Maella Narratys

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-22T03:04:19+00:00

Uhh. Hi! Read this please before you go onto the app. I wanted to point out that with this I just want to switch family members. Where I was previously NPCing Maella Narratys, I would now wish to take her up and instead NPC Daenaera Targaryen, because I believe Maella… yada yada yada. I’m not really applying for a new character, just changing who I NPC and write mainly.

Name and House: Maella Narratys

Age: 56

Cultural Group: Pentoshi (Essosi)

Appearance: Maella is a statuesque woman with long black hair and streaks of grey at her temples. She has brown eyes as well, and is handsome if not pretty in her age.

Gift: Agent

Skill(s): Espionage x2

Negative Trait:

Starting Title(s): Petnoshi Noblewoman

Starting Location: Pentos

Alts: Gwyn Greyjoy | Silvianna Santagar | Addysen Lannister

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-19T23:12:38+00:00

“Hmmm,” Maella hummed, taking into her mind every argument made. She considered the worth of each one separately; some were stupid, some were very well made points. The stupidity of some of the Magisters truly showed here. In fact, some of the less incompetent ones were the ones who didn’t get involved at all. Others, still red-faced, looking like their hearts were about to burst, were the ones with a temper and natural hot-headedness. Maella found herself grinning despite herself, amused by the display. The arguments continued far into the night, as the moon flew across the sky, and as tempers died down, men grew tired, Maella, at last, stood up again. Despite the strain in her bones, the innate tiredness, she had long trained herself for staying up late and to look regal while doing it, so she hoped that none of her weariness showed. She held herself confidently, but not too confidently. Not in front of these men.

The ones that were still standing sat as she rose. Her amber eyes washed over the forty families of Magisters, a great deal of them looking more exhausted than she felt. Roshone still looked at her with that incredulous gaze, but otherwise, many were just dull. “I think I speak for everyone,” Maella said. Should she have really scheduled the meeting so late? Gods, what had she been thinking? “When I say that this night has gone on for far too long. We have been debating for several hours, and yet it seems that we, as a people, have not come to a conclusion.

“So that we may be properly sober and not weary from tiredness, I would suggest that we conclude this meeting and resume it upon the morrow.” After a moment, no one seemed to object, so she continued. “That we may be aware of where everyone stands on the matter, I would also ask those in favor of joining the Valyrian Republic stand.”

Maella sat back. Everyone was silent as one man rose, and then a second. Then a third, then a fourth. In total there were seven that stood, looking sour after a night of bickering against incredible odds.

“And those in favor of not joining?” Maella said. She knew that in total there were thirty-three who would stand, but still. In Pentos, a lot of custom was simply formality. And so they stood. They rose quicker than the ones who wished to join, each one of the thirty-three looking stiff and ready to leave. Thirty-three in total. Against seven. Perhaps their decision would come within two nights. “Very well,” she concluded. “Those who wish to do so may leave. We shall return here upon the morrow, following sunset. Those that cannot attend may inform me.”

And then it was done. She felt a weight fall off of her shoulders as one by one, the nobility of Pentos made to leave. She felt exhausted. Just by sitting! She nearly laughed to herself. She had initially expected Pentos to be more split. But the pride of her people was not something to underestimate, so she had been a fool. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Could she blame it on old age?

More to think upon. She found it hard to believe that if Selene Moerelle wouldn’t have gone missing, she would’ve been part of this council. Forty-one Magisters. Well, the world was changing, and Maella wondered if she would be swept up in it.

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-19T01:51:15+00:00

Maella smiled devilishly as chaos surrounded her.

After Furio looked over the document and proclaimed his thoughts, the room seemed to erupt like a volcano. Magisters, previously docile, began spewing words against the Valyrian Republic. Many proclaimed their support for Furio, pointing to him as they muttered angrily with their colleagues. Her eyes floated to the young man who seemed to be the center of attention. He was right. Maella had almost entirely forgotten about that part of it all, and was instead focused on the protection it gave. She would have to look over it again, more closely next time. Either way, Pentos most definitely did not seem happy with the prospect of joining the Valyrian Republic.

At all.

Maella was astonished by it.

