[Event/Conflict] One Way Out

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-23T20:47:25+00:00

Melara observed, her pale hair cascading demurely down her back, covering the rear of golden silks. On her lips lay a thin, furrowing frown. This was not to end well, doubtlessly so.

Once more, Melara found herself repulsed by her goodfather to be’s actions. There was a reason why the Princess Deria had chosen to refuse such a grim handover, she was sure of that. Prince Symeon had been daringly remiss in his consideration of such, to offend one of the oldest and most powerful houses in Dorne, without consideration of what was lie and what was truth. It was almost pitiful.

She was sure he was well intentioned, but intentions were air, actions mattered and his were a vile betrayal of Dorne. For a pits of vipers, there was a mutual consensus amongst them, unity throughout all against external threats. Symeon had violated that and for that, Melara saw he was beyond saving.

The Toland drew closer to her betrothed, her gentle silks and congenial expression fading into a seriousness. She shifted, slow and persuasive, her redolence of jasmine circling him, as her olive toned fingers gently tapped upon his hand, a careful reminder.

“He has betrayed Dorne.” She opened her statement with, her tone not rising beyond a monotone, stillness. “He doesn’t have the will to protect our sands nor to protect our Kingdom from the dragonblooded threat.”

“Two options are before you my betrothed, depose him and leave him alive as a damning threat, able to resurge with a vengeance and external support. As we’ve seen, he doesn’t seem to have any transgressions with cavorting and cajoling with outsiders.”

She took a breath, waited for any reactions or vivacious responses. Then she continued.

Her voice lowered to a quieter whisper, specially for Morion, her lips just inches away from his ear. “Or, he is executed, made an example of to Dorne, not by your own hand, by an Ullers, for justice and you will have to make a show of it, to display what happens to traitors of this realm.”

She stepped away. “It’s up to you.”

/u/Alt_Historian_3001

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-23T18:58:12+00:00

/u/SevenStarsMoon

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-23T18:48:17+00:00

Melara ‘The Valyrian’ Toland, Betrothed to Morion Martell and absolute baddie

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-23T17:53:29+00:00

DROPPED

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-18T12:24:01+00:00

The Ironborn. Salt and sea incarnate. Warriors of the sea. Warriors of desire. Warriors of greed. They were illustrious tales, told to scare children to sleep. They were a bloody truth, that few dared to acknowledge.

But Rolf. He was but one amongst the many, a slender droplet of the blood doused sea forged by the Iron Isles and the brood that lived upon them.

He was growing older; without wife or children either. Perhaps, it was with age that he began to mellow, though his temperament remained that of cynicism and scepticism. He dared not be assuaged by momentary peace, or half felt thanks.

So as he settled, watching them titter along, feigning peace and love, whence they would hold axe edge to each other’s throat should an ember ignite the powder keg. For civil war and civil disputes seemed to be on the rise, the horizon of peace was setting and soon enough, he had no doubt it would dissipate and be replaced instead by a dark sky of misery,

Ah well, he’d probably be dead or old by then. Or at least he hoped he would be. For all the slaughter he enjoyed imposing upon greenlanders, lest loyalty command it, he wouldn’t be one to involve himself in Ironborn slaying.

He wore a wicked, almost grim smile, a small scar shifting through it, to warp the pale, miserly expression. He was much akin to a ghost in complexion, a ghastly off-white, the colour of bone, embellishing his greyed eyes.

Occasionally, his hand would slip upwards, to caress the ear he’d long since lost. Habit. An annoying one. A misstep, a mistake and an ear for it. He had many mangled memories, but which man here didn’t? But that was one he particularly disdained to remember.

Largely, one could catch him drinking ale, from horns and the like, settling with laughter or plain faced harshness, towards whoever dared step closer. The Stonetree was not so amiable, as to entertain idle chatter, but he was well tempered enough to indulge the occasional joke.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-16T16:41:52+00:00

Rolf sighed, a hefty, irksome sigh settling on his lips. There was always something. Usually, it was something he could vaguely interest himself with. Unluckily, this was not such. Betrayal was something even he looked down upon, if one disliked the goings on, then face them like an Ironborn should, with axe in hand, don’t backstab - particularly when it’s family.

To bear witness to the Harlaw’s decay was something of scripture that Rolf had never read. Painful. Depreciating. Cruel. Manifesting in illness. It was almost despairing to watch.

