#ravella001

[domericstone]

setting: after the sistermen attack. in highgarden, vale apartments  note: pregnant women can not travel, dom stays with the queen while the fighting men head back to the vale with graham.  | @ravellaarryns​ |

"It would appear the Sistermen have attacked Manderly ships meant to go to Braavos and make payment to the Iron Bank. Quite a large payment, golden wolves and other things from their mines."

He spoke to the queen without looking at her because looking at her was a distraction. They spoke little after the reveal of his identity as he expected. Ravella Arryn did not suffer bastards and Domeric Stone did not beg for the attentions of anyone. They spoke now, or he spoke, because of the issues at hand. Issues that would grow.

"There are several issues and questions here. Where did they get their information about the schedule and where did they get ships powerful enough to challenge  a Manderly ship. And what will they do with the payment for the Iron Bank?"

The Sistermen were sworn to the Vale though he heard they were distant and displeased with Ravella sitting upon the throne of the Eyrie. They considered her but a woman. She was far more than just another woman. She had the cunning and mind necessary to be a ruler, lacking the soft heart of most women. Made her powerful.

"The Wolf King will want to speak with you as well. I'd go, alas, my presence seems to ruffle their feathers."

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

Below is the letter sent across the realm the tagged Kings and Queen, Ravella Arryn is the only Queen to receive a letter because she is an Arryn. Graham is included because he's the king

| @visxionaries | @rememberences @ravellaarryns | @owenstark | @casimirtully |

You and your courts have been invited to celebrate the victories of and witness the coronation of the new and true Valyrian King. Over the course of 8 days there will be games, feasting, and the forging of new alliances. Attached are the documents for your complete and return to the messenger to assure the Red Keep can be prepared to host so many. Ravens will return in place of messengers to provide you all with necessary information before the festivities. Signed, Jaehaerys Targaryen, second of his name, the conqueror, the warrior, king of Valyrians, Andals, and First Men.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

"We know why."

"Lord Percival Templeton will be a fitting replacement. I can assure the safety of both men. They will be directed to their quarters. You may join them, your grace. For your safety matters as much, if not more than the kings"

"Wylliam." And with that Jaehaerys II Targaryen walked away from the Queen of the Vale and toward the Red Keep where they would be assassin was being taken. "Bar Axell Royce from the Black Cells."

♟

it appeared as though the conversation were coming to a natural close, if her judgement regarding tone of voice and facial expression were to remain correct: to the point where she had already made eye contact with graham royce himself, wearing a facial expression which clearly indicated toward there being no issue at present that was to come before figuring out what in seven hells was going on. and it was when the resounding no left the mouth of the dragon king did the falcon queen's facial expression change slightly, brows knitting in response to the sudden change not only in tone, but the expression he seemed to wear. as though he was not living in this moment, but rather living in some other time that was beyond what ravella arryn cared for.

"on what grounds has high commander royce been rejected from completing his duty in regards to a security threat?" ravella asked, a calculation to her words and her voice; there was nothing emotive, soft or even womanly about her; not in the way other women of the realms seemed to represent. she found herself wondering whether some issue had arisen between the high commander and another, though judging by the finality that was in the voice of jaehaerys targaryen, she knew it needed to be something of great importance and significance. the high commander was no doubt a complex figure, with a reputation that preceded him in more ways than one.

as a young woman, when she was merely a lady of the mountains of the moon and soon to be wedded to the son of the ruling lord of runestone, ravella had heard of his actions taken during the great war, though she understood that war was a bloody matter. the innocent always were at the shorter hand of events far greater than what they could comprehend, and in the end, they were subjects of their overlords. "it is the duty of the high commander to deal with matters threatening the security of the realm." ravella spoke, her tone deadpan as she looked toward the mix of vale guards and targaryen guards. including the lord commander.

