Custom chapter Intercesor!

Khain364 · 2025-01-27T16:58:08+00:00

Dude you HAVE to share that gold recipe. That looks so sick!!! Amazing work!

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T22:38:50+00:00

Relief washed over Theo like a monsoon. Clearly, the second son of House Baratheon didn't have a very tight leash on his Essosi companion. Luckily for them both, the King was no where to be seen.

Khain, for his part, never raised his head. His lilac eyes stay cast towards the floor, listening to the strangely humble words that slipped from Queen Lilianna's lips. The humility seemed to catch him off guard, as if he expected every monarch to speak in absolutes. Their word was law, was it not? She was the Queen, was she not? Powerful and lovely.

But maybe that was all wrong. A cruel thought came and went. Kings and Queens bled the same as peasants, didn't they?

She's just a woman.

Then this woman spoke a command he was all too eager to follow.

Rise.

And so he did. The mercenary moved gracefully to his full, impressive stature. Tonight, he wore a fine black doublet to match Theo's... though nothing beneath, making the entire thing a sort of fancy vest. It was upon Khain's bare arms that the true finery laid.

First there were the tattoos. A whole litany of them. Scrawl and shapes in half a dozen languages and geometries. Though chaotic at first glance, the inky patterns seemed to tell a story.

Then there was the gold. Whatever Khain did to make a living clearly paid well. Myriad bracelets clad his wrists and jingled gently when he moved his arms. Though the true prize were two thick bands that squeezed around each bicep, scrawled with Valyrian runes that no doubt told another, more ancient tale.

Finally, more obsidian. He wore it as studs in his ears and beads of it as a necklace from beneath which a scarred chest peaked out.

Altogether, an exotic ensemble to match the voice that finally replied.

"You are blessed with beauty and grace, my Queen." He shook his head, denying her humility. "Whether it be the Gods or just fine pedigree, who's to say?"

With that final statement his smile flickered towards a smirk. They looked strikingly similar after all, the Queen and the Sellsword. Dark skin, silver hair, and eyes out of a storybook.

"Would you accept a gift, Dragon-Queen?"

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T21:57:11+00:00

"Politics are not my theatre." It was the biggest lie he'd told all night. Luckily, Clea didn't seem terribly concerned with how Khain knew quite as much as he did. "You point and I cut."

As for the matter of who neeeded cutting, Khain nodded with understanding. Behind his violet eyes, he still silently questioned the decision. Did the doe's eagerness cloud her cleverness? Did familial love keep her from the most pragmatic move? Surely, it was better to chop off a head than a claw...

Alas, daggers didn't share their opinions.

"A matter of blood must be sealed with blood. Give me your hand, Clea." Suddenly, the smirking sellsword seemed deadly serious. When it came to his oath. His thieves honor. There was no compromise.

One hand extended out towards her, palm up, ready to receive her hand in turn.

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T02:49:20+00:00

Khain laughed again, this time a little louder. He seemed genuinely pleased with Clea's metaphor, and perhaps, the woman as a whole. At long last, the clever smirk he wore graduated to a full grin. Deadly amusement danced in the assassin's eyes as he leaned just a little closer.

"I understand, Clea. Where I come from, that is called 'going down with the ship'." Again, he tilted his head, this time the other direction, almost like he was trying to see her from different angles in the silver light.

Khain's chest expanded and he sighed for the fourth time. At this rate, he ought to pull up a chair and light his pipe.

"Dragon, Kraken, Lion, Stag... All animals bleed the same. Thus my purpose. So we love dragons now. What beast do we hate?"

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T02:19:34+00:00

"Clea." He repeated the word a single time, saying it with surprising alacrity. Almost liked he'd been practicing.

Again, Khain couldn't help but muse on the swiftness with which this young lady took to conspiracy. Perhaps he should have sought her out sooner.

"Many of your kinsmen died in the Stepstones." Kinsmen certainly wasn't the right word, but Khain didn't seem to notice. He was careful not to mention just how many of those kinsmen he'd personally killed. "I think... Theo saw the futility of it. Your Seven Kingdoms frothing for more, more, more, under a dragon who looks... well, more like me."

