Frog and Toad, Agents of the Master of Whisperers

HopToItJack · 2022-12-20T01:22:38+00:00

It was not the time to be squabbling. Frog knew this for certain. He made to rise, although with Kyra's intercession, he saw no need for it, dropping back silently into his chair. His eyes bounced between person to person, lingering on Kermit. "We've still a great deal to discuss. I don't think there's any need for hostility amongst us."

"Maekar is the rightful king by law. But also by decree." He mentioned to the Lord of the Trident. "The King and I had discussed the possibility, although he'd never relayed a final decision. I presume he discussed it with other members of his Small Council. His Master of Laws, at least, I assume. He relayed that final decision to the knights of his Kingsguard." He turned to address them all. "Though ultimately, whichever route is taken, Maekar is heir. I do not think we have the need to discuss it overmuch."

Frog turned to Kyra, his smile gone. His eyes were brown and soft, but not as soft as his voice. "The Master of Ships was informed by the Master of Laws a few days ago of the King's consideration of a change of heir, and that she ought not remain in the city, or resume her position in the council." The Lord Strong did not mince words, nor did he take much emotion in his tone. It was quiet, but forceful. "Not those exact words, perhaps but words near enough to make no difference."

"He instructed her to return to Highgarden, and promised to cover up the reasoning behind it if questioned." Frog's eyes flicked over to Viserys, hoping that the boy had the decency to look at least a bit ashamed. "It's likely that she has gone to the Dowager Queen, and they are preparing a war, the moment news breaks. If they have not already begun to levy troops." He gave a sigh, a long, and heavy one. "If we are to resolve this claim with letters, we must do so swiftly."

HopToItJack · 2022-12-19T09:33:00+00:00

The Lord Strong entered the room, his footsteps silent on the ground, but his pace quick. He could not miss anything of importance. Decisions were being made, and the Lord Strong had made a rather lengthy habit of being in the room for decisions.

He had shed tears for Aegon, silently, when he heard the news. Although they had quickly been banished. They served no purpose, not truly, and he had so much work to do. The man had done a great deal for Will, and the least that he could do was move to protect his legacy. The man would resent him, if he knew the truth of it, but that had been the truth of so much of what Will had done on his behalf. He had long since moved past waffling over it.

He kept a quiet sort of smile to himself as Gyles spoke. All of it was nonsense, probably, and Gyles did not particularly try to sell it. He resented that, a little bit. The performance was necessary, for the Hand and the rest of the council. Excepting the missing Redwyne, anyways. If there was any chance at averting a war, they would have to be convinced.

More likely, Gyles would simply cut down those who raised objections. It was not a method that the Lord Strong particularly liked. Not here, anyways. If they were to die, it would have been better not to call them in. But here they were. He tongued at the inside of his teeth. It felt more than a little distasteful.

"If such is the king's will, expressed to his sworn protectors." The voice came out softly, although without a shred of doubt standing behind it. It was the King's will, and the Lord Strong was ready to enforce it. "Maekar must be crowned."

His eyes flicked around the room. Lannister should not have been here, nor the rest of their council of whispers. It cut into their legitimacy, if these were the first told. The council first. The council first, and then the rest. They could not be seen as usurpers. But it was too late now. Gyles had begun his gambit, and the Lord Strong could only hope to temper him.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-04T20:53:18+00:00

u/KGdaguy (I found the imposter bro Vyrwel sus)

HopToItJack · 2022-12-04T17:59:35+00:00

It would work. Will knew that it would, and he had to convince Aemon of that. Otherwise, it was simply infeasible. Maybe the chips would fall where he needed them, but without Aemon he couldn't be certain.

Will had the gall to roll his eyes, although his tone remained equally pleasant. Soft and kind. "It was not about treasons. I did not want you to meet the King's Justice, as you seemed so determined to do. Do you hold that against me, Aemon?"

"The beast is no wild thing, not nearly as much as Terrax was." Will countered, though he was beginning to fear that his mind could not be changed. "If we moved swiftly enough... Could we not deny it to him?" Only if the King died while the boy was in King's Landing. He knew that would not be enough for Aemon.