"if you maintain the stance that the high commander is not to remain within your lands, then according to custom, it is lord percival templeton that will remain with the king, as lord commander." she spoke; and truthfully, ravella would be surprised should jaehaerys choose to have percival remain in kings landing over the likes of axell royce. what was he thinking of behind those violent, amethyst orbs? it appeared as though the man was momentarily staring into the distance. "i trust that to be a fitting replacement." there should be no replacement. if this was what ravella was considering it was about, she would find herself surprised that the king bother himself with such matters.

[domericstone]

who: @ravellaarryns where: the fair (why: because the idea of these two around a fair is hilarious) notable deets: these two have had an on and off, toxic relationship that is far more dangerous for everyone else other than them. we're talking about years and years of a push and pull between two rather dangerous people.

"Who is that man you were speaking with?"

They weren't arguing, they didn't argue about things, they had discussions and some times those discussions were heated. Domeric Grafton, he kept his mother's name after she married the Bolton, didn't like when she didn't text him back. He dragged his fingers over his dark curls. "Do you want a bear?"

"I don't like how close he was standing to you." Domeric perfect the ability to look nonplussed when he was in fact feeling irritation. An irritation that he knew she would see just from looking at him because she knew him well. She knew him far too well. And some times, some times that shit bothered him.

"Or do you want a rabbit?"

[jalabharmooton]

Jalabhar turned his head and faced the woman, why was the queen of the Vale talking to him? And why was she talking to him about Jeyne Waynwood. Ja looked over at the lady and then back at the queen, popping another grape in his mouth as he listened to her. He would never marry a Valyrian, it was simply an insult to make the suggestion. He didn't expect her to know. Perhaps the suggestion came from Qoherys having one of the newly gifted houses. Harrenhal was cursed. Everyone knew it was cursed, everyone who lived there met a terrible end. He had enough of terrible ends for House Mooton.

And why did she care about the tax of Harrenhal? Did she wish to get some information from him? No. House Mooton was one of the wealthier houses of the Riverlands, hit hard by the attack from the Lysene but not hard enough to marry into a curse. He took a drink from his cup and bowed his head in her direction. "Your grace, it's an honor to have you join me. And even more of an honor to have my confusion addressed so thoroughly."

"There is always a fascination with Harrenhal. So many wish to visit, others have their own tales of hauntings and ghosts. I've only been once, myself. Large, great holdings as we all know." And he supposed it could tempt a man trying to secure his wealth. Establish holds. He wouldn't have to live there, no, but it only took one visit for a gargoyle to land on a man's head. "Have you been there before?"

♟

there were certain parts of day to day life that ravella of the eyrie had grown to stand, rather than fully and completely accept; noted in the way she had taken to view her responsibilities and her role as life, rather than her position. there was no difference between the two, not from the moment the sapphires of the falcon crown rested upon jet black curls, and not in the years that came far before it. there was no sense of pity, or reluctance from the aura of the woman; regality, civility and superiority seemed to sit comfortably upon shoulders that had seemingly be born with armour upon them. part of it was the responsibility that came in the knowledge of needing to be seen, and not necessarily heard; only when it truly mattered.

but being seen, in itself, was a momentous decision. and yet still, she remained sat upon one of the many tables, where people had come and gone throughout the night; there remained knights of the vale within the bustling halls, mere spaces from where she remained sat. and listened. her hand remained wrapped upon the goblet of wine that stained her lips with a hue of maroon, the bitter taste of dornish red had met her high standards upon first tasting it. orbs of ice looked towards the dornish faction, ever colourful, and ever loud even in a place that was not their own; unbecoming and undignified was how she found it.

and there was another on the table with a tainted bloodline, heritage stemming from across the summer sea: she had not spoken to him once, despite the fact he was sat some spaces away from her, directly before her. he listened. if only he could hear what continued to reign hollow within the chambers of her own mind-forged manacles, how that would no doubt have relished the spy. her gaze remained upon him, almost uncomfortably; there was not a bit of her that felt as though she should look away. this was the spy master of the river king; the one whose entire family had been turned into cinders for the sake of the half year queen abandoning the land of rivers.

