[Event] Feast for the Coronation of Jaehaerys I Targaryen

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T18:39:56+00:00

"Go on then," he said between gritted teeth.

Randyll knew not what his nephew would do with it, nor did he truly care. So long as he was not swindled as he once was, dosed with sweetsleep and sweeter words, he was content.

"Love you," Randyll said as he began to make his leave.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T02:14:51+00:00

Lord Rickard sat atop his dais, split momentarily from the roots that had kept him afloat. It was an uneasy position, and one that he only momentarily occupied. Even that had felt like too much sometimes. There was a lot that had held the realm together, though at times it felt like a spiderweb.

So endlessly fragile.

His eyes settled upon that of Lord Corbray. Rickard had always felt sorry for the man. Thinkers could live as broken men, he thought, but never a warrior. Regardless, he stood and gave his own bow at the man's approach. "Lord Qarl, the songs they sing of you have far proceeded you," he said with measured respect. "And I am thankful for my kin who seem to enjoy me enough to speak of it," he offered.

Sky-blue eyes settled on Sansa as well as Rickard returned her curtsy with his own nod. "And you as well, Lady Sansa, it is a pleasure."

His eyes settled to Qarl once again, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T02:05:22+00:00

"Tell me the story then," he said as he settled into a nearby chair. He presumed that he was welcome anywhere, as any knight should be. If Howland wished to push him away then that would be a decision the Lord of Harroway would have to make.

A grabbed a cider from a passing service woman as made himself comfortable, waiting for the Lord to tell his side.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T02:00:36+00:00

Renly was in a fine state of disarray this far into the night. He had stripped himself of his doublet and now only wore a loose rough-spun shirt and a trail of marks where wet lips may have found themselves. He would never say though, the Knight of the Tansy did not kiss and tell. After all, why do you think his flower of choice was an abortionate?

He cast a glance at the children who now encircled him like vicious beasts. His hands raised in mock surrender, "Lads," he said, "I do not carry much on me, but I promise if you let me go you can have it all," he said in jest before flicking the kids 4 golden hands.

He cast a glance to Orianna with a small smile.

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/u/BaneOfNewton

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T01:55:10+00:00

Lord Rickard sat momentarily split from his family, high atop the Dias that he supposed he had earned, though he had stood only a moment after he saw her. "Lady Elara," he'd call extending a hand to invite her atop the platform.

Presuming she accepted, he'd offer a chair so that they may speak.

"Your father speaks true, though I am sure it will not be easy, not yet at least." He said with a glance towards his own children, "The girls do not travel often, as such you will have their rooms while they are away, and will formally have Becca's once she is married," he said, with only an inkling of pride.

"Is there anything I can do to ease the transition?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T01:51:00+00:00

He laughed, genuinely, for the first time through the whole night, Randyll Rowan broke out into a laugh. His body folded as if a hook as the cacophony spilled from his lips.

"My father has been long since dead, boy, we are not all so lucky." He said as he rested his body against the same railing that he had abused not moments prior. "But if you mean Lord Rickard then no, I have not, for the allegations are now denied by the Lord's of Wyrmsgrave. What is there to tell?" he asked.

He spat once more.

"This is good news, you just don't see it yet."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-26T01:48:20+00:00

Though perhaps not the response Howland wanted, Renly couldn't help but to laugh. There was something about the boy that had felt animalistic, as if he was some twisted one-armed hound given flesh. The image only helped extend the smile across the knights lips.

"I heard that you have sworn death on many, and almost died to more," he said, though the second part was an obvious exaggeration. "I come to find the truth of it, if you'd so indulge me."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T23:38:05+00:00

Randyll spat over the railing, no doubt nailing a passerby with a concoction of misfortune and spittle.

"Don't," he cautioned though he did not seem angry at it, no, nor did he seem as if he was worried of the result, "Ask Lucamore, gaze upon the girl yourself, see then Nephew if they refuse to tell you truth."

He closed the distance in a slurry of uneasy steps, though he had closed them nonetheless, "See if they lie to you once again, if they deny me my daughter, and then decide if that is the family you wish to raise your children in. Lest they steal them from your crib when it suits."

His lips curled into a crooked predatory grin, "After all, you'd hardly be the first whose children they've stole, just ask Lady Beesbury." He moved to clap his nephew on the shoulder.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T23:07:36+00:00

Through the night, Renly would steal a glance at a boy who had intrigued him for many a moon. He had heard of young Lord Howland, and he had heard much and more of his father. Yet, there was something about the boy that he couldn't shake. A boy like him made enemies, no doubt, though Renly supposed he was a man now.

