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Post by Gandalf on May 10, 2023 11:15:07 GMT -5
 The traditional seat of the Targaryens for many centuries, and a traditional breeding ground for dragons. Though the dragons are gone, the island remains an appanage for the heir apparent to the Iron Throne. The current Prince of Dragonstone is Rhaegar Targaryen. Though he is absent, his wife and children still reside here. Wealth: Poor Banners:2500 Men House Velaryon of Driftmark House Celtigar of Claw Isle House Sunglass of Sweetport Sound House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point Household:Ser Richard Lonmouth - Standard Bearer and Knight Banneret Ser Myles Mooton - Knight Banneret Quentyn Sunglass - Squire
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Post by Pinkerton on Jun 8, 2023 17:31:35 GMT -5
A tired soldier. A babe. A ship crewed by men who spoke in strange tongues.
Lonmouth had trouble sleeping the whole journey to Dragonstone. His escape had been bloodless but it had not been silent. He was sure they had been spotted; they made an odd couple, he and, if the Gods were kind, the future king of the Realms. But for now he was just a babe, a quiet one, but he still cried at times. Lonmouth had done his best to take care of him, to make him laugh and to feed him goat milk and sweet fruit, as he had been fed many years ago by his mother and her maids.
The foreign crew said not a word to him. Whomever had hired them probably told them not to. The only man who spoken to him was the captain, who had informed him in a very broken Westerosi that their destiny was Dragonstone, that Dorne was impossible to reach. Richard had nodded.
But now the island was on sight and Lonmouth was able to feel relief for the first time in days.
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Post by FieldMarshal Bismarck on Jul 2, 2023 16:15:23 GMT -5
The journey from White Harbor to Dragonstone had been a treacherous one, with the seas roiling and tossing the ship relentlessly. As the ship finally docked at Dragonstone's harbor, Eddard, Lyanna, and their sizable retinue stepped onto solid ground, grateful to have reached their destination safely.
The towering fortress of Dragonstone loomed before them, its dark stone walls standing strong against the crashing waves that surrounded the island. The air was heavy with the salty scent of the sea, and the sound of seagulls filled the air as they soared above.
Lyanna, clutching the edges of her cloak tightly around her, stepped off the ship. Her face was pale, and her usually vibrant eyes seemed dulled by the tumultuous journey. Yet, there was a silent strength that mirrored her Northern spirit.
I walked beside her, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. I kept a watchful eye on our surroundings, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The retinue of Northern men followed closely behind, their expressions hardened with the awareness of the potential threats that awaited us in this foreign land.
As we made our way up the stone steps that led to the heart of Dragonstone, the heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing the grandeur within. The interior of the castle was bathed in a warm glow, with torches illuminating the corridors and casting dancing shadows on the walls.
We were greeted by the sight of Rhaegar Targaryen, the man Lyanna had married, standing at the center of the hall. His silver-blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders, and his violet eyes shimmered with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. There was an air of regality surrounding him, befitting his position as the King.
