Casper’s head dipped at the news. “That would do it.” He noted simply, for it was common for children to remain at home, such as home was, until the age of ten before being sent away for their more vocational education. Squiring at Goldengrove, for instance.

Still the little niggle of curiosity was hard to ignore. “What did she describe me as, if I may pry?”

The edge of the bed would prove to be an illusory perch: built as it was like the stool, folding up to allow it to be easily stowed for travel, just stretched out to some six and a half feet in length, to perch on the edge was to make it wish to tip over about the nearside legs, with no counterweight upon the far edge to pin it to the ground. Either she would have to squat above it, maintaining her position at the expense of not actually sitting, putting her legs to work; or she would have to slide herself back towards the centreline of the bed, truly seating herself upon it so that it no longer sought to throw her to the ground. Or she could be thrown to the ground, if she realised as much too late.

Casper had moved so that he was standing in front of Cerelle, so that she did not have to keep her head turned a particular way to see him. It was the polite thing to do, and no hardship on his part. He shook his head. “None but what you may wish.” He answered, for the knife he wore for jousting was on the belt that lay on the table, there so he might cut himself free should the need arise.

1d100 Spacing (optional roll): 36

1d100 Spacing (optional roll)

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"We used to dance with mama," Rhaenyra whispered, looking out of the window for a moment. Daenys stepped closer, squeezing her hand.

"I still like it," she said.

"I don't," the younger of the girls pouted.

"That's alright, Rhae. You can paint," Daenys assured her.

Shyly, the violet eyes of the younger Princess raised to meet Myriam's gaze, and she nodded.

"Helmet for thumb," she confirmed. "For other fingers, too?"

Cyrelle followed in Alester’s wake, curious as to what was on offer, rather than lingering where they had paused. Some were familiar, others were not. Regardless, she smiled when he presented the bag to her. “There is only one way to find out.” She replied, teasing him gently. Holding the bag in one hand, the other reached in and felt for a fish, holding it by the head to eat, nibbling at it to begin with as it was still warm.

The Banefort nodded. “You probably do good business, the first mainland port after the southern coast of Dorne.” She noted; Banefort by contrast was less well visited thanks to its proximity to the Iron Islands, though they were behaving themselves of late. The Westerwoman looked at the signs that announced each inn, a pictorial representation of the name so that those who could not read knew where to go.

Something to bear in mind for the future.

Gareth drew his sword, deliberately, resting the tip of the blade upon the floor for now, palms resting upon the pommel. Letting the weight of the occasion sit upon them both. “Once you have confirmed your vows, you will leave this place and return in your armour, so that you can stand vigil across the day and night.” The Banefort explained, pausing for a moment to let Alester voice any concerns he might have whilst he still had the chance.

Galyeon gazed up at her, his eyes wide and wonderment as he listened intently. The little boy giggled and nodded enthusiastically then, his pale blonde hair flying about with the vehement motion. “I’m going to be great, like Flowian. Galyeon the Great!” He turned to his father, head slightly tilted to the side. “Have you killed a giant, papa?”

Alyx did his best to hide a blush at Leona’s words. Never could he have asked for a more supportive wife, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze of affection. “Well… yes. Yes I have. Just like Florian did, only with my axe. Isn’t that right, Lena?”

Naerys rose from her little perch, and quickly any semblance of propriety was gone. She wrapped her short arms around his leg, sighing heavily. "You are now the person I thought you were." She said heavily.

Jaehearys sighed. "Heart's Home, I imagine, is where her remains reside, those of the soul." He replied. "Though your grandmother might have a better reply." He added. "We all return home, and then elsewhere, when we die."

"But the Gods hear your prayers, however far you are, and they will always let your mother know what you have told them. And they will tell your aunts and uncles, your grandfather Aenys, and even the Conqueror will smile, at knowing his little wyrmlings are doing well."

Jaehaerys hesitated in admonishment, but touched Daenys lightly on the shoulder. "You are my daughters. You have what you want, when it is possible. I would not want you to become sad, simply because you want pancakes." He replied.

He glanced at his daughters and sighed. "I was older than you are now when your grandfather died. I can not explain to you everything you will feel. But know, I understand, my sweet wyrmlings."

“Alright.” Alester walked between the stalls, slowing every now and again to appraise the goods grilling upon small makeshift spits. Octopus in sunflower oil, steaks of sea cow upon sticks alongside roasted vegetables, and flaky cod in crispy breading.

He gravitated towards one stall in particular, and soon returned to Cyrelle with a cloth bag half full of herring, cooked black and crispy on the outside. “These should be to your liking? They’ll hardly make for a full meal,” he said with a smile.

They would turn back down towards the harbour, and the bustling streets connecting from it. “That is the street of sails. Every shop is a tavern, and every one is named after a famous ship from Cuy.”

Rogar Baratheon, Boremund Baratheon, Naerys Targaryen, Ossifer Marbrand, Willow Norridge, Aubrey Norridge, Alerie Norridge (?), Claude Lannister (?) and 20 Baratheon MaA travel from Storm's End to King's Landing. They arriv in the 10th month and return to Storm's End in the 11th.

"Then if you have no other questions, I believe it is time to speak with your uncle regarding payments for the trip. Is he holding court now or is he handling other matters?"

Halleck truly did not know which was the case. All Pate had said earlier was that Lord Mallister was still present at Seagard.

"I admittedly have never entered- it is the domain of the maiden, after all. But I think you should be good the enter its edges, as others with child have done in the past. Though..."

