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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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 The Cold Sun, Tag Sansa
TYCEN LANNISTER
 Posted: May 24 2018, 11:55 AM
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Unlike his brother or his brother in law, Tycen knew that once he was wed, then a large part of his freedom was over. The reputation of a House with opened legs would end with him. Tycen had no intention of furthering this sullied name by being a lecherous or unfaithful man. House Lannister had enough problems than to have Tycen pile on to them with more rumours, more reasons to doubt his once proud house. The younger members were usually allowed to use their youth to play. Jaime had, obviously. Tywin had given the house stability. He was loyal, strict, firm, unquestionable. Unimpeachable. Tycen must be the same if he was to bring them back from the shame and disorganization Jaime and Tyrion had brought them.

Sansa at least had that to look forward to. She would never feel the embarrassment that Alea had with her lord husband. Her new house would not be tarnished with scandal and her lord husband would not make her look a fool to the rest of the world. At the moment, this was more for honour than love, if he was honest. How could he love her, he barely knew her? He wasn't some starry eyed boy, though one would be taken with her. He valued intelligence over all. In the end, Sansa'a beauty would fade, as would his own. If her mind was not sharp, what would they have left? He had an idea that she did posses some intellect but that she might be too meek to show it.

No matter, she would come out of her shell once she was more comfortable with him. As rational as ever though, the time it would take to get a level of comfort between them annoyed him. She needed to be brought into the fold nonetheless, he needed to determine how much he could trust her, and how much to involve her in his every day activities.

Arranging a late break of the fast with all things he assumed ladies loved to eat, he has told her the evening previously to expect to be summoned at this time. Fruit was the largest pick of the table, a great array of sweet and tart brightly colored harvest to choose from. Two bowls of grain porridge boiled in milk awaited to be doctored up with sugar and fruit. Fish sat at the center, light and flaky with bread surrounding it. He was proud of the spread he had chosen and his servants had laid out. He hoped Sansa saw the effort he had put in and opened up.

He looked up from his parchments as her arrival was announced. Standing, he held a hand out to guide her to her cushioned seat, the setting arranged on his terrace which was highly decorated with lush plants that drank up the sunlight that shone today. To keep them warm in the chilled weather, a small fire was lit by each chair.

"I hope this is to your liking, Lady Sansa." He spoke the first words, inviting her to join him in conversation.
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SANSA STARK
 Posted: Jun 12 2018, 07:53 AM
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oswin is Offline
19 years old
NORTH [A]
Targaryen
Stark
Winterfell
Lady



The Rock oozed power, from the very golden arbor that littered the halls to the servants that lined it. Sansa was hard pressed to find a fault in any of the ongoings and daily routine that kept the castle running like a well oiled crossbow. Soothing her fiery hair, attempting to coax the small flyaway strands to lie flat - to no avail. The elaborat knot that was nestled at the nape of her neck, with an oil through her hair that made the colour glow almost crimson in the firelight. The darker colour flashing through and shifting from its normal hue. Sansa’s lightened gaze drank in her appearance for the moment, nothing all her flaws with distaste and acknowledging the exceptions with a small nod. Wanting nothing more than this meeting to go perfectly, it left her ready far too early. Hence why she was seated in front of the looking glass and picking apart her appearance, if only to make the time pass faster.

Drawing to her full height, thankful to the gods that even in heels Tycen was still almost a good head higher than her. Their click against the stone floor was her only companion as she wove her way through the Rock. The lengths of her amber skirts swirling artfully about her heels as she ascended the stairs, feeling the budding apprehension threatening to bloom in her chest. As it always did when she was within the company of her betrothed. He was not a man for pretty words or to fill the silences that were so easily slipped into. So of course, Sansa, always so eager to please felt the need to fill the often deserved silences with her chatter and nervousness. Which always left her feeling the fool when they departed. Determined this time to not make a fool of herself, she had to idly wonder how long that would last.