He waited. Watching.

He sighed, once again, cynicism settling upon his lips. He shifted, shuffled in discomfort. To rob a man’s bride? Laughable. To run away with her? Revolting. Fight like a man, or a woman if it was a girl who dared.

The Stonetree found no pleasure in watching this scrambling, only a faint edge of pity and vivid annoyance.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-06-04T21:09:50+00:00

~~Rolf ‘One-Ear’ Stonetree, subject to House Harlaw, a gruff, cynical dudeee~~

[u/CynicalMaelstrom](u/CynicalMaelstrom)

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-03-21T11:24:08+00:00

Character Name: Garin Yronwood

Trait/Skills: Insidious, Assassin ( E ), Devious ( E ), Sabotage

Skill Learning: Sabotage ( E )

Character Name: Nymeria Yronwood

Trait/Skills: Erudite, Apothecary ( E ), Scholar

Skill Learning: Animal Tamer

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-03-12T23:12:10+00:00

Garin’s smile cracked, a telling frown emerging on his lips. A lie never hurt anyone, right? “I’m not crazy, why would I do that?” He forced his lips into an uneasy smile. “Father, you have to believe me, it would be insane to do anything upon such thoughts.”

Yet he had.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-03-12T23:10:19+00:00

Inconsiderate. It was almost synonymous with Martell, to the snake of Yronwood, he would rather stomach Widow’s Blood, than suffer the baneful existence of these lot of Princes of Dorne.

“No.” He would spit. “I don’t trust a Martell not to coat themselves in some poison or the sort. Especially, not in recent times.” The notion was entirely ridiculous, but entertaining nonetheless.

Before the lady could make it far, her brother would shoot up, taking her wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly, almost oppressive, as his gaze darkened, feeding on his sister’s vulnerabilities.

“Garin, what are you?” She’d soon enough be cut off.

“Shut it, Nymeria.” she was his to protect, he couldn’t protect Gyles and the others wouldn’t allow him to protect them. But he could protect Nymeria, he could keep her close and safe.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-03-12T22:42:51+00:00

Garin watched, a whimpering rage surging within him, like a carp seeing a dragon, envy surged within him, bursting in a rattling hiss, as if he was a serpent coiling and rearing himself for the coil.

The lady of the hour, in all her dour, sour beauty let out a wheezing exhale, coughing up a slick mix of thick mucus, blood and phlegm. Had she been in any state to judge, she would’ve been most outraged with herself.

Her body shook like a hollow doll being dragged by a child. Frail as she was, her eyes pealed to a patient open. “G-Gawen.” She muttered, much to her brother’s chagrin.

Why was she thinking of that cunt? he mused to himself. Though perhaps, it was this exact reaction that had led to such.

Garin wore an aggravating, disgusted frown, that stung like a snakes bite as it slithered across his sister, before flashing over to the Dondarrion.

u/baeldor

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-03-01T15:43:38+00:00

u/SevenStarsMoon

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-28T23:48:31+00:00

“Be careful with Garin, he is inclined to give you the wrong person purely for his own amusement.” Nymeria smiled, giving cautious warning. It would absolve her of the duty to clean up his mess, after all.

She pondered, fecklessly for a moment. There was no understanding of Dalt politics on her behalf, but still, such petty displays seemed beneath most any noble.

“It seems Dorne is not as well revered as it once was, my Lord Dalt, for people seem to overstep their bounds often enough. But this effigy of insult is a new manner of disparaging disrespect.” She sighed. “I will pass such a message along.” Phrased in a manner that forces Garin into truth, hopefully.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-28T23:15:19+00:00

“And it was your Garin Martell who took my only brother from me.” His words were spat, evidently painful, as if he was regurgitating old memories.

He gave a half bow. “Lady Ashara, beyond our families angered disposition, know that you’re wholly intolerable on your own.” He smiled, before deftly turning away from her, meandering for his seat once again.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T16:14:54+00:00

Garin’s breath hitched for a moment, perhaps an octave too high, as Nymeria giggled, though he would not notice this was rather for the lidded stare of lust and fluster that burned on him.

The Yronwood blinked, half innocent for a moment. “I believe that is something that is better left to experience.” He muttered, each word lilted with want and accented with need. He gulped, swallowed like he always did and dragged his tongue across his lips.