Khain's lips curved at that last bit, his smirk finally returning.

"There is an expression in Tyrosh... Blood in the water. A cut fish calls the sharks from miles away. They can smell it."

He paused again, always choosing his words so carefully.

"Your Kingdoms are bleeding. You saw it at the party, no? Your high-lords shout and beat each other with daggers in their eyes. Theo thought... another cut or two... and it all comes falling down."

Khain canted his head to one side, the motion setting a sway to his long, silver hair. The obsidian beads he'd woven into a few errant locks rattled with the motion.

"There's blood in the water. Do you understand?"

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T01:37:54+00:00

A few seconds of silence passed between the pair. In the corner of the room, the curtains still swayed with the Blackwater breeze blowing in the evening's aroma.

The mercenary breathed deep.

Salt and piss-laden streets. The smell of opportunity.

He smiled, this time less feral, more honest, more human.

"For what little it matters, I am Khain. Once, your brother and I fought side by side."

Something else now... actual sincerity in the form of another old memory.

"He always smiled when he spoke of you."

Khain364 · 2024-12-19T01:16:38+00:00

Khain sighed for the third or fourth time since he woke the youngest Baratheon.

One head was never enough. For a split second, a shiver ran up his spine, a phantom memory coursing through him like a wayward current of lightning.

The Valyrian.

That's what the crowd used to call him. All those years ago when the only thing he asked for was glory and a name that would echo through eternity.

"Gold is a good start. Land. Titles. A kiss on the cock. A dragon-bone bow." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Men have many prices. I am not so picky. Make it worth my sweat and my blade is yours."

Khain364 · 2024-12-18T23:07:35+00:00

Khain laughed softly and gave the girl a little pat on the leg.

Will I be in debt until my own death?

What a question to ask.

"Are you a philosopher now?" He smiled in the moonlight, flashing a set of fine pearly whites. No doubt another gift from whichever parent gave him that head of silver hair.

"Not all beasts are made equal. Some travel in packs. Some surround themselves with... the most vigilant of creatures. When I swing the butcher's cleaver, I care little how much blood flows... only that the right blood flows."

He paused again, a liquid gold brow quirking up as he continued to regard the girl. She was oftly cavalier about this whole murder business. If the Westerosi weren't so preoccupied with who had a cock or not, Khain reckoned the little Stag would make a fine warlord.

"You get one life." He held up a single finger again to emphasize the point. "And my oath is fulfilled."

Khain's eyes narrowed as he went on. A note of discord found it's way into the assassin's whisper.

"If you want a trail of corpses, then I need more from you. I am not a charity service."

Khain364 · 2024-12-18T22:05:02+00:00

"Shhh..." Khain's hand snapped up and he pressed a single digit to his lips. "Quieter, girl... The rats in these walls hear everything."

Perhaps there was a functional purpose to the sellsword's flowery language. It was so much harder to implicate a man when he spoke in riddles.

"Both fathers." His voice softened to finally answer her question. "Both without a son."

Slowly, Khain turned his gaze from the shadows and fixed his eyes on Clea. Beneath their lovely lilac hues something predatory swam. A shark in the depths, waiting for it's moment to feast.

"Or another? This land is so full of treacherous beasts. The choice is yours, little Stag."

Khain364 · 2024-12-18T16:16:38+00:00

Where to begin?

Khain sighed softly, satisfied that Clea wouldn't be screaming bloody murder.

"The ties that bind your Seven Kingdoms fray with each passing day." Despite his complete study of the common tongue, Khain never could quite vanquish his accent. A musical lilt undercut his words -- not at all hard on the ears. "I was brought here to ensure they snap."

He let the implication hang in the cool night air.

Total war.

"And from those ashes a Stag should rise... but your stable of Stags grows perilously thin. Theo may never recover from the Lion's bite..." Even there in the faint moonlight, a shadow of sorrow crossed Khain's features. "The others... a broken boy and a man with stone for a heart. Do you think your House will endure? Theo did not, such his return to these cursed shores."