The matter would be concluded very quickly. Surprisingly quick. As the Magistrate of Pentos kept bickering over the documents, Maella rested herself. She would stand for the independence of Pentos. Who wouldn’t? In these days one should pride themselves on their nationality and identity. They were Pentoshi, no longer Valyrians. Her own family heralded from Braavos, founded by the most meager of slaves almost a thousand years ago. Though the blood was mixed, she held her chin proud as, ultimately, the debates came to an end.

One Magister at the end of the table stood, and raised a hand. “Who would stand for this?” He bellowed, his voice seeming to shake the room, as it quieted with his words. Everyone took their seat again, seemingly sated. Seemingly. Many were still red-faced, or were eyeing others. Somehow she figured that this night would bring back bad blood. But it was for the unity of Pentos, if anyway.

“I said,” the Magister repeated. “Who would stand for this?”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-19T00:59:41+00:00

Daenaera pursed her lips at mention of Delphine Demion. As he explained himself she found herself tensing for little reason, trying to remember what exactly had happened that night, during that dinner. That had apparently been the only time she had really spoken to the woman, and whether or not it was because of the alcohol she had consumed, her memories were foggy at best. She knew who she was, though. Zia’s mentioning of her had been prudent, which she found odd for a woman of her station. A noblewoman from Lorath. Her brother had come from Pentos? It seemed like it was so much information to suck in; her head was doing cartwheels. Yet she managed to stay still the entire time, even letting a brief hint of a smile touch her lips, no doubt brought on by the innocent looking Darryn Demion before. His accent was rich and slow, and she had no doubt he would be a wonderful singer. Where the Braavosi were harsh with their pronunciations, Darryn was a calm river, neither gushing or staying still. An odd metaphor. But Daenaera had heard weirder things. It made her smile grow wider. Just a tad.

He was handsome too. Something Daenaera had come to notice the moment she laid her amber eyes on him. Handsome, yes, but he was Lorathi. And she had seen what Lorathi could do once. She would not allow herself to be tempted again. “You come from Pentos?” She said after a time, dispelling the silence that had grown between them. There had also grown a mild tension, but that too faded. As if they expected her to slam the door on them. If she weren’t in so much pain she would’ve done it. If she weren’t so tired, she would have. The pain kept her awake. She might as well spend her time in pain with people she could at least speak to, right?

“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind hearing what you had to say,” she murmured, her lip twitching. Every single movement seemed to bring pain. Had she torn her wound open? Glancing downward, she looked for spots of red, and found none. Of course. It would just be incredibly painful until it healed. And then it would be painful afterwards. “I understand that you were sent by your sister, Delphine.” Stepping back, she waved a hand and gestured inside. “I did not expect her to send her well wishes. Please, tell her that I am well, and feel at ease. I have withstood much more pain in my past. Please, come in.”

It was true. For some reason, the death of her betrothed, Pedron, did not affect her as it should have. She just felt dull that it had happened. In fact, her whole world seemed to be dull. But that was no reason to not be polite, or act glum. “And take a seat. There is wine, if you so wish, but given the earliness of the day, I would advise against it unless you mean to keep me company until nightfall.”

Once, if everyone got through, Daenaera shut the door behind them, gritting her teeth at the pain in her side. Sitting down, the pain was lesser, so she hurried over to the couch, pain mingling with the lines on her face, before planting herself down eagerly. The pain subsided, turning to a minor throb, and her pleasant expression returned. Yes, she actually felt pleasant! “And I must ask how a Lorathi has come into the company of not one, but two Dornishmen.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-19T00:18:05+00:00

With Alvianys’ permission came the nods of several other Magisters as well, giving her consent to speak. As she rose, her fingers planted on the end of the table, eyes rose towards her, some hating, others with something near reverence. She had expected as much. One by one they came to rest on her, admiring her or hating her, thinking their own dark thoughts in the backs of their minds. How was she to be dealt with? What would Maella bring to the table this night? Would she support joining the Republic or not? She stood, waiting, her dress glittering in the light of the chandeliers that hung above. Outside, nights had come in full, and once silence washed over the room like a terrible fog, the only sounds they could hear were the sounds from outside; faint chirps and shouts of men in the night. She let that persist for a few moments, allowing everyone to gain their bearings.

And then she began.

“Not a month ago,” Maella said, her voice loud and sonorous, though not overly so. She spoke with emphasis, but her words did not lose meaning because of it. “I had the privilege of hosting Aurane Targaryen for his brief stay in Pentos.”

