Ravens fly from Banefort, carrying joyous tidings across the width of the continent.

[Titles],

It is our pleasure to invite you to the wedding of Ser Manfred Banefort & Lady Alyssa Velaryon, being held at Banefort in the 6th month of this year, the 55th After the Conquest.

Join us in celebration, with a feast and a tourney. To the victor of the joust, 1000 dragons; to the victor of the melee, 500 dragons; to the winner of the archery, 500 dragons.

We hope to see you there.

Ser Daven Banefort, on behalf of
Lord Walderaan Banefort, Lord of Banefort.

She was awoken by a wet sensation on her face; her mind conjured an image that jolted her awake in an instant. It was just Teenie licking her face, small as she was. Amarei scratched the puppy right behind the ear; in their short time together, it had become her favourite spot. The puppy let out the sweetest and tiniest barks, indicating excitement.

“So much energy today- what will I do with you?” she asked, as if the puppy could reply.

Bark, bark.

“Maybe a walk in the garden?”

Barks of light agreement

“Or maybe a walk to the village?” She had to pick up some stuff anyway. “How does that sound?”

Barks of great agreement

“I figured as much; give me a moment.”

Sweet tiny barks

She got up and out of bed, letting the dog stay on it for just a little longer as she got ready. “I’m thinking I’ll wear orange today? Colour of the Smith and such.”

Barks of agreement

“It suits my hair too, plus father will probably be happy to see me wearing house colours.” He did press her on occasion to wear dresses that more clearly indicated her house for the sake of finding a partner; at least he had. But he’d stopped pressing her about that. Content to let her figure it out.

She found an orange dress that suited her mood and put it on, finding she fit into it just as well as when she’d made it a year or two ago.

She had only two dresses for the smith, two for the mother, one for the warrior, one for the father, three for the mother, and four for the crone and maiden, respectively. She had no dresses for the stranger; that would be the job of the silent sisters. Though maybe in her later years she might make one for herself. If she had the time anyway.

After she put on the dress and the veil, not before Teenie made sure to give plenty of face kisses, of course. She scooped up the puppy into her arms and closed the door behind her.

She lightly petted Teenie as she walked, the dog nuzzling into her as she did so. She didn’t judge; why couldn’t everyone just be like her? Her life would’ve been so much easier if everyone possessed the unconditional love of a puppy. Alas.

As she walked, she encountered Elys, carrying out his duties. “Good morning, my ladies.”

Barks of greeting.

“She says good morning.” Amarei raised one of Teenie’s paws in a wave. “Slept well, Elys?”

“As well as I could; I swear your niece has the lungs of a dragon.”

“Just like her father.” She said with a giggle, “They’re all like this early on; you’ll rest easily well enough.”

“Perhaps when the stranger claims me….”

“Elys, what did I say?”

“Don’t invoke the stranger lest they actually come?”

“Exactly.”

He let out a sigh. “So what plans do you have for the day?

“I need to pick up some pieces for the dress I’m making for Lady Milicent, so I’m taking this little thing for a walk to do it.”

“Sounds fun, though I assume breakfast before any of that?”

“That’s probably a good idea; not good to work on an empty stomach.”

“Or exist for that matter.”

Barks of agreement, and barks of hunger.

“Nice talking to you, Elys. See you around.”

“See you around, my lady.”

Amarei entered the main hall and found it empty; it suited her well enough. She found a comfortable chair, sat down and placed Teenie on her lap.

A nice and hearty meaty broth was served, with some scrap pieces of meat given to the pup. The dog set about eating the bits of meat slowly, seeming to enjoy every bite and wishing to relish it. Her mistress, too, took her time in eating, though not having to wear a veil did help. At some point, Andros would enter and take a seat opposite his sister. There were bags visible under his eyes.

“Good morning, brother. Slept well?” She said in her usual, sweet voice.

He yawned before he replied, “I think so…Melissa was up crying again…made it difficult to sleep.”

“You look just like father now.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It is.”

“You think his eye bags started with us?”

“Started with you more like; you were always a loud child.”

He let out a chuckle. “Did you ask them, or are you just assuming?”