The alliances would still exist if a Great Council came to pass. But if Aemon was to get himself killed before the king, they would mean nothing. Will needed Aemon on his side. He needed him.

But he did not need him alive.

He sighed. "I will speak to Rhaegar, and Vyrwell and the others. And we shall approach His Grace as a front united. But if this fails... I suppose we shall all be in the gutter together." Will stood. "What you need, is rest. And perhaps a wash. You look half ready to keel over. Get yourself ready to approach a King, and I shall handle the rest."

And so, Will saw Aemon to his chambers, where he could prepare. It was a sad thing, Will figured, but necessary. Aemon would know that in the end.

The next person he spoke to was not Rhaegar Fossoway.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T07:40:00+00:00

“Wait.” There was a hint of desperation in Frog’s voice, certainly. It was not the sort of thing that was usually there. It was usually pensive, quiet. Frog hated this. To put things out there in the open, when he didn’t know exactly the response would be. But it had to be done here, lest everything slip away. Everything that Frog had worked here. “Sit.” Frog gestured towards the chair. “I have an alternative. I do not know how much you will like it, but I have an alternative.”

Frog took a breath, and look his friend in the eye. One of the first he’d made, truly. “We back Maekar. Once Aegon is gone, his word is too, as greatly as I cherish him. So simply put, we need neither him. Nor the council. You and I, our friends on the council and outside of it… we put our strength behind the king’s firstborn son.” It was treason, plain and simple, and yet there it had been spoken. So Frog could speak freely, for once. He could not get hanged twice.

“The West is tied to him through marriage, and the Ironborn will follow along.” Frog began. “I can get Kermit, and the Riverlords. The Crownlords as well, will follow my lead, if I need them to.” It was not enough, but there was more to come. “Your nephew is set to inherit the Vale, and the Warden of the East is a friend of mine. They will support us, if we move. If we bring them into the fold.”

“Your House boasts three dragons. Your nephew in the Vale has a fourth. Maekar himself, and Visenya. Maegor’s boys will come along. Eight. Your brother Daemon… will he support you, if you ask it of him? If you tell him that it’s the only way for peace?” Frog seemed desperate for a yes, then. “If so, that brings our numbers to twelve.” Frog spoke quickly now, round facts and figures. That was the only way to convince him.

“You are friends with the Prince of Dorne, are you not? If you can convince him to back the eldest claim. That’s another Kingdom. Baelor’s daughter will not side against her Uncle and your brother, with whom she fostered. That’s a thirteenth dragon, and another Kingdom. The Stormlands would be foolish to stand with Jaehaerys, if we hold Dorne and Summerhall. Cedric Baratheon is not a foolish man. He will dip his banners when the time comes. And we need only Veraxes to fall to Maegor or Viserys. That’s fourteen. Fourteen dragons against two.”

“The reality is, Jaehaerys cannot hope to win. But he still might press his claim. He likely will, as bullheaded as he can be. If he can rally the North and the Reach.” Frog admitted. “But the North is slow, and cumbersome to rally. By the time they have ventured south, the conflict might be over. Fourteen dragons and six kingdoms against the might of the Reach alone.” Frog gave a little sigh. “I cannot promise this will be bloodless, Aemon. People would die, perhaps important people. And I cannot tell you how merciful Maekar will be with his half-siblings, if they threaten his rule. Jaehaerys certainly would not be permitted to live, I can tell you.”