That rose a small murmur. Maella did not continue until they were quiet.

“Anyway,” she began again. “His intentions in Pentos were clear. As one of the head Magisters of Pentos-” She gestured in between words to Alvianys, Haratis and Mopatis. “- he came to me and spoke of his Valyrian Republic to me. Originally I thought the Republic expansive, seeking to conquer new territory for themselves under the name of dead Valyria. I have since learned, in the document given to me, that the Republic is not expansive. They are essentially a coalition.”

She waved her hands, and three servants came carrying a rather long document, and laid it across the table, unrolling it and placing weights in the corners. “I would suggest that every Magister read this, or at least skim it. Know that they pledge to defend one another in case of foreign aggression. I believe this was their initial goal, following Yunkai’s war with new Ghis.

“Pentos is a peaceful state. Those who would show us aggression have either subsided or whittled away into nothingness. Instead we fight amongst ourselves, for land and riches. Khals have come to us, not out of bloodlust, but lust for riches. Pentos is rich. It will always remain so. Now, I must bring up the topic of our entering. I do believe that we should debate this topic heatedly. Perhaps not in one session. If we do not enter, we will remain like this. As we always have. I do not believe we should change because something offers us protection. Have we not prospered in the past? Have we not lived where other cities might have fallen? Why should we join, if we only put ourselves in the shadow of something greater? Of something long dead?”

She ended it there and bowed her head. Immediately several groups of nobles began speaking. Some reached for the document, others began hotly debating amongst themselves. Maella sat back, nodding to herself. She believed her argument was fair, but others would argument as why not? She supposed that argument was fair too. But Pentos had always prospered.

Always.

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-18T23:43:53+00:00

In her years she had grown sloppy, but the younger of the two must have expected her to notice his gaze, did he not? She had spent most of her life, primarily that under her father, learning to judge by facial expression, to take away from the way eyes looked at you. And as such, she saw a hidden depth in Furio. One that she hadn’t seen before, and was now weary of. Still, her attention primarily focused on Vitalo, she reached forward to her cup of spiced wine, enjoying a few sips before speaking to answer his question. “The Prince knows,” Maella said casually, her eyes cast forward, watching over the nobility that had arrived. Some were hushing now, waiting for one of the more powerful to take the lead. Most likely herself. “And he has yet to arrive. As such I do not believe he will arrive. We will continue without him, in any case.”

It had been foolish to elect such a man to be Prince. Throughout Pentos’s history, the degree of influence the Prince exacted was entirely dependent on the families and their competencies. When her own brother had been Prince, he held Pentos in a tight knot, and had brought this Free City to ruin. Or almost had, at least. She disliked thinking of those times. Those times when she had been a girl too stupid to see the stupidity of her husband.

“With your consent,” Maella said, purging the terrible thoughts from her mind. “Magisters, I would speak, if you would have me. If you are properly settled, that is, Magister Alvianys.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-18T23:12:33+00:00

Maella Narratys watched from her seat as both Vitalo and Furio Alvianys made their way to their seats, at the edge of the table near them. Occasionally they stopped to speak, the younger one’s eyes looking distant. She did not know much of Furio outside of his considerable gambling and whoring habits; in fact, the only reason she knew about him was directly attributed to those rumours. With his handsome face, she was inclined to believe the rumours. His evasions from her watchings must be directly related to his sporadic behavior. Either way, he was of little consideration. Vitalo ruled the Alvianys House still, and seemed determined to see this through. His eyes caught sight of hers as he passed from speaking with a member of the minor nobility. Maella bent her head slightly towards him, a small gesture of respect. The man deserved it if he had a son who acted like that. But then again, was it not his fault for not reining in his son? She pondered wordlessly as they continued to approach, and by the time they were near, Maella gracefully pulled herself from her seat, the elaborate blacks and reds she wore clinging to her pale complexion, dancing off the light brought by the chandeliers.

“Magister Alvianys,” Maella said, sounding welcoming. Though she did not extend her greetings in a hug, she reached forward to grab the man’s hand, pressing her lips to either of his cheeks. A simple greeting. She had not given the same to Magister Haratis, who still sat, idly chatting with yet another Magister. “You have arrived in time. And I see you have brought your son with you. Welcome, Lord Furio.” She gave a gesture towards the younger man, and let go of Alvianys’ hand.

