Chapters
With the advent of the fourth century after Aegon's Conquest, men started moulding magic and metal once more. But unlike the elusive practices of the Freehold, where the guilds of spell-weavers and smiths worked together, this undertaking was started by a single man—Jon Stark the Third of His Name, the Lord of the North and King of Winter. While many decry him for his vile sorcery, cruel deeds and unnatural strength, I find his foray into metalworking far more interesting a topic. Even the greatest…- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- Disclaimer: I don't own HP, GOT, or ASOIAF. Would have finished the last two properly if I had.Edited by Bub3loka 14th Day of the 11th Moon, 303 AC The Kraken's Daughter, Nagga's Hill Asha shifted her weight, and pain flared like fire up her right ankle. Her left leg had gone numb from standing too long, but the other was worse, smashed during the storm that sank most of her fleet and broke her pride in half. She clenched her jaw to tide her through the pain and leaned on her cane, breathing…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- 1st Day of the 12th Moon, 303 AC Arianne Martell, Winterfell Drey was healing—more like sleeping—in his quarters, and Arianne and her kin had huddled around the hearth. It wasn't that Winterfell's Guest House was poorly built, but that the cold was too fierce. The sprawling wooden building was far from the height of luxury, yet Arianne found it almost endearingly cosy, with thick wooden walls and carved drawings of beasts on every surface not covered by white plaster. She was never more glad…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- 15th Day of the 9th Moon, 303 AC Damion Lannister, Braavos He had never been a large man, nor broad of shoulder, but age had shrunken him all the same. Perhaps it was some hidden ailment, or he had displeased the gods somehow, but at eight-and-fifty, Ser Damion Lannister stood scarcely five and a half feet, his limbs turned to kindling twigs, his knees trembling like old reeds in the wind. The strength he had once carried into the lists, the pride he bore in the melee of his youth, had long since…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- While Wyman Manderly was said to be the King's right hand, the Queen would be his left. It was as rare as it was unexpected for a monarch to entrust his wife with any of the duties of ruling, let alone the fierce warrior known as the Demon of Winterfell. Yet despite the naysayers, this daring move paid off. Shireen Stark was just and fair like her father before. But unlike Stannis, she made many a friend and was beloved by smallfolk and nobles of the…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- Disclaimer: I don't own HP, GOT, or ASOIAF. Would have finished the last two properly if I had.Edited by Bub3loka 12th Day of the 11th Moon, 303 AC Sarella Sand, the North "We could still turn back," Nymeria whispered, her hands trembling beneath the folds of a heavy green cloak. She was wrapped in layers upon layers of cloth like a newborn babe, but she still shivered. The cold northern wind paid no heed to Dornish finery or womanly grace. Gone were the silks and gauzy cottons they had…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- Dozens of battles and countless skirmishes, big and small, were fought between the Lord of Highgarden and the Westerlands-Riverlands alliance. None were decisive, but casualties began to pile up as the year progressed. The lands of House Crane and Rowan were quickly drained and put to the torch many a time, with the smallfolk killed, scattered or dispossessed. Warbands from both sides continued their incursions deeper, setting the Northmarch and the southern Riverlands and Westerlands ablaze. Lord…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- 2nd Day of the 12th Moon, 303 AC Baelor Hightower, Pyke Like everything else on these accursed Islands, the town of Lordsport was windswept, dreary, and grim. The surroundings were as joyless as the people who called this land home. The only green to be seen was the sickly sort that grew between cracks in the paving or festered upon damp walls. Even the houses were squat and dreary, built of harsh grey rock and mortar that looked as if it would crumble at the first touch. Baelor Hightower had seen…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- 18th Day of the 11th Moon, 303 AC The Light of the West, Casterly Rock "Lady Regent," came the reedy voice of a boy barely old enough to hold a sword, let alone summon her to anything of import. "The Small Council has convened. The Lord Hand asks if you mean to attend." Cersei turned her gaze upon him slowly, not hiding her distaste. It was a Lannister—or so they said. One of the lesser sorts. Tyland? Or was it Tylon? It hardly mattered. Another distant cousin from an endless line of distant…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
- 3rd Day of the 8th Moon, 303 AC Samwell Tarly It was nearly three hundred miles from Oldtown to Horn Hill by road, a hard stretch even in fair weather. The already long journey was lengthened further by rainy days and mud-soaked roads. His palfrey had broken its leg in the mud, and Sam had to ride the spare donkey, a slow and stubborn beast that liked to bite and kick. The crippled horse was discarded, sold for meat to the nearest inn for a few silver stags. They had left the road on the sixth…
- 406.2 K • Ongoing
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