scales. The dress was thick and rugged, with a lined cape attached that could act like a cloak in colder weather.
Gazing towards King's landing, the Red Keep in particular, your grew sombre. For all it's faults and issues, it was your home. A home you would not see again for another year. You were glad to be on this journey, it was a chance to strike out on your own, but you still could not help but harbor some regrets. Feelings that only grew stronger as you caught sight of the king and queen. Johanna was smiling, clearly happy for you despite also struggling with an upset stomach, but your father on the other hand-
He was smiling, but it was strained and hollow. Your father was miserable about this whole thing even as he told you how proud he was. Part of you wondered if you should have taken him along, though you knew it would have been a mistake. Another time maybe, but this was your introduction to the realm as heir. If your father or his Johanna were with you, it would undermine everything and make you look weak. This was the first time you had really left his side for any real length of time. Of course your father was going to be upset, but he would be able to manage.
You left the city in a carriage you shared with Alicent while her brother and Ser Tarly were ridding on the outside. Syrax was letting out a pleased yelp as the Progress passed through the Dragon gate and out of the city.
The first leg of your journey was simple enough. An easy ride through the Crownlands without many stops. Lords Stokeworth and Darklyn, along with other local lords, had already given you their well wishes on your nameday so there was no need for a visit.
Your first real stop would be at the largely ruined castle of Harrenhal where the Master of Laws, Lord Lyonel Strong, was waiting for you with his two sons. Some of the River lords would be there to greet you as well, but most had decided to wait until your visits to your visit to the Twins and Riverrun in a few months time. Harrenhal was a castle of great importance despite it's near ruined state. It was home to one of the most powerful lords in the realm and it is where the Great Council made your father king.
This would be your first real time asserting yourself as heir, both to the realm and in general for that matter, and you found yourself twisting the rings on your fingers as you pondered what you should do.
Rhaenyra is now 16
2nd Season, 114 AC
Actions during a Royal Progress (Take Three Total)
While taking part in a royal progress, turns are shortened. Instead of three months they now represent one stop on the progress. As a result, you are now limited to three actions per turn. These can be three regular actions or three conversations or any combo of the two. Tourneys, feasts, and judgements will all be important parts of your progress due to the vote and there will be multiple examples of each along the trip though not every location will have every option, nor is it expected of you to take every option when presented. So a couple of judgements for example will be enough to stastify your promises to your father. Also note that some stops will have an interlude, some won't, and a few may even just be covered in an interlude.
Conversations
[] [Conversation] Speak with Alicent Hightower
While your relationship with your lady is new and fresh, it couldn't hurt to talk her and see how she feels about the changes in your personal relationship and how she feels now that you've gone from repressing her feelings to begin to express them more openly. Plus, some quality time with her would be nice.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Gwayne Hightower
If Gwayne doesn't already know about your relationship with Alicent, he probably will learn soon enough. Perhaps you should tell him yourself. He clearly wanted to protect his sister and thus might be willing to help hide your relationship from Otto and others if need be. Also, it might be good to see how he handled getting beaten by you.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Ser Raylon Tarly
You could ask your sworn shield what he makes of your current situation, from his opinions on the Lord of Harrenhal to Daemon's now clear animosity towards you.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Lord Lyonel Strong
The Master of Laws and Lord of Harrenhal. A stalwart voice on the council and man you know generally strives to do what is best for the Kingdom. Speaking to him as part of your first stop could boost his opinion of you, and he could provide much needed insight in your efforts to earn a seat on the Small Council.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Ser Harwin Strong
Ser Harwin "Breakbones" Strong is not only the heir to Harrenhal, but often held up as the strongest knight of this generation. He could prove a useful ally, and provide insight on how to improve your training.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Larys Strong
You don't know much about Lyonel's younger, clubfooted, son. Larys is a rather mysterious figure at court, often keeping to himself and spending long hours in the Godswood. Perhaps you should take this time to get to know him.
[] [Conversation] Speak with Rhea Royce
Daemon has made clear he now considers you something of a rival and has written far worse to Rhea. You aren't sure if you and Rhea should get together and figure out what this means and how you should prepare for whatever is to come, or celebrate your victory over your uncle, perhaps both.