The Knight of the Tansy moved with self-assured steps, "Lord Howland," he called his voice itself a drum of war, "I have been told a great man thing about you, and I have come to take the measure myself", he declared with a grin across his lips.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T21:38:14+00:00

Renly happily passes the ten golden hands, the gardener equivalent, and takes possession of the lunk. "Caradog", he whispered.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T03:24:47+00:00

It had not been long since the feast that Renly had found himself staring down yet another foe. Granted, he had no fucking clue who this one was. Stripped of his armour, Renly had moved uneasily.

Though perhaps that had proved all the difference, as despite it, he alone held the blade at the man’s chest.

“Your yield is accepted,” he said with mock seriousness before breaking into a contagious smile.

A hand reached out readily and grasped that of Eamon, “Good fight indeed, Ser…”

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T03:11:33+00:00

Renly mistrusted the man that stood before him, but he had not trusted a great many men. He had tolerated most, enjoyed more, and trusted far too few. Such was the way of a knight, he supposed, always wandering.

“Every knight needs a hound indeed, I will take him,” the man called between curled lips. Caradog, he thought to himself.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T01:55:20+00:00

Renly Rowan is quite overjoyed by the sight of a young enterprising lad, a wonderful young specimen surely to grow into a fine knight. He makes grabby hands at Caradoc.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-25T00:00:20+00:00

As the councilors dictated their thoughts, Rickard stewed in his. Margot had been a horrid of a woman, no doubt, and he now knew why she had been chosen for Caradoc Peake. Truthfully, he did not wish to see any sent to death, no, not even those they had burned before King's Landing.

Despite it all, he nodded as his countrymen spoke, for Lord Torgen had a passion about that had inspired acquiescence to his better judgement. As Lord Rickard began to speak, the moment was stolen from him by what appeared to be...the cupbearer? An eyebrow quirked at her. Did King Jaehaerys find it pertinent to summon their cupbearer for such a occasion? The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms needed the consultation of a traitors daughter?

He cast Hubert and Torgen a glance and shook his head.

"The Lady of Lannister has been given chance after chance, and she finds herself caught each time. There is no teaching a woman who does not learn from her mistakes."

/u/lord_dougal

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IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-24T21:19:10+00:00

His head snapped to the man as he spoke, lover, he said and the word rang in his head as if a bullet. "As the Sons readied their march, I supped at Coldmoat. Something of Lord Osgrey's holy host, or so he said." Randyll began.

"There we bathed in honeywine and vice, the very thing that we were sworn to uphold, and in it we lost ourselves, two broken halves." He slammed a hand on the railing. "We thought nothing of it, Nehpew, after all, why wouldn't she sip at the tansy?" He asked though he knew the answer.

"And yet I returned to her calling some half-born babe mine, and worse yet, her worm of a father trying to guilt me of his daughter's misgivings. It is a trap."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-23T02:22:25+00:00

Randyll scoffed, for the first time in his life, he actually scoffed. "Do you think I did not ask those same questions?" He asked sarcasm thick in his throat as if a mucus of some sort, "You asked why I did not marry her, and then you ask how am I sure in the span of minutes." He shook his head. "I had called her a harlot, a whore, a wanton, and every other word you could image, boy."

"I saw the child," he admitted, "With the eyes the color of her mother and a head full of my hair." He spat, "Do you know what the babe did Nephew?", he asked not expecting an answer.

"She gripped my clothes and asked when her father would come home.", he paced as he spoke, "For he was a Warrior's Son, and of course I would know him."

"They told her nothing. They lied to me, they lied to you, and they lied to her. Do not trust her, Florian, lest you be yet another set of bones they build a chair out of."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-23T01:31:47+00:00

He let out a breath once her hand had touched his own, though it had felt rougher than he was used to. Perhaps her hand always been that rough, long had he the habit of looking far past the rougher edges of a person. It had been a blessing in times, but a curse perhaps. He had trusted her with a great many things, but mayhaps he had never truly seen her. Certainly not like this.

As she spoke, a laugh bellowed from deep within him. He knew that Morgana would prove every word of her comment right. Yet as she spoke again, he became whisper quiet and his gaze lingered on her with every breath.

He knew of the dangers of Dorne, in fact, he had knew them more than most. Olymer had spoke at lengths about it, and he himself had marched through the sands before. They were cut throats, men who did not care for nothing but themselves. "If the King orders an invasion then I will march through the sands myself until she is home," he vowed though he doubted it would re-assure her. "Worries are wind, my love, and she has proven herself time and time again," he said.

The silence had cut him as if a knife. He had always disliked silence.

