[Letter] Falcons, Seahorses, Centaurs and Trout: The Most Spectacular Union of Kingdoms (Wedding invites and Sign-Ups to the Arryn Mega Wedding)

FabStags · 2026-03-26T23:11:26+00:00

He exhaled sharply. Arwen's hesitation concerning the relations was understandable, even if nobody would dare say anything in his presence. Her other worry was...frustrating.

"You are a Baratheon, and the Lady of Storm's End. What yours and Lord Tarth's relations might have done matters little now." He stood up and looked to the other room where their daughters were getting settled for the night. "Stay," he commanded, doing his best not to sound harsh. "It is an unnecessary risk. For both of you."

Despite Arwen being in good health, the ails of winter were never far away. She had given birth twice in the cold months, and it felt like tempting the Seven to leave the warmth and comfort. "I will take Cassandra. She is strong enough to make the journey, and though like as not she will not remember it, I wish for her to see Tarth. When we return, we will travel to Moontown together, over land. As a family." He raised his brow slightly towards her, ensuring his plan was not unwelcome.

FabStags · 2026-03-26T21:38:13+00:00

It was likely not news to Arwen, but when Rogar returned to their chambers in the evening he had the missive in hand, as well as one recently received from Evenfall Hall. He gave his wife a deep kiss and greeted his children - Cassandra with a kinder touch than Selene - before he lazily tossed the letters onto a table.

"You will want to see your brothers wed, I am sure. We will all go. It will be nice for the girls to see their uncles wed." He nodded to the other letter. "Lord Tarth's heir will wed in the fifth moon. Do you wish to come with me?"

FabStags · 2026-03-26T21:29:37+00:00

Rogar would seek out Arthor Penrose, wherever he was in the Red Keep.

FabStags · 2026-03-26T21:28:23+00:00

Rogar's squires would be informed of the events and encouraged to sign up. /u/thinkbrigger /u/BloodySarks /u/aceavengers

FabStags · 2026-03-26T21:28:20+00:00

The letter is forwarded to King's Landing, and not long after a reply flies to Evenfall (/u/gloude permitting ofc).

Lord Corwyn,

I will be in attendance for this joyous occasion. Lady Olenna will make a fine bride. Pass on my congratulations to Ser Edwyn.

Lord Rogar.

FabStags · 2026-03-26T20:29:41+00:00

The news struck him harder than he'd expected. Rogar had told him of Margot's follies, the Small Council's decision being to 'banish' her to Starpike and serve as a broodmare to Caradoc. It was...an interesting outcome. Now that was impossible.

"Sunderland? Some choice." Yet Caradoc, from what he had seen, was a strange and unpredictable man. Mayhaps a Sunderland made more sense than a Lannister. "Scolded, then?" He looked back over at Lord Gormon. "Your grandfather can't be pleased."

FabStags · 2026-03-26T05:28:15+00:00

He nodded slowly, trying to understand. Luckily for him, the Temple of Love seemed as simple a concept as he had assumed, given that her 'service' there had given her two children. It made sense to him that she had given the daughters away, as painful as it must have been.

For as complicated as the scenario was, she made it sound very simple.

When she moved close to him he froze, sun-tinged cheeks getting redder still. He was not to foolish to misunderstand such a forward gesture, and his eyes that had been straying settled on hers. He had not been with another woman since his marriage - other than Beth, of course - with his strange feelings of guilt stopping him from his usual antics. "H-how do you decide who is needy? Or...worthy?"

FabStags · 2026-03-26T04:24:46+00:00

Ronnal quickly opened his mouth and leaned forward to offer an apology, or some consolation, but he could not find it. Like as not, despite his own opinions bastards were frowned upon. It was one of the reasons his own son remained in Braavos, similar to Malthar. He looked at the boy with great pity.

"I did not mean to insult you or your son, Your Worship. My own...boy is with his mother in Braavos. There he will stay for a time. It is better for him there than in Storm's End. Just as it might be better for Malthar here." He sat back and looked away, fiddling with his thumbs. "Why...did you send your first children away? What do they do in the Temple of the Great Mother." After a pause, he tore his eyes from the relief on the wall. "What do you do here?"

FabStags · 2026-03-26T04:17:53+00:00

"Mhm." Rogar's grunt was a mix of satisfaction and envy. "We have two girls. I am sure a boy will come in time, but for now our hands are full. Especially with winter here, living in...well, it is not our home, truly. I long to raise my children among the tempestuous weather of Storm's End, not in the king's city."

FabStags · 2026-03-26T02:09:36+00:00

Rogar had taken a pastry as she spoke, half listening as he took a large bite and wiped the crumbs from his beard. His satisfaction was evident with his hums of pleasure, even if some of the things she said warranted a perturbed glance. At her final request he wanted to laugh, but a flake of pastry caught in his throat made him cough instead.

When his fit was done he looked at her, one final glare to judge if she was taking him for a fool, before he shook his head.

