Rumor has it the King is looking to ship his sister off somewhere to hide her. Should we be worried Jaehaera is responsible for the death of the young prince?

| @jaehaeraxtargaryen @jaehaerysiitargaryen @@garrick-cargyll @mourningblood |

It was so incredibly ridiculous and out of touch with reality that Garrick couldn't help but burst out laughing. “Oh did she now?” he chuckled.

Rumor has it that Ayca Mallister did not only enchant the River King, but also the Dragon King and his sworn sword. Is there no end to this seductress' reach?

| @ofsacredseas @casimirtully @jaehaerysiitargaryen @garrick-cargyll |

Garrick knew Jaehaerys enough to see when the fire burned. Today it was no flame, but a raging eruption. The dragon was awake. “My king,” the High Commander greeted him with the usual respect, the usual devotion despite knowing something was wrong. And then he understood why.

“I apologize for overstepping, it was not what I intended,” Garrick said plainly, his tone firm, his gaze steady on the man who'd been his lifelong friend. “But those were not my words”. He didn't speak the words as a feeble excuse but as the simple truth. He'd not said the dragon king would never love the woman. He recalled the conversation, for it had been the first time he engaged with Jaehaerys' new queen. He gauged her words and demeanor, evaluating the sort of companion he would be for the one he called brother.

The king commanded him to remove his cloak and gear, and Garrick didn't question it. Brothers sometimes had to go through their quarrels in this way, and he would not deny Jae the need to hit someone. To hurt someone. If someone could take it, it was Garrick.

“My actual words might have been out of place still, however,” the High Commander added, not one to cower behind anything, not even from the dragon. “As a political match, I said there was no need for love from you to her or from her to you. I said that honesty and partnership was what was needed,” the sworn sword set aside his discarded gear, cloak and shirt. He stepped forth, bending his head to the side to stretch the muscles of his neck. “That she ought to appreciate you for what you are and what you would be for the future family you created. That is what I said”.

“I said nothing else,” he assured, his demeanor calm and steady as the adrenaline for what was to come began to course his veins. “What else I think? I saw you love my sister, my king. I saw such love once, and forgive me, but I do not believe in something like that being replicated a second time,” Garrick added, for he didn't deny his words to the queen had come from the bias he had —and would always have— for his dear Amelia.

“I believe you have lost more than most, brother,” he stated, fists raised as the two men began to circle around the grounds, coming closer. “That is what I believe”. His parents. His wife. His son. From the awareness of such love and loss, over and over again thrust upon the life of the dragon king, came the comment he'd made to the queen. Whiny bitch... A woman of her standing should not mourn or complain about the possibility of a loveless marriage, a woman of her stature should understand love was not the greatest thing one could gain from a union.

“I spoke out of turn”. He accepted it, for intention mattered little when the result was so different than what was meant. He faced this, for the oath he'd carry to the grave was etched into every fiber of his being. Devotion and love for his king, his friend, his brother. “So hit me,” he encouraged the dragon king. Release the fire, brother. I can take it.

who: @garrick-cargyll what: after a conversation with the queen, jaehaerys goes to speak with the high commander, his temper still flared. where: training pit

"Who told you to tell the queen I would never love her? Who told you to speak to the queen about what our marriage would be? Are you confused about your place as High Commander? You're like a brother to me. You are closer than a brother to me. And yet, you have over stepped Garrick." Jaehaerys tried to keep his temper even, he was not going to succeed in the matter. The dragon was awake. The heat of rage swam through his veins and he almost wished to send knight after knight at him until he felt better. He knew Garrick would kill them with ease and he still wanted to do it. He wanted to punch the High Commander in his face.

"Take off your top, Ser. My brother and my High Commander. I will not see you die this day but you will raise your fists." There was a lack of discipline. There was too much love. Too much affection. Too much fucking GRACE. The King felt a rage so strong he would swear if one touched his skin they would burn. The scream that left more akin to the roar of a raging beast.

"Leave us!" Jeahaerys shouted to the other men on the pitch and then he turned his focus back to Garrick.

"What else have you said and to who else, my brother?! WHAT ELSE DO YOU THINK OF ME?" What was whispered in the cups of those he rose so high?