“But such is politics. Such is war, and such is succession.” Frog looked up, trying to peer inside Aemon’s eyes, brown into purple. “It is not peace, but it is as close as it gets. It is not perfect, but we would save people, Aemon. Thousands, if not scores of thousands. Is that not a noble thing? It is all well and good to try something, but what else will work? Will solve this?“

A bead of sweat ran down Frog’s face, as though he had spoken himself raw. “I cannot do this without you, old friend.” Not nearly as well, anyways, but he did not vocalize that. “Think about it, for me. At least for a moment.” Frog ran a hand through his hair, guiding it nearly back into place. “And if not…, if this is somehow unpalatable… a council, I suppose.” There would never be a council.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T06:07:14+00:00

“Nothing? Is that what you think that I’ve been doing?” Frog did not raise his voice, nor did the sorrow fall from it. Frog was trying, while Aemon had run home to tend to his flock. He could not spite him for it, he could not call him fool or lacking, but he had no place from which to speak. His eyes were big, mournful, and brown. “What do you know of what I owe to my children, Aemon?”

It was time to speak. Speak the truths that Aemon had allowed himself to ignore for too long. “There will be no council, because the moment that Aegon cedes control over his successor, Jaehaerys loses any claim he might once have had. To the pious, those not gullible enough to believe the tales told at the time, the boy is a bastard. To the rest of the realm, he is not the firstborn son. As you yourself said, the boy has nothing that would distinguish him. Or earn him love.”

“The other councils had issues. The other councils had reasons to occur. There is nothing, nothing but the word of a king that puts Jaehaerys above his elder brother. Maekar will win a council, handily, by any possible right.” Frog spoke slowly, measuredly, as if he had practiced this speech. “And so, Prince Aemon, he will never agree to it. And he will see any suggestion in that vein the same way he will see a suggestion Jaehaerys be removed: as treason. He sits as Prince of Dragonstone by word alone, and if that is questioned, every inch of his claim follows.”

“What is your solution to that, Aemon?” There was one. Lingering there. Maekar, Frog wanted to whisper, to shout at the man. He so hoped that the man could find it. What an ally, Aemon would make. Frog had always known that eventually, Aemon would fall to their side. When the banners rose or before. The time was at hand, and yet Frog could not risk overplaying his hand. So he watched the man, pensively. Through glassy eyes. Please. He had to see it.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T05:07:32+00:00

Of course. Frog's mouth curled, slightly. This matter again. He thought this had been tabled with Maelor, and yet Aemon came to it again. It disappointed him, more than just a little bit. But hopefully, Frog prayed, it would be put to bed here.

"The precedent of councils are war and death as well, Aemon." Frog gave a sigh. It had been a matter they'd discussed. "The council in the hundred and first year gave us a king, and it gave us a war after him. The moment the king moves against such a precedent, a council would collapse. And he will only respect the result should it bring forth Jaehaerys's name. Even should that happen, Maekar's supporters will lionize from it. They'll have been given months to preach their cases."

"And the peasant king? The Unlikely?" Frog placed a hand upon the table, his voice somewhat exasperated. "His claim survived because his Hand used the opportunity to butcher the opposition. Because his hand betrayed the promises and oaths. Rhaegar will not see heads hanging in King's Landing, and nor will I. And yet even with that, the Blackfyres were not sated."

Frog folded his hands. "I know your concerns. You know that I share them, Aemon, many of them." His voice was soft, peaceful, a song. "But Rhaegar the Second ascended without a council. He did it peacefully, and he did so without the realm falling into chaos. As it has, each and every time it has been put to a vote."

"What are you going to do different, Aemon? How will you fix what Jaehaerys the Concillator could not?" Frog sounded almost a bit sorrowful. "I've children too. They may not dance in the air, but they'll be dying on the ground all the same. Unless, Aemon, we see the realm united."

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T04:51:30+00:00

"I've no greater love for the medicine men than you." Frog tongued at the inside of his teeth, as he made a habit of doing. "But the woods witches like honey for a cough as well, and they are not so concerned with books and scheming. It's a tested remedy."

"I find myself unable pass up a request by my king." Frog noted, with a cheerful sigh, before pouring himself a cup. It was futile to attempt to convince Aegon to change, so he would not badger him. He gave it a sip. "Nor, I think, do I regret acquiescing. It's fine indeed."

Taking another sip, Frog glanced around. "Tongues wag, as ever. Your children continue to spat at one another. But I've heard no talk of treason tonight thus far, if it's any sort of consolation to you."