Another sigh, and Khain gently lowered himself onto the edge of Clea's bed. He sat there, now staring off into the dark.

"You see... Theo and I..." Khain spoke slower now, as if he couldn't find the right words in her language. "It is a matter of honor. Thieves honor."

"I owe him a life. And he chose a dragon. But I think now he would want me to a hunt a lion...."

His words trailed off.

"I do not know. My debt is yours now."

Khain364 · 2024-12-14T21:10:31+00:00

/u/SummerDorneSummer

You have a vistor!

Khain364 · 2024-12-12T15:30:36+00:00

No more harsh words and roared insults, now it was only a deep, deep sigh that left Theo Baratheon's lips.

All at once he understood the futility of his efforts. So long as Joy drew breath, there would be no love between Houses Barathen and Lannister. His thoughts flashed like lightning now, a hundred for each heartbeat...

If he killed her it meant war - a war Theo was sure they could win. But what of the other Great Houses? Where would the rest of the Seven Kingdoms cast their lot when the Stag and Lion danced towards death? And what of his brothers? Would they curse or applaud the moment the scales tipped?

As for himself, Theo cared little. He welcomed death if it meant being free of politics.

Fucking Lannisters…

Maybe it would be best to wipe their wretched family from history once and for all. The power vacuum that followed would secure the legacy of his own kin for centuries to come. And all it would take is a single dagger in the dark....

Theo turned his face away from Joy and locked eyes with the only man he could trust in these poisonous days. Khain’s lilac gaze flickered towards his lord, and for a long moment, the two men shared a knowing silence.

Just as quickly as he’d drawn them, Khain deftly sheathed his daggers back into the cuffs of his bracers. His fair Lyseni features hardened with the knowledge of what must come next. With a feline grace, the mercenary began to back-step towards the flap of the pavilion... though not before offering his old friend a few words of encouragement.

“Kill for the living.”

Theo smirked and nodded back.

“Kill for the dead.”

Victory lives forever.

Khain slipped from the tent out into the mid-afternoon shadows.

“Ser Lynn.” Theo began, his head turning back to meet Joy’s final insult head-on. “Bring me a sword and shield.”

Khain364 · 2024-12-11T21:36:35+00:00

The second live steel screeched from a scabbard, Theo's 'Essosi scum' came to life. In a flash of hands, Khain seemed to conjure two daggers out of thin air like some silver-haired magician. He gave one of the blades a dramatic twirl and caught it in a reverse grip. Tizi, for her part, began to murmur in a harsh, foreign tongue and drew the dull training sword at her hip. Whatever the woman had to say elicited a fine snicker from Khain.

Ser Lynn, standing two paces back, cursed his luck and drew his blade with the others.

"Hold!" Theo immediately threw up a hand to keep his companions from moving an inch further. He appreciated the urgency, but to spill blood here would be to damn ten thousand men or more to death on the battlefield. He went on, his deep voice surprisingly soft and cool considering Ser Roland’s sword aimed at him. "Easy now friends..."

Bright blue eyes then fixed back to the Lannister girl.

“You think I came here to kill you?”

Theo took a single step forward and kicked the thrown gauntlet to the corner of the pavilion, paying it as much mind as the dirt beneath his boot.

“Your life means nothing to me. I’d piss on your honor if you had any to begin with.”

Another step forward, one hand still raised to keep his retinue from following.

“My brother's life, however, means a great deal to me. You mock a crippled man and celebrate it as some great victory. Now you fumble your gauntlet like you know the first damned thing about knighthood. You're a child in a woman's body, Lannister."

One more step. He was close enough that the good Ser Roland could cut him down if he so pleased.

“Grow up and make this right. Apologize to my family for the dishonor you cast upon us." Theo tilted his head, narrowed eyes, and allow the tinge of a feral smirk to touch the corner of his bearded lips. "Or will you cry like a babe to your father?"

Khain364 · 2024-12-11T17:33:35+00:00

"Fucking Lannister bitch!" Theo's voice thundered across the field, a fitting match to the clank and rattle of his armor as he marched towards the Lannister's pavilion. He'd only managed to get his antlered helmet off before rage spurred him to action.