[] [Conversation] Write-in
Subject to QM approval, has to have a reasonable chance of being at Harrenhal
Actions
[] [Action] Relax
This is going to be a long trip, perhaps it would be good to get in some rest before you find yourself facing bigger struggles.
[] [Action] Train
Harrenhal, fitting it's status as a castle built by an Ironborn king, has quite a large training yard and you very much doubted Lord Strong would even be surprised if you asked to use it. The man has seen you train for years now.
-[] Challenge to a Duel: Raylon has suggested dueling others as a way of sharpening yourself against new blades. Have others find flaws in you that he has missed (Pick One)
--[] [Duel] Ser Harwin Strong (Will Involve Dice Rolls)
--[] [Duel] Ser Gwayne Hightower
[] [Action] Train with Syrax
The Land around the Gods Eye provide a lot of free space, a perfect chance to get in some training with Syrax and show off to the local population.
[] [Action] Enter a Tourney as a Mystery Knight
Lord Lyonel Strong is hosting a Tourney in honor of your sixteenth name day. The whole affair is basically his way of showing off that he is the first stop of note on the Royal Progress. The whole affair is shaping up to be a decent sized Tourney. Not the largest the realm has seen by any means, but one of the bigger ones it has had in a few years, helped by your covert funding. A win here as a mystery knight would be a dramatic start to your Royal Progress. Problem is the tourney is being held in your honor, which may complicate your efforts to slip away and don the armor of a mystery knight.
[] [Action] Study the Tourney
There will be other chances to enter a tourney, perhaps even bigger ones. Mayhaps a better use of your time would be to simply watch the Tourney. It is being held in your honor after all and it would give you a chance to study a Tourney with the eyes of someone looking to win one. You could see what the more successful knights do and what errors bring the defeated down. It also might give a chance to study knights who could very well be your future opponents.
[] [Action] Feast
Taking part in a feast hosted by Lord Strong would give you another chance to build a friendship with the lord and or his sons, along with the Lords of the Saltpans and Maidenpool.
There are no notable legal matters in and around Harrenhal that you would be able to rule on.
[] [Action] Take Part in a Hunt
It wouldn't be too hard to cover the local lord you're staying with to organize a hunt. It wouldn't be on the level of a full royal hunt but it would still be a big affair full of various nearby lords. The real challenge would likely be trying to get the lord to let you take part in any of the actual hunting.
[] [Action] Study
There is always room to improve your education and the libraries of Harrenhal could provide you with a unique learning experience
[] [Action] Improve your Poetry
Your fair lady thankfully quite enjoyed your first attempts but you know you have much room for improvement.
[] [Action] Study Music
You want to serenade Alicent with music. It's what a proper knight would do after all and she deserves as much. Plus, it just sounds wonderfully romantic. Alicent has been vague about what kind of music she would prefer, saying anything from a Harp to your singing would all be equally wonderful. Regardless, you lack much in the way of training in any sort of music and that had to change. Perhaps Harrenhal would be the perfect place to serenade Alicent.
[] (Action) Write-in
Subject to QM approval
Vote by Plan
QM's Note: So as per Azel's advice, I have basically made each stop on the journey it's own, albeit shortened, turn. This gives us not only the chance to appreciate each stop on it's own, but also allow for this whole Progress to have more impact. This will mean the Progress takes a fair bit of time to cover but I am not in a real rush with this quest.
Also, the poem worked because Alicent has been basically struggling for years with some intense feelings for Rhaenyra. While she would be terrified if Rhaenyra had similar feelings and couldn't control them, Rhaenyra has pretty clearly shown restraint, so Alicent deeply enjoyed learning that Rhaenyra's feelings are almost as strong as hers.
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Voting closed
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Voting is closed.
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Interlude: Weirwood Dreams I
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Interlude: Weirwood Dreams I
You arrived at Harrenhal late in the day, the sky already beginning to take on shades of orange and red as you approached. A broken wheel had led to an hours long stop.
