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2nd Moon, 299 AC

Eddard Stark slain north of the Wall. White Walkers rumored responsible.


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KING ROBERT FOUND DEAD IN THRONE ROOM.


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A Funeral
Topic Started: Apr 28 2016, 10:09 AM (118 Views)
LordMace Tyrell of Highgarden
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The city was draped in black shrouds and the atmosphere was somber as the cart bearing Lady Margaery's body passed through the gate. People quietly took notice and lined the streets as she passed by. Slowly the cart progressed through the the silence of Highgarden. Even the birds were silent. The procession ended at the keep in front of her family. Paulbearers lifted the coffin from the cart and carried it inside, followed by Mace and Alerie, then Garlan, Loras and Willas.
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Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne
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The Martell family rolled into Highgarden and took notice of how downcast the usually happy citizenry were. The streets were quiet as people went about their business with their eyes lowered to the ground. The gentry meeting them at the keep and escorting them inside were courteous but uncharacteristicaly silent. Mace wore his anguish on his sleeve
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Lancel Manderly
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Knight of House Manderly
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Lance stood in the back of the crowd, watching the cart pass. He had a hood over his sandy blonde hair, obscuring his face. He had received a raven earlier that day from Winterfell and had cast it aside with all the others, not wanting to read it. He felt guilty for leaving his wife all alone for all of these months. But the marriage had never been real. It was one of those arranged things meant to bring power. Had he known the contents of those discarded letters, left unopened for so long, perhaps he would have been in Winterfell instead. But here he was, another face in the streets of Highgarden.

He had two options. He could try to take House Bolton by storm, trident flashing with wrathful retribution, or he could run away. His life had gotten so complicated recently. He feared a return to the North, looking at Lord Manderly, who would stare back at him with that same disappointed look that his own father had given him time after time. Or he could run. Run far away. Perhaps go to Essos and live as a sellsword. Or join the new group he had heard about in King's Landing - the Sparrows. All he knew was he could not stay here for another moment. And so Lancel's feet began to run. Down the street. Through the gates. He ran until he could no longer breathe without feeling a knife in his side. He ran until his legs weighed as much as lead. When he finally stopped running, the tears caught up to him. He wept bitterly. For Margaeryou, for their child, for his failed marriage, for his father, for himself. It was a bit selfish but he couldn't help it. He had had dreams of becoming someone important. Now he was nothing. He let the tears pour until there were no more to be had. Then he looked up and around him. His breathing still came is sharp, awkward little gasps. He was at a crossroads. Literally and figuratively. He could go North. To the Wall. To King's Landing. To anywhere but Winterfell. Or he could go East. To Doreen where he could catch a ship bound to Essos and live out his days as a sellsword.

He stood there, on the precipice of his future, for what seemed like an eternity. Could it be that the brief moments of happiness that he had known were just the still quiet before the clock struck out the hour of his undoing? He clutched his trident, tipped in Valyrian steel, and chose his path. One step after another. Lancel Manderly was no more. A new life was beginning.
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Myrcella Baratheon
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Princess of Westeros
[ *  *  * ]
Myrcella stood just behind Loras, weeping quietly and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief as the coffin rolled by. Margeary had been the truest of friends she could have hoped for wen she was in Highgarden, and had taught her so much in so little time. But she knew this wasn't her loss to bear, the brunt of the tragedy would always be on the Tyrells. Even so, she couldn't quite cope with the thought of Margeary being gone forever, let alone the thought of a person cruel and heartless enough to kill her. She stayed quietly off to the side for most of the ceremony, she knew Loras would need his time alone to handle his grief, just as he had when his friend Renly's wedding had been struck by tragedy. It was funny, in a perverse way, to think of Margeary so nearly surviving that only to be struck down anyway, on the opposite end of the country.


That evening, after the funeral and an awfully dour supper, Myrcella tentatively knocked on the door to Lady Olenna's chamber. Frankly, she wasn't sure what to expect of the Queen of Thorns in that moment. She was an incredibly strong, principled woman, and had never once faltered in her life, as far as Myrcella knew. But Margeary had been her beloved granddaughter, her protegé, and Myrcella knew her loss will have hit her very hard. She hoped she could at least offer Olenna, form whom she had developed a great deal of admiration, respect, and indeed care, some measure of comfort.
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