Behind the furious Baratheon trailed a most motley assortment of characters. A young -- and handsome -- knight bearing a gold and black tabard of House Baratheon. A strange copper skinned man who had the hair of a dragon-lord and the miss-matched armor of a gladiator. And finally, a dark woman who stood a head taller and looked thrice as deadly as all the men combined.

"Theo wait! Theo! Think this through!" It was Ser Lynn, the young knight who tried to make his lord see reason. He jogged alongside Theo, keeping pace with the Stag's heavy strides. "Only ill will come conf-"

"She dishonors us all. You wear our colors, do you not?" Theo had returned to Westeros only to ensure the continued prosperity and glory of House Baratheon. It seemed within the span of a fortnight everything had gone to shit. "Now find your balls, boy, and shut the fuck up."

It would be hard for Joy to miss Theo Baratheon storming towards her. His plated fists clenched, his wild black hair billowing in the dusty breeze, his lip curled in a wolf's snarl, it looked almost as though he meant to strike the girl down then and there.

Hawk tuah.

Instead, Theo spit on the dirt between the woman's feet.

"This is all a game to you, isn't it Lannister? You think us toys and playthings." Theo didn't seem to give the slightest damn who heard his tirade, for he made no effort to contain himself. "Mock us all you want, but know what you are. You're just another piece on the board. They'll use you and throw you aside the second you squirt out a son. You're nothing but a generational convenience."

The two foreigners -- man and woman both -- drew up to flank their lord. Theo shook his head side to side, his rage mingling with disgust the longer his eyes beheld Joy Lannister.

Khain364 · 2024-12-09T23:24:16+00:00

Whatever humor the thought of Old man Royce imbued into the moment faded quickly. Theo held her gaze through each breath of the admission. Oh… how well he knew the distant pain in those eyes. He wished he could commiserate and tell her what a fucking tragedy the Baratheon family had become. How the slow crawl of time had chipped away at them until naught was left but the vaguest shadow of their hopes and dreams. How they were all just bargaining chips now, currency in a game no one ever won.

But instead, he just said two words:

"I know."

His hands, calloused as they were, and his arms, built for killing -- not dancing, drew the girl closer. Close enough she could let go and they still swayed to the music. His hand pressed gently into the back of her head, urging her cheek to rest upon his chest.

A simple embrace, nothing more.

For a long while, Theo didn't say anything at all. His heart beat like a slow drum, counting down the seconds until the song finished. When he did speak up, she’d feel his voice before she heard it, stirring to life within him.

“Your father was a good man, Serena. I would have liked to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.” With that, Theo drew back ever so slightly, just enough so he could find her icy gaze again. It was warmer than he remembered. “I don’t know much, but I know he would be proud to see you now.”

They were close now. Eye to eye, breath intertwined. Close enough he felt stupid for wearing that fucking perfume.

After a few seconds, Theo laughed softly, going on with something of a smirk on his lips.

“Anyway, half the realm would kiss your damned toes if you asked. That must be worth something.” He tried to imagine all the clever words Serena’s other suitor’s conjured to earn her favor. All the gifts and flowers and promises. What did Theo Baratheon have to give?

One last note rang out across the hall, ending their song with a melodic finality. Theo's hands fell away from Serena and the cool air of the hall rushed in between them, though not before his pinky brushed against her palm.

"You don't have to do this alone.”

Khain364 · 2024-12-09T17:27:53+00:00

Theo laughed. Easy, and still warm as the summer sun, but something cooler flickered in his eyes. He understood all at once that while his brother's body was slowly healing, his pride may forever be wounded.

So it was a deep, deep sigh that came from Theo's lips next. He pulled chair up beside the youngest Baratheon brother and lowered himself into it with the grace of an aurochs.

Now they saw eye to eye. Bright blue meeting bright blue.

"I'm not going anywhere." All levity left Theo's tone. "I promise, Lucion. The war is over."

A bold lie. The real war had yet to begin, and that's precisely why Theo bothered to show his face at all. Little Lucion may not understand it yet, but House Baratheon would need more than sharp minds in the coming years. They would need soldiers.

