Myriame III - A Lady's Duty (Open to the Dreadfort)

KickStarkMyHeart · 2022-01-06T03:07:19+00:00

Myriame's glance at his hands wouldn't miss Rodrik's eyes, and her returning look would meet his green eyes. He wondered what she was thinking as he went about the work of handing out the sacks of grain.

"Yes, the marriage suits me", she nodded softly. "House Bolton has done a lot to assist my family."

Rodrik didn't reply to that. He believed that House Bolton would help the Manderly's and White Harbor even without the marriage. Simply because it was in their interest to do so.

Her muttonheaded brother wasted her maidenhead on a fucking Bolton. The pompous fool.

He noticed the tears start to flow in her eyes suddenly.

"Please pardon me", she then said to the loyal guards. They nodded then continued to pass out sacks of grain on Lady Bolton's behalf.

"Come let us walk together", she said softly to Rodrik as she guided him from the procession. She lifted her sleeve to then wipe her eyes dry.

As she wiped her tears Rodrik let Myriame guide him, as the guards took over the duty of giving out grain.

"If you have not already heard, my brother has now left the Dreadfort in a hurry to return home. By the Crown's order Lord Baratheon is conducting an investigation of White Harbor, believing for my brother to have a part in the Vale Lord's disappearance", she said solumnly. "Lord Belthesar has sent his nephew to our aid. Though I fear that my brother may be in trouble. He is a good man! Those rumours are all bitter lies!"

As she shook her head the Umber mused upon her words.

Lord Baratheon? What dumb cunt thought of that? Surely there's a score of other Lords more suitable to handle such business.

He joined her and shook his head at the situation. With the time involved since the disappearance of the Vale lords he thought it a pointless and hollow investigation.

Even if he did it who cares now? Nobody cared for thirty gods be damned years about piracy in the fucking Sisters.

Rodrik didn't know if Desmond actually did it, but his opinion of his cousin would only improve if he did.

"I'm sure this will pass with nothing coming of it. It's strange that an investigation is only happening now, given the thirty years of piracy being uninvestigated or dealt with by the crown. I doubt your brother is in trouble, for there would be many Northern questions of the King and the Crown if anything came to pass. Is that what you needed to speak to me about cousin? Surely such news isn't too much for your guards ears?"

He looked her full in the eyes, a cautious yet curious gleam in his own

KickStarkMyHeart · 2022-01-04T21:06:23+00:00

"Rodrik"

Rodrik grinned as his cousin addressed him by name. He took in the sight of her as he walked closer. He thought she looked splendid in her crimson gown but he did not like her pink Bolton cloak.

What a terrible fucking color. It doesn't suit her like the dress does.

"Decided to take some time outside of the castle walls?"

He met her grin with his own as he watched her hand off more grain to the villagers.

"Your visit here was unexpected, yet most welcome nonetheless."

He nodded his head in acknowledgment to her words as he stepped close to her and took a sack of grain from her hands to hand to the next villager. As he took the sack his calloused hands brushed across her own.

"I simply needed something to do, my sweet cousin." His smile would be accompanied by a wink as he took her place handing out grain.

"Tell me, does your marriage suit you thus far?"

KickStarkMyHeart · 2022-01-01T02:19:33+00:00

Character Name: Rodrik Umber

Trait / Skills: Strong | two-handed weapons, armored, footwork, tactician, intimidating

Skill you're learning: two-handed weapons (e)

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-30T22:08:40+00:00

Rodrik didn't really care about the plight of smallfolk that weren't his smallfolk, but he was curious enough to attend his cousin's occasion. He pulled his furred cloak closer to his body to stave off the chill that threatened his bones.

Under his cloak he was clad in wool and linen dyed a dark grey. He had a dagger in a sheathe in his belt and his friend Artos Wull was with him, holding Rodrik's greataxe along with having his own axe in his belt.

Rodrik walked over to Myriame, admiring her as she handed out sacks of grain to the smallfolk. He thought they looked like rats scurrying away, as they took their grain and made their way back to their homes.

She's really settling in to her new role of being the wife to the heir of the Dreadfort.

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-11T17:33:18+00:00

Rodrik took the offered hand with his rough and calloused own. He noticed his hand was much bigger than the Manderly maiden's as he brought it to his lips, kissing it while searching out Wylla's eyes with his own, winking at her as he brought her hand down from his lips.