The castle that greeted you was as awe inspiring as it was unnerving. The curtain walls that surrounded it were so thick and tall, they resembled mountain cliffs more than anything built by the human hands. It's towers were tall and thickly built, reaching up into the sky like a massive, wounded hand. At the top, they were looking like burnt down candles, the stone having run like wax. Likewise, the massive curtain walls were blackened and melted in many places, the Black Dread's wrath was still clearly visible even a century after Aegon had laid waste to Harrenhal and killed it's namesake.
Everywhere you went in Harrenhal told a similar story. Every building you saw, and Harrenhal had more than a few, was massive and imposing, but also a crumbling ruin. Great halls of blackened stone that were often half collapsed or had gone to ruin. Bats flying out from various buildings to begin their nightly hunt. Parts of the castle resembled a crumbling maze of stonework more than a place to live in. It was so massive that the scale overwhelmed all perspective. You could easily see a city fitting within the great walls of this place and even with the crowds gathered to greet you, the castle felt empty.
You weren't being snubbed. You could tell that much. However dire things looked, you could see efforts to repair, clean, or at least hide the worst of it. The Hall of a Hundred Hearths, where your father was made King and where Lord Lyonel met you with offerings of salt and bread, was perhaps the best example of these efforts. The room was massive, with enough hearths you could almost believe the name was accurate. Almost. But one side was exposed to the outside, the remnants of it's walls and arches looking like the ribs of some massive animal in the fading light. There was plenty of proof of the efforts to repair the worst of the damage. The smooth stones were well cleaned and the whole hall smelled faintly of fresh paint in the autumn air. Lord Strong had done what he could, but no noble house had the coin to repair Harrenhal or even to just keep up with the maintenance that this massive castle required.
You, Alicent, her brother, and many others in your retiune dined together with Lord Strong, his sons, and his uncle Simon that night. Dinner was one of the best you had in a while. Fish was never your favorite, but whoever had prepared tonight's dinner may very well have just changed your mind. Lord Lyonel, knowing your eating habits fairly well, was surprised when you gave praise. Apparently his main chef had unexpectedly come down sick, forcing him to depend on one of the castle's wet nurses to oversee tonight's dinner.
After dinner, there was little time to do anything beyond go to bed. Your plans would have to wait until tomorrow. Lord Strong escorted you to your apartments for your stay, leading you through long, crumbling hallways filled with candles whose wax dripped from about shoulder level all the way to ground.
Like everything else about Harrenhal, your accommodations were huge. Larger than your father's room in the Red Keep, with a vast bed framed by white wood and tall windows. The dark stone walls were noticeably damp in places though. You did your best to ignore that though and climbed into bed.
To it's credit the bed was warm and comfortable, allowing you to easily fall asleep.
drip
drip
drip
Your eyes shot open. In the moonlight you could see water dripping from the ceiling onto the bedroom's floor, forming a small puddle. You quickly spotted a bowl not far away on one of the tables. It wasn't ornate and in fact looked rathe beaten up, likely left here for just such a situation.
"Unbelievable," you muttered as you pulled yourself out of bed, wondering why anyone lived in this ruined husk of a castle as you retrieved the bowl.
"I'm glad Alicent isn't staying with me tonight," you muttered to yourself. "She'd be hating this."
It would have been nice having someone else here to deal with this mess, but you knew if Alicent was here, she wouldn't be able to sleep until this place was halfway decent and there was no way to make it so without involving a mason. Thankfully, she had decided to stay with her brother in one of the smaller and less ruined towers.
A flickering light passed underneath your door. No doubt a guard on patrol.
Only, the light stopped outside your room, letting you make out the faint shadows of two feet.
That's when you heard it. A long, forcible scratch against the door.
"Who's there?" you asked in bewilderment.
Another scratch. Like claws were being dragged slowly across the door. Too slowly to be some animal looking for food, but what person would do such a thing? What person could?
"Who's there?!" you demanded, more forcibly this time.
Something slammed hard against the door with a solid thud, threatening to bring down the massive oaken edifice with one mighty push.
Your breath caught in your throat for a second before you rushed towards your bed and pulled out a sword from beside it, your heart pounding in your ears as you pointed your blade at whatever was trying to attack you. A thick, noxious heat radiated from the door.