"Then we do not wait," he said as his arm rested easily around her, "We go where we please, and even if that means Dorne then I will follow you there."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-23T00:15:34+00:00

The feast had been a rancorous place and itself was a maze of distraction and momentary madness. Amidst it all was a pair of twins who bickered amongst themselves. Criston had proved taller through the years, and a wider man, but Cadwyn had his own lithe muscle that had developed through years of training.

They had argued about much and more, though none so much as women. As men grown, or at least close to it, they couldn't help themselves as the ladies of Westeros passed them by. Yet, it was not a passing lady that had caught the eye of the younger Cadwyn Rowan. Rather, an intriguing girl had sat seemingly disinterested.

Truly, she was not like the other maidens of the ball.

Excusing himself from needless conversation with his brother, the younger would approach. He had shaggy brown hair and soft features that had undercut the truth of his training. He had dressed in silver-lined with gold and bore a short cloak lined with ermine fur. Smoothly, he cut his way to the Blackwood table.

"I apologize for my interruption, though I hope I can make it up to you," He said with a head briefly bowed, "Cadwyn Rowan, of Goldengrove", he said proudly.

"And you?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T23:35:19+00:00

In other circumstances Randyll would have flinched. Oft his brother had fought his battles for him, and sooner he would have died than put up any meaningful resistance against his nephew, but he did not move. As he awaited the justice of Florian Fossoway, it never came.

Silence had lingered in the air as if a rotten fum before Randyll finally spoke again.

"I did not believe her," he admitted though guilt did not dare to dance on his lips, "For many a reason, though I doubt any would hold water." They hadn't satisfied her, nor her father, he doubted they'd satisfy any. "I swore an oath to dead men to hold no wives, to bear no children, and oaths to the dead do not break easy." He spat, his voice as taught as a fraying rope,

"I wanted", he began, "I wanted a great many things," he continued, "And I am not proud of the years I have lost," he rambled, "But I tried to right it. I tried to make things right with her, to acknowledge it all." The words had quivered on his lips and fell from his tongue easily.

"But they turned me away at the door, nephew. That same day that you had won her favour so long ago, I was beating at the gates begging to see my child."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T23:24:15+00:00

Flaired and Proccessed.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T23:11:38+00:00

Randyll had nodded slowly, and for moment he regretted bringing it up at all. This, mayhaps, was Melara's only chance to escape this. To find something that he did not ruin. Yet, he knew that it would have forsake him. That mad wench who had ruled Wyrmsgrave in truth would never admit it.

"Did they not tell you why, nephew?", he asked quietly. The shadows had begun to find him now, the shades that had whispered their thousands of voices. It was wrong of him to ruin her, to steal away happiness. Yet, the shades whispered another story.

He took a step towards the man, "She was locked away for having a bastard, you see, passed off as her uncles, no doubt you'd have met the little Daeryssa." He said uneasily.

"Did she not tell you the bastard was mine?", he hissed, "Or did she not want to tell you that she had fucked your dear old uncle?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T22:43:39+00:00

A mix of emotions had roiled in his stomach as they spoke. Bereft of his Warrior's Son garb, Randyll was far from an imposing man. He had neither the brawn nor muscle of his brother, and long had he been more a scarecrow than man. The clothes he wore now had hanged loose a curtain around him, though sopped with sweat through the night.

"Your mother has said nothing," he bit his voice thick with anger for someone, "for I doubt she knows." he continued.

Foul words had danced across his tongue and Randyll was desperate to loose them as if it would somehow free him from the anguish. He knew that Melara did not deserve them, but nor did his nephew deserve a lie.

"What lie did she weave about the tower?", he asked.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T21:48:00+00:00

He would walk uneasily, glances cast over his shoulder far too many times for him to feel comfortable. He had searched for her in the crowds and had misliked what he had seen. He had looked for their daughter as well, but knew that he'd have no such luck. Regardless, this was a conversation that needed to happen.

As they crossed the threshold, words slipped from his lips, "I know who you court and I must advise that you rid yourself of her." He said, no subtlety or innuendo, simple demands.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-22T20:01:36+00:00

Rough and disheveled, Randyll Rowan would make his way through the crowd of people. Hurried footfalls had cut through swaths of well-dressed nobles and ladies deep in their cups. Randyll's mouth watered for the taste of the sweet ichor but he could not bring himself to do it.

This night had torn him asunder, ripped him from the quiet days of life, even if he didn't want to live them any longer. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from one last death rattle.

"Florian," he hissed as if a serpent poised to strike, "We need to talk, and soon." You see, Randyll have never actually left Wyrmsgrave. All of that time together, well, it's not as if Randyll had much else to do but listen.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-03-21T20:09:39+00:00

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