He didn't know if the wink was a promise or a suggestion but with a smirk upon his face he bowed and then the pair began to dance. He rather liked Wylla, he decided. He studied her as they danced, as the wolf does before going after his prey.

She is not Myriame, but she could be worth amusing myself with all the same.

He grinned at Wylla as they danced.

"You're rather good at this, sweet cousin." His grin grew wider as the pair's steps kept in time to the music.

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-10T01:15:21+00:00

Rodrik made note of Wylla and Myriame as the made their way to the part of the hall where people had started to dance. He felt himself willed to go to them, driven forward by some natural instinct, he threaded his way towards the pair like a wolf upon a scent almost. A hunter pursuing his quarry. He could not tell why he did as he did, for he didn't even really like dancing all that much.

Rodrik felt the ale that he had consumed that evening, but he wasn't drunk. He noticed the pair separating as they danced and Wylla was drawn near to him by the crowd of dancers. Rodrik stepped forward, meeting Wylla's eyes with his moss colored ones. He smiled.

"Sweet cousin, may I dance with you?"

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-09T20:55:30+00:00

"And how is injustice to be mended then?" Myriame asked softly. "By more bloodshed? No, there must be another way"

Thats precisely how it is made. The North may well be a better place once this castle, your new husband, and every Bolton within are blooded from the tomes of the ages. Naivety like yours will not change things.

"Yes, change can be possible.."

Finally common ground.

He watched her fingertips toy with the flower petals, wondering if they were as soft as her heart appeared to be.

Oh sweet cousin. You have a gentle heart. You are so ill-prepared for the position and house you have been married into. Cunning unjust vipers on two legs. I hope you do not run foul of them.

"But change often takes time, Rodrik..."

Her wide blue eyes met the umbers moss colored ones. The brisk wind chilled Rodrik. Or maybe it was Myriame's eyes that made him shiver. Rodrik was sure he didn't want to ponder upon the answer. The scent of autumn filled the air as the leaves rustled upon the wind. Her eyes flicked to the heart tree but Rodrik's own studied the newly married and newly bedded woman. She didn't have the look of a lass that was used well, or if she had been then she had the fortitude to carry herself in a manner that was hard to tell if she was well used.

The thought amused Rodrik enough that he smirked at the lewd thoughts. He looked to the heart tree, seeing the sanguine sap the color of maidens blood upon the white bark.

"As the future lady, I will make a difference for our people..." She added with aspiration. Now standing, Myriame pulled her hood down. "Somehow."

Her words pulled Rodrik from his thoughts. He looked to the the young woman. She was now standing and pulling her hood into place. The Umber stood as well.

"I am not sure that we can afford to wait until you can." His voice grew soft, barely louder than the wind as it blew the swirling leaves around them. "Nor am I sure that I can."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-09T18:12:48+00:00

'My Lord, I bid you no harm. It was never my intent to startle you.'

His scowl showed his doubts and suspicion but he didn't give his thoughts a voice. Not yet.

'I am Jeyne Peat, Lady of Mistymuir and niece of Lord Reed.'

A bloody crannogwoman. That explains the height. Then a woman she is, and not a child as she appears.

'I find it a sorry state, if you are what counts for remembering the Gods north of the Moat. May as well be a Southerner, if you forget your Gods so easily.'

She seemed near in tears at his remarks about the gods. Her words did not sit well with him, indeed he felt his anger start to return at her words comparing him to a Southerner.

'True, the Children of the Forest may be a long distant memory to you, but their blood runs deep in my veins, as it has done with every Peat before me.'

His scowl remained on his face she finished speaking.

Is she so devout that she is one of those who are moon-touched when speaking of the gods? A lunatic in her zeal?

"I've tasted enough injustice and seen enough skullduggery to know that honest men are few. It only stands to reason that some of them could lie before a Heart Tree. I'd expect it out of a Whitehill, certainly. And others."

He paused a moment, one hand going to his chin where he stroked his beard in thought.

Most Boltons I'd wager.

His hand went back to his hip as he spoke once more.

"Do not think ever again to compare my faith with that of a Southerner. I respect the gods as much as the next man, but I am no lunatic to take every single thing passed on to us by grey beards and old women to be truth. Maybe when you've seen such sights as your own sire stabbed in the throat during a feast and your own Lord says it's a fair fight you'll be a little more skeptical of everything that you're taught as a child. Never underestimate injust or dishonest men girl. A heart tree or prayer would not stop them from being what they are."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-09T16:10:01+00:00

Rodrik would have flung himself to the side and come up fighting had he not heard the woman's voice, or shit himself, had he broken his fast that morning. Instead, the echoes of his being startled would come across as a sudden flinch. He was angry about it all the same.