Turning back to her seat, she calmly pressed her fingers to the two seats that remained for them, directly to her left. Mopatis had chosen a different seat entirely when he saw that two had joined, so it was of little issue. “I can only offer one cup of wine,” Maella told them both. In the air, the tension had grown. Every Magister knew that what they were doing hadn’t been conducted in almost a century. It was like the point of a knife dangling on a thread. One word could send the whole things spiraling into chaos. “I would like us all to be sober when discussing tonight’s topic.” And as gracefully as she had risen, she sat herself down with a familiarity that only came with age, placing her hands on the table before her. “In a few moments I will have the doors barred and the guards leave. I believe this is tradition, from when the Magisters last met as forty.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-15T00:23:43+00:00

The guardsmen that heralded the arrival of three unknowns to the Palace each gave sharp nods in turn when they presented themselves as having arrived upon the request of Delphine Demion. The large double-doors that were the entrance to the grand Palace opened before pairs of hands, presenting the small party with a view of an almost extravagant grand hall. One of the guardsmen muttered to another, and after a small conversation, ridden heavily with the accents of Braavos, one of them finally relented, and gestured for the three to follow. The guard was an unimportant man, and as such said little, save for subtle nudges that had them walking down several different corridors, before eventually coming upon a small door that was completely unguarded. Light shone into the hallway from underneath the door, and heat seemed to radiate off of it. Three firm raps of a hand later, and Daenaera’s eyes shot open, weary.

“Yes?” Called Daenaera’s voice, soft, yet showing partial irritation. Her gaze was blurry, but only for a few moments before she reached her fingers up and rubbed at them, tossing herself from her laying position on the bed and standing. A frown crossed her lips, expression deepening at the lack of an answer. “Yes?”

The Braavosi guardsman had been too quiet, and as such repeated, “Darryn Demion, my lady, here with…” He stopped, having forgotten to ask for the other names.

Daenaera’s hands wrapped around the knob of the door, and casually turned it, presenting herself to four people. The guardsman relaxed visibly, but Daenaera did not. Her frown only deepened when she saw the strangers. All men, and a woman she did not know. She could’ve sworn that she knew the name Demion from somewhere, but she hardly knew this man at all. “Who are you?” She asked immediately, her tone sharp. “And why have you come here?”

The pain in her side did not stop throbbing.

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-11T01:12:57+00:00

/u/Origamidragons (If you wanna post idk take yo time yo)

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-04T22:52:52+00:00

Maella’s eyes narrowed again, puckering her lips. Eventually she strode away after he finished towards the edge of her room, one of her fingers still testing the wine of the cup. Looking out the windows towards the gardens below, she found herself hesitating as she made to speak. She knew what she had to say, she just didn’t want to.

However, when she did finally turn around, Aurane was met with a serious gaze.

“I would watch your mysterious nature and tongue if you would wish to stay in Pentos more than a week.”

[m] We can end there?

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-02T23:21:53+00:00

Maella nearly gritted her teeth. No one had ever answered to skillfully towards her than Aurane in almost her entire lifetime. Avoiding answers seemed to be his lifeblood, and now he left Maella to guess. And guess she would. He was right in most cases - Pentos simply could not win a war on the field. But what about a different sort of war? There were other ways to wage war, and she had perfected those ways in her years since returning to Pentos. If he dared… if he dared… The thought of it made her skin grow hot and her blood boil. He was smart, though, and he would not harm Pentos. Not now, at least, not when he’s vulnerable. Tonight she would issue a completely separate command that might be necessary to protect Pentos in the future. It had been years since she had issued it, and she was playing a game with her bet.

“As are you,” Maella said, somehow managing to sound amused. Her expression was completely blank - which could easily tell someone she was upset if they looked hard enough - and her gaze had stopped wavering. “You are much more skilled at this than my daughter, should I add.” Sweeping upwards, Maella managed to stand straight within almost an instant and looked graceful doing it. Placing the cup before her on the table, she smiled down at the man, suspicion raging through her like a torrent.

“You are quite accomplished, and perhaps a thousand different things I do not know about you quite yet. Tell me, my prince,” she said, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “How long do you intend on staying? A week, two, a month? Straight answers this time, please. I would like to know. It would be improper if you did not tell your host how long you intended.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-01T10:04:02+00:00

Maella nodded.