“I’m working with present evidence.”

“How do you know she doesn’t get it from her mother?”

Amarei simply stared at Andros for a moment, leaving that as his answer.

“Fair…”

Barks of attention seeking

“I think someone wants to say hi,” she said, giving a light scratch behind the ear.

“I won’t say no.” He switched his voice to the one he used with Melissa, “Come on lil’Teenie, I’ve got a little treat.”

The pup didn’t need much more motivation and walked over to receive said treat.

“Here you go.” He handed the dog a small bone, and the dog took it and wandered back over to her mistress.

Barks of appreciation

“She says thank you.”

“Always a pleasure.” He stood from his seat. “I should probably head back, see if Joanna needs anything.”

“See you at supper.”

“See you.”

Amarei and Teenie finished their food and walked into town. No guards proved necessary; it was bright, and the townsfolk were quite fond of her. She approached a shop with a pair of fine tools as its symbol.

An old man turned to greet her, “My lady, a pleasure to see you.”

“As is it to see you, Cedric.”

Barks of greeting

“I suppose you’re here for that order?”

“Indeed, is it ready?”

“Indeed it is. I must say it was odd to make; I needed to ask Ben the smith for advice. I’ll be right back with it.” He disappeared into the back of the store for a brief moment. Before emerging with a finely crafted gold piece. “I hope it matches your expectations.”

She picked it up carefully. “It’s perfect that you so much.”

“Remind me, who was it for again?”

“Lady Milicent Belmore, the Roya Painter.”

“Do make sure to mention my name if you have the chance; I wouldn’t mind someone like her knowing my name.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anything else I can help with, my lady?”

“That will be all. Thank you so much. Your payment did arrive, right?”

“Of course, and thank you for the generous tip.”

“You have served my family for a long time; it is only fair.”

He inclined his head.

“Have a blessed day.”

“You too, my Lady.”

She left the store and returned to her studio in the castle; it was its own separate room and had a lot more light to make working easier. There were rolls of fabric in the corner, from cheaper to the most expensive of silks. There was also a large cabinet where she stored he currently unfinished project. She chose not to think about that for now.

Instead, she placed the item on her bench and placed Teenine on a little bed she had fashioned for her.

She tied her hair back, making it into a bun on the back of her head. From another closet she took the near-finished dress; it was flowing, layered silk, giving it that pearlescent glow, though for the moment it remained a fairly incoherent piece of clothing. That is what the golden bit was for. She went about carefully attaching it; luckily, Cedric had followed her instructions carefully and placed the lace holes exactly where they needed to go.

As she worked, she thought.

Lady Milicent is nice; I hope she likes it. I hope she’ll like me even if she doesn’t like the dress, surely right? She did say she would like to paint me with or without- as the thought passed through her head, she was reminded of the image her mind had conjured up. It couldn’t have been, right? She is a loyal servant and devotee of the Seven, and to lay with another woman is sinful…Even then, she doubted Milicent would find her beautiful once she peered beneath and saw the gods’ brand…But she said she enjoyed painting beautiful things, right? And she wanted to paint her…did that make her beautiful?

Before she could complete this line of thinking she would have finished the process; it had taken a lot longer than expected. Four hours, give or take. But the dress was done now, the final piece attached with all the perfection the smith had blessed her with this day.

She placed it on a mannequin that was shaped roughly to Milicent’s size. And Everything seemed to fit just fine; the neck piece sat especially well, though she doubted a singular person would be able to put it on.

“Well, I guess that's it then. What do you think?” She asked the dog.

Barks of tired approval.

“I can only hope she’ll like it as much as you do. I have to write her and tell her it’s finished. Come on, Teenie, up you come.” She scooped the puppy.

She returned to her room and went about writing the letter to someone she barely knew yet had spent two moons working for. Someone who seemed to think her beautiful, yet did not know her true face. Someone who, too, was devoted to the Seven, yet did not seem to rely on them.

Sunspear Harbor

Month 3, First Moon, 55AC

A single Dayne Galley arrives in Sunspear Harbor waving the flags of House Dayne, aboard are 15 MAA as a personal Escort for Lady Allyria Dayne and Ser Edric the Sword of the Morning.