she made no response to his comments, despite the fact she heard it; obviously he would not know nor understand matters of genetic superiority. for as much as ravella arryn had championed the breaking of the vale's support of the dragon king in what felt like a lifetime ago, she was able to recognise the strengths of the valyrian race. her goblet was placed down now, a hand resting upon the surface of the table. and when she spoke, her voice was it's usual deadpan, detached tone: in a way that was more than simply aloof. matched with the intensity of a gaze that looked upon him as though she knew him, it was unsettling. "that one is the lady jeyne of house waynwood." she did not use her hand, but her gaze instead; one of the many with blood ties to harrenhal. it were obvious what she spoke of.

harrenhal was too valuable to merely dismiss, able to produce a large number of tax, to simply be left to crumble in the way it had. the dragons imprint still remained all over it, and it seemed as though the river king hesitated to touch it, lest he scald his gills. "and those two, both ladies of house qoherys. ad yet, valyrian influence has done enough in the riverlands, we can safely say." house mooton was close to the borders of the crownlands, but it was also on the eastern shore of the riverlands; making it some days ride from the border with the land of the mountains of the moon. "for all the ambition the men of the riverlands seem to have, none have yet thought it wise to pair with at least of the claimants. and still, the tax it reaps remains crumbling." would lord mooton not wish to extend his influence by acquiring harrenhal under his coffers? did he not have a point to make, if the talk were true?

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

Jaehaerys would have his spy look into matters more if it were possible, he was still uncertain how likely it was she would remain. Enemies of the crown, mountain clans, sistermen, Westermen, and whoever else didn't like this Queen and her council. Jaehaerys nodded along prepared to agree only to stop and shake his head. "No. Your High Commander will not stay here nor will he take part in questioning. Should your King consort wish to stay and investigate then he may have his Lord Commander with him to guard him and perhaps your Master of Laws. If this cannot be agreed on then you will have to trust me to do this investigation on my own."

War was war and the King knew that for he spent much of it on the back of his dragon burning people to death, seeing villages and fields of crop destroyed. And in war men talked of other men. They spoke of those who did things and who they did them too. There was a reason Jaehaerys Targaryen had little respect for the custom of knighthood in the Vale. Much like the hatred he bore his father and men of his ilk, he would not have the great Vale raper in his realm questioning anyone. No, Jaehaerys could not present proof of the Royce or the Grafton and their atrocities but he was a King. And this was his Kingdom. And his word was law.

He remembered those nights when he had to be held back from entering his mothers chambers. The night when Aemond ordered the guards to let him go and the crunch of his drunken father's nose under his blows. The sounds him being the one to whimper and cry and ask for help. No. Jaehaerys didn't care if this became a larger issue. He was sensitive to the plight of women. Sensitive to the cruelty of the world and by the Gods, old and new, he didn't trust himself to not let rage and vitriol consume him.

"The King consort and whomever he chooses that is not the High Commander may stay in the Red Keep for it would be unseemly to allow a man to stay in a tower all his own after an attempt on his own life. There will be answers." And there would be retribution for the act once they received those answers. And then he would have killed whoever made the order to disrupt his coronation with their personal issues.

♟

the mention of the word cousin seemed to install something of a strange expression to flicker over marble; her jaw tightened ever so slightly, appearing as though it had been chiselled by marble by some ancient power, one more ancient then even the gods. both houses of arryn and targaryen were the epitome of histories that were relatively new in the grandness of the westerosi narrative, but there was no denying the fact that at one point in history, it was both of their lineages that ruled over the rest of the word.

"you are aware of the period of instability regarding the mountain throne with the late king." ravella spoke, referencing the murder of her brother - and the way in which she was ready to rip his heart out and burn it herself when she saw he had somehow risen again. no doubt her anger toward her oldest brother had been taken out on his daughter, as her fractured bones had revealed when found within the bluebells. the spread of civilisation through the invasion of the andals, a sweeping remarkable victory which oversaw the brutal takeover in the manifestation of something greater - had aegon not done the very same with both of his sister wives? there was risk in greatness and majesty, and there were those who remained like lapdogs at the bottom of greatness, awaiting for the smallest slip. those who always sought to be the same, and never would be again.