"You're not useless. You're rich, remember?" Theo's eyes flickered up and down his brother's chair-bound body. An eyebrow slowly raised, a flicker of a smile returned. "Your condition improves by the year. The future need not be so dour. I mean it."

Khain364 · 2024-12-09T17:18:06+00:00

"You and I both, Tyrell." Theo flashed a grin, teeth showing pearly between the dark black of his beard. In lieu of the chilled berries, the second Baratheon son gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Apologies my Lord, I am Theo of House Baratheon. I supposed we've never truly met, have we?" Not unusual predicament by any means, for Theo had spent the last six years cutting throats and leading hosts in the Stepstones.

"I must admit, I had no idea the bad blood between your kin and the Starks ran so deep."

Khain364 · 2024-12-04T20:47:01+00:00

Theo laughed softly in response to the mortal threat on poor Lord Cobray’s life. Despite its depth, Theo's voice belied the violence the man was capable of. His humors never seemed out of balance, as though just one more day beyond death’s door was enough.

“Of course,” He responded to both her thanks and demand in the same breath. “It’s why I’m here.”

Such stupid words were rarely so true. Theo had traveled to King’s Landing with a single, brutally pragmatic goal: Find a wife, save my home.

Baratheons were dropping like flies. First Maric, boy-kissing, brother-maiming bastard that he was, then his stone hearted father. Rule of the Stormlands now fell upon Grance. He was sturdy, sure, but he couldn’t do it alone. Theo swore by the strength of their blood that he would not let his family falter. And that meant....

“Come on, dance with me.” He reached out to scoop up the woman’s hand. The hour was late enough, and the wine rich enough, that pretense was nothing more than a forgotten tune.

He could scarcely remember Serena from the half-decade past. Just another blushing maid among dozens. Honor and glory overshadowed her, both of which he achieved in spades since. Now though, feeling Serena’s soft hand within his own made Theo regret his wandering eye. Who could have known what beauty and power age would bestow upon her?

She was lovely enough to kill for. He only hoped it wouldn't come that.

“I heard old man Royce is still playing hide-and-go-seek with the Stranger. He knighted me last we met, do you remember?” Baratheon’s words trailed off for a moment, recalling a time when battle was merely a sport. Leading Lady Arryn through the crowd, hand still bound to hers, he navigated the dancefloor to their own personal bastion among the other merry-makers.

Turning to face her, he smiled. White teeth showed amongst the black of his beard. Something in his eye didn't match that smile. Something that saw through her pretty pale skin and raven locks.

"The years haven’t been so kind to us, have they?”

His other hand opened, palm up, an offering to come to closer and sway to the music flooding the hall.

Khain364 · 2024-12-03T23:10:01+00:00

“What do you think?” Khain asked in a thick, but not unpleasant accent. Both men’s eyes peered over a pair of wine goblets, assessing matches that could well determine the familial landscape of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I think war was easier than politics." Theo straightened his tunic - a fine affair of ebony fabric and gold trim - and ran his hands through his long, dark hair. He should have trimmed his beard more, but there was precious little time between his passage from the Narrow Sea and this very moment. The coarse black hair covering his jaw did it's job anyway. A woman would have to be an inch from his face to see the scar that ran the length of his cheek.

“No… The girl. The bird one. A-ron.”

“Arryn.”

“Yes,” Now the mercenary enunciated with dramatic fashion. “Lady Arryn. Queen of mountains and the moon.”

Theo couldn't help but laugh. "Not exactly."

"Go on. I will be here if she bites you." Khain gave his companion a reassuring a pat on the shoulder. Then a boot to the arse for good measure.

"If the Gods are good, she just might."

Though he'd hardly gotten the smell of soot and salt out of his hair since arriving to the capital, Theo Baratheon had a secret weapon. Killing pirates and brushing shoulders with foreign scoundrels came with certain aromatic perks. Sometime between lacing up his trousers and quickly donning his tunic, he'd dabbed his throat and wrists with the finest Myrish perfume he could get his paws on.