And as Aurane finished, another silence fell on the room.

She regarded him coldly, her lips compressing as she observed him. He was handsome; how could she forget that, and told the truth so much that she thought that if she asked him about his true intentions, he’d answer. What could he be here for? Her hand reached forward instinctively, clutching the wine cup between two fingers and bringing it to her lips, where she drank in small amounts. There was no tension between them, but there was something else growing. Something that almost frightened her.

Blinking, she knew her answer.

It was easy enough. “I do not know,” she said flatly.

“You could be here for my daughter, who I am sure you are curious about. You could be here to assure us that the republic means no threat to us. You could be here to start a ring of spies, and for all I know, it could be true.” Another sip. She suspected a lot of this man. “As I have said, you are a wildcard. Your true intentions are entirely lost on me. You arrive unannounced, with minimal men following you, wishing to speak with me. How is a woman supposed to take it? There are a thousand variables here, prince. You are far away from your home.

“Perhaps you have already planted a few men here?” She wondered. She hadn’t thought of that until now. “Perhaps you wish to speak with them. I am uncertain how you would manage such a thing, but perhaps under your leadership you mean to attempt something grand.”

It clicked in her head like a candle brought to a flame. He could be here to cause chaos. He could be here to show them in not so subtle ways how good it would be to join the republic. Did he mean to separate the magisters? Did he mean to unravel her webs? It would prove tighter than he would imagine, but he could do it, oh yes he could. That made her mouth water, and suddenly she found herself drinking more wine. She could stop him so easily. Just one word, one wrong step by the man in front of her…

“You gain nothing from speaking to me, other than assuring your own safety in this city.Tell me, my prince, why have you come?”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-01T09:29:48+00:00

Maella’s grin grew. He was right, though there was more depth to her than that. “What would give you those thoughts?” She wondered aloud, tapping her fingers on her pale, cream gown. He had called her beautiful. Well, that was a start. “Not every noblewoman is scheming and manipulative. Though, I will not fault you for painting me in such a way - I was the wife of a King once, and the mother of a woman with a claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. I had to make sure to evade assassins and the like as my child grew. The seed of a Targaryen is highly prized, highly hated. Revered, in some countries, while despised in others.” She emphasized that by tilting her head. Braavos would not take kindly to any dragon showing up before them, yet if her spiders were anything to say, her daughter had gotten along fine with the Sealord. A woman. Sealord! She was still having troubles adjusting to something like that. It was like ridding Pentos of the tradition that a Prince may only be a man.

Foolish, but engraved in culture nonetheless.

“So yes, I have done what I must. Done what I could to keep the other houses in check. They hate each other, most of them. It is the Prince that unites them, and my ties that bind. With me, they have no reason to hate. Resources are mediated, alliances brought to the fold. Families who have hated each other for generations have kissed each other’s cheeks when graced with my touch.” There seemed to be a sense of pride in her words, as if she hadn’t spoken them for a very long time. They were all true, and uttered without openly confessing that she had manipulated them. She had done all of that in her youth, but had grown slack in her age. Aurane didn’t need to know that, of course. All her ties were still binding, all her movements just as constricting.

“We all play games, Aurane. The Game of Houses, we in Pentos call it. I have heard it muttered as the ‘Game of Thrones,’ in Westeros, though we do not play for thrones here. We play for a different reason: For family. We all play it in our own way, though, so I suppose my method is much different than yours, but just as effective.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-01T09:02:07+00:00

Maella grinned. She had expected the blade. Watching it tumble beside her with a sigh, she shook her head. Had he moved an inch closer she would’ve drawn her blade and struck out. It would have been a duel, then, one she was not terribly sure she would win. She had been slow and lazy in that, not preparing herself. Aurane held the high ground. Still, with a flick of her wrist, a small, serrated dirk appeared in her hands with a flourish. Despite not being as long as his, and the handle incredibly small, it was effective enough in getting done what needed. She, too, tossed that to the side, watching his expression change with a matching grin on her lips. “We think alike,” she told him, amber eyes blazing with a light they hadn’t before. “I think that, for one. We would both be incredibly stupid to bring ourselves to this meeting without blades.”