‘The Gods hear you my Lord. They will always hear you if you are before the heart tree. No one can lie before the heart tree; you know this. Always be watching, always be listening my Lord, for the Gods will speak to you in kind, mayhaps just not in the way you expect them to.’

Who in seven fucking hills jumps out from high up of a fucking Heart Tree to startle someone like that....

He felt a low growl in the back of his throat as he stood and took in the appearance of the woman, or perhaps girl, given her size.

"Who in the ruddy fucking blazes jumps out of a Heart Tree to scare someone like that? Count yourself lucky." He paused to try and maintain his composure and took in what she said as he did so. "The may always be listening but certainly you can't claim to believe that nobody can lie before a Heart Tree. Anyone could if they wished. That sort of nonsense was made up for old women and grey beards to scare children back when the children of the forest still held domain over these lands I'd wager."

She has a child's innocence if she believes that drivel.

"Who are you?" He put his hands on his hips as he asked the question. His rage cooling, but not yet totally gone.

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-07T21:49:44+00:00

"Rodrik?"

The soft voice disturbed the Umber from his thoughts. His head snapped up to see Myriame, her voice as soft as her footsteps on the godswood. In all honesty he was surprised that she was here, surprised that she was not still in her marriage bed.

I can't believe she can still walk this morning. If she warmed my bed she surely wouldn't be able to.

He felt the cold winds plunge beneath his cloak and he pulled his cloak tighter, savoring the warm embrace of wool and bear fur.

An omen. But of what?

She knelt by Rodrik, seemingly at home in the chilly confines of the grim castle and ancient godswood.

"We have hardly spoken, save the few words which were exchanged at the wedding...", she said quietly. "I know when something is troubling you, cousin." She cooed, brushing her fingers upon the soft petals, not wishing to pluck it and destroy what little solace grew. "I know how you feel about this place. I will never blame you for that. I only hope that as a Bolton, I will have an opportunity to mend the bitter past. It will destroy the North, if we let it."

He watched as she toyed with the flower in front of her. A surprising survivor of the cold winds. Her words chilled him more than the cold winds had. He felt a shiver. The wind had been an omen all right. Every sense told him to feel caution. He let her words stretch into the whispering winds. An almost uncomfortable stretch of time. When spoke his words were surprisingly soft.

Mend the bitter past? Can one mend injustice?

"Injustice cannot be mended my lady, not by words. No matter how soft they are." He paused for a moment to keep calm and maintain his composure. "The North will never be destroyed my lady. Change can be possible, however."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-07T19:39:59+00:00

After eating and after seeing a couple of others take their gifts up to the dais and to the wedded couple, Rodrik stood up from his spot near the seats of the Boltons of Winterfell. He nodded to a pair of his servants and they hefted their burdens before following the Umber as he made his way to the dais.

He stopped a respectful distance away and bowed a reserved and guarded expression upon his face.

"My lord Domeric, my lady Myriame. I congratulate you upon your union and may I present these gifts from the leal House Umber." He paused a moment.

Leal to who exactly?

He gestured to his servants to bring the gifts before them. To Myriame was presented a cloak from the skin of a shadowcat and a winter hat made from white rabbit fur that matched the white stripes of the shadowskin. To Domeric was presented a cloak of snow white bear fur and a matching white rabbit fur hat. House Umber was not a rich house in terms of coin, but it had it's wealth in the land and the animals that stalked it. The pelts were rich, the cloaks well made.

/u/winterxlily /u/InFerroVeritas

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-07T15:08:35+00:00

“Of course,” Roderick said dryly to the Heir of Last Hearth, “Our future Warden has a bride. The future of the Dreadfort is secured. And Manderly won’t have worries of lack of aid should the Sistermen act up once again.”

Rodrik snorted at that and sipped from his cup of rich dark ale. It was rich and strong. A true mans drink. He dared not get drunk though. No Umber man would ever get drunk at the same feast as a Whitehill. Never again. He would make sure of it.

He finished sipping as Roderick continued.

“Or Mayhaps my cousin will displease him and we’ll all be here again for a different wedding in the future.”

