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It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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 A SMALL BIT OF ADVICE, tag; TYRION/NICA
ALEA TARGARYEN
 Posted: Feb 13 2018, 02:19 AM
Quote
SOLACE is Offline
18 years old
STORMLANDS
House Targaryen
Lannister
SUMMERHALL
Royal


[Set in 300 AC, before Alea moved to Summerhall, before her wedding to Valarr]
It was a beautiful evening. The moon had appeared in the sky but the sun hadn't quite set yet, the sky a beautiful shifting shade of purple, red and yellows. The halls were quiet as always, except for the steps of the servants and the swish of expensive fabric on the floor. The steps were quick as they headed down the many stairs to below, to where the kitchen and other staff were cleaning up for the night, and sending out meals and preparing wine in jugs for the rest of the Lannisters that would call for it. But it was fairly empty, save for a few figures drifting around the place.

The swishing of expensive fabric and skirts, mixed with small heels clicked down the stone steps and a golden head peered around the corner. a swirling shift of pale purple and grey followed after her as she walked into the kitchen and headed towards the strong looking man who stood by the fire as he finished telling a few boys to take the scraps out to the pigs for feeding. He was strong and intimidating, but Cook Boyde was more than that - he was an artist and proud of his work and loyal to the Lannisters. He was bald, with a singed blond beard and matching bushy eyebrows. "And don't give any of those scraps to the Black and white one! We are slaughtering him tomorrow!" He shouted after the boys before the pale swirls of fabric caught his eyes and he whirled around to look into the equally purple eyes of Alea Lannister staring up at him.

"Hello, Boyde." She said with a grin on her lips, and his eyes set hard and his arms crossed. "Lady Alea," He sighed, shaking his head. "You know you shouldn't be down here. His Grace doesn't like his family down here." He stated firmly, eyes not moving from Alea and she only looked at him with her shining eyes, full of life and mischief at the same time.

"I know, but I was hoping for some Lavender Cakes. I know you have some set aside for the guests in a few days - I was hoping I might have a few tonight? And a jug of Rose wine.' She said with a grin at him, and she could see the resolve crumbling before her eyes. He sighed deeply, and Alea stepped forward with a tiny step. "I wish to savor what I can - Please, Boyde?"

The tall man sighed deeply, and nodded, turning his back to her. "Alright, but you stay down here to finish it - I don't need his grace knowing you were wondering around with wine and cake." He knew how sweet her tooth had become since her impending betrothal. She always seemed to be asking for something with honey in it. Now was no exception. "I hope it is only you two tonight. I don't need anyone else coming down here."

Alea blinked. Anyone else? She turned her head and a grin crossed her lips as she saw a golden head at one of the tables with a goblet of wine nestled in his hand and a jug beside him. Tyrion. She hadn't seen her half-brother for some time - he always seemed to be hiding away, and she was the one to go search him out. But he had always been a comforting presence - one that fed her craving for knowledge and stories. Alea knew very few people who she thought were as intelligent and witty as him. Even if no one would ever admit it, least of all himself.

She moved over to him with a spring in her step and she settled beside him on the bench. "I had wondered where you have been. I should have guessed you might be down here. I'm glad I didn't have to look for you when we have guests - I don't know if I would have seen you before I left."
Aleas words reminded her that in a few weeks time she would leave with the Targaryens and leave for the Red Keep, before traveling to the Stormlands with Valarr where she would be married and become a Princess. She looked forward to the journey but was fearful of the future and the responsibilities she would soon have.