Garrick Cargyll was keeping to himself for a bit after a few long conversations he'd had for most of the evening with other lords and ladies from outside the realm. His wish to interact and converse had lowered significantly. One moment he was quietly enjoying the event, in solitude, nursing a drink, and the next there was a young lady at his side who began to talk with more familiarity than he expected from a stranger.

“You are talking to me,” he stated matter-of-factly. His expression evidenced some confusion and annoyance, really, but he avoided being entirely dismissive given the nature of the event. The Cargyll lord simply sighed and brought his glass to his lips. “And now I'm talking to you, though not by any true choice to do so, so your pretense may easily continue,” he murmured against the rim of the cup before he took a long sip.

It was more accurate to say the lady was having a conversation with herself, making her observations and reaching conclusions, rather than truly engaging him in her act. He was but a prop. He took another sip, though he did glance in the direction of the pair the lady was spying, somewhat curious. “Are you an apprentice spymaster or something?” he joked in a dry tone.

open starter location: during a garden party in the crownlands during the coronation event summary: emira has been told by a friend the night before that she saw the man who is courting her flirting with another women and emira is now on the hunt to find out what is happening

emira mallister was on a mission. her resolve steeled by the tears of her distressed friend who came to her the night before upset about the man courting her. she claimed she saw him with another woman walking together, laughing and even hugging. the whispered tale had ignited a fire within emira, propelling her to unravel the truth. positioned strategically at the garden party, she looked out for the man in question

however, her vantage point proved inadequate, obstructing her view of the unfolding drama. undeterred, emira swiftly devised a plan. with calculated precision, she approached an unsuspecting bystander, enlisting their unwitting cooperation in her quest for the truth

"stay still,stay still." she instructed her unwitting accomplice, her voice a hushed command laden with urgency. “pretend like i am talking to you.” with a deft glance over their shoulder, emira's gaze alighted upon the subject of her scrutiny—a young man traversing the garden with a companion at his side. hidden from view until now, the woman's identity remained a mystery, compelling emira to seize her newfound vantage point for closer observation.

as the pair drew nearer, the woman's identity was revealed. one that elicited an exasperated sigh from emira. "oh... that idiot," she muttered, her frustration tinged with a hint of amusement. despite her penchant for theatricality, emira maintained a composed demeanor, reserving her commentary for the ears of her unwitting confidant.

"he isn't flirting with someone else," she disclosed in a conspiratorial whisper  "that is his sister." with a shake of her head. "well, clearly she doesn't know him too well if she doesn't even know his sister," she remarked with a bemused smirk.

Garrick didn't say anything about her claim of sincerity. The look he gave her, furrowed eyebrows and amused smirk, said it all. He'd trust her as far as he could throw her. The tales she told of the world beyond the Narrow Sea sounded entertaining enough, very much opposed to anything else he'd ever heard about the Dothraki— savage folk who were as likely to lay with their horses as they were to bed a beautiful woman. So the knight just shook his head lightly, sticking to his own past ideas rather than accepting anything Devi said as true. Despite never having me a Dothraki before, nothing the Toland lady was saying added up to the tales he'd heard before. “The Dothraki will find their appropriate garments and well-mannered ways the day the Unsullied find their balls. Don't take me for a fool even if I'm not the most learned man, Devi,” he scoffed, remaining unpreoccupied.

His expression shifted to one of amusement again as the Dornish woman stated he could pick something from her collection of trinkets or little treasures. “If you want me to give you something, you should just ask,” the sworn sword retorted, “No need to go through the elaborate scheme of making me want to pick one of these baubles,” he half-joked. In the time he'd known Devani, though, he felt things had a tendency to be like this. Spinning stories, entangling of tales, and then getting to the heart of what she expected, of what she wanted. “What would you want from me?” he nudged her elbow before he looked down at the items, gauging if there was anything he actually wanted for himself.