Upon stepping onto his terrace after she was announced, her cobalt gaze drank in the scene. Absorbing the information as though she were a flower that had been without light for far too long, the thoughtfulness shone through in her wide gaze. “Very much so, my lord.” Glancing to the golden light that filtered through the windows. “It is as though you summoned the agreeable weather too.” A shy smile played at the corner of her lips, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she accepted the seat offered to her. Ignoring the colouring in her cheeks, and blaming the weather for her change in colouring, not for the close proximity of the man who made her so very nervous.

“It will be a shame to disturb it all.” Glancing meaningfully to the colourful spread before her, tucking her palms neatly against her lap. Sure to hide them from view, “How have you been?” Widened azure gaze peered into the darkened depths of his own. Seeking an answer that she was sure he was not about to provide, Sansa had asked it before. And though it was not her business, she could not stop herself from inquiring all the same. “When do you depart for Kings Landing?” Knowing the subject was a sore topic, once again her verbal vomit could not be controlled. Undeniably she should learn to hold her tongue, yet she would rather converse than sit in silence. That would be far too much like home for her liking.

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TYCEN LANNISTER
 Posted: Jun 12 2018, 04:21 PM
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“It is as though you summoned the agreeable weather too.”

Sansa's songbird-like voice was quite soothing, he noted, and sweet. It was not abrasive or screeching. He hoped her laugh was also pleasant. He did wish his bride to have joy but not if she sounded like a dying blackbird. At parties, he had heard such cawing and warbling and his ears seemed to burn at the sounds.

"Had I the power to do that, winter would never come." It might have been the wrong thing to say to a Stark and he realized it quickly, "Literally, of course. I am quite glad that winter has come to Casterly Rock metaphorically." He was not good at this sweet speak, nor was he charming. He was straight forward and blunt but he did hope for her happiness, whether he could express it or not. Her happiness meant she would not stray or betray them, her happiness meant she would raise their children gladly and with love, her happiness was practical.

He gave her a tight smile, "It was created in order to be enjoyed." He assured her, "I am well enough, the strains of recent events be damned. Besides, justice will be done, soon." He told her. He nodded when she asked him when he was leaving, "The ending to this tale of tragedy will be a relief."

"In order to begin a better story." It was not that he couldn't speak in pretty words, it was just that he was never fond of being anything but direct and efficient. If her verbal vomit was prattling speak, then his was offensive and short.

"I leave in a few days." He saw that they had yet to get food so he nodded toward one of the servants who then began to build a plate for them both, serving Sansa first, "I wish for you to understand one or two points before I leave and think on them while I am gone." He waited for a moment, taking a bite of the fish, noting its almost sweet lemony taste.

"Our wedding will be shortly following my return." He shook his head as if amused, "Shortly in wedding terms, of course is still a lot of time. The day will be about the Lannisters, it is true, but I do not wish for you to completely deny your heritage and have arranged for the planners to consult with you on some things like your gown. I cannot give you total freedom, there are some necessary traditions, but you should not start our life together without an identity." He wanted to see her confidence grow, not be absorbed by the Lannister House. He bit into a fig and washed it down with some wine.

"A second thing you ought to know is, in our lives together, I shall never hit you, Sansa." He knew lords were allowed and even encouraged to do this to keep their wives under control, but the whole business was distasteful. To harm a creature less powerful than he in order to control her was cowardice, "I may grow frustrated or angry, I may raise my voice but never my hand. The reason I say this is I do not wish you to fear me, not ever. I may demand your respect but never your fear. There will be times where you might think what you say will anger me, even if I need to hear it. I am not looking for a silent being to bare my children, my hope is that I will be able to confide in you and trust you with matters of the House."

"I am not a tender man, but I am also not a cruel one." He finalized, which was about as romantic as he could get, "It is my preference that we collaborate. I have my pride, but not so much that I think I have nothing to gain by my wife's perspective." It was true, she had a different experience than he. Her advice might be the difference between disaster and success if it made him reconsider a bad decision.
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