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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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 fire in the night sky,, tag argella
Steffon Baratheon
 Posted: Mar 26 2018, 11:04 PM
Quote
N/A is Offline
21 years old
STORMLANDS
Targaryen
Baratheon
Storm's End
Noble


Steffon stood with a thin-line where his mouth would generally be open, smiling, and displaying the teeth the Gods had given him. Elinor was walking away from him, as she seemed to so often do as of late, and he was left to stand there. Watching her, and biting the inside of his lip to keep his tense jaw from allowing any unsavory comment to slip. He liked it better the way it used to be, when he would bite his bottom lip while staring at her rear when she left his side. He, at times, supposed he still could but her mood soured his desire.

The wine in his left hand even seemed soured as he raised it to his mouth, sipping from the red liquid as her shadow disappeared around a corner. Steffon remained, almost still aside from the draw of his chalice upwards, and sipped that dry, puckering wine. He did so for longer than he likely should, given his position and reputation at court. He was not supposed to sit in his mood, that was left for weaker men, the men that could not rouse a jovial jest and entertain the rest. So, he pulled himself together, with his free hand adjusting the dark velvet tunic that outlined in golden thread his frame beneath.

When he turned on his heel, the oiled leather reflecting the glow of light enough to catch his eyes, he almost trampled his sister. "ar-Argella," His voice boomed over her, alarm present, "You can't just pop out of nowhere like some kind of imp." His hard line had already softened, as it usually did upon his sister's sighting. Though, his eyes narrowed, one corner of his mouth drawing back at his crude choice of wording. They were gathered after all for his Uncle Tyrion's trial, and he was oft to be called an imp due to his stature and wit. Steffon piped up, continuing on to try and dismiss his other growing concerns with the impending trial, "What do you want?"

She always wanted something, ever since she was a child, and their house had always given it. No matter the cost. "Out with it, it's always something," He gave her a hard time, the kind only a brother could freely give. And then, as a small jest he asked, "Shouldn't you be doing... something other than loitering here anyway? Like fetching your brother better wine?" Steffon raised his chalice, sloshing it's contents near her nose.

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ARGELLA BARATHEON
 Posted: Apr 21 2018, 08:29 AM
Quote
oswin is Offline
19 years old
STORMLANDS [A]
House Baratheon
Baratheon
Storms end
lady




Argella could almost depict the exact moment in the conversation between her brother and his betrothed when it all began to crumble, however minuscule and almost missable to others, the events that followed after - while she could not hear - were more telling than words. Why exactly she was watching them Ella could not haphazard a guess, when she could have been paying attention to the gorgeous, yet dull man who was praying for her attention before her. With the metal rim of her chalice resting upon her heart shaped lips paused in the motion of taking a sip, Argella’s ivy gaze stalked the Stark as she made her departure, once out of sight slipping back to her eldest brother.

The weighted sigh on her tongue escaped before she could think better of it, cutting her comrade off mid sentence, Ella walked off without a backwards glance. Tawny tresses spilling over her shoulder with each delicate move of her shoulders, silently moving across the threshold and muffiling her approach with the lengths of her skirts. Unable to hide her amusement at his sudden discomfort from her materialisation, “What kind of knight are you, hm? One afraid of his sister?” Unable to keep from teasing him, the mirth glowing in her gaze. Poking him in the ribs once for good measure, the smirk coiling at the corner of her lips spelling trouble. Steffon had always been a partner in her theatrics, surely he should know her well enough by now to know why her presence was summoned to this very spot. She had meddling to do.

“Who says I want anything?” The doe’s tone displaying the barest hints of offence while inspecting her nails. Ignoring his ribbing with a roll of her gaze, “Can I not just wish to spend time with my brother?” Innocence spewing from her pores as Ella stared into his gaze, challenging him with a raise of her brow and few could say odd humour that appeared to ingrain itself into the Baratheon’s being. “Afterall, he may not have much time left with the way he is acting.” Glancing once to the now empty hallway before back to him. To Ella her intent was clear, though she was happy to spell it out for him.