"i'm many things, lord cargyll, but a liar is not one of them." this in itself was a lie. devi told lies as naturally as she laughed, but in this case, she was telling the truth. the heavy scent was making her head swim, and she corked the bottle quickly. "they wear perfumes when they go into the cities. doesn't happen too often, but it happens. swap their leathers for fancy silks, too. very civilised."

she had seen it happen only twice in her time in essos. the second, she had paid little attention to, but the first had fascinated her. she had still been young, then, freshly 20 and still enamoured with the new world she found herself in after fleeing dorne. she had befriended a young dothraki rider, roughly her age, wheedled from him the secrets of their customs with pretty smiles, and promptly forgot him when the khalasar moved on. her memory only stirred now at the scent, reminding her of his dark, oiled braid.

"why do you think i'm showing you my little collection?" she sighed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "men. you're all clueless." she shot him a good-natured smile to soften the word, and spread her little array out a little more. "pick something. a gift from me to you. or a trade, if you're so inclined."

END.

Garrick openly laughed at her response, his mouth curved into a smirk. At this point of the conversation, he could tell so clearly that the lady would find offense in everything he said or did, and would go on to make a bigger deal out of this than necessary. All because a knight chose to sharpen his blade at a place and time that didn't suit her fragile sensibilities.

Perhaps he was taking the piss at this point, because rather than say anything else, the man simply shook his head and took a seat again against the stables and resumed the task that had unnerved her so to begin with. Stone against blade once, twice, before icy blue eyes met her annoyed features again. Shame, she might actually be deemed pretty enough if not for the deep frown on her brow. “You clearly know nothing about women of the Crowlands if you believe them to be meek, lady. Women like that have conquered fire, the skies and the ocean. They understand when to unleash their force and when to spare themselves the shame of hysterics,” he retorted, his tone somewhat amused at this point, “I assure you, someone meek does not get their feathers ruffled by the sight of a mere sword”. He was going to offend no matter what he said, Garrick knew, so why mince words now? Yes, he was inconvenienced by the Mallister lady, and yet the annoyance she awoke in him had begun to veer into a space of amusement by now. Someone as uptight would be provoked anyway so he'd forgo any attempt at civility.

“I could walk away, but you see, I've suddenly developed a terrible headache. I believe I should remain in a resting position,” he said with a deadpan expression, his tone caustic and purposely infused with sarcasm. “You, on the other hand, are standing, my lady. In our current positions it is far easier for you to take a few steps and let us both regain our peace”.

He found her on the balcony, lost in the world of her own making. Drawings were scattered around her, the paper held in place by a collection of assorted items, small things she appeared to find beauty in and keep for herself. Two of the figures keeping the drawings from flying away were the woodcarving birds he'd made and gifted her —the hummingbird in flight with its beak to a flower, and the resting hawk, wings tucked, neck and clever gaze to the side.

“I didn't know that,” the Lord of Cargyll murmured as he looked at the drawing of the bird. As with so many other things the princess shared with him, the knight found himself not knowing a piece of information and then learning it from her. He'd seen the way she paid attention to hawks before, which was why he'd chosen to carve that particular bird for his second gift to Jaehaera.

“I've come early, my princess,” the sworn sword stated, “We've come early,” he added, tilting his head back to the door. He'd not come alone this time. As agreed with Jae, he was not to be alone with his sister, accompanied by a member of the Kingsguard to ensure all was proper in the period of courtship, if Haera was to accept his proposal.

He took a few steps closer and held out his hand for her to take. So much of that single motion carried extra meaning. His gaze, his serene silence, his heart beating with an increasing rhythm. Garrick had already asked the king, and now he needed to ask her.

setting: during the coronation celebrations of king jaehaerys ii, after speaking with his king, lord garrick cargyl arrives at princess jaehaera's quarters to speak of his intentions... @garrick-cargyll

Jaehaera’s new bedroom wasn’t the bedroom she’d had as a child, nor was it the sheltered chambers she’d been hidden away in. The Painting Room, she’d called it — where the green princess had been put to storage alongside the elaborate portraits of her family. When everything had been cleaved in two; cut down the middle with great swords of Valyrian steel.

But this new room had been her mother’s room, before she’d been queen. It was bright, and warm, and most importantly, still close to Jaehaerys. Her quraters were in the royal wing, though tucked away in one of the small towers. Circler in shape, her bed resting upon a raised dais in the middle of the room, and was more akin to a birds nest than canopy bed. Too-many pillows and duvets, over-stuffed with down feathers. 

