I want her. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well- child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to make her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys, her sorrows, her lust.
Tyrion Lannister is the youngest son of Lord Tywin Lannister, and uses his wit and intellect to overcome the prejudice he faces as a dwarf. He is falsely accused of the attempted assassination of Bran Stark and taken captive. His imprisonment by Catelyn Stark, even though he is eventually released after a trial by combat, causes the House Lannister to attack the Riverlands and triggers a conflict, which is then escalated into full war by the death of Robert Baratheon and arrest and execution of Eddard Stark. Tyrion rejoins the army of Tywin Lannister, and is shortly after sent by his father as acting Hand of the King to his newly crowned nephew Joffrey Baratheon, hoping he will rein him in. With him he takes a prostitute named Shae who he makes his mistress and comes to love. Under difficult conditions, Tyrion Lannister holds the city together, strengthens and organizes the city's defenses, and makes an alliance with House Martell. Tyrion is grievously injured during the Battle of Blackwater and afterwards loses his position as Hand when Tywin Lannister arrives to claim it. Tyrion is shown to be as intelligent as his father if not more so. This and his excellent education help make up for his dwarfism. Tyrion also has mind for strategy (as evidenced in the battle of Blackwater Bay). Tyrion is shown to read people as easy as he reads books. He has on many occasions easily gotten the better of Joffrey and Cersei but also experienced players such as Littlefinger and Pycelle. Being a dwarf Tyrion has a soft spot for his fellow outcasts and has shown them kindness (such as having a saddle designed for the crippled Bran Stark allowing him to ride). Loyalty is another one of Tyrion's qualities, if treated with love and respect there's nothing Tyrion won't do for somebody. Over the years Tyrion has also developed a pretty thick skin. Japes about his short stature don't seem to bother him (except when coming from his father). He even advises Jon Snow to take his bastardy in stride and use it as a shield. Tyrion is not without faults though. He tends to overindulge in food, drink, and sex in part to compensate for the rotten treatment he's suffered most of his life. Tyrion can also act vicious if he feels he's been wronged (like confining Grand Maester Pycelle to the Black Cells for betraying him). Because his father and sister treat him like a leper Tyrion craves love and acceptance and is genuinely hurt when this is denied him by others. Despite knowing better Tyrion constantly tries to win his father's approval only to be disappointed again and again.
NAME: Tyrion Lannister
NICKNAMES: Half man, little lion, demon monkey, kingslayer, kinslayer, imp.
DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown
PLACE OF BIRTH: Casterly Rock
CURRENT RESIDENCE: King's Landing
HAIR COLOR: Golden
EYE COLOR: Mismatched
SCARS: One across his face.
MOTHER: Joanna Lannister (deceased.)
FATHER: Tywin Lannister (Deceased.)
SISTER(S): Cersei Lannister
BROTHER(S): Jaime Lannister.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
CURRENT RELATIONSHIP(S): PAST RELATIONSHIP(S):
Traits: Shrewd, educated, calculating, kind hearted, brave, sarcastic.
Disorders: Addictions: Wine, books, women.
Likes: Wine, books, dragons, women, and his brother.
Dislikes: His father and sister, and everyone who looks down upon him.
OCCUPATION: Master of Coin
JOB DESCRIPTION: Unknown
EMPLOYER: STRENGTHS: His knowledge.
When the snows fall, and the white winds blow; the lone wolf dies. But the pack survives. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I have always been a Stark, and I will remain one forever. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel; but I made broken look beautiful. I charge we are all here for the same reasons. And I certainly hope we can achieve some peace in this gathering. I would very much like to get to know you. I am curious in expanding my regional knowledge of those in the lands. I cannot rely on stories anymore. So, I send this raven with my most heartfell wish we might become allies. You would benefit from a friend in the North.
Sincerely, Sansa Stark.
The North remembers, the North will always remember.
When tended with care it fills a hearth with warmth and necessity. The flames lick below a pot filled to the brim of food to be divided amongst a family. The sound of the crackling wood becomes a soothing feeling within a child that is being rocked within his mother's arms. However, when misused in the selfish nature of men, through fire and blood, it becomes the inferno of the shattered hopes and dreams. It consumes within a simple moment. The raging flames destroy everything in its wake. The anger and destruction leaving ashes falling as though it were blackened snow. The flaming red marks on skin.
Leaning back against the warm stone, the warmth seeped passed the thin layer of her blue tunic. Violet eyes watched with a love and tenderness that only a mother could bear as Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion flew back and forth through the clouds. They were the exception to fire. For her dragons were fire made flesh. An embodiment of the sweet calming nature of flames and the raging inferno of death. Like every child they had their flaws. They were only learning right from wrong at present but that made no difference. They were still children. Creatures of the old Valyria yes, but children all the same.
βWhat are you thinking about, Khaleesi?β Jorah's low voice broke her concentration from her children.
Turning her head slightly, the silver platinum locks caressing her cheeks fell before her eyes. Brushing back a strand and tucking it behind her ear she hummed softly βMy dragons.β A small smile forming at the last word.
Jorah lifted his eyes to the sky briefly before returning to lock with her own. βAre you worried for them?β
βNo. Yes.β Her voice spoke with that melodic tone as a sigh escaped her lips. βWe faced warlocks. Masters who made humans...men, women, and children slaves.β Her eyes watched as Drogon slowly lowered himself to the ground. βNone could take my children from me. No one ever will.β The steel in her tone leaving room for arguments.
Did I just send you a little snippet of my writing to get you intrigued enough to write with me... why yes, darling. I 100% did.
My name isΒ Daenerys Stormborn of theΒ House Targaryen,First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea,Breaker of Chains, andMother of Dragons.
[ Thank god for Missandei for being the amazing human she is and reading my 3 lines of titles for me! ]
But noβ while i am shamelessly seeking a writing opportunity with you, the point is I wish to create aΒ worth-wild storyline with you that is filled adventure, mystique, maybe even a modern au world. That has magic and legend with some dragons slipped in between. I hope you agree and if you do you can shoot me a message. I have a discord if that is easier for you and would be more than happy to share that your way if you wish. Let me know darling, and if not I hope you enjoy a short bit of my writing.
Winterfell was always a home to the Starks Maya knew that well enough because of all the history lessons her mother had her take, but Maya herself was never the ladt type like Sansa and when their younger siblings were born she was always protective of them more than most.Β
Robb was always out there in battles and when he was home they would spar together and she liked that. She knew of Jon of course and yet she never trated him any different than any of her other siblings because no matter what he was of their blood.Β
When Robert came to Winterfell with his new queen, her son and all the others Maya wasn't too happy about it but she kept herself quiet, always acting like the perfect lady most thought she was and so she bowed in respect to the queen and Robert when needed and hid her true feelings of course.Β
She knew of Tyrion of course and she always laughed when he slapped Joffrey to teach him a lesson, though she knew that such a thing could be dangerous for him later in life. She walked by him and the Hound now bowing gently to him and Joffrey who just nodded and laughed which made her roll her