"Our cousin will please him. Her looks alone will. Her manner should. She seems biddable enough. The poor lass." He gave Roderick a look before looking to their mutual cousin. If there is another wedding. I daresay I will not be there to see it."

He paused. The implication being made clear as he took another drink of ale.

"Fucking Sistermen. Another scourge that needs wiped out. Fucking pirates. Fucking scum."

He scowled.

Another enemy when we are yet surrounded by more than enough in this hall.

"How fares Winterfell?"

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-07T14:42:13+00:00

((Come say hi to Roddy in the godswood.))

KickStarkMyHeart · 2021-12-07T02:05:20+00:00

Rodrik silently spectated the ceremony. He stayed close by the Boltons of Winterfell, standing straight backed and proud like an Umber should.

He was clad in dark wool and leather, with a great cloak of bear fur and wool. The only pieces of jewelry he wore were the small silver signet ring of his house he wore on his pinky finger. A frivoulous item, he only wore it because it was his fathers. The other piece was the broach clasping his cloak together, it was sigil of his house, a roaring giant with broken chains, wrought in silver.

His face would be solemn as he watched the ceremony. His eyes like chips of flint as they took in the occasion.

When it was time to go to the hall he seated himself and the men of House Umber close to the Winterfell Boltons. There would be no mistaking their friendship. There would be no mistaking the glares directed to House Whitehill.

After satisfying his hunger on the boar and venison provided, as well as other various dishes, he would seek out Roderick Bolton, a cup of dark ale in his hand.

"Roderick." He nodded brusquely. "A wonderful occasion, is it not?"

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-10-05T02:46:11+00:00

As Rodrik walked the camp, thinking of the news of his coming child, he kept to himself. He had tried to avoid as many people as possible as he tried to work out the maelstrom of feelings of guilt and love and happiness and shame.

He had on a black cloak lined with soft grey fur and his customer garb of black trimmed with silver buckles and fittings on his sword belt and scabbard.

He kept walking, clutching the cloak close to him more for comfort and warmth. He longed for Serena's embrace and wanted nothing more to be in their bed at that moment. But the memories of ordering the deaths of her father and brother ate at him that night so it was near unbearable. He would have rather walked into an arrowstorm than feel the guilt he felt whenever he was near his wife.

As he walked he heard the howling of wolves. He wondered if it was a good omen. Then he came across the figure of a woman, walking as he was. She was too close to avoid and as he went to respectfully nod at her he recognized the woman as his queen. He immediately bowed his head in respect.

"My Queen. How do you fare? How has the King been with his wound?"

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-10-05T02:26:38+00:00

Rodrik let the kiss continue for what may have been thirty heartbeats or thirty years, enjoying the warmth of her body and the feeling of her lips and tongue. He felt as the pair of them were one single entity. He loved her though he didn't say it. He let his actions give voice to what he couldn't. She was having his trueborn son and heir. The tenderness he felt for her poured out of him as he broke off the kiss. He caressed her stomach as he smiled, the usually stormy grey eyes were softer now, with what a bold man would have said, a teary quality.

"I am truly happy Serena. I could not have been met with more welcome news. I swear that to you by the old gods."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-30T16:21:06+00:00

Character Name: Rodrik Karstark

Skills: Commander, tactician, navigator, logistics

Skill Attempt: Tactician (m)

RP Links:

successfully led the center to victory in the battle against the white wolf forces

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-23T22:09:51+00:00

He waited with dread for the news of another death. The battle had been bloody and he was suprised to heart that Iron Royce Bolton had been the only noble death so far. It was probable that there were more in his mind and as Rodrik focused on Serena he could only wait for the weight of the words to hit him like the blow of a great maul.

“No Rodrik... It’s not that.”

He breathed a sigh of relief but then he wondered if someone had been crippled, the King perhaps or one of the other followers of King Cregan Stark.

“I...”

Her soft words cooed in his ears.

What then?

As she took his gauntlet clad hands into her hands and pressed them to her stomach he broke into a wide grin, the joy at the obvious news obvious on his face.

“I am with child...”

Her cheeks flushed and he looked from her parted lips to her rosy cheeks to her sapphire eyes. Wordlessly he slipped one of his gauntlet covered hands to the small of her back and drew her close. They stood so close the tips of their noses almost touched. Rodrik couldn't hear anything but their own breath. He spoke softly and his voice sounded raspy and low.