This room had art, too, but it was her own — drawings in charcoal on canvas and cloth, parchment and wood. Pinned to the walls -- feathers, avian eyes and sharp beaks. Flocks in flight, a pair of turtle doves upon a branch, a mighty hawk thrusting himself into the air, a phoenix rising. They all seemed to blur, forming from ethereal strokes that made the drawings seem to blow away into a nonexistent wind. Somedays, the princess would sit on the floor for hours in a circle of sketches. 

She sat in the center of such a circle on her balcony, parchment scattered in an arc around her. Weighed down by her favorite wooden carvings, her collection of polished stones, and shells. There was a delicate cup of tea beside her, and next to it, quills of every color and pattered feathers imaginable that had been turned into charcoal styluses spilled around her.

But there were not birds upon her parchment — not today. For Jaehaera had been dreaming, and daydreaming, of twin suns over an ocean. She had drawn them across the sky, arching from dawn till dusk. Twin suns reign across the sky.

Jaehaera looked up from her spot on the ground at sound of someone walking out onto the balcony, her snow-drop necklace falling into the hollow of her throat. Instantly, her face brightened. “You’ve come early,” Jaehaera said with a hum, every bit as pleased as she was confused. Lavender eyes — so pale they were nearly down-feather white — blinked at the knight owlishly. No — no. He was her white knight, always, but… High Commander. That was what he was, now. 

Her gaze on his endless blues, she tilted her head, bird-like. “Hawks have exceptional eyesight,” She said, her voice a lullaby. Her lithe fingers gripped a charcoal stylus, and eyes moved to her drawings. “But they did not want to be drawn today. The sun is shining.” She looked back up at him, beaming, before her owlish look returned. “Have you come early? Or am I late?” There was a garden party — he was to escort her there, so she could see Lenora. Two suns — bright and shining over endless ocean.

@briannabrackens

He knew his request wasn't something Jaehaerys would just accept because of their close friendship, that it wouldn't be automatically granted because they thought of each other as brothers. This was the king's actual sister they were discussing, a princess of New Valyria, and Garrick was certain Jae would wish to give her away to only the most worthy of men. Garrick didn't know if he was such a man, frankly. So after he spoke, he let the words sink in and waited in silence, gauging his friend's reaction.

The smile came before any response from the king. And that he took as the beginning of a good sign. A smile appeared on his own lips when Jae told him he did have his blessing to begin courting Haera. “My oath to you and to her has given my life purpose,” he easily admitted, for so much had crumbled when that promise became his lifeline. “It continues to be my life's mission to keep you and the princess safe. I can only hope I can also ensure her happiness, my friend. Know that I will devote myself to that endeavor with as much dedication”.

Jaehaera's future mattered to him beyond only protection and security. In that sense, he'd gone beyond simple duty, as her reasons to smile were as important to him as her reasons to feel at ease if he was around. The Cargyll lord nodded in a heartbeat, fully understanding the matter of the princess' honor. He'd never do anything to tarnish it and that was the very reason he readily agreed to Jaerhaerys' order to have a member of the Kingsguard accompany them during the courtship. “I've chosen her, yes, but she's a princess, she's Valyrian, she's your sister... If she does not wish this for her future, I will not pursue it, Jae”. It mattered to him that this was also Jaehaera's choice.

"Always." Jaehaerys answered as the doors closed, he liked the look of his High Commander, the way the sword hung from his waist and the cloak on his shoulders. He cut the figure of a man meant to be Lord Commander. He remember the Cargyll Twins and how well they did when they served and he knew this man would redeem his house, he would do everything he could to make sure the Cargylls were membered for their greatness as they deserved to be.

Jaehaerys smiled at him, he shook his head, his tongue moving over his lips as he chuckled to himself. There was some humor in this. He'd seen them together, seem them speaking and he thought they made a nice pair. There was an age different between them. And while it would have mattered years ago, then again it wouldn't have matter too much when asking the right people who wanted to marry a princess. He'd heard the tales of the 12 year olds sent meet his grandsire.