Scoffing quietly, the displeasure rooting itself in her features at the very thought of being at another’s beck and call, much less his was evident. “Please, Steffon I do possess some self respect.” Bemused at the thought, “So your charm will not work here.” Apparently Argella was the only woman not smitten with her brother, it was evident in almost every place they visited. “What I do want to know is what you are doing.” The light and cheery tone that had sung so sweetly between them now bordered on the blunt, Argella adored her brother, it was why she was not mincing her words for him now. For she believed that he needed to hear them. “Intend to follow in father's footsteps do you? To ruin your marriage before ever truly getting to give it a chance?” Loving the men in the Baratheon family was proving to be quite the bit of work, though she undertook the strain of it for them. “Talk to me, Steff.” Quieting her tone, realising how sharp it had sounded, while she had his intentions at heart, her approach could have been altered, to say the least.



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Steffon Baratheon
 Posted: May 16 2018, 04:46 PM
Quote
N/A is Offline
21 years old
STORMLANDS
Targaryen
Baratheon
Storm's End
Noble



He laughed, as he often did with his sister, "What kind of knight?" He asked, letting his brow raise as he tried to keep from showing the tickle of her thumb against his rib. He had always been an easy victim to tickling, when it was meant to tickle or even when not. Torture, he called it. The gods giving him a weakness, but at least it was not one found in battle. "Perhaps I am the wise kind, knowing what to truly fear in this life," He posed the statement almost as a question, "Women...?" It was likely especially true in their family too, with the golden lioness for a mother, a storm reincarnated for a sister, a strong-will aunt, and a she-wolf for a bride.

She questioned, with her big green eyes, why he would ever suggest she wanted anything. "Oh, so you want my company then, eh?" He eyed her with his own orbs of blue, releasing a chuckle. The laugh that emitted from his lips was cut short by her next words, a worried knit consuming his brow. "Me?" He asked, the index finger of his left hand finding the direction of his chest from around his chalice. "I." He seemed exasperated, his mouth hanging partially open, "I'm not the one harboring an attitude in front of half the court. I'm the happy one, the laughing man. I tell a crude joke to the gathering lords and pay compliments to the joining ladies, what is not meant to be done that I am doing?" The stag had wondered what he was doing to upset his betrothed so, but doubted it lied with his party pleasantries.

He released a sigh, already aware that she had caught the click of Elinor's heels as they left his side, "My charm is better saved for better uses then," His words half-attempted at a jest as she demanded to know what he was really doing. The words that came next stung more than he anticipated, and perhaps, more than she had intended. His full lips turned into a thin line, and followed into a thinner frown as they began to turn down at the corners. She pleaded for him to talk to her, another sigh released from between them. "If she will ever let me have a chance, I'll do better. As of right now, I'm doing the best I can with a woman that has already found a reason to loathe me. At least father had until they were through the ceremony, I have barely made it halfway through the engagement."

He shook his head, not at her but at the impossible and overwhelming feeling that overcame him whenever he thought Elinor threatened that it would forever be this way. "She is mad, and driving me to be the same! I promised her I would never demand anything of her, and yet, when war came I ordered her to stay in Storm's End. I let her fight when she decided she wanted to and it nearly cost her her life," He thought back to the day on the plains, where the sky was dark with smoke and the threat of rain. When an enemy had her cornered, misjudging her possibilities to parry and the distance between them. "The whole world fell from my hands the moment that man loomed over her head and raised to strike her down," His voice was a little softer, not in volume, but in tone, "If I had been one second later, she wouldn't be storming away from me. She'd be in the catacombs of Winterfell thousands of miles away." A bit dramatic in statement, sure, but when were the Baratheons absent of such?

"It wasn't a fluke, like bad weapon luck, it was the inexperience of someone who is not properly trained. A squire of any decent knight would have avoided it," Said the man that had learned at the hands of the realms finest knights. They had made him work for every ounce of knowledge and skill he had acquired over years beneath them. They were hellbent on another glorious sword, one that would not die a death due to poor judgement on most movements when in combat. "I could not have let her go to Essos, I wouldn't have been able to stand ferrying her broken body across the Narrow Sea." His brow twitched, bringing his cup to his lips. He patted his healing leg and attempted a jest to end the sour mood, "I can barely stand as it it. Argella, she is mad at me for acting as her lord and husband with an order to remain behind. She will cool in time, or she will not, but at least she is alive."

He continued, letting his eyes drift down the corridor she had disappeared into, "And in the mean time, if you have any notion of how to put myself in better favor with her, do share. I would ask our father... but, yeah, I think history would prove his advice unbeneficial." Perhaps, if one day he wanted her to kill him in his sleep, then he would seek it. It seemed their mother was half way to doing so most of the time.



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