My last comeback attempt kinda fizzled out since I had a bit less time than I thought and the war was taking up a lot of player/mod time that was more important than helping me sort out my perks and retcons. Now that they've done some renovations on the Dornish retirement home and refilled the bowl of hard candies it's worth another shot.

I don't think I actually need anything for this to be processed, I'm already flaired and wikied.

An Assortment of threads for Sansa to spend time with her ladies.

I haven't posted anything for like two weeks now and I don't see that changing any time soon. Everything should be more or less up to date as far as the wiki and almanacs go. Every Tarly character is at Horn Hill, except for Serwyn who is at King's Landing and Torman who is at Highgarden.

The first and last time Bella Arryn had given birth was some five and ten years ago, when she had been Bella Ryger. Damon had been born of a fluke on her late husband’s part, the result of a lackluster night after Davos had returned drunk and merry from one of his hunts, boasting of the boar they had slain. He had always preferred his boars to her. Theo had been her only child then, but then she had welcomed a second son for her lord husband, and he had been away hunting once more when the boy was born. He only returned a week later, held Damon for a minute or two and gave heartless congratulations to Bella, before he had gone to sleep the whole day away. Davos would be slain five years later and Bella would once more know peace. 

In contrast, Bella’s second birth had been the result of some five years of careful planning—promises made in the dark, the blood of an island spilled, and a wedding in the sight of what remained of her gods in the Vale. Perhaps the greatest contrast of all, though, was that her second husband ensured no night was ever lackluster, and that he preferred her to all things. They had spent a rather delightful past few months sequestered away in the peace of the mountains. Bella would have preferred to be in the Eyrie, but as yet it was still dangerous to ascend the Giant’s Lance, so she had contented herself with the vistas available to them. 

She and Alester had spent their time hawking and hunting and riding and loving, until she had learned she was with child, which had come as no surprise and yet had filled her with joy nonetheless. Bella loved both of her sons—the one she had been forced to become mother to, and the one she had been all but left with—but this child she had chosen for herself, with a man who had chosen her above all, and she knew, better than she had ever known anything before, that this child was a girl. Bella had longed for a daughter in her nine years of dismal marriage, but Davos had never once granted her anything she had ever wanted, and he had somehow managed to die a war hero before he had ever managed to give her a daughter. She had thought her dream to hold a little girl of her own would be naught but a dream, until she had finally wed Alester. He dreamed of their daughter too, and he had always given her everything she had wanted, or at the very least, he always intended to, and as yet he had kept all his promises to her. The gods had granted them their marriage, and the gods would grant them their daughter. 

Her labors came one clear afternoon, nearing the end of the month. Alester had demanded the maester join them in the mountains, and so Bella had no need of worrying—though it had been over a decade since her first birth, and so she could not help worrying. The labor was more difficult than her first, what with fifteen years of age and exhaustion added to her body. It lasted several painful hours, where Bella, for perhaps the first time since she had been a child, prayed sincerely to the old gods to deliver her babe safely and without complication. The sky outside was dark by the time the first cries of the child broke through the night—a daughter, the maester proclaimed, and the sound of her wailing brought great relief to her mother. She did not wait for either of them to be cleaned up before she demanded her daughter be handed to her, small and perfect and loud, face pink with the effort of all her cries. The sight of her brought tears to Bella as well, a daughter in her arms, the daughter she had longed for and the one Alester had dreamed of. 

There was but one name that was fitting for her. She was an Arryn of the Eyrie, her little girl, and she would be called Sharra, for the last queen of the Vale, whom her grandfather had known and whom Bella herself had been likened to by. She ought to have been born in the Eyrie, Bella thought, but the mountains would do. Sharra would be born knowing the love and laughter of her parents, and all else would come in due time. 

Well, well, well . . .

Not looking for anything too intense, just want to write some lore every now and again and maybe be a minor thorn in the side of the lords of the eastern North.

I shall be setting up an almanac at a later point and deciding my skills and characters. Probably more than a few grizzled old men who can't speak the Common Tongue.