"Of course you have my blessings. I think you would be a fine match for my sister. You're a Lord, my High Commander, and above all else you've been one of my closest friends and companions. You kept me alive and I know you'll keep her alive, safe, and happy." He leaned back in his chair. "Now, there are rules. One of my Kingsguard will be with you two until you're married to ensure her honor is never questioned. And then after this is over, this coronation and all of these guests begin to return to their homes perhaps we will have a wedding for you next. As long as she's happy."

Bri urged him to keep up with what she meant, and yet he had a feeling she was the one who had not kept up with the goings on, of who they were to see crowned today. Each little comment she made, each small reaction painted the picture of what had happened: somehow the Bracken lady had mixed up the Targaryen king with a Velaryon lord. Garrick had no clue how such confusion originated but at present, he became far too curious to know the tale behind it.

The expression on Brianna's face as the realization sunk in was absolutely priceless. The laugh that escaped Garrick was fortunately drowned by the music that played as Jaehaerys walked, heading for his rightfully earned throne. Brianna Bracken was one of those rare few he felt comfortable enough to be less serious with, and so the Cargyll lord would have openly mocked her had they been in a different space, a different situation. Any other time or place, he would have poked some fun at his friend for such a strange mix-up. So the High Commander crossed his arms over his chest and kept his head low for a second, letting the impulse of laughter die down. He gave Bri a sideways glance, though, a look that could let her know how he fought to conceal his genuine reaction to this whole thing.

“I have to know what happened first, if I'm to put in a good word for you, Bri,” he answered in a hushed voice, managing to appear fully composed and sound a bit more serious now. It was a crowning ceremony, after all. He was careful not to draw attention to himself or to Brianna at a time like this. Still, there was a hint of amusement in his whispered words. “I can't lie to my king, you know”.

♣️

"just said vaegon velaryon, the hells you think i mean garrick?" she asked, her tone low; the pair appeared to be stood there, gossiping within the crowds of the coronation event at such a solemn moment: and no doubt the lord of cargyll was trying to do justice to such a momentous event within the history of westeros. but alas, the lord of cargyll was forced to stand beside a shorter thorn to his side, who seemed to be muttering in utter confusion. "keep up man."

she had been present at the coronation of the river king, and knew the ways in which coronations worked; the only person at the centre of the spectacle is supposed to be the person being coronated. and yet, here comes that little drunk, ruining the event. "he's pissed again, ain't he?" she asked, leaning forwards on her tip toes slightly to avoid being overheard by the others stood around her; no doubt to no attempt, considering they were stood in close proximity.

"go stop him. go, before da king gets angry wit you for doing nish." nothing, riverlander dialect, paired with a slight elbow.

and then the lord of cargyll nodded towards a certain dark haired lord in the crowds, stood closer to the front of the throne. and then he continued speaking, but at this point, the woman's mouth had opened in disbelief; excessively feeling as though she could not feel her own legs. she felt as though she were merely a floating head in the crowds, dying inside at the realisation.

how she wished she was merely a floating head. she would be a floating head once jaehaerys targaryen got to her for her insolence. no, no he wouldn't do that.

but he had offered her a pouch of gold like she were nothing but a common whore. what was that about then? what did that matter when he was the king of new valyria, she was a lass from stone hedge and ... she had just called him queer. the amusement in the eyes of garrick cargyll said enough to make her realise she had made a serious misstep in her behaviour. in her decorum. ronan would be furious with her.

"i've fucked it." she whispered, her face increasingly white as she felt her heart rate begin to increase. she did not even look at garrick cargyll now, only staring at a section of a stained glass window. "put a word in for me. tell him i meant no harm, yeah?" she suddenly sprouted into action, leaning up on her tip toes again.

Garrick openly laughed at her response, his mouth curved into a smirk. At this point of the conversation, he could tell so clearly that the lady would find offense in everything he said or did, and would go on to make a bigger deal out of this than necessary. All because a knight chose to sharpen his blade at a place and time that didn't suit her fragile sensibilities.