And then the heat vanished, along with the fire and whoever had been outside of your door. The only sound you could hear was water dripping from the ceiling and your own labored breaths.
Part of your mind was urging you back to bed. This was clearly some dream playing tricks with you and the best thing you could do right now was to ignore whatever you thought you just saw and return to bed.
It may have been the best option, but it wasn't what you were going to do.
With only a sword in hand and still dressed in your night clothes, you yanked open the door and looked around. At one hand of the hallway you could see a torch held by a distant woman with long silver hair.
"I command you to stop!" you demanded. You couldn't even begin to make sense of how one person had done.... whatever it was that had just happened, but this person clearly was responsible.
The woman turned and two mismatched eyes, one purple, one deep blue, stared back at you
"You shouldn't be here," the figure warned before turning away, her torch light swallowed by the inky blackness that surrounded the both of you.
"Guards!" you called out, your voice echoing off the stone walls and floors.
You did not wait for them. Something told you there were no guards nearby and Ser Tarly was nowhere to be seen either. The whole place felt disquietingly empty.
A flash of lightening briefly providing light, followed by a a loud thunderclap that seemed to echo all around you, while you gave chase through the winding corridors.
Those eyes haunted your thoughts as you ran. None of this made any sense to your tired mind. Even from a distance, those eyes felt like they had been cutting you to your very core with their intensity.
After running for some time, you realized you had somehow ended up outside the castle, though the sky did not provide much in the way of light. The moon was hazy and half swallowed by thick storm clouds that must have rolled in while you slept. Lightning danced across clouds, painting bright spiderwebs onto them. Between the flashes, you saw familiar shapes flying through the clouds.
Another crash of thunder, this one sounding almost like a dragon's roar.
You found yourself in front of Harrenhal's Godswood. While the trees in King's landing were a bit of tame wilderness on castle grounds, this was a feral, overgrown thing. Full of large trees with huge canopies and thick gnarled roots that tangled around bits of broken stonework.
At the far end, you could see the castle's heart tree. A fat trunked Weirwood that sat in a clearing on the edge of God's Eye lake. It's many roots were climbing over the ruins that surrounded it. A figure stood in front of the tree, starring at it's face.
Something in your mind told you this was the woman you saw outside your door. You were about to approach when you heard a new sound in the distance. Steel clashing against steel. Your nose began to burn as you were struck by the smell of smoke and blood.
Turning to see where the smell came from, you saw a fire in the distance. Indistinct figures were clashing against each other in the firelight. There where no other signs of life. The castle behind you seemed hollow and lifeless, with no sign of Lord Strong, Alicent, Ser Tarly or anyone else. Perhaps they were at the battle. Perhaps not.
Nothing about what you saw made sense to your addled mind. Nothing of what you were seeing was possible and yet the smells and sights were simply too real to ignore.
You found yourself torn. Something told you that if you went towards the battle, the woman would not be there when you returned, and vice versa. Two paths lay ahead of you.
What do you do?
[] Confront the woman
[] Head towards the battle
QM's Note: This is very different for me I admit and I very very nervous about this but I think it will be really interesting and I hope you enjoy it. Also I do promise this isn't just a random aside, this could have some interesting implications and affects on the quest. There is a point this.
Voting closed
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The vote is closed
Interlude: Weirwood Dreams II
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Interlude: Weirwood Dreams II
Part of you all but screamed to go towards the Battlefield, bring the fight to those who dared attack you and defend those who had given you guest right. But doubt held your blade. You knew not who was fighting or if there was even fighting at all and not your mind playing tricks on you. More than that though, your mind craved answers. For something or someone to make sense of what was going on. And you knew the best chance, the only chance for answers lay with the woman staring at the Weirwood tree.
You approached cautiously, hand gripping your sword tightly as you walked through the Godswood.
You were not immune to fear. No man or woman was in truth. But you were no coward either. You had fought crowds of angry, honorless boys with nothing but your fists before and never once did fear grab hold of you. But at this moment, you could feel your insides grow cold and your breath coming hard and fast as you stepped through the Godswood. Despite the darkness, the gnarled grove of trees managed to cast long shadows over your path, with only the barest hint of hazy moonlight eking out between the trees to guide your path.