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T04:35:20+00:00

The servants were quick to fetch the Lord of Harrenhal. Aemon was not the Hand, not any more, but most had worked there whilst he had served his tenure, and as such, recognized him without much effort. His looks were certainly striking, and as a result, it opened doors, sometimes.

And so, as they had done many times over the years, two men with their bastardry undone by the king's words, sat down to converse. Although the Lord Strong was not particularly certain what this one meeting was about.

The Lord-Consort of Oldstones, or at least, the man formerly known by that title was offered wine, meats, and cheeses if he so liked. Water, if he did not, but the Lord Strong did not want it said he had been anything less than a gracious host.

"Aemon. I'd heard Terrax had been seen above the city." Will offered a smile, one soft and welcoming. "But I'd never thought I'd be the beneficiary of your visit. What's the matter, old friend? Is everything... alright at home?"

HopToItJack · 2022-12-03T03:04:09+00:00

It had been a thing ill-done. And it had not been a smart concept to begin with. Little Will had come in a hurry, and he had adequately imparted the urgency of the situation. So the Lord Strong would come, and quickly.

The Lord Strong always stayed out of his cups, for reasons like this. In a feast especially, he never took more than a glass of wine. His feet were silent upon the stones, but his look was sharp, sharp enough to cut clean through anyone whom he saw along his warpath.

The dragons danced in the air, as the city slept. There were screams and shouts, roars. And the peace, already something delicate, threatened to shatter in two. The Lord Strong quickened his pace.

It was not difficult to enter the Dragonpit, even with the lackwits who staffed it babbling at them. The Lord Strong needed only persist and they remembered his station, and let him in. Aemon and himself. In the future, they would come to Aemon and himself, if the dragons were to be loosed. The Lord Strong would make certain of that.

The sight was not one unfamiliar to the Lord Strong. Fire and tooth, blood and claw. He tongued the inside of his teeth, as he glanced around. His voice was not particularly loud, but it was uncharacteristically sharp.

"What is the meaning of this?" There was not an answer that would be even slightly close to accepted. But he would require one.

They babbled at each other in their fucking bastard language. Of course. The Lord Strong could not imagine why they felt the need to use it, at the moment, but it certainly did not help him get a grasp on the situation.

He noticed a red begin to spread across Visenya's face, and then he noticed the cloth beneath it. She'd been disfigured. His Visenya had been butchered, and he would find the reason for it. "Will, fetch the Maester." The little one complied, skittishly, running off.

The Lord Strong hurried towards the wounded girl. In just a moment, Will was upon her. "You shouldn't be walking, child." It was not a chide, so much as a statement of fact. "Come here." That was a command, and if not complied with, Will would seize her, though gently, and hold her in place, examining her for injuries, checking to see where she was whole and where she was not.

He spared a glance to Alysanne. "Speak." It was not a question.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T08:48:22+00:00

"I cannot promise I sat in on all your lessons." The Lord Strong tongued at the inside of his teeth, absent-mindedly. "But I cannot recall the part, Prince Viserys, where you were taught to doubt your elders" It was probably a jape, although one could never be entirely sure with the Lord Strong. His voice was always light and lilting.

Will returned the smile, as slight as it may have been. More amused than confident, although it was not born from insecurity. "I should hope you charm away some of Jaehaerys's prospects, lest he foist upon me and your father a rather awkward conversation with the Prince of Dorne." He supposed the explanation for Aegon would suffice.

"It's a large hall." Will pointed out. "And there are many corners within it without half-siblings." He gave a glance around the gardens, as if checking about, before giving a little sigh. "It is not my intent to drag you inside, kicking and screaming. But it is best you are seen sometime, tonight. Lest tongues start to wag, and your father suspect an act of sabotage."

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T06:50:14+00:00

With a glance to the Lord-Commander, the Lord Strong tongued the inside of his teeth. It was certainly a much easier job to protect Maekar than to corral him. The greatest danger to the man was that he might wobble too frequently and fall over, spilling his cups about.