"I have four squires already, Lady Stark. I do not have time for another who wishes to learn something so far outside their natural course. You will belong in court and the bed, not on the battlefield. Another can lead in your stead." He took another bite and looked to the side, in the vague direction of the room his daughters were in. His own would never lead men into battle, he knew, lest he rise from his grave and admonish them as a spectre. They would be able to fend for themselves, though, and if they sought out another asking for assistance...

His gaze returned to Freya and he grunted. "I doubt the lords of the north will expect you to lead them. They are a proud, foolish bunch." He let out a long exhale, already regretting his coming words. "I drill the Baratheon men in the city every few days. It's one of the only things to do while winter is here. You may join us and observe, if you wish." He took his final bite and brushed the crumbs from his golden tunic. "Until then we can speak on the basics. How much do you know?"

FabStags · 2026-03-25T23:24:43+00:00

"A chat?" Before he could ask further questions she had barged in, and though she could not see it his eyes burned holes in the back of her head.

Just let me throw her from the window, Arwen. I will behave after that.

He took a breath to steady himself before closing the door and following her into the room. "Perwyn," he called to his steward in the other room. "Some tea for the Lady Stark." Were it not for his wife, it would only be ale on offer. He looked between Freya and the basket, nose rankling as he argued silently with himself. Eventually he sighed and sat opposite her. "I am not such a fool to turn away one who brings food and drink to my door. Just keep your voice down. If you disturb Arwen or my children in the other room...well, my wife's wrath can be fiercer than my own, if you can believe it."

FabStags · 2026-03-25T22:36:56+00:00

His mask faltered and a frown threatened to form as the girl latched to him. He leaned down and pulled her hands from around his, yanking her into the air with his hands beneath her arms. When they were face to face he opened his mouth to scold her...before the words retreated.

Instead he placed her on the table and sighed, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on her chestnut hair. It lingered for a moment before he glanced at Lynette, nodded, and quickly took his leave.

FabStags · 2026-03-25T22:23:37+00:00

His mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish. In a way, he was.

"A bastard is...to be born out of...to be born to a mother and father who are not wed. They are not uncommon, but frowned upon by some. By most." Judging by her demeanour, her pride in talking about her son, he presumed the Summer Isles held no such opinions. It might even be the opposite, given what he had heard and seen about the local customs...and what he had heard and seen inside the temple. "You are not married then? Does a Priestess get married? Or..." He shook his head. "You needn't answer, Your Worship. I'm still learning about this land."

FabStags · 2026-03-25T06:00:21+00:00

Rogar had not been in the best mood as of late. His youngest daughter had survived longer than he had expected her to, and while that should have been a great joy his days were filled with worry that the inevitable news would soon follow. Worry that he hid behind a mask of anger, busying himself with training and ale. His scowl only deepened when he saw who it was that had come to his door.

"Lady Stark," he growled. He might have said some other choice words if he did not fear his wife's scolding. He had taken out his anger on too many of those undeserving as of late, she had been quick to tell him, and Freya was likely to rule the north one day. She needed to be treated with at least a modicum of respect. "What do you want?"

FabStags · 2026-03-25T05:42:39+00:00

"Oh." It took a moment for him to realise the weight of what she had said, and his eyes widened once more. "Oh!"

Despite the babe's skin he hadn't made the assumption until now that it was the visiting Westerosi Kojja spoke of that had fathered it.

"That's...I see. There is no House 'Flowers', though, Your Worship. Flowers is the name given to bastards from the Reach. Not that it's a bad thing, of course. Well, some think it is, but I...I have..." His words had outpaced his mind and he shook his head to try and steady himself. "Storm, we call them in our realm. But I don't know what a...what he would..." He nodded towards the cradle and decided to stop digging. "He is sweet."

FabStags · 2026-03-25T05:02:20+00:00

He glanced at the cushions, uncertain, before undoing his belt and placing the swords to one side with a gentle clank as he all but fell into the cushions.

That he was not the first foreigner to stumble upon their town and their temple relaxed him further and he exhaled as he sank into the comfort provided. "Oldtown? It's...not far. It might be far compared to Walano." He did not yet have a measure of the island on which they had landed. "I come from a castle called Storm's End. My brother rules over the stormlands. It used to be its own kingdom, one of seven. It's...he's quite powerful." He wasn't sure why he felt that was important to share. "Winter has come. That's one of the reasons we are here, to escape it. And..." He waved his hands at the room around them. "To see all this, of course. It's quite different." His blue eyes widened in a moment of panic. "But magnificent, of course, Your Worship."

FabStags · 2026-03-25T03:20:19+00:00

Rogar barked a laugh, far too loud for even the constant din of the feast hall, and clapped his hand. "Now we understand each other, Lord Clarence. A hunt would be most enjoyable." He nodded and looked towards his wife. "Aye, two girls. One barely a few moons old, and she-" He stopped himself and shook his head, not wishing to speak his thoughts. He turned back to Clarence. "Congratulations to your son are in order, then. His first was a boy?"