Trees rustled and you heard the distinct sound of hooves clambering over the rocks and roots as something, or several somethings, watched you through the trees.
For a moment, you froze in place, breath caught in your throat before you forced yourself to swallow and press forward.
"You cannot stop what's to come," the woman declared as you approached. "The threads you add are your own, but the weave began long ago."
"Who are you?!" Your voice rose in confused frustration. "I grow tired of this game."
The woman turned towards you, though her mismatched eyes did not meet yours.
She was unmistakably Targaryen, but her pale features were unfamiliar to you. Maybe. You could not tell for certain with how little light there was. One cheek was marked by a deep red birthmark in the shape of claws, her white hair was long and messy and a dress of soft yellow clung to her frame. Her expression seemed tired and wary, eyes occasionally looking at you as if she was as skeptical of your existence as you were of hers.
"You should know the answer to that," the woman spoke. "You named me after all. Named me and rejected me."
"What do you mean by that?" you demanded and reached out towards her only for the mysterious woman to pull away from you.
A mighty roar filled the air and you both turned to see two figures flying through the clouds. Their vast wings were making it unmistakably clear these were dragons.
"Is this the hells?" You wondered out loud.
"If only it were so simple," the woman replied in a dower voice.
The dragons burst through the clouds and you strained to see who they were, but they were almost formless in the night sky. No matter how much you stared, you could barely make out any of their features even as they fired great gouts of flame at each other. You caught a glimpse of their riders though. One was armored from head to toe with a cape flowing behind them. Was it Daemon? You couldn't be sure. The other figure was more distant. Smaller. All you saw of them was hair that shined a brilliant white gold.
More roars filled the air as the two dragons fought. Many more. You could swear for a moment you heard every dragon you had ever known. Syrax. Meleys. Caraxes. And yet more, all roaring at once in a grand, terrible song.
"They will dance, and they will fall," the strange woman declared. "Such it has been written since the Doom."
Your nerve was beginning to break, confusion mixing with a growing sense of terror and fear.
"Please," you begged as your turned back towards the woman, "what is all of this?! Answer me. Please."
The woman smiled sadly at you.
"Answers will not provide you comfort, nor will they change what is to come," the woman's words were sympathetic in tone.
She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"I will tell you this one thing, and one thing alone," she declared. "You will find death in the God's Eye."
You reached out again, trying to grasp her wrist, only for your hand to be greeted by empty air. The woman had dissolved into so much mist right before your eyes.
The dragons were gone as well, the night air growing suddenly very quiet. The moon was shining brightly as all signs of clouds disappeared. You could no longer hear the sound of battle in the distance, nor could you smell any smoke. It was as if everything that had plagued you this night had disappeared all at once. If those things had even been real in the first place.
The sound of your own heavy breaths filled the air as you stared at the weirwood tree, it's leering face seeming to mock you as tears rolled down your cheeks.
You looked around frantically for any sign of the girl. For a moment you caught a glimpse of an antlered figure in the distance, the shadows hiding if it was a deer or something else. You gave chase, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, only for a voice to stop you in your tracks.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a new voice called out. "They don't like to be chased."
You turned to see another woman starring at you. This new lady had long raven-black hair and her eyes were green as she stared at you owlishly. She was almost as pale as the woman with the birthmark though.
"What are doing out here anyways?" she asked. "And why do you have a sword?"
You looked around in a mix of frustration and disbelief, your mind reeling from what just happened, if any of it was even real. You were tired and scared, at an utter loss to make sense of anything.
"Come with me," the woman offered warmly. "I'll make you something to help you sleep."
+3 Stress
Rhaenyra has Dreamed of Things Yet to Come.
You followed her, largely for lack of anything else to do. The raven haired woman led you towards what seemed to be some sort of Maester's room near the castle's main keep. The walls were lined with herbs, medicines and other, stranger, things.
"Sit," she gestured towards a nearby stool as she brought up a mortar and pestle and began pulling things off the shelves.
"What was that?" you finally dared ask as your confidence began to return, though your mind was still awash with uncertainity and confusion.