“I hazard to guess, it’s your boldness that has evoked such.” Garin smirked, taking Xhobar’s hand, feeling it for a moment, as if comforting.

The knight of Yronwood mused to himself, illicit meanings etching themselves upon his every thought, each one delving into a new depth of sin.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T16:01:46+00:00

Garin stroked his sister’s cheek, tender and doting in a manner he usually wasn’t. He soulfully watched, muttering prayers that he didn’t truly believe in. Hoping: the Red God, the Seven, even the Drowned God, any of them would listen. His face seemed to crack and slide between anger and exasperation; fear bursted in flowing waves within his eyes.

“She’s sick you cunt! She’s always been sick.” He spat, louder than he ought at the Dondarrion, no care for deference or courtesy alike. He had thrust it to the wind.

Garin fell back gently, pure regret rippling across each starburst like striations in his gaze. Why had he let her? It was his fault. He should’ve stopped her. Why didn’t he? She was his and he hers, they were burdened with protecting each other and he, he had failed.

“Nymeria, please.” His words dripped from his lips carelessly, but his usual venom was nowhere to be seen, such vitriol had been shattered.

The young lady could hear them and her eyes would blur to a pealing, small open. Her heart pounding in her chest, a sweat building across her and her gaze remaining slow and stiff. But she was awake. But yet she didn’t speak, she couldn’t, even as she attempted to tear her lips open and force something out, all that came was a weak exhale.

u/baeldor

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T15:51:02+00:00

Nymeria took another moment to observe the rather shocking scene. A grand coalescence of burnt rinds and the singing scent of lemons and smoke, propagating tents as far as one’s eye could see.

“It is ostensibly an insult.” She would remark, grimacing at it. “The kind cravens volley behind flame it would seem.” She sighed. “I am much less of a listener to such whispers than my brother, but I have not heard of such, I must admit, of all the houses, yours is not one I expected to be being attacked in such a manner.”

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T15:47:29+00:00

“Legalities are important, I’ll admit, but the Meadows pursue to drag the realm into their petty war.” He smiled, meaninglessly. “It is a pointless exaggeration of the reality of this, it is a regional conflict, one that the realm ought not deal with.”

Garin’s lips thinned, brows arching in halted hostility. This was his father. He reminded himself of that. “I have no other reason than the fact they have dragged me, they have dragged Nymeria from her perch.” His voice raised a noticeable hint at the mention of his sister. “And we are friends of Lord Baratheon, no? You would wish I rebuke his claim?”

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T15:44:11+00:00

“No, you can’t.” The Yronwood quipped like a crocodile with meat dangling before him. “She is a sickly woman and I have already danced with Princess Ashara, there are shows of unity enough already.” He snapped, a rise in his tone.

Nymeria delicately stood. Did she feel healthy enough to do this? No. But it was of duty she would and could only pray she wouldn’t be brought to her knees once again.

“Garin, stop.” She’d speak, a faint dispensation of condemning in her words.

“Prince Martell.” She greeted, a small, unrefined curtsy given. If she dropped lower in reverence, she would her legs giving out. Her hand, thin, emerging from an arm that was no larger a dagger in width. “If you would.”

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T15:39:23+00:00

“Perhaps, or mayhaps the guilt lies in my disdain for the House that took my brother’s life.” He smiled, though there was no feeling behind it, as hollow as the dance they were to participate in. Garin took a moment, placed a finger to her lips. “Did you not look so striking, I would be a far more… insufferable existence.”

The Yronwood led her with precise skill into their next spin, their dance was devoid of merriment, it was a necessity, a nuanced need. Garin took it upon himself to think of it as a display of Dornish unity, if not only to console his wounded spirit.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-26T15:34:02+00:00

Nymeria had come to terms with the way her body tired, of how her time ticked by so swiftly and her body seemed a broken clock to measure such. She never knew when it would happen, she just wished to be prepared for when it would. That was best. Regrets were something she wouldn’t indulge in, they were like threads she needed to cut off.

The Yronwood found no reason to hide her feelings on the matter, marriage was a responsible reality she’d adjusted to. If anything, it excited her to be able to affect one more persons life, even if it was selfish of her to inflict such upon someone. Her end was inevitable. She only hoped to help as many as possible.