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 3, 2023 5:33:40 GMT -5
The King had emerged to greet them with almost the entire court in attendance; his two elder children were at his side, and stared with wide lilac eyes that mirrored those of their father. They were dressed in the black and red of their house, the toddler-Prince of Dragonstone sprouting a mane of gilded silver that mimicked his father’s own resplendent head of hair. Rhaegar himself appeared as regal and otherworldly as Lyanna remembered, and though wearied by the burdens of birthright and office he retained the otherworldly beauty that captured the eyes of so many. She let the sight of him swallow her whole, and for an indulgent moment all the frustration he had caused her simply vanished. Desire and envy filled the hole, envy for those that she would have to share him with. Had there been others? Elia was here with him, though she did not deign yet to look upon the other woman that he had sworn vows to, stood at the arm of the daughter that looked so very much like her. Whatever doubts were banished as he crossed the hall towards her, the slowing of his usual stride almost imperceptible. It had been so long. They embraced fiercely in spite of the formality of the occasion, which was greeted by the cheering and exultation of the King’s courtiers. What tender words they shared were known only to themselves. Whatever they were, it seemed to mollify both their anxieties. Lyanna was announced as the Queen, and thus was her son - their son - brought forward to be named as Prince Aemon Targaryen. They were all watching. Her eyes took in another Valyrian woman, slender and solemn, the crown of gold and ruby seeming too large and too grand for her delicate frame. At her side was Rhaegar’s younger brother, who looked much like him, she thought, save for the callow scowl that ill-suited the royal visage. It was unknown to Lyanna that Viserys had grown unruly and resentful following the Mad King’s death, for he had been spared the true horrors of his father’s madness. He behaved as if a great wrong had been done to him, for it had been known in the Keep that it was Viserys that the King had chosen to rule after Rhaegar himself. This anger was taken out most often on his new brother, the Prince Daemon, and it was often the duty of the nearest Kingsguard to ensure that Viserys was kept occupied with something other than cruelty and mischief. The son of Lyanna waddled tentatively forwards towards his father. The boy could now speak and walk, and Rhaegar had missed all of that. Aemon was a grand name for him, one that Lyanna had never envisaged herself. A Stark name seemed natural for her son, the boy who looked more like Benjen as a babe than the child of silver and gold that stood before her now. Winterfell would be his first memories, much like her own. But that did not make him any less of a dragon. If there was any disappointment in Rhaegar the King did not show it. Indeed, he lifted up the wide eyed toddler with an ease that belied his weakened state; not all of his old strength had deserted him, it seemed. Grey eyes stared wildly and curiously into his own, making a noise that resembled more of a frightened squeak than a spoken word. ”My son, Prince Aemon Targaryen.” The King announced, and the cheers redoubled. Now Lyanna and her son would be officially introduced to the existing royalty, a ceremony that was well practiced to avoid any open scrutiny into the royal family. Lord Stark would likewise be brought forwards to speak with the King. ( trot we could do this bit between Elia and Lyanna if you want, or just her reaction, up to you) |
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Post by FieldMarshal Bismarck on Jul 5, 2023 16:14:40 GMT -5
"Rhaegar," I began, my voice betraying a mix of concern and curiosity. "The destruction of King's Landing... the wildfire unleashed upon the city. How did such devastation come to pass?"
Internally, I wrestled with the need to know the truth and the potential repercussions that such a line of questioning might entail. It was a delicate dance, seeking answers without jeopardizing the fragile bond we were forging in the aftermath of war.
I continued, my voice laced with a mix of solemnity and genuine inquiry. "The suffering and loss were immense, Rhaegar. As the ruler, it falls upon you to provide answers. How do we ensure that such horrors are never repeated? How can we rebuild and heal the wounds inflicted upon the realm?"
I hoped that Rhaegar would share insights, perhaps shed light on the events that led to the wildfire's devastating consequences. It was crucial to understand the past to shape a better future, to learn from mistakes and prevent further tragedies from befalling the realm we both held dear.
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 7, 2023 6:14:03 GMT -5
"Rhaegar," I began, my voice betraying a mix of concern and curiosity. "The destruction of King's Landing... the wildfire unleashed upon the city. How did such devastation come to pass?" Internally, I wrestled with the need to know the truth and the potential repercussions that such a line of questioning might entail. It was a delicate dance, seeking answers without jeopardizing the fragile bond we were forging in the aftermath of war. I continued, my voice laced with a mix of solemnity and genuine inquiry. "The suffering and loss were immense, Rhaegar. As the ruler, it falls upon you to provide answers. How do we ensure that such horrors are never repeated? How can we rebuild and heal the wounds inflicted upon the realm?" I hoped that Rhaegar would share insights, perhaps shed light on the events that led to the wildfire's devastating consequences. It was crucial to understand the past to shape a better future, to learn from mistakes and prevent further tragedies from befalling the realm we both held dear.
Rhaegar eased himself into a seat and gazed up at Stark directly.
“One King, one realm, one law. That is how my sires governed. That is how I shall govern. Trust must be rebuilt, or else our whole commonwealth will fall to ruin.”
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