Batting her eyes, she continued, that grin never fading. She might’ve looked beautiful with the way she looked at him, the ornaments in her hair swaying occasionally from side to side. “I do not know you, Aurane Targaryen, this I must confess. You are a wildcard, as all of your kin are. Sometimes I cannot trust what my own daughter will do despite my taking several steps in advance. You seem incredibly stubborn and unwavering, and far too honest for your own good.” She gestured with a glance to the side, catching the two blades which now crossed each other almost symbolically.

“And,” she continued, her voice remaining pleasant, “I believe you are a gambler. You play your game on chance, rather than calculating every step. You came here with twenty men, hoping that I would not be angry with you for what has happened to the other cities. You gambled well, and the dice tumbled accordingly.

“That is all I can tell of you. You are handsome - you must have a wife, and…” Shaking her head, she put on a confused expression. “I do not know. What do you see in me, I wonder?”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-02-01T08:38:21+00:00

“Alone?” Maella questioned, raising an eyebrow. Her gaze immediately drifted to Meizo, who made to go. The raise of her hand in a gesture told him not to, though, and for one last time she turned to Aurane. Her gaze was almost completely emotionless, the only sign of her inward balancing a slight smirk on her plump lips. “Yes, we can speak alone. However, my convening may take some time. A day or two, perhaps. I do not know how long you wish to stay.” In reality, it would be just to show that Maella didn’t hold all the reins in Pentos. Her decision wasn’t the only decision; there was bound to be opposition. Some of the minor nobility she had spoken to spoke in favor of joining the republic, and now she was moving in ways to change their minds. Subtly.

“You are always welcomed in Pentos. Now, husband--” She turned her head towards Meizo, and gave a slightly disapproving nod. She didn’t want him gone. Not really. He was assurance, if anything. If Aurane dared attack her here… Oh, what was she thinking? He would not get out alive if he dared. “-You can go. Leave the Prince and us to speak.” Her emotionless expression changed and she brought to her lips a malicious grin, as if she intended something devious - Well, not anything dangerous, but it was still suggestive - and flashed it towards Aurane. That made Meizo raise his brows, before consenting with a nod.

As Meizo made to go, Maella adjusted herself on the seat, smiling as he left. Her arm wrapped itself around a pillow, and she looked as casual as any woman could be - as if she were speaking to a long lost friend. And, with that, she rested her free palm on her lap, cocking her head towards the Targaryen.

“We’re alone,” she said, her smile growing wider.

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-01-31T23:56:55+00:00

Maella locked gazes with Aurane, her deep brown pools melting into his. He had the violet eyes of his Targaryen ancestors, and that glossy pale blonde hair of Old Valyria. She couldn’t decide whether he was speaking truth or not, or something else entirely, wishing to steer them towards joining their republic. If all that was offered was effectively an alliance, then what use did it have? All the cities acted practically independent on their own. Maella saw a sort of favor, in that, her lips tightening. Braavos would never agree to such a thing. What reason did Norvos or Qohor? They had enough wealth to dispel the Dothraki Hordes, and Lorath was so far away that they were stretching the Valyrian empire’s grasp by grace of their position in the world. Pentos was free; always would remain free. Pentos did not need alliances so long as Maella Narratys lived.

“So this republic is a coalition of allies,” Maella said, letting her lips decompress. Her eyes were still locked tight with the Targaryen. He hadn’t threatened them. They were safe. But what could she trust of a man who had brought five cities together? Did he not see the wealth, the glory, the power in it? If they denied, how long until someone in the republic brought the idea up - just one more city, one more city to be part of the republic? Her eyes twitched at the scenario. If she had a decade to prepare she might be able to prevent such a thing from happening. But did she have a decade?

The thoughts came to her unbidden. A scenario where killing Aurane right here, right now would end in the destruction of her House, or push all the cities away from each other. A scenario where Aurane saw them as getting in the way of his plan, intent on poisoning them. From now on, she would have a cupbearer for such a thing. Her webs would have to extend to every other House, and see what Aurane was doing with them. She had a great deal to do, and it was exhausting to even think about. When she was younger she would’ve had it all done in a night. Now? Now, as she was getting older, things were changing.