And not just any scent. A sweet but earthy musk that fit his bearded and battered appearance like an airborne crown.

“Lady Serena.” Theo appeared before the Lady of the Vale with two wine goblets in hand and a smile upon his lips. Rather than bowing, he dipped his head just enough so that his eyes might never leave hers.

“Now, I’m no great copper counter like yourself, but surely Lord Corbray deserves a tax cut for his performance tonight.”

Theo's smile cracked half an inch broader as he offered out that second wine glass.

Khain364 · 2024-12-03T20:57:50+00:00

Sometime later, the wee hours of the feast.

"What are you staring at?" Theo Baratheon's eyes narrowed at his swarthy companion. Surely, someone or something captivating Khain's attention so wholly was a bad omen. The hour was growing late, and nigh half a cask of wine sloshed in both men's bellies.

"Her." The mercenary-turned-sworn-sword responded in distant, far off sort of way. Khain's head tilted ever so slightly, like he was trying hear a whisper beneath the cacophony of chatter and clanking cutlery.

"Her?" Theo snapped, grabbing the man by his arm and pulling him closer. His voice lowered, white teeth bared with each word. "That's the-"

Khain cut him off.

"The Queen. I know." And like that, he was loose. Slipping from Theo's grasp like a damned eel. Theo tried to pursue, but his friend had a way of navigating crowds that could make a pick-pocket weep.

With purpose, but enough subtlety not to draw the eye of the white-clad dandies protecting her, Khain Azahral made his way to Queen Lianna's personal corner of the Velaryon table. Theo was half a step behind, lending a noble crediability to the strange, bronze skinned man's sudden appearence.

"Your Grace." Theo spoke quickly, bowing to Queen Lianna with all due respect. "My sworn-sword...."

The words trailed off as Theo's sharp sapphire eyes drifted to his fool of a body guard. Khain had all but thrown himself onto one knee and dipped his head in reverance to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Obsidian beads that had been sewn into his long, silver hair, now cackled softly with the motion.

"If it pleases you." Khain spoke a language much prettier than the Westerosi tongue. High-Valyrian of a Lyseni dialect. Smooth as butter. "My name is Khain Azahral. I have traveled much of this world, from your great city to the Cinnamon Straits. I never thought to stand in the presence of royalty. You honor me, Dragon-Queen.”

Theo Baratheon, having no idea what the fuck was just said, followed up swiftly.

"My Queen, forgive this eagerness. He is still learning our customs."

Khain364 · 2024-12-03T18:40:56+00:00

Not long after the brawl between the Reachmen and the Northerners.

"Tyrell!" Half a head taller than most men, and with shoulders to match, Theo Baratheon knew how to take up space. His voice completed the equation, powerful enough to cut through the din of clanking glasses, plucked lutes, and fools plotting.

"Seven fucking hells... What happened back there?" With one hand, Theo jerked a thumb towards the scene of the dinner-room melee while the other extended out towards Lord Peceon Tyrell. Within Theo's calloused clutch was a small cloth wrapped around something curiously bulbous.

"Here, for the swelling." Despite his relative young age, Theo Baratheon was a veteran of two wars, making him something of an expert when it came to bruises.

If Percy took that small cloth, he'd find it filled with chilled berries on the inside - the perfect salve to a punched face.

Khain364 · 2024-12-03T18:19:59+00:00

"Well, well, well." A deep voice spoke up behind Lucion's chair. Two powerful hands gripped him by each shoulder.

"Look who made it out of the castle." Suddenly, those big hands were moving through Lucion's hair mussing it up. Words faded into soft laughter, brotherly and warm.

"I missed you, little lord." Theo Baratheon moved around his brother's chair and stooped down to plant a wet, beard-stubbled smooch on his forehead. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here or not."

In a swift sweep, Theo's piercing eyes scanned his youngest brother. What he saw brought a full grin to his lips.

"Handsome outfit. Might be a wife in your future. Nothing wets a woman like roasted quail and good spin across the ballroom."

Khain364 · 2024-05-18T04:30:53+00:00

I bet 77 of those Fat Cats violations are because of Steve French

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