"it would not surprise me should there remain a rumbling as to matters of legitimacy and succession." her voice was harsh, as though it was glass; she did not speak in a tone that was soft, as though the faeries that were rumoured to live within the glens had blessed her. no, ravella spoke like that which was ancient buried within stone circles and atop the highest of mountains - a mix, of old and new. and she did not even need to look in the direction of the courtiers of the west to know she alluded to the likes of them; for to claim the son born of the lioness was a bastard was the most laughable of claims.

if guinevere lannister were a whore, she would have found out - and besides, the culture of the vale was that queens were constantly attended. and she was the golden queen - the golden idol. "easily applicable to the matter of the three sisters. you would have heard, as your little spy mistress must have done her job, cousin." ravella spoke, a slight taunt of a smile crossing over lips that remained red against skin as white as snow; it involved two realms, and thus, the initial attack could not be controlled. cousin. how peculiar it was to call him such a thing - it had been rowan who had been overly involved with the kingdom of the dragons, and even then it was with the black dragon rather than those who waved the flags of green.

at his words, reassurance that the falcon court would continue to be hosted in kings landing, she only nodded; her body language exhibiting gratitude, but not truthfully. not really. as another similarity that festered between the two groups, the two races, was one of superiority of a genetic nature. there could only be one true bloodline, when the matter was truly comprehended. "it is possible that the king himself may remain to aid in the investigation, alongside the high commander. the court and their queen are still to depart for the mountains of the moon." ravella spoke, the strongest indication of tradition; it was not common for an arryn to be away from the eyrie for too long as their feet did not belong on the ground. they belonged atop the world, above them all.

just as targaryens belonged atop dragons, as much as jaehaerys targaryen denied it so - which was one of the fundamental reasons why that mutation of a beast would not find it's way across into crownland borders once again. all knew of the fascination one of the velaryon lords held with dragons, alongside other possible seeds that could find their way upon it's back; it would be used to turn to ash those who lived by burning, and then it would be put to death with the aid of a specific group of individuals who too, had found strength in neutrality.

and then her gaze fell upon a pair she had not yet seen, though noted the way in which the braavosi diplomats seemed to be engaged in some tense discussions with them. they used their hands a great amount across the narrow sea, ravella thought - how it made men seem entirely too feminine. "your guests appear to have gotten themselves into some matter with the braavosi." she commented, noting the amethyst gaze of both of them; valyrian, of some sort. "many know of the close relationship forged between braavos and the vale of arryn, your grace. including the lyseni." the implication was there, and she found herself staring upon the figures in question, wondering if either of them would dare to arrange a hit upon the king of the vale.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

Jaehaerys nodded at her words, he raised a hand and put up three fingers. Three of his armed men moved forward. "Then he will not be near him until the investigation is complete." The King found an irritation at the turn of events but these happened in tilts, men joined the lists and cowards thought it a way to put their names in the books of maesters passed throughout history. Tilts were littered with the unknown, the unimportant. The odd mystery knight. Women who tried to compete only to find they would not be given their purse for they broke the rule when dealing with men in melee.

"And my court will continue to host you as we complete this investigation." The man didn't have the look of someone from their bloody mountains of the Vale, but he'd heard tale of them allowing those beasts in their court before the slaughter in Dorne. It mattered not to him what they did in the Vale, and now it would have to matter if what they did on the mountain made it's way to the court of fire and blood.

"These things will take time, when I have the stewards lined up they will provide me with the names of the sign ups from this list and then we will carry on from there. I assure you, cousin, we will reach resolution before the end of these events." Related through Aemma Arryn, granddaughter of Jaehaerys I and wife of his grandsire, Viserys I. A relation oft forgotten when one remembered the way his grandsire took her life for the heir for a day, alas, Jaehaerys would not forget. As a man he knew family burned you like any other, as a king he knew there was value in all connections.

"Forgive me for asking, are there any who wish to harm you and yours? Any who may have been enough to make it known they wish to have you as an enemy."