Perhaps he was taking the piss at this point, because rather than say anything else, the man simply shook his head and took a seat again against the stables and resumed the task that had unnerved her so to begin with. Stone against blade once, twice, before icy blue eyes met her annoyed features again. Shame, she might actually be deemed pretty enough if not for the deep frown on her brow. “You clearly know nothing about women of the Crowlands if you believe them to be meek, lady. Women like that have conquered fire, the skies and the ocean. They understand when to unleash their force and when to spare themselves the shame of hysterics,” he retorted, his tone somewhat amused at this point, “I assure you, someone meek does not get their feathers ruffled by the sight of a mere sword”. He was going to offend no matter what he said, Garrick knew, so why mince words now? Yes, he was inconvenienced by the Mallister lady, and yet the annoyance she awoke in him had begun to veer into a space of amusement by now. Someone as uptight would be provoked anyway so he'd forgo any attempt at civility.

“I could walk away, but you see, I've suddenly developed a terrible headache. I believe I should remain in a resting position,” he said with a deadpan expression, his tone caustic and purposely infused with sarcasm. “You, on the other hand, are standing, my lady. In our current positions it is far easier for you to take a few steps and let us both regain our peace”.

a scoff left her before she could even think twice of her response. at the very least, he was equally as agitated, and even at her recognition of this, her stubborn demeanor continued to seep from her very being, features unable to hide her agitation of the man. more often, the elder lady of house mallister chose not to engage in such matters, but perhaps it was her foul mood, and the weather, that made her especially argumentative.

"only when simple requests are met with offensive responses." ayca retorted, unsure of how the man believed stating he would not use his weapon on her was an appropriate response. she did not know him, nor really cared to after this, hopefully brief, interaction. admittedly, until he mentioned his house was from the crownlands, she would not have been able to even place him, either. "thank the gods for that." she gave a roll of her brown eyes.

brows rose and eyes widened at his remark. the lady was all too aware of her haughty nature, though she oftentimes did her best not to present it so harshly. of course, she found the knight before her to be quite rude. even in knowing the continuous arguing between the two of them would be for not, she could not manage to bite her tongue. "perhaps ladies of the crownlands are meek and subservient, but i was not raised to simply bow to the whims of any man, especially one's who i have repeatedly stated offended me."

she let out an exhale, flexing her fingers, almost as if to release whatever tension had built up within her at this ridiculous encounter. "you continue to engage, my lord. you may apologize, and walk away." she waved to the empty space between themselves and the others within the stables, turning back to face the window as she peered outside, noting the rain seemed to start letting up, so she hoped.

THE HIGH COMMANDER'S SWORD

Upon being named High Commander by King Jaehaerys Targaryen, Garrick Cargyll received a Valyrian steel longsword. The dragon king had pieces of his armor melted and reforged into the sword, which has been named Covenant by the Cargyll knight, as a way to honor the sacred oath he's made to serve and protect Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. The hilt and part of the blade are adorned with symbols of both House Cargyll and House Targaryen, motifs that honor Garrick's history of loyally serving the House of the Dragon, which present a new legacy for the last Cargyll lord: honor and glory, instead of the tragedies of the past. The longsword, as instructed by the king, won't be passed down to the next High Commander but to Garrick's descendants, to be wielded by the next Lord of Cargyll.

Closed starter for @jaehaerysiitargaryen Setting: The Red Keep, New Valyria. Guests from all the realms have arrived for the celebration of King Jaehaerys' coronation, and during this time High Commander Garrick Cargyll requests to have an audience with his king.

“Thank you for meeting with me, brother,” the knight stated as the pair of gates were closed behind him after he entered the private study of the King of New Valyria. Covenant, the Valyrian longsword gifted to him by his king, was strapped to his back, and the new cloak of High Commander hung proudly from the Lord of Cargyll's shoulders.

Jaehaerys was about to be officially crowned king, and all of the Red Keep was buzzing with energy as people worked on every little detail for the upcoming event. Dozens upon dozens of guests would continue to pour into the capital of Jae's new realm in the coming days, for there were plenty of celebratory activities planned to commemorate the momentous ascension of the new dragon king. Garrick was grateful for the moment his friend granted him in the midst of everything happening.

“There is something I wish to discuss with you, my king,” he began, having given plenty of thought to the topic on his mind. He'd been considering it for so long, even before he properly acknowledged it. She had existed in his thoughts for so long, after all. She who was a constant in his life, the source of his devotion, the recipient of whatever tender feeling that still existed within him. “I think it's time I take a wife,” Garrick said plain and simple, not wishing to rob his friend more time than necessary. “With your blessing and your permission, I would like to court her grace, Princess Jaehaera”.