"Will you have a Lavender Cake with me? I am sure that Boyde wouldn't mind sharing. Besides - who knows when we will have more of these talks. You are coming with me to Summerhall, aren't you?" Her eyes shifted from Boyde who brought over the cakes and jug of wine before setting a goblet before her and poured her only a little bit, before her eyes turned back towards Tyrion once more.
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TYRION LANNISTER
 Posted: Mar 5 2018, 04:26 PM
Quote
nica is Offline
30 years old
WESTERLANDS
Lannister
Lannister
Casterly Rock
The Imp


Pacing. Steps, short but swift, carried the man from library, to great hall, to dining hall, to library again, and finally to the roof. He stayed there for a long while, perched atop a wooden box in order to peer over the crenelations, watching as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, as its shade shifted from bright white, to gold, to molten orange. The shadows grew longer, and still, the horizon was a line before him, unbroken by sign of sails or passing vessels. Nothing. It stretched seemingly to eternity. And perhaps it did. No one knew what lie beyond the Sunset Sea; none had returned to tell the tale. At last, Tyrion turned to leave, but not before sneaking one last glance over his shoulder. He came here out of sheer habit now. It wasn't hope that hid within his odd-eyed gaze now. Nor was it sorrow. No, he was beyond those emotions now. Resignation? Or perhaps acceptance. Gerion would never again sail these waters. Gerion would never again sail.

He returned to his pacing, a swift but sure stride taking him from one familiar haunt to the next, until he found himself in the kitchens. It was a place of comfort, one he found himself returning to over and over; the scents as warm as the hearths, as warm as the welcome he received upon crossing the threshold. There was something so empty about the parapets. Something cold. Perhaps it was that vast empty expanse that spread before him, or perhaps it was the void that rested somewhere within Tyrion. Whatever the reason, he was soon plied with food, with wine, and with company. But as the hours waned, the company faded with the light, and the small man was left with his favorite companions; a goblet of Arbor red and an open book.

The man's look was pensive as he studied the burgundy liquid swirling in the goblet. Familiar, comforting sounds surrounded him; the crackling of a warm hearth, gentle chatter as women kneaded bread for the 'morrow's meals, the slow bubble of a large, cast iron pot hung over flames. He found himself down here often; his feet merely led him and he followed. As a boy, Tyrion had few high-born friends, and so, he made his friends amongst the servants' children. Now, those servants' children were grown, and many of them in their parents' posts. His welcomes in the 'lesser' areas of Casterly Rock were always warmer than anywhere else. And more than that, as he aged, it became a refuge for Tyrion. Sure, his brother, his caretakers, they all knew to look for Tyrion in the kitchens or down by the laundry as a child. But as he grew? Everyone expected him to also grow out of the habit. And it was true, his presence here was scarcer than before; it was much more likely to find him in the Library, bent over a dusty book, Arbor red close to hand. Or perhaps sequestered in his own chambers, clutching a mug of dark beer, flipping through pages.

That was the common theme. Words and wine, books and brews. The locale might differ, the scenery around him shifting with his moods, but he was reliable for both constants. Movement at the door drew his eyes from the dim pages, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus; shifting from the close, cramped text of the book, to a space across the room. A smile touched his lips. Alea. His second-favorite sibling. Jaime would, alas, always be first in his heart, despite his faults. Or, perhaps, due to his faults. It was the flaws that made the virtues shine ever brighter. Supposedly. Was it a maester who'd claimed such? Tyrion could not recall. The dwarf did little to make himself noticeable; it was inevitable that Alea would notice him on her own, or that Boyde would blow his cover. The roll of voices and the cook's gesture proved Tyrion correct; soon the blonde was sweeping over to him, and Tyrion slid over on the bench. "My dearest Alea," he greeted, a smile splitting his face. "I'm a small target," he jested, shrugging his shoulders, the smile becoming lopsided, "hard to hit sometimes." Tyrion did not mind the Targaryens' incursions; to the contrary, he rather enjoyed the cessation of monotony, and especially enjoyed the plentiful excuses to drink. Not that he ever needed an excuse to drink; being the son of Tywin Lannister was excuse enough.

"Of course," he replied, closing the book that lay before him, slipping a frayed ribbon between the pages to hold his place. "Boyde is the long-suffering, but he eventually parts with his treats," Tyrion said, a smile in his words. The expression on his face grew more somber. "You've gone and grown up right before my eyes. Imagine, a Lannister become a Targaryen." Another laugh brightened his features once more. "Our dearest sister is likely seething. I recommend giving her a wide berth." The hope in her next words plucked at his heart, leaving him stinging. "I'll visit, of course," he promised. Casterly Rock would be much colder with Alea's absence; her bright presence leaving the halls bereft for Tycen to stalk through, and for Jaime to pace.