"One of the green men I believe," the woman remarked casually as she began to grind something into a paste. "Don't usually see them off the Isle of Faces.
"No not that," you paused for a moment, considering asking just what the Green Men were before deciding that you had enough confusion this night. "I mean the woman at the tree. And the storm."
"Hmm?" the woman starred at you quizzically. "You were the only woman I saw near the Heart Tree and there was no storm, just some early fog. I can't answer about what your dreams showed you, girl."
A dream. Could all of that have really just been a dream? Part of you screamed yes, of course it was. It didn't feel real. But it didn't feel that unreal either. That woman. That girl. she seemed much more than just some figment of your mind.
"I don't think I've ever heard of a dream so intense," you sighed wearily.
"No?" she questioned. "Wasn't it dreams that led your family to travel here in the first place? That's what the legends say anyways."
You gave the woman a puzzled stare. Daenys the Dreamer and her story weren't exactly hidden knowledge, but it wasn't something most cared to learn about.
"Who are you anyways?" you asked, realizing you had followed a complete stranger into a herbalist's hut without even asking her name.
"They call me Alys," she explained.
"Strong?" you questioned.
"Rivers," Alys clarified, marking herself as bastard-born.
The woman's features were familar. Not like the strange woman at the tree, but you could see a resemblance in her cheekbones and eyes.
"Are you Lord Strong's daughter?" you dared.
Alys chuckled in response.
"Many have assumed as much," she said with amusement.
"What do you do here?" you questioned.
"Many things," Alys replied. "I've been a cook. A chambermaid. I've filled in as a Maester when one flees into the night. I've been a wet nurse and a stablehand. I fill whatever roll the castle needs of me."
A curious answer, but you were too tired and too distracted to give it much thought.
"Do you really think a dream could have lead me out of my room and to the Godswood, sword in hand?" you asked as you placed the blade gently on the table.
You knew your family had dreams that were different, allegedly providing glimpses of the future. Daenys had dreamed. As did Aegon the Conqueror according to your father. But such dreams were rare and you had never experienced one yourself. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn't want it to be such a dream, for that meant what you saw might yet come true.
"I could easily believe that," Alys remarked as she worked a red paste with her hands. "This place is full of foul magic. Sleep does not often come easy here."
"I know," you nodded. "The Black Dread's visit left a curse on this place. Or so they say."
"Oh, it was cursed long before Aegon arrived," Alys corrected you. "It's said Black Harren cut down an entire grove of weirwood trees when he built this place. Used the timbers as supports and to make his bed. The very bed you now sleep in. He also mixed the blood of his thralls with the mortar of the castle. They say the souls of his slaves intermingled with the ancient souls that dwelled within the Heart trees."
What she was saying was absolutely absurd, but she said it with such certainty. This was not some deeply held belief to her, but simply a fact of this castle. Maybe what she described would explain why your... Dream? Vision? Why that was so intense.
"That is a strange tale," you remarked. "Why would Harren do any of that? It just seems like he was asking for trouble."
"Why did you ancestor build his throne out of sharp swords?" Alys turned the question back on you. "Kings are often a strange breed of their own."
"Do you find me strange?" you asked, the question suddenly appearing in your mind.
"I was told you were to become Queen, not King," Alys replied coolly.
"It is the same thing," you asserted. "I will sit the Iron Throne and rule in my own name when the time comes."
Which you found yourself hoping more and more wouldn't be for a very long time.
"Hmm," Alys nodded. "Then no. I wouldn't say you're strange. Unusual, yes. It's rare to see a woman who looks strong enough to carry a cow over her shoulders, but that's not a bad thing, wouldn't you agree?"
You smiled despite what you've just experienced. It was always nice to see someone compliment you instead of whispering that you were a freak just out of earshot.
"Here. Drink this," Alys said as she offered you a metal cup. "You need your sleep if you're to make a good impression upon this place."
You stared at the cup cautiously. The liquid inside was dark and thick, bits of crushed up things mixed throughout. The smell was odd as well. Not rotten or foul, just off in a way you couldn't quite put into words.