Weapons stopped having a special meaning for Garrick many moons ago. Duty and horror had simply shown him that swords were tools and nothing else. And yet, when Jaehaerys picked up the blade of Valyrian steel and presented it to him, the Cargyll lord felt the echoes of glory he felt as a young man when named a member of Aegon II's Kingsguard. When made to swear an oath to the king and queen of that time to protect Jae and Haera.

He was a jaded man, but not so much to overlook the incredible honor of his new title and his new sword. The first blade to the first High Commander in a hundred years. Words failed him for a moment, but the sworn sword gripped the blade by its hilt and bowed his head to his king. Our kingdom, Jaehaerys said, and his most loyal soldier could only nod in return. It was theirs truly, for the king would keep his most devoted sword at his side, to attack and defend the crown rightfully earned by Jaehaerys Targaryen.

“I vow to wield this sword for you and your realm for as long as I live, brother,” he finally said, bringing the sword close and pressing the hilt of it against his chest. As it was, held atop the knight's heart, the longsword nearly touched the floor. “As your High Commander, I renew my promise to stand by your side, to be the truest sword you shall have at your command, my king. I shall wield Covenant, he said, as he named the Valyrian sword at that moment after the very promise he was making to his truest friend, to his brother, to his king, “And you shall wield me”.

Garrick Cargyll too was a weapon. Sword, knight, commander. Regardless of the title, he was deadset on remaining the dragon king's sharpest blade.

END.

And walked over to him, picking up the blade as he stepped closer. "I had my Valyrian steel gauntlets melted down and reforged in this. This is yours to name and wield and pass to your sons. The first blade to the first High Commander in a hundred years. Nothing, as you know, is stronger than Valyrian steel. There is nothing that can break this blade, save for maybe Dawn." That sword, his maesters always said, came from a falling star. And if it were true well, Valyrian steel was only the second strongest steel known to men until someone learned to harness the power of the stars.

"Our Kingdom, brother. Whatever we need to build our Kingdom." They did it together. Most of it was together. There was something everyday. And when he had to retreat from the war at the death of his dragon above everyone else it was Garrick Cargyll who joined him the whole way. Garrick Cargyll who turned away from his what remained of his house to hide in plain sight. And now? Now it would all pay off. Wouldn't it? It had to, it had to pay off. The Dance itself was for not, for at the end they all died and those who remain picked up the pieces. There would be no more dances. No more confusion. The future. They needed to look to the future.

"Let us begin, high commander."

Garrick Cargyll has been playing the long game, waiting for Jaehaerys to offer his sister in marriage. A man with no family only waits to leech off of others, the king surely sees he's been manipulated into trusting him only for the knight to win something in return

@garrick-cargyll, @jaehaerysiitargaryen, @jaehaeraxtargaryen

Some reported tension between the dragon king's sworn sword and the lady Mallister. Sexual tension? They probably fucked to sort out their differences.

@garrick-cargyll, @ofsacredseas

This was the culmination of all things. The Dance of the Dragons had been waged to establish whether the Greens or the Blacks reigned supreme amongst the House of the Dragon, to dictate which branch of that tree would forever remain glorious and continue the mighty line of the Valyrians. Rhaenyra and Aegon II had died. Daemon II and Daenerys failed and paid the price for their shortcomings. The road had been paved for Jaehaerys, and it was he who remained the undisputed victor, he who was to don his rightful crown decades after the conflict first started.

Garrick wore the gleaming armor and cloak indicative of his new position: High Commander of the Stormlands and Crownlands. High Commander of Jae's New Valyria. His cloak, threaded with shining emerald thread over the black fabric, displayed the green Targaryen sigil of his king, his friend, his brother. And there he stood, filled with pride over what the dragon king had accomplished, surrounded by the loyal Greens who had remained by Jaehaerys' side since the very birth of the war that dictated the lives of their generation.