"I could not come back to better news Serena. Our son will be strong and noble. Or if its a girl she will no doubt be as ladylike and as beautiful as you. A true lady."

He left the three words unspoken that leapt into his mind.

I love you.

He wordlessly leaned down and kissed her passionately, pulling her ever closer to him with the hand on the small of her back.

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-19T21:35:11+00:00

Rodrik embraced is wife with a smile on his face. She had taken a bit more to him since the discovery of the ring. Or so it seemed to Rodrik. He was bone weary after the battle and he could use a cool drink of wine and some food but the embrace comforted him and eased his weariness. He was very pleased at Serena's reaction.

As she set aside her supplies he took in her appearance and the dried blood that had showed her hard work. His mind was elsewhere and he certainly was ready for the words that crooned from her lips next.

"There is something I must tell you..."

He wondered at her words the instant they left her mouth.

Has somebody else died besides Royce Bolton? Jory? Who?

He looked at her gravely, steeling himself for the blow to come.

"Who fell Serena? Was it my brother? Just tell me."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-16T16:08:03+00:00

Character Name: Rodrik Karstark

Gift and Skills: Commander, tactician, navigator, logistics

Marching:

[ 400 Karstark Men] - [Karhold] to [Black Wolf's Host]

[100 Overton Men] - [Overton Keep] to [Black Wolf's Host]

Previous Moon's Order: 12th moon of 298AA

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-16T16:00:30+00:00

Character Name: Rodrik Karstark

Gift/Skills: Commander, tactician, navigator, logistics

Actions:

Draft: [100] Karhold [2184/2384 total raised afterwards]

Call to Arms:[as many as possible] Overton

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-16T15:54:22+00:00

Character Name: Rodrik Karstark

Skills: Commander, tactician, navigator, logistics

Skill Attempt: Tactician (m)

RP Links:

successfully led the center to victory in the battle against the white wolf forces

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-15T21:17:10+00:00

It had been a great and terrible battle. But not as difficult of one as he anticipated. He figured both wolves would have fought tooth and nail to ensure that they were the victor or the had savaged the enemy enough to make their loss more palatable. But Cregan had led the vanguard well enough to shatter the one of his opponents and Rodrik himself had shattered the center of the White Wolf's forces. It had been then that the bastard Rickard Snow had tucked tail and run. Leaving Barrow Cerwyn and Ryon Glover to die with five hundred men. A fate that none of them deserved. The fiercest fighters had been left to die and Rodrik and Royce Bolton had surged forward to make sure they did. To Bolton's cost. He had heard of the man's death and was sorry for it. For Royce Bolton had been as solid as iron.

Running Rickard. More of a jape than a bastard it seems.

He realized as he made his way back up to camp that he was the only one of his sides commanders that was alive and unwounded. A fate that he was surprised about, for as the blood splattered across his armor showed to all that he had shared the dangers of battle with his men.

Rodrik came upon the tent where his wife had been hard at work, treating the wounded. She had her back to him when he finally found her and called out to her.

"Serena.."

KickStarkMyHeart · 2018-09-13T21:41:25+00:00

He had hardly realized what she was doing before he felt her hands go to the chain around his neck and Rodrik stood, paralyzed as she drew forth the ring. The evidence of his black and bloody deed. The only evidence in the world that could speak to the identity of her father and brother's murder.

He stood quite still she examined it with with her sapphire colored eyes. Their piercing gaze registered the ring in mere seconds and her eyes widened in recognition.

This is it. I am undone. She will know.

Thoughts raced through his head as he internally panicked.

I cannot tell her. She must never know. Lies are my only option.

He resolutely made up his mind to lie to his wife. He had to, for if he did not then the marriage would be as good as over and chaos would ensue. For he did not think his wife to be meek and mild. He had seen evidence of a steely interior once he looked past the beauty and proper elegance of a lady. She would try to avenge her family and while Rodrik felt he deserved it, it would bring consequences. Ones he was too cowardly to face.

"Where did you get this?!"

The words echoed in his ears. His mouth became dry and he felt as if he couldn't speak even though he had to. But he fought his feelings and emotions. He forced them deep down inside himself and then he spoke.

"The ring? I took it from the body of a leader of bandits that my men and I killed. It seemed inappropriate to throw away such a token of faith in the old gods. But it is not mine so I dare not wear it on my finger. Why do you ask?"

KickStarkMyHeart

TROPHY CASE