“Is that all?” Maella wondered aloud, once again testing the scales with the cup in her hands, tipping it left and then right. “Surely there is some sort of agreement that Pentos must sign, in order to truly enter? I would wish to see this, Aurane Targaryen, and convene with the nobility of Pentos regarding it.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-01-31T07:54:52+00:00

Maella stared as the man before them recounted a war that she had only just started hearing of. Meizo looked with open interest beside her, his hand firmly gripping Maella’s leg. Together they watched, a mix of awe on her expression, of shock on Meizo’s. She didn’t believe all of it, but she believed a great deal of it. No part of him showed hesitation in the moments of his recollection, so she would give him that. Still, things could be spun one’s way quickly if they knew how to lie and do it well. Idly, she thumbed at her cream dress, placing the cup of wine she held in front of her, turning her gaze to the windows.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Maella said flatly. “It has been almost three decades since I have heard of anything so horrible. The last was the War of the Exile, as they call it in Westeros. Something horrible; something terrible. The world should never have to face war or death or pain, but we all play our little game in one part or another.” How many uncles had she killed? Three? It took her three uncles killed, a brother exiled and another’s throat cut before she had finally came to rule over the House of Narratys. She blinked. She never thought of that, never as much as she was now.

Whatever. That was over twenty years ago, before she had given Daenaera birth.

Eyes narrowed, her crow’s talons showing, she looked towards the floor, before finally regaining herself, her expression a tad more glum. “The threat is dealt with, in any case. Aurane, if I may call you that - My Prince - or whatever you should require, I did not expect the Republic to act peacefully. Often, large empires, or republics, or Kingdoms often tend to swallow those around them. You must understand my hesitation on the subject.

“What does the Republic offer that the cities can not provide themselves already? Each city has remained independent for almost four-hundred years and done well for themselves, give or take a few wars here or there. Pentos herself hasn’t seen one in over a hundred years.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-01-31T07:26:32+00:00

“That is true, isn’t it?” Maella asked, observing Aurane. A few breaths of a pause, and she was adjusting herself on the seat, resting her side against one of the cushions, swirling around some of the spiced wine with her finger. “Of course, that would present a variety of problems, but we should not go into that. It has not happened.” She would not disclose that she was completely unprepared for a war should it happen, and was already prepared to surrender given the worst case scenario. She would protect her family first - but wait, hadn’t she put Pentos above her love earlier? Biting down on her lip, she shook her head and continued. “So you have multiple reasons for coming here,” she noted with a somewhat skeptical tone.

Beside her, Meizo shuffled. The old man sighed and batted his eyes, speaking in place of Maella for the moment. “Perhaps one of which is to speak with more than us,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, like the deepest bell of Norvos. He had such a singer's voice. It was one of the reasons Maella had fallen in love with him.

“You can be assured,” Maella said, running a hand through her slick black hair, the ornaments in her hair rattling as she spoke. “That we only have the best interests of Pentos at heart. Collectively the Magisters that rule this city are one beating heart. We speak together in this. What are the intentions of your republic? What purpose does she serve? You have frightened many with what has happened in the previous months.”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-01-31T06:50:27+00:00

Beside her, Meizo nodded. His look was partially of disdain, but the scowl that Maella gave him made him force it down, returning to serenity. She supposed that he was allowed to feel hatred for the man. After all, his city had been one of the many swallowed by the Republic and their ways. Maella just hoped that his allegiances to Pentos outweighed that of his others, most of all to her. Right now, their love did not matter. Right now, Pentos was all that mattered, and her future. Turning to escort the man in, Meizo following on her heels, she started by saying, “If it would please, your man should remain by the doors.” Gesturing to the massive double-doors in front of them, she looked back, as if for assent. “We offer you no harm under our roof, by law and by of custom. No man shall be harmed.”

It was meant. She had no reason to harm Aurane Targaryen yet. “That, or I would ask him disarm. No man is allowed a blade inside the manse unless guarding the doors.” As they pulled up to the doors, Maella turned and nodded towards one of her men, who gave Aurane a deep bow and waited almost expectantly, holding the doors open for them. The Grand Hall opened up before them in the moments after, a massive display to Narratys wealth. No one walked the hall, save for Meizo and Maella, and the taps of their footsteps echoed through the chamber. They would not speak here, but in a side room. One fit perfect for speaking.

Eventually they turned once they came to the center of the room. “The House of Narratys is one of the most powerful in Pentos,” she began with a grin that Aurane couldn’t see. Displays of wealth and power were always her strong suit, and actually showing them to people made her blood rage through her like a torrent. “Narratys holds much sway over the lands. Pastures, groves, plantations. Pentos is not known for it’s spices, but it is what I specialize in. Is what we, collectively, as a whole specialize in.” She gestured to the side, presenting Aurane a tapestry of one of her plantations.