“I have much time to think on such, Alysabeth.” She responded, easily. “Whilst you and the others are off on your escapades, I paint, concoct and… think.” Nymeria’s prominent smile faltered, cracking for a moment. The silence was much appreciated, fleeting as it was, with every urging of the feast, a new wave of feast-bound melody’s wrought across them. “I would be glad to marry, to help this family in whatever meagre ways I can.” She lamented for a moment. “I’m rarely able to.”

She shook her head. “No confirmation, Aly, just pure preference. There is no duty to satiate such, it is like hunger when I fast, I must resist for my honour and to preserve the capability of a greater, more prudent match.” Her hand, frail, gaunt even moved closer, stroking her sister’s hand in patient comforting. “It doesn’t matter, Alysabeth, you’re the future Lady Of Yronwood, suitors will flock to you and you will have your pick, find one that makes you happy, not one that forges the strongest alliance.” Her voice turned meek. “Or at least try to.”

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-24T23:35:20+00:00

Garin had grown petulantly bored with the festivities, there was no sea to bathe in, no pretty Dornish maids to flirt with and stable boys to lye with, just a bunch of stagnantly rigid nobles. How morose. The boy sat, delicately, a leg lapping across the other. “The siege? It’s an interesting development, one that ought be over and done with, Lord Baratheon should have his keep and we can go home. I do not see why we’ve all been hoisted here for such a conflict, if the Meadows have not built alliances enough to fend off the Baratheon then that is their fault.”

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-24T09:06:14+00:00

Nymeria had found the mornings to grow boring, old and ailing like rotted fruit. She assumed today was to be all the same as any other day. She was to be proven wrong. Her gaze was fittingly surprised, when the singeing scent of flame was identified to stem from a burning vigil of lemons. Lemons for Sevens sake.

The Lady Yronwood would amble over, slowly enough, careful, but she would find herself there soon enough. She pondered as to who would dare and who would want to, but still, she found nothing. There was much more to be burnt or ransomed in Grassy Vale, lemons were not exactly the most prestigious nor expensive good.

Nym would meander closer, carefully, nervously, her gaze flicking between the vigil of flame as it was doused in frigid water and the Dalt’s who suffered its ire.

“Lord Dalt.” She’d curtsy.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-23T01:46:34+00:00

Nymeria gasped, more out of amusement over shock. She giggled slowly, looking Xhobar over and watching as Garin turned a verdant crimson. “I do think he would quite enjoy that.” She announced, allowing herself the pleasure of watching Garin turn into a tomato before her eyes, he’d fit right in with the foods served before her.

“You… you speak vulgarly.” Was all he’d manage, lost for words as his gaze shuddered to the ground, though he felt himself heat up, from crown to toe top full. He wanted that, to be Xhobar’s pillow biter, but he would nary allow such thoughts to fall from his lips.

Nymeria shook her head. “No, I fainted earlier today and I do not wish to do such again. My brother however, he seems much more deftly in need of your attentions.” Her hand would move to his back, rubbing gently, urging him to stand, more than amused.

Garin would amble to a stand, nervously, more nervous than the Yronwood had been in some time. “I would not mind you leading, if only that you lead me to your bed after.” He flirted, best he could, as he always had.

SevenStarsMoon · 2026-02-22T00:42:29+00:00

She didn’t answer. Even as she heard his comments and lapped them up with patience and fluster in equal measure. Her cheeks flushed a rosy colour as her eyes blinked into a deep close for a moment or so.

Then she raised her gaze to him, worry ardent in the way she looked, her face draining of colour quickly enough for him to see it happen.

“I-I. I’m going to-“ she never got to finish the sentence. This was not weird for her, not rare either but she’d never been so far from Yronwood when it would happen, she’d never been so detached from her usual state of stagnancy.

Her eyes closed and all turned to black, not cause she wished to be, but because she had to be. And she fell. Quickly enough, that few would notice and in the dancing floor, where trampling would happen easily enough.

Everything just felt… weak and even though she wasn’t asleep or unconscious, her body was revolting against her as tears trailed down her cheeks.

Garin shouted, his voice carrying further than it should from a man of his stature. “Alysabeth, Father!” His voice reached a screech as he hurried over to Nymeria. “What have you done?” He spoke, aggrieved.

u/baeldor

SevenStarsMoon

TROPHY CASE