♟

"don't let him die, garrick."

the queen of the mountains of the moon turned a dead gaze in the direction of the man who had received a direct instruction from the newly conquered dragon king; her mind always seemed to move a million miles a moment, noting the way in which the king had utilised the man's first name - it showed a level of closeness and trust. and yet, as she flickered that same dead gaze over her shoulder to the sight of another mountain of the vale, she knew the instructions of the dragon king were against the clock.

the minutes slipped by, and they would need to ensure nothing happened to the man in question. whilst she would seek out the high commander of the vale and address his need to hold back until there came a time where he could unleash it, it was entirely possible he would lash out before then.

"if there is any who will kill him before he is questioned, it is lord axell royce of runestone." ravella spoke, her tone flat - almost as though she were telling the dragon king of a fact. if there were any the targaryen guards needed to be on a higher watch around, it was the sight of a giant slipping down from his heights to use his fists as batons. "ensure he is not left alone with the man too long." she indicated her gaze towards axell as she spoke with the dragon king amidst the chaos. she did not point out which of the knights of the vale the man was; perhaps because a part of her wanted axell to be able to rain down his fury. there would be no need for a fair trial.

there was an expression of displeasure that crossed the features of the stoney queen of the vale as the king confirmed he too did not know of the man - it were obvious by the way the knights of the vale were conversing with one another that they were trying to identify him too. and yet still, a part of her looked at the events of new valyria with a sense of disgust: where was the staunch monitoring of the men who stepped onto these fields?

"the falcon court shall need to remain until the man and his conspirators have been identified."

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

He remembered being a boy when it happened to Daemon Targaryen. They talked about the way Criston Cole had tried to kill him during a tourney for one of the many rotted corpses of Aemma Arryn's womb, or tomb depending upon who was asked. He remembered when it was Aemond doing the same and it always meant something. When two nameless knights were fighting one another after a tilt it was expected but to attack a king well that was a different sort of bold stupidity. Jaehaerys pointed his fingers forward sending his Kingsguard forward to take the man before the Valemen killed him and the received no answers.

Jaehaerys watched as the other guards tried to regain order and put people back in their places but they were moving, they were moving about in a rage and the buzzing of the crown only grew louder. The excitement of the games, the thirst for blood and revenge. Even his own smallfolk shouted about foul play, something about the chivalry of the Vale brought out honor in even the lowest forms of society.

"Don't let him die, Garrick." Jaehaerys spoke to his High Commander. He then looked over and watched at the pale Queen of the mountain made her walk toward him. The King sat up, it was never just an accident when your target was more important than you, never just a hunt for glory.

"His face and name are unknown to me." Jaehaerys looked to the Queen of the Vale as he stood from his seat, gesturing for his holiest knights to surround the queen's chair until he returned, and move her if they must. "I've no intention of stopped the Vale from seeking answers. And I encourage your man to join mine in this extensive questioning. For I wish to know who thought it wise to start their game of thrones in my kingdom. And when that is done the Vale can decide what to do with their would be kingslayer."

Answers were needed. Someone brave enough to assault one monarch was a threat to them all.

who: @jaehaerysiitargaryen what and when: literally right after the incident with graham royce and the mystery opponent, queen ravella of house targaryen is seen speaking with king jaehaerys targaryen amongst the stands.

the sound of lance against lance was almost deafening, ear-splitting amongst the sounds of the screams and the gasps that filled the stalls. her orbs of ice need not have even glimpsed over to the sight of the knights of the vale, whose man graham royce had always been, long before the crown had put forced upon his head as a result of actions orchestrated by herself, his brother axell, and his close companion domeric stone. it had been the three of them that caused the indirect murder of the falcon king as a result of his own ambitions, and it was graham royce who knew her head all too well.

who knew the shadow that would be cast over the entirety of the realm the moment the crown sat upon her head. and he was right.