The Cargyll lord's attention shifted to Brianna Bracken as she muttered something. He gave her a puzzled look. The Lady of Stone Hedge was an acquaintance he'd made through the trials and tribulations of the war, the familiarity with each other only developing in more recent years to the point that the gruff knight did grow to think of her as a friend. “Vaegon? What do you mean?” he murmured in response, a frown settled in his brow as he met Brianna's eyes. Why the hells was she bringing up the little Velaryon lord at a time like this, as the new king was emerging to claim his rightful throne?

He saw the dragon king emerge, the very image of a god amongst men. Garrick's line of sight shifted from Jaehaerys and looked towards the gathering of Valyrians, seeing the members of House Velaryon standing there. Lord Deimos, his wife and children. The sisters. And there he was, the drunkard brother of the Master of the Tides, appearing sober for this event, fortunately. He only nudged Bri slightly and tilted his head in the direction of the man she'd mentioned. “Why do you suddenly care to know where Vaegon Velaryon is at a time like this?” he whispered, keeping his voice low enough only for the Riverlander at his side to hear. The music was beginning to swell around them, accompanying the dignified entrance of the dragon king.

The knight took notice that the Bracken lady had been looking at the king all along, however, not once glancing towards the Velaryon lord in question. The realization dawned on him. “Wait. You thought...?” his lips tugged up into an amused smirk. “That is not Lord Vaegon, Bri. That is King Jaehaerys Targaryen”. Gods, there had to be a good story there.

,

who: @garrick-cargyll where: the coronation of king jaehaerys targaryen, second of his name. brianna is stood in a congregation with the other greens, who all seemed to have been placed together; around her are the other noble lords and ladies of those who fought for the name of aegon.

dark, vivid orbs flickered through the various faces that seemed to be stood within the mighty halls of the red keep. never before had brianna of stone hedge stood within these halls, nor had she looked upon the iron throne; how uncomfortable it appeared, for the thousands of swords would no doubt slice through the flesh of those who were supposed to sit upon it. slice through the human element of the king, and force them into more of a statue: it was then she remembered the targaryens were not men, but they were gods. untouchable, and once again, the large amount of stormlanders present had reminded her of the fact they had taken more land.

and the steps, or the stepstones, which was always said with much importance and foreboding, though she did not always understand why. what was so special about the stepstones? or signifiant?

her hands clasped together before her black skirts, threaded with prints of maroon and forrest green; though more in an effort to keep herself from fidgeting at such a coronation. her eyes caught with fiona and anastacia both, stood amongst the vale congregation, and she pulled a slight face at them before fixing her face. there came the blasting sounds of trumpets and drums, to some tune that sounded otherworldly, that sounded valyrian. her breath held slightly as she watched the doors, readying for them to open, feeling the same breath being held across the crowd.

king jaehaerys targaryen, second of his name, the conqueror. the man who had taken the crown, and had risked a second dance erupting. surrounded by stormlanders, by westermen, or at least that was what she had heard.

they were all stood together, it appeared; and even though brianna had not been educated in matters of politics, it were obvious this were a statement. all the greens were with one another. she glanced to her side, noting the similar features of the man of golden tooth she had seen some months ago at the wedding of the king of the reach, remembering the way she had seen him from across the room and remembered all the times she had seen him before. how he had always caused her heart to beat, and whilst their orbs met, there was no amused smile that crossed their features at this event. she almost felt like she would not dare, not here. her eyes lingered for a moment, before looking to the left.

lord garrick of house cargyll was a man she knew from the brief time he had stayed at stone hedge to have a wound cleansed by a maester that was at risk of being infected. she remembered taking one look at it, after much badgering, and realising due to the colour slowly going yellow, it would need cleaning more regularly in the hours before a maester could see the lord. within a few days he had left, once again accompanied by her brother's legion, to continue fighting across the riverlands. she looked at him, almost impatiently, wondering when the moment would come where the king would be revealed.

and when the doors opened, her well known dark brows raised. and then narrowed. seriously narrowed, in confusion, and in shock. what kind of joke was this? "what the fuck does vaegon velaryon think he be doin stood dere at a king's coronation?" brianna muttered under her breath, maintaining moments of eye contact with garrick. her face nodded towards the man that had just emerged from the other side of the doors. this was the man that had found her stood upon a chair some days earlier, and had tried to offer her coin for some godsforsaken reason. "not proper that be. real odd. what be the proper way to say it?"

"queer."