Ashemark

[Quenton Baratheon]

This tidy-looking keep, the ancestral home of the noble Westerland house Marbrand, rises majestically above the wooded hills which hold the source of the Tumblestone river, its towers offering excellent views over the landscape of the northeastern part of the Westerlands. Based on a giant plug of granite, the castle is very difficult to obtain through military strength alone, and has saved it from ill-treatment on many occasions.



Since the return to peace following the Basilisk Invasion of the mid 520s, Ashemark has become something of a social hotspot - a place full of laughter, discussions, whispers, joy, tears, dreams, ambition... a place full of life.

[Quenton Baratheon]

Five hundred and fourty five years after Aegon's Conquest.

Ser Steffen Lannister sits alone in his tower, smiling. His aging eyes survey the scene spread out below his window - wooded hills dotted with the occasional small settlement, the land carved up by little streams all flowing into one main easterly directed body of water. In that direction, Riverrun, once his seat. In the other direction, Casterly Rock, Lannisport and a whole lot of other places Steffon cares for little these days.

His 'family' of these last fifteen years are in the most part away from Ashemark, many leagues away in fact, at the Princess' Tournament in King's Landing. Two weeks ago now he waved the party off, hoping that no ill should become of them and that his protege Lord Dudley would acquit himself well. Not in the field of course, Steffen has never held much store in a man's military prowess, but off it.

The boy has developed well, he reflects to himself, as he does most days. The other too, my grandson, my blood... I sit on a fine nest of fledgling worms. He grins outwardly at the nature of his own mind.

[Aerys]

Alessa Lannister comes to check on her father who has not been seen for a couple of hours. A widow of seventeen years, she is a striking blonde woman of 38 years who smiled and laughed but rarely. She was nonetheless quite amused that she was nine years older than her father's wife.

[Quenton Baratheon]

Steffen looks up as the one piece of remaining evidence of his marriage to a beautiful Targaryen Princess enters his chamber. Such piercing eyes, he thinks to himself. Her mother's eyes, the eyes of nobility. He smiles as she draws nearer.

"Come to join me?" he asks. "I'm afraid I have reached that age Alessa. All the young'uns are off having fun whilst I'm left at home staring out of the window."

He looks away from her a moment as something catches his eye a hundred feet or so below. He looks interested for a moment but then looks up again, his interest in whatever or whoever it was apparently gone.

[Aerys]

Alessa looked at her father with some affection. It had been Steffen who had helped raise her two boys, after the death of her husband Rhaegar.

"You missed your dinner." she said somewhat reprovingly. "At your age, you need to make sure you keep your strength up."

She took a seat stool opposite him.

"Actually there was something I need to speak to you about. You know Monterys has gone with Dudley to Kings Landing for the Grand Tourney?

[Quenton Baratheon]

Steffen looked at his daughter with utter bemusement for a moment. "Dinner?" he said with furrowed brow. He looked away for a second, something apparently troubling him.

"And yes I am aware of Monterys' leaving. What of it?"

[Aerys]

"The last time Monterys was in Kings Landing he was a prisoner of the Crown.

"That was fifteen years ago, but I would imagine that even now the presence of a Velaryon, especially a grown one, would not be welcome."

[Quenton Baratheon]

Steffen grimaced, weighing up his daughter's words for a second before speaking.

"The boy has ambitions - he can never live up to them if he runs scared from anyone who does not greet him with open arms. This trip will do him good."

[Aerys]

Alessa looked impatient.

"I understand that Father, but given the current situation between the royal court and Cedric, there may not be the protection for my son that would be normally available to a subject of the King."

She paused.

"Also there are many at court that hate us. The Hand for one."

[Quenton Baratheon]

Steffen sighed.

"And those that hate can go on hating, it will do them no good for ultimately they have no legitimate reason to do so. What would you have me do dear? Monterys has his guards, and Lord Marbrand along with him - he has plenty of friends to watch his back. The son of one of our time's greatest traitors rules all of Dorne and is a friend of the crown, proof if any were needed that a child need not fully resemble his father."

[Quenton Baratheon]

///////////////////////////////

Sitting in his tower as is the norm these days, Ser Steffen is brought news of the recent events in King's Landing. Snorting with laughter as he reads the note initially, his thoughts turn to Dudley and his grandson Monterys, both still in King's Landing.

He calls for his daughter, Alessa, to attend him.

[Aerys]

Alessa answers her father's summons. She takes a seat, sitting opposite the old man. One fair eyebrow is raised inquiringly as she waits for her father to speak.

[Quenton Baratheon]

Steffen eyes his daughter thoughtfully, then clears his throat before beginning.

"Have you heard of this nonsense? This rebellion against the King?" he begins, speaking derisively.

[Aerys]

Alessa nodded, eyes bright as she stared at her father.

"A folly." she said. "But not surprising to see Rodrick's Hand involved. This matter of Roland Royce's death is nothing more than an excuse to rid themselves of Rodrick.

"Avery was murdered without a trial by the order of a man who wasn't even the rightful King. He was a Blood Prince, higher ranking than Roland Royce. Where was the Lord Paramounts' indignation then? In all that time, why hasn't Rickon Baratheon been brought to account for that crime?"

[Quenton Baratheon]

"Yes, yes, we know all of this Alessa," he said with irritation and a dismissive hand gesture. "We all already know that our king is an arrogant little trickle of piss. And his hand, whilst a different creature, is just as detestable. You wouldn't find me willingly sticking up for either party." A few dozen more wrinkles appeared at the bridge of his nose as he spoke of these characters who irked him so.

"What I mean to bring to your attention is the fact that Dudley and Monterys are still in King's Landing, where all hell is likely to be breaking loose about now."