and it was when the champion turned on his steed and charged again did the true chaos begin; there was multiple people of out their seats, wondering whether they were witnessing a madman and the attempted murder of a king consort. she saw the figure of graham royce slip from his horse, in a way he should not have; she did not watch to see whether he had been trampled by the horses, and saw various colours spread across the playing field. the knights, the squires; and her own orbs shot towards the dragon king.

all knew of the tensions of their realms; the vale of arryn had not hesitated to speak of the presence of the dragon within the mountains of the moon. only days earlier, deimos velaryon had spoken to the king himself - in which he had been made abundantly clear the dragon would be going nowhere. her eyes flickered over the playing fields again, half expecting to see the king consort of the vale trampled, but instead she found him standing in the dust. how he always seemed able to rise from the worst. with that look on his face.

she were on her feet after making eye contact with the dragon king. she only indicated towards the champion that was being surrounded by guards and squires alike, for this was more than game spirit; the man had attempted to murder a king, and use the joust as an excuse. she heard jack grafton yell about foul play as she moved down the stands, rising the bottom of her skirts as she sped by it. she felt as though she were spinning on the ice again.

"your grace." ravella spoke, her tone clearly half in shock, and half increasingly furious in that numb, cold way she often did. she did not look towards his queen consort, speaking directly to the reigning sovereign. "it is imperative you transfer rights to withhold to the knights of the vale." the attack had happened upon the lands of the crownlands, but it would be the knights of the vale alongside the master of laws that tried attempted regicide in the vale of arryn. as was ancient custom.

they had begun to walk toward the scene where she saw multiple men forcing the removal of the man's helmet, turning back towards graham - who was speaking with high commander, the lord commander and the master of ships. she maintained eye contact with him. "do you know of him, your grace?" she asked, as the man's helmet was forced. she resisted the urge to spit in his face, and to dig her nails into his eyes until they popped. "his name. get me his name." she directed to the surrounding knights, but her voice. her voice boomed. it was deep, with the accent of the mountains of the moon.

[domericstone]

Domeric was winning. He was irritating her and he was going to commit to the belief that they were not standing out at this fair. her in all black and him in his pressed trousers and the sweater he wore the black, collared shirt. "You should have asked." And at her question he almost smiled at her, and perhaps she caught the glint in his eyes.

"But of course, my dearest. We are at the fair. A true American experience for a proper date." And as he placed his hand on her back he moved her toward the booth. Then she asked the real question and he smiled, his lips moving close to her ear. "Perhaps I have a reason for being here. After you tell me where you were earlier."

And so it was the game they played. A dangerous game to be sure but a game none the less. The pieces were replaceable but the players were not. This time he smiled at her. "A painters van. Don't be so obvious. One you remove the spare you would be surprised at what can fit in one's trunk."

He paid the man and then picked up the baseballs, throwing them at the plates, rather bored but hitting them for he would rather eat dirt than feel the heat of failure in front of Ravella.

"Pick your bear, dearest." He threw the last baseball.

♟

how was it they had ended up in this fairground, was something else entirely: it were not like anywhere was suitable for her to be visiting, anywhere worthy of the standards. but this was a new low, even for him: she wore an all black suit to this foolish fairground, where the same music looped again and again and again. she wished to find whoever it was that was responsible for overseeing the music and force the volume to rise until it ruptured their eardrum.

she ignored his first question, stood silently simmering beside him as she looked over the scene before them. she had only ever attended one of these foolish fairs, and it had been for her sister rosalyn's birthday one year. his second question caused her only to crane her neck over to look at him, almost as though she were looking straight through him: had he gotten more stupid in the last six months? or was he trying to irritate her?

"i did not ask." her response was flat and dismissive, her arms folding over her chest.

"is this where you take me?" she asked, her tone almost scathing as her icy orbs looked him up and down, the hint of something flashing in her orbs. there was something else to this, surely. "or do you have another reason for being here?" crowds and crowds of people, all it took was one slip and someone had suddenly vanished. there was an interesting pattern across the world, a pattern he perhaps needed to fulfil.

"domeric takes america…you are only missing a pick up truck, or some run down white van."