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ALEA TARGARYEN
 Posted: Mar 9 2018, 02:30 AM
Quote
SOLACE is Offline
18 years old
STORMLANDS
House Targaryen
Lannister
SUMMERHALL
Royal


Alea's affection for her siblings came from both familial duty, but also from genuine love. One protects their family like the Lion protects their pride, but Alea had always been the kindest of Tywin Lannister's children. The girl was full of life and love, of curiosity and questions. She hadn't known hardship, save for her father's constant looks of disapproval, but even those seemed to not be as harsh with her. He never smiled, of course, but Tywin's love for his youngest child was there, in small ways. Perhaps it was because he wasn't as harsh on her that she had thrived in the way she had. But one could never forget that Alea was a Lannister, and under that purple gaze and golden hair, still was the blood of the lion. She may not have been as cunning as Cersei, or as cruel, but she was still a Lioness.

But besides the golden hair and their father, the sisters had nothing else in common. For while Cersei saw Tyrion with contempt, Alea saw him with love and affection. She cared for her brother, perhaps more so since he was treated so poorly. The two had a fondness for learning and for stories, Alea had questions and ideas, and loved to hear stories both fantastical and real. Tyrion fed her appetite, and while the pair may have been years apart, Alea felt closer to him sometimes than to her other siblings. Though Tycen would always be her closest sibling, Tyrion came in a close second.

Lavender cakes were placed before her as Tyrion began to talk, and Alea took the goblet once it had been poured and she sipped the lesser alcoholic beverage and pulled her legs up onto the seat a bit. Not very ladylike, but down in the Kitchens, Alea tended to be freer than when all eyes were on her. She supposed these where the last days she would have the ability to be free from the constraints of royal protocol and anything else that would be expected of her as betrothed to Prince Valarr. She sipped her rose wine before reaching for two of the cakes and placing one before Tyrion as she took the little scone and bit into it.

"I will miss these cakes." She sighed in pleasure. "I doubt there is a cook in all of Westeros that makes better food than Boyde. I would be happy to be proved wrong but I doubt I am."[/b she said confidently. [b]"I think he only allows me to have them so I don't go try and stealing them when he is asleep. He would find his stores empty and us with bellyaches." she giggled a little, the sound light and playful as she turned to her brother beside her.

Tyrion spoke of how she grew and she felt her cheeks redden slightly. "I did not ask for it. " She sighed, but not sadly, more out of defeat. "But I see it as an adventure. I will be traveling with the Royal family to many parts of the Kingdom. I will get to see more of Westeros than I ever believed." She grinned at the thought and turned to look at him. It slipped as he said he would visit, and she set the cake down on the cloth napkin that had been given to her by Boyde before he had retreated back to his ovens.

"You are not coming with me?" She inquired, frowning a bit more. Why would he stay? "I thought that you more than anyone would want to see more than just Lannisport. Why not join me when I leave to Summerhall?" She asked quietly, frowning as she picked up her goblet again. Frowning didn't suit her face, but she looked at him and she moved over a bit more so that she was closer to Tyrion, and so that their conversation would be more confidential.

"I'm scared, Tyrion. Mother will join me in Summerhall, but I will be utterly alone with the Royal Family until then. What if they hate me? What if the Queen thinks I am not fit for her son? or what if Prince Valarr doesn't like me?" She looked at her goblet and drank the rest of it before she reached for the jug and poured some more.
"I never imagined that I would become a Princess. I fear I will lose who I am and become someone I am not. I would have you there to remind me. And you could try all the wine that is in the royal cellars." She bribed, a bit of light filtering back into her eyes that had been so worried moments before. she picked up her cake once more, taking a bite before she sighed in content at the lavender taste as if it was soothing away her worries with each tender bite.


Lavender (tea) cakes
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