You were hesitant. On the one hand, you did need sleep, particularly after the strange vision you had. But on the other hand, this was a strange brew made by a somewhat odd woman you had just met. You had no reason to think she poisoned you, yet you also had little beyond her own word that this would help you in any way.
Do you accept Alys' drink?
[] Take the drink. You need sleep.
[] Politely decline.
QM's Note: Don't take the stress as indication of a screw up. Rhaenyra had an intense dream while on Weirwood bed in a haunted castle. That's gonna mess with a person. Also, before anyone asks, I'm not gonna reveal what you would have seen if you went towards the battle, just that it would be rather different and have different effects. And I will say that who the lady by the tree was will be answered in time. It's not a mystery box. Hope you enjoyed this interlude. I've really been looking forward to it.
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Voting closed
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Alright, Drugs win. Voting closed
Skills
- Location
- Germany
Skills
Skills are rolled for many actions, especially when working against or competing with another character. Usually, that means rolling three dice of the same size, with the size being determined by the rank in the skill, which are summed up. Depending on circumstances, you may have a number of degrees of Advantage or Disadvantage for a roll. In that case, one extra dice is rolled per degree. When you have advantage, the lowest dice are dropped until only three are left, and with Disadvantage, the highest are dropped instead. Advantage and Disadvantage cancel each other out, so having two degrees of Advantage and one degree of Disadvantage for the same roll means in effect having one degree of Advantage.| Rank | Skill Level | Dice |
|---|---|---|
| 0 | Incapable | - |
| 1 | Inept | 3d2 |
| 2 | Novice | 3d4 |
| 3 | Skilled | 3d6 |
| 4 | Proficient | 3d8 |
| 5 | Expert | 3d10 |
| 6 | Master | 3d12 |
| 7 | Grandmaster | 3d14 |
| 8 | Genius | 3d16 |
| 9 | Legend | 3d18 |
| 10 | Perfect | 3d20 |
Prowess
The skill with blade, axe, bow or whatever other weapon you prefer. Rolled in tourneys and when dueling others, but also when personally fighting in the thick of a larger battle.
- Street Thug - 2
- Knight - 4 to 5
- Kingsguard - 6 to 7
- Barristan Selmy / Jaime Lannister - 9
- Azor Ahai / The Last Hero - 10
Warcraft
Leading a battle as commander, ranging from small outrider skirmishes to major battles with tens of thousands of soldiers on each side.
- Knight - 3
- Sellsword Captain - 3 to 5
- Accomplished General - 5 to 6
- Aegon the Conqueror - 8
Trade
The art of turning one coin into two coins with as little effort as possible. This is rolled for everything from haggling on the market to working out trade agreements between nations.
- Fishwife - 2
- Shopkeeper - 2 to 4
- Merchant Captain - 5 to 6
- Trade Magnate - 8
- Littlefinger - 9
Administration
Ensuring the smooth running of an institution or larger project falls under this skill, such as making sure that materials are available and the wages of your employees are paid on time.
- Maester - 3 to 4
- Bureaucrat - 5 to 6
- Trade Magnate - 7
- Brandon the Builder - 10
Leadership
Keeping people under your command motivated and working towards a common goal. This is just as important when leading bureaucrats as it is for soldiers and levies.
- Ship Captain - 3
- Sellsword Captain - 4 to 5
- King / Archon - 6 to 8
- Azor Ahai - 10
Diplomacy
Leaving a good impression with other people or convincing them of your own viewpoints. This is just as important for personal relationships as it is for matters of state.
- Courtier - 4 to 5
- Royal Envoy - 7 to 8
- Jon Arryn - 9
Intrigue
This is the skill both for personally skulking around in the shadows and knowing how to recruit and organize others to do it on your behalf. Also occasionally useful to notice a secret or two.
- Nosy Neighbor - 3
- Courtesan - 5
- Spymaster - 6 to 8
- Varys - 9
- Lann the Clever - 10
Learning
This covers both knowledge at hand as it does the skill to learn something new, given access to a library or the right tools to learn from experimentation.
- Well-Read Person - 3
- Maester - 4 to 6
- Grandmaester - 7 to 8
- Archmaester - 9
Sorcery
???
- ???
- ???
- ???