Josua had forgotten her inability to swim until she'd shared her worries, and then he felt bad for not being able to be present for her. "After our babe is born, I would like to take you to the little lake in our lands, so I might teach you to swim. Would you like that, my love?"

"Who could find them an annoyance?" Perwyn asks, seemingly baffled by the notion. "I find their sounds to be quite comforting. I could easily see myself loving them."

He smiles, looking quite excited by her agreement.

"Thank you, Lady Bethany. I know you must have be very busy tonight, as a lady in waiting for Lady Tully. I should not occupy more of your time, but I do look forward to seeing you again soon."

Jeyne waits politely for the man to pick his jaw up off the floor, where it seems that Morya has also left her standards. Her younger sister seems besotten by the notion of a man finding her perfect in every way. Morya's cheek tinge pink at Ser Oscar's words, and she hides a smile behind a delicate, gloved hand.

"I suppose friendly is a suitable word," Jeyne muses, her voice teasing. "Cordial is another. Informative, most of all. I don't know what other kinds of messages I might recieve. Good ser, if you presume that I recieve letters of a salacious nature, I daresay that is an inappropriate–"

"–I do not read people's letters!" Morya interrupts, incensed that Jeyne was having fun at the expense of a man who was nothing but kind to the both of them. "And I certainly do not read Jeyne's letters. She does not recieve any. I suspect it is because she makes herself quite unpleasant to be around, but–"

"–How unbecoming of you, to disparage my disposition in front of someone as honorable as Ser Oscar," Jeyne scolds hypocritically. While it seems to be a calculated move to get Morya to shut her mouth, Jeyne still seems truly sheepish as she turns back to Oscar and admits, "She is correct that I do not recieve messages often. I much prefer to spend my time alone."

Lady Renata was late. Fashionably so, in her not-so-humble opinion. In truth, her decision to attend had been a delayed one. With Gyles' absence, the loneliness had begun to creep back in. She thought of Emmon. Her love for him had spanned far longer than her affection for her younger lover, yet she had barely grieved his death, throwing herself into Gyles' arms instead. And now he was gone, and her heart ached.

Qiyana accompanied her. She was a mother now, far less engaged in swordsmanship than she once had been. Even so, she remembered Alyx fondly and wished to spar with him. He was one of the few men not so self-important as to refuse to spar with her. And, well, she needed a break from parenting, for her daughter had inherited her attitude. Needless to say, it was not fun.

Side by side, the two dark-haired, poised women sought Lord Alyx Cuy. Qiyana spotted him first. "Alyx! How are you?" She conjured a wide grin.

"Borys... Perhaps I could fight him, if he wishes." The boy said, remembering the cold stare he had received when he first approached the Baratheon table all those years ago, during the King's coronation.

"And thank you. Elenei really means a lot to me." He offered a smile, for there was little else he could give the Stormlander. She was special; he had always known it, but perhaps, after this visit to Riverrun, he would discover just how much they meant to each other.

"I wrote a notebook filled with all sorts of tales during our trip." He said, showing the small leather book, if it could be called that. "I intend to give it to her, along with some silks and gold. Hopefully, she will like them." He was already thinking about how he would be able to speak with her. His disguise could not fail; he had to see her.

Alester smiled hesitantly. The memory of the injury was not one he enjoyed revisiting, though at least she had not held it against him in the time since.

“Well, I suppose I’d better look out for you then. So you don’t get swept out to sea, of course.” He chuckled at the idea, but kept an eye out for the crabs. They were a much greater danger than the current. “Not ride through the rocks then? I suppose it must have been hard, losing our race. Have you found anything interesting yet?”

He uttered a silent prayer that his words wouldn't fail him when he'd need them most. He smiled and put the box aside, closing the lid in the process. "I promise I won't run away again; I promise I'll stick around; I promise I'll be there when you need me." He said, perhaps spoken to Naerys or perhaps spoken to the future he foresaw.

He placed a hand on her shoulder; this was the first time he'd engaged physical contact. He only hoped she wouldn't shrug him off.

She inclined herself in a polite bow, "I look forward to it and to meeting them."

With that, she'd respectfully take her leave, doing as the King had recommended and preparing herself for travel.

Lord Jason cleared his throat, "my lords, comrades, our seas are surrounded by threats, the Iron Born to the north are a constant concern, an axe to our heads, but more pressingly is the dagger to our belly that we presently have. Dorne"

He continued, "it is my concern that soon we are heading to a new war, and it would be most disgraceful to find our sailors caught lacking as the Stormlander sailors were found. It is my proposal for this meeting for us to put into discussion leadership of our navy and how to best maneuver against the Dornish, should we go for a preemptive strike against their navy? Hold back to a position where they cannot assail us without warning?"

"What say you, my lords?"

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"You may." Septa Cecile affirms with a meek smile. "I see no reason to deny you your right as a mother."

With that, the septa offers a final bow. "I shall depart to make preparations at The Motherhouse. Bring Lady Joan swiftly. We shall ensure the best quarters are prepared and upheld for her."

Her words, spoken to the servants surrounding the aforementioned Joan, are followed a soft bow and a quick departure. Cecile had no desire to become bogged down in a back and forth between Lady Lannister and her husband. Like a mouse, she scurries away, fleeing the scene.

1d1000 General: 46

1d2 Sex: 2

Third child of Tywald Lannister and Elaine Lannister nee Cuy

1d1000 General

1d2 Sex

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u/FireAndBot