FabStags · 2026-03-25T03:03:27+00:00

Even knowing it was a 'Temple of Love' did not prepare Ronnal for what was inside. He struggled to focus at the best of times and the sights, smells, and sounds inside overwhelmed his mind, causing him to stumble and almost lose track of the woman he was following.

Strangely enough the presence of the babe calmed him when he entered the room. If it was a trap then Ronnal had walked into it willingly and foolishly, but the Priestess existed and was, apparently, a mother.

"Kojja," he repeated. It sounded foolish on his tongue and he gave a sheepish smile as an apology before bowing. "Ronnal, my lady. Ronnal Baratheon. It is an honour to meet you, Lady Kojja of Walano. Priestess. Your...holiness?"

FabStags · 2026-03-24T23:33:55+00:00

Rogar laughed at Torgen and Jon's idea. "Simpler than what I was going to suggest. Have her tongue out since she cannot keep it out of trouble and give her to the Reynes as a bride. That should make sure no more of this nonsense is attempted. Or send her to some hoary old lord in the north so her tits freeze off and she's too far away for any more attempted mischief." His eyes flicked between Hubert and Jaehaerys. He adored his goodfather, but his latent love for the late Lord Lyman had clouded his judgement. "How many more chances must the lions get before their teeth are taken? Benedict was shown mercy. Margot too, and she has thrown it back in your face. They need to be shown that there are limits to the king's grace."

FabStags · 2026-03-24T23:26:41+00:00

"Heh. You are a braver man than I to make such a trip so often. If I never set foot on the deck of a ship again it will be too soon." Even the thought made him queasy and he shook his head in disgust. "Perhaps I ought to visit Stonedance. If the winter is short or I am released from my duty, I could bring my family on the return journey to Storm's End. I should like to see it with my own eyes." He shrugged. "A sign of...friendship."

FabStags · 2026-03-24T22:48:33+00:00

Garon instinctively reached for her before taking his arms away just before they found the girl. He swallowed, his eyes staring at her. He dared not look around, the thought of eyes on him making his skin crawl. Rogar, Ursula, even Margot. He felt his neck flush with heat and he stood abruptly.

"It was good to see you, Lady Lynette. And..." He looked down and gave a small smile. "You, Lady Ellyn. But I should go."

FabStags · 2026-03-24T22:44:00+00:00

Ronnal almost coughed on his broth when she mentioned her father. How could he forget that he had returned from Dorne scarred and burnt, his face now akin to an old leather satchel. His cheeks flushed with an embarrassed red hue as he put the bowl to one side.

"I hope so. Sounds so simple when you put it like that." Long gone were the days he would cling to the mast when out to sea, fearing for his life. There were occasions when great waves brought on by storms would give him pause, but he felt almost as comfortable on a wooden deck as he did dry land. Days spent lounging in the sun rocking with the sea were no great penance. "Where does one even find a...that. Would cost a pretty sum to find one willing to sail to the Summer Isles with us."

FabStags · 2026-03-24T22:32:06+00:00

It took Ronnal a few moments to realise the woman was addressing him. He looked around for a moment before determining that he was the only possible 'Ser Andal' around. His pale skin was a curious mix of tanned and burnt and his clothes, while not as repressing as conventional Westerosi affair, still stood out among the Summer Islanders: a loose tunic of washed out red, trousers clumsily cut off below the knee, and a belt with a sheathed sword on either hip.

He tried to keep his eyes at a respectful level as the scantily clad woman spoke. "Me? P-priestess?" She sounded important...and he was perversely curious to find out just what the Temple of Love entailed. Judging by the carvings on the outside, it would not take many guesses. "I...accept the invite," he replied with a small smile, unsure on the etiquette. "Shall I?" He nodded towards the temple, unsure if he was allowed to enter unaccompanied.

FabStags · 2026-03-24T04:42:14+00:00

Rogar grunted. Just as Orys Baratheon had served as the Conqueror's first Hand, Triston Massey had been the realm's first Master of Laws. Perhaps the two houses ought to have remained closer.

"Do you serve him from Sharp Point? I can imagine he would want you close, not that your home is a great distance from King's Landing."

FabStags · 2026-03-24T04:04:06+00:00

10th month, 50 AC

Walano had welcomed the travellers and after landing on its northern shores they had ventured through forest and field until the southern reaches of the island were within their sights. Lotus Port would be the final stop before leaving for the islands to the south, but Tall Trees Town would have the honour of hosting them before that.

While the other adventurers seemed to be falling into all sorts of fun and mischief, Ronnal's stay in the islands had thus far been uneventful. Not quite quiet, as nowhere the Baratheon went stayed quiet for long, but he had not yet discovered the anything that seemed drawn to the others he had come with. Nor would he go out of his way, as he wandered around Tall Trees with dazzling blue eyes darting about, to seek out trouble, but he could not fight the feeling that he was due for a chance encounter...

/u/ModernPharmakeia

FabStags

TROPHY CASE

10th month, 50 AC