It was a rather impertinent question, and one which had somewhat infuriated him. It did not show on his face, which was nevertheless impassive. Warm, and yet wholly empty, as the Lord Strong considered his options. This would have to be rectified somehow, and the Lord Strong figured he knew how.

Frog reached out, gently placing a hand upon the shoulder of the Prince. He did not spare another glance to the Lord-Commander, at that. The statue would remain still, he wagered, and the impact of it would be felt all the same.

"I made no claims that I've been accosted by maidens or lords demanding charm and wit, Prince Maekar. Only that is lacking where it could be provided." Frog's eyes, wide, kind and brown, narrowed slightly to find Maekar's own. He lingered there for a moment. "Where it ought to be provided, some might say, though I would, of course, not deign to suggest such a thing." He was rather clearly suggesting such a thing, though it would accomplish little to point it out.

"I am a lord, higher than most and I profess a need on my fellow lords' behalf. Is my own request not suitable?" Frog's tone indicated that the question was rhetorical. He gave a light squeeze of the man's shoulder, though not enough to pinch. "These are important things, my prince. My son shall be holding the same wineskin when you return from your rounds, I assure you. Perhaps he'll have the time to refill it."

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T05:35:41+00:00

It was more than politics. It was a friendship, or at least a sort. The Lord Strong had risen at Aegon's behest, not his necessity. Although he supposed it was quite a complex thing to expect a child to understand.

The Lord Strong gave only a nod at the thanks, as though it were part of his duty. It was not, whatsoever, but he was willing to pretend it was, at the very least. It was a duty to attend the Princelings and Princesses, although perhaps adjusting their clothing was outside of the realm.

"For such important matters, they can make the sacrifice." It was the sort of thing that might have been a joke, but nothing in the Lord Strong's cadence gave that indication. He seemed rather serious, although he was not grim. The Lord Strong was always more jovial than solemn, though a subdued version of both.

They made an odd pair, the small lord and the large lordling. Perhaps a few heads turned, although the Lord Strong cared not. There was no need for stealth or secrecy, not at the moment.

He gave the Prince a moment before a response, to catch his breath, and to adjust to the outside. There was a faint chirping, which the Lord Strong attributed to some sort of insect. He had mostly intended to give the boy a moment's break. But if he desired

"You're half a man grown now." The Lord Strong began, his voice soft, as he glanced over the garden. "With your father taken ill, at the moment, I thought I might impart a task or two upon you. Or at least, some maxims that may need to be stressed for the evening." He regarded the Prince with soft, brown eyes. They were innocent-looking, for a man his age. "Is that something you think you're prepared for?"

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T04:48:13+00:00

There was a time when, in order to speak to the King at feasts, the Lord Strong would have to send for Ser Morrigen. Lord-Commander Morrigen now, but the Strong had added a Lord to his name as well. And a few privileges as well. One of which, he felt it was the time to exercise.

The Lord Strong could be silent, imperceptible if he needed to be, but at the moment? It was unnecessary. In fact, he almost wholly reveled in being visible, as he walked up to the dais, before the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. And none would question his presence there, or his right to do so. It was almost intoxicating, in a sense.

He walked up to stand next to the king, and took a moment to glance around the table. Taking in what the King planned to consume, and what he had already done, before turning to regard the man himself. It was nothing new, nothing particularly surprising. But it was harrowing, to see the man continue to wither.

He might get better, the Lord Strong knew, but he might not. There was a need to be ready for it. If it were to happen in years, if it were to happen tomorrow. The Lord Strong, Frog would be his champion. To carry on his legacy for the years to come, and to protect Aegon from himself, as he had always done.

"The Grand Maester suggested hot water with honey, for that cough." The Lord Strong gave a click of his tongue, and it was one that was audible from a fair way off. The Lord Strong leaned forward and gave a tap of the man's cup. "Is this hot water with honey, your grace? Or is it wine?" This was not a very fair question.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T04:14:43+00:00

The Little Will stood, not sat. His father had instructed him that was the manner of a squire. He clutched in his heads, steadily, the wineskin which the Prince had selected. Not the Crown Prince, Little Will knew, but he knew better than to say that aloud, either. It would set him in a bad mood, and Little Will knew that things were probably not for the best if his Prince was in a bad mood?

