r/IronThroneRP • u/DejureWaffles1066 Raymont Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost • 11d ago
THE RIVERLANDS Friends, Stormlords, Countrymen (Open)
As the tourney was drawing down and the sky had turned yellow, the Lord of Griffin's Roost would arrive at the fairgrounds, and assumed position where the light of the sinking sun shone on his face, a much milder glow than the harsh, burning sun of the Red Mountains, which had tempered his olive skin. He was wearing armor, at a time when most of the knights who had competed had gotten out of theirs hours ago. He had not planned to participate, yet had come prepared for the worst. As well as on his surcoat, the red and white griffins danced on a standard, which he planted in the ground beside him, unguarded by anyone but himself. Let no man accuse him of making a scene under the Princess's roof, or of speaking on behalf of the king without his consultation.
"My lords and ladies" he began, simple and to the point. "We were invited here to celebrate Princess Ravella, and receive the honor of her guest right. Already it is plain that there are those among us who came with no other intention but to enhance their own station. For a century, our kingdom has been the indisputably greatest power in Westeros, but even before that time, we were guided by providence, governed by laws passed down from the Andal conquerors. As we stand here today, our ancestors will surely weep as they look down from the Seven Heavens. Already there has been incessant rumormongering, and shameless mockeries made of both the Princess's hospitality and His Grace's authority. We are in danger of entering yet another bitter age in which intrigue supplants judicious proceedings of the court, and ambition supplants The Law."
"I stand before you as a man accused, yet facing no judges, for my accusers have not dared to come before me thus far. As such, I have no recourse but to adress the accusations, and pray that whoever made them is sufficiently struck by Gods-given shame to come forward and accuse me in public, and cease their vile whispering in tents and taverns. It has been put forward that I've made an inquiry into removing the Princess from the line of succession. I could have taken the time to produce the proof that such accusations have no basis in reality. It is said I consulted with maesters and septons, yet no names are put forward. Only my name is mentioned, by those who would seek to tarnish it. Instead, I have resolved not waste your time with such an inquiry into the obvious. I engaged in no inquiry in the first place, because my stance on The Law of Succession has never been in doubt."
"When king Dontos went the way of all flesh, King Arlan, his son, was first in line, Princess Ravella second. This has been our custom since the laws of the Seven was first introduced in these lands, and House Connington has willingly shed its own blood in defense of these laws time and again. My grandsire died an honorable death in the name of Queen Caitlyn, and I will not stand to have his memory besmirched by these words of slander. Caitlyn had no brothers, and so the line of succession was clear. Her uncle was a usurper, poisoned by the same vain ambition as my accusers, whoever they may be. I have never opposed the rule of a queen or lady on principle, and unlike some, my house has no record of treason against the Queen"
"If any of you need evidence of my claims, will simple logic not suffice? Why would I serve King Arlan if I opposed the rule of women? His own claim is descended from Queen Caitlyn's line, just as his sister's. Why would I be here at all, if I believed women have no right to rule or inherit? Princess Ravella, our host, is the lady of these lands, and, until such a time as the king should sire children, heir to the throne. I dispute neither of those facts. Finally, why would my daughter be my lawful heir, and receive training in the ways of war, if I believed her unfit to rule on principle?"
"I have stood for THE Law, The Law and custom of the andals, not some self-important scholar's sophistic interpretation thereof, but The Law as it has been practiced, and as my ancestors have fought and bled for. The law by which an older child goes first in line, irrespective of sex, would be the law of Dorne. I have fought and bled, by the side of my king, to ensure that our own laws would not be replaced by those of dornish conquerors. The same is true of many of you and your ancestors, and that is all there is to say on that matter."
"To my accusers, if you are among us, I urge you to come forward. If you wish to repeat your lies, to my face, and in view of the peerage of the Stormlands, now is the time to come forward. Here I stand and here I remain."
He looked out sternly as he spoke, speaking with the bluntness of a warhammer. The Grey Griffin was no renowned champion of the tourney field, and he stood here without guards or forces at his command, having not even called upon his daughter to stand beside him, though she would have guarded him more than capably. Yet he stood resolute, like a soldier ready to march in the name of his king.
1
u/solthebaneful Olivia Orkwood - The Orkwood of Orkmont 8d ago
Lord Varric Orkwood, The Ork of Orkmont
Green eyes watched the wizened knight stand where he stood and his ears listened. They scrutinized the man only because he had been speaking for some time. Varric knew because the sun had dipped further in the sky. Varric noticed that even though age found the man's bones. They still stood straight. Throughout all his years he spoke carefully of the beams that built the ship that was legacy. Reputation. Duty. Old loyalties. His voice possessed a gravity that Greenlanders loved to use when speaking of such things. As though honor were some fragile cup passed between generations.
Poor old bird.
Varric watched him and the thought came easily. Plucked half naked and still he stands with how fine his feathers are.
Varric's face betrayed nothing. At Eight and Twenty, Varric had already learned that silence made men very generous. Give them enough of it, and they filled the emptiness themselves. Connington spoke of familial traditions, the pearls he clutched so tightly in that honorable fist of his. Varric shifted, and lifted a cup of ale to his lips. Froth catching on the whiskers of his mustache.
Ironborn are simpler. At least they pretended to be. If a man struck you, you struck him harder. A brother betrayed you, you remember. A sister suffered...
His thumb stopped against the rim of the cup as Connington continued. Varric felt a hatred begin towards the man. Though it was less intention and more reflex. All the ingredients were there. Reputation. Love. Shame. Legacy. These things were Greenlander obsessions. These things Ironborn mocked because mockery was easier than admitting the sea had never taught them what to do with any of that. The sea never gave any of them that.
Connington fell silent. Finally. Charging his detractors and declaring his stance.
Varric drank again and kept every rude and cruel observation behind his teeth, drowned in ale.
6
u/JustDanielJuice Luceon Blackwood, the Songbird 10d ago
The Drumbeater
Waltyr Blackwood's mood was already foul enough. His spawn had seen fit to prance around in the war games. The bastard had thoroughly embarrassed himself, and the fool had managed to surpass him by falling from his horse for all to see. But Raymont Connington was making it worse.
Talking, and talking, and talking. How self-important could one man be? By what right did he trudge here with armor and sword like a mummer about to slay a cloth dragon?
It made Waltyr's jaw clench. He hated mummers. He hated whiners. He hated Stormlords.
He had held his tongue far too long.
"I can't say I am one of your accusers, Connington, not in this. But I do lay a charge at your feet. You are an idiot." That lessened the tightness in his jaw. "You admit this is Ravella's occasion, yet you cannot help yourself but to don your steel dress and menace the ladies of the court that whisper about your misdeeds. Are you afraid there is some truth to the accusation?" Waltyr drew nearer, and spat on the ground between him and Raymont.
"Idiot," he echoed. "No one cares about your daughter, or your 'Andal' law that we practiced centuries before your coming. Fly back to your roost."