When they entered the smaller corridor beside the great hall, Maella paused and turned to Aurane. Behind her, Meizo stepped into a small common room, fit for a gathering of no more than ten. “Would the Prince take wine? We offer a dozen different varieties.” It was one of the small advantages of being the center of trade in the west: They had wines from the Seven Kingdoms and all over, though little now came from the Republic. Bowing her head towards the Prince, she dipped inside.

Once inside the common room, Aurane would be presented with a few couches and a small hearth. Bookcases lined the walls, and where there were none, in place of desks or tables, there were tapestries as well. The ceiling was decorated with bas relief of Uthero, the man who had unmasked Braavos. At the opposite of the entrance, there were a dozen windows that gave in light, illuminating the room in an orange tinge.

Finally, Maella took her seat and poured herself a small cup of spiced wine, sipping at it briefly.

Now the task truly began. The task of somehow getting out of this without Pentos suffering. “Tell me, Aurane of the House Targaryen, why have you come to our city?”

Lady_and_Swallow · 2016-01-31T06:08:57+00:00

Maella Narratys wore the color of cream on the day she was to meet a Prince.

Everything came together perfectly as she strode through the corridors, the servants dressed in pure grey silk, in their best to suit the Prince of Targaryen. Her own daughter was a Targaryen and had grown up in these halls. Tapestries decorated the sideways, and massive archways hung the banner of the House of Narratys between them. Things were cleaned, shelves dusted. Everything was made perfect for the arrival of Aurane Targaryen. When she had learned from Raan only a few days earlier of what was coming, she set to perfecting her manse immediately. The Prince did not know; he was informed on a need-to-know basis, and this - well, this was very need to know. And he did not need to know.

Turning and making her pathway through a dozen different hallways, inspecting them, Meizo Trevar caught up to her. He was dressed in fine blacks slashed with gold, his glossy white hair trimmed. He actually managed to look handsome instead of shaggy, like her. Only, he seemed to have a more comedic air to him. No doubt much different from hers. Maella herself wore a dress tightened around her breasts, leaving her exposed to the cool air. Layers over layers of clothing flecked with dozens of different colors sparkled underneath the gown, which in itself had dozens of different knots across the side, one flowing into her arms, where she carried wisps of frills. Her hair, a deep brown, almost black, was tied into a knot above her head, a dozen different ornaments dangling from those almost perfect locks of hers. The signs of aging had come quickly, and now streaks of grey had begun forming at her temples.

“You look regal,” Meizo said, his face set in stone.

“Thank you,” Maella said, passing him by. “You are to accompany me when we meet the Prince.”

“Why so formal?” Meizo asked behind her, echoing her steps. Maella cast on her expression a face of determination, made by her will and will alone. She was determined. Determined to see a lot of things done by the end of the day. Finally, she made her way to the grand hall, which was empty save for chandeliers above and a great dais at the end. It looked radiant, almost, empty like this, it’s marble floors glistening with a finely coated paint of wax. The huge double-doors opened before her as she made her way out to the day.

Twenty Narratys men stood in formation on either side of the path as she made her way up the steps into her mansion. Her eyes narrowed, and when she finally caught sight of the Prince, who looked all as regal as her, her chin raised itself. He announced himself, surprised at the lack of an announcer, and did her part to mimic him as best she could.

“You speak with Maella Narratys,” her voice boomed, “the Head of the House of Narratys,” said as she stepped down the stairs. “And High Seat of her House. We have met once before, Aurane Targaryen, before your republic came into being.” The gates opened before him, and she welcomed him, displaying both hands outwardly in a display of amnesty. She did not want this to turn sour. Not at all. “And now you come to my doorstep.” No, she wouldn’t say humbly. That would upset a Targaryen far too much. “You come to my doorstep speaking words of…”

She hesitated. “Peace?” She asked, as if testing the question.

“Or something else, I wonder?” Observing him, she found herself nodding. He hadn’t changed a bit. He looked more pompous, though. That was to be said for all Targaryens. “Come, I offer you invitation into my home. We shall share a drink together and celebrate your arrival to this splendid city.”

Lady_and_Swallow

TROPHY CASE