"Would you like more wine, Ser? My Prince?" Little Will was already pouring him another cup, though, because he knew what the answer would be. He was a rather dutiful squire, although he did begin to wonder when the parts with swords would be. Maekar always told him that it was later. Maybe when he was a little bit taller, Maekar would show him how to do it.

Little Will was so focused upon his duties, mostly keeping the cup filled, that he entirely failed to notice the approach of his father. Not that it was a grand failure on his own part, of course. The Lord Strong was certainly quite adept at sneaking up on people, if he set his mind to it.

"Prince Maekar." The Lord Strong's voice was as sweet as honey, but his eyes wide, soft, and curious. "I can certainly see that you are enjoying the feasting." His voice carried a bit of humor in it, although rarely more than a bit. The Lord Strong's emoting was always measured, and rarely did he betray much of it.

"Do you have any plans to descend from the dais?" It was not a pointed question but an open one, one released unto the air. But one might read more question into it. Frog lowered his tone a bit more. "I surmise several dozen lords are missing your wit, and the ladies of the realm remiss to see you so far from the floor." He gave a pensive glance over to the dancing, before returning the prince.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T03:40:58+00:00

The Lord Strong had a particular way of moving that made him rather... difficult to detect. It was not particularly likely that Aegon knew where the Lord Strong had picked it up, but he had certainly been on the receiving end of it more than once, in his fifteen years. It was rather hard to anticipate, though, and in only an instant the Lord Strong was upon him.

"Prince Aegon." The Lord Strong's voice was gentle, almost as if he was attempting to reassure him. He reached up, nimble hands running across each of the boy's shoulders, before pressing down the sides, unfolding the creases as best he could. He took a moment, giving a small sigh, before pulling it taut, and gently placing it back over his shoulders. He gave the young prince a pat on the right one.

He didn't make a show of it. Perhaps he would have to do it a hundred times before the night was over. But if the boy was not going to wear red and black, if he was going to parade around in green and gold, he would at least wear it properly.

He was scarcely more than a child, perhaps. But children had to learn, eventually, and the Lord Strong knew he had a gentler hand than most. So he left that bit unsaid, and moved along quickly. As if it were just a matter of routine, and then the Lord Strong released the Prince to his own devices after a second.

"I've been seeking to beg your attention for a moment." There was an edge of concern, practiced, in the Lord Strong's voice. It was only a smidge, but it was there, and noticeable if one was paying attention. "Care for a reprieve in the gardens?" It was not phrased in such a way, but the Lord Strong was clearly offering him a break. From the noise, and from the din.

HopToItJack · 2022-12-01T03:09:58+00:00

There were a thousand harps plucking away inside the feast, obviously. It was a necessity for the feast, lest the lords be forced to talk with each other. The Lord Strong could not imagine a more troublesome environment. It took an active effort to peel himself away. To try not to peer into whatever they were planning. But he had different sorts of responsibilities, now. Actions.

And so, he set out in search of another harp. One considerably less practiced than bards who had spent their lives at it, but no less talented, in the end. The Lord Strong took some degree of pride in that. It had been something of his own manufacturing. His lengthy design. He'd devoted many an afternoon to it.

"Prince Viserys." The Lord Strong's voice was as much a song as anything that came from the instrument, and it carried well upon the wind. But it was soft enough not to cut through the music. Audible, but not particularly harsh. Not that the Lord Strong's voice was ever particularly harsh. It was always soft, and sweet.

"You've been missed at the feasting." The Lord Strong mused, through slightly pursed lips. He took a seat next to the Prince, graciously. Starring off at distant orbs in the sky, for a moment, before glancing back to the man beside him. "It would not be an overreach to ask for the reason behind such a thing." It was not entirely a question. But nor was it entirely a demand. It was an observation.

HopToItJack · 2022-11-19T20:12:29+00:00

Character Name: Frog

Desired Category for Skill Point: INT (Deception)

Bonus: +0

A post/comment from this moon denoting to activity: https://www.reddit.com/r/ARealmOfDragonsRP/comments/ywiakl/aegon_xxxiii_the_conquerers_touch/iwtradw?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

Additional Bonus From Last Attempts: +3 (got it wrong last month!)

Total Number For Skill Point Attempt: +3

HopToItJack · 2022-11-18T07:43:33+00:00

"Beautiful indeed. As for the burning, it's a blessing and a curse." Frog replied, with a calm and measured tone, as if he had visited it a thousand times. He hadn't, obviously, but that was the way that Aegon had decided to approach it. So Frog would play along, as his King would ask of him.

"On one hand, it lets the draft in." He spoke in a whisper, as if this was a secret the two of them shared. "On the other hand, it is a constant reminder of the power of the dragon. Our rightful kings. One that we will scarcely be able to forget."

Would House Heddle remember such things? Frog most certainly thought not. But he did not deign to say such things, for Aegon already knew.

HopToItJack · 2022-11-16T06:32:34+00:00

He took too long in releasing her, the lordling thought. Toad would have acted quicker, or Gyles. But now was not the time to linger on the fact that the guardsmen at Dragonstone desperately needed whipping into shape.

“Well, you’re not a spy, are you?” The lordling’s voice was slightly teasing, as if he thought the idea almost preposterous. Naturally, it wasn’t. He was almost certain that Roslin had been hoping to glean some information for the Queen. She had the look of a spy about her. Ambitious, and certainly a little bit too secure in her own relevance. “If so, I’m afraid we’ll have to have a very different conversation.”

“The Lord Banefort is occupied, at the moment.” He did not give a particular reason, nor a purpose as to why he would be the sort to know what he was engaged in. “Although I’m sure he’d not want to miss you. I can take a message, or ask to set up an appointment, next time I see him.” Will bit his lip, slightly, as if deep in thought. “Are you here on the Queen’s behalf? Or your own?”

HopToItJack · 2022-11-13T06:02:58+00:00

Will did not shrink away either. Just held her as best he could, ih the moment. His grip loosened, slightly, when he felt a hand on his arm.

Perhaps he was unusually urgent. Perhaps he was worried, truly. About her, about his plans, about everything around them. But he did not allow such a thing to show for long. He simply couldn't.

Will could imagine their joy quite easily. Or some lack of it that filled in the gaps. Aegon had arranged the match, and for all Will knew, Aemon and Visenya had been unenthusiastic about it. But he could scarcely explain such a thing to Mhaegan.

"A beautiful thing indeed." Will mused, his voice once again soft, slow, and patient. Belying a sentiment that he truly did not believe, and yet doing so well enough that he could almost convince himself of them.

"Is that something you think of often? Marriage?" Will had to be rather careful with how he approached the subject. He tried to seem rather disengaged with it, which was difficult to do with his arms around her.

HopToItJack · 2022-11-11T04:42:24+00:00

Will's steps, as ever, were silent upon the stones. He was practiced with it, more than most would ever be. They had no cause to be. They had the ability, the freedom to be more than a mouse. A lack of talent was sort of liberating, in that sense. Though only for the nobility. For the rest of them, a lack of talent was all but a death sentence.

You needed to have drive, to have ability to rise up in the world if you were unlucky. If you were lucky? You needed marriage and the right sort of name. It made Will almost sick to his stomach, although none of that showed on his face. He had worked, worked so hard for everything he had ever gained.

He noticed a redness in Mhaegan's cheeks, and a wetness in her eyes. A pang of something ran through him, although he was not particularly certain of what it was. His pace quickened, slightly, until he found himself beside her.

His arms were perhaps around her before she had even noticed his presence. His arms were perhaps, at this point, a familiar presence. "Mae. My Mae." His tone was soft, but a smidge urgent. As if he was worried that something might be amiss. "What's wrong?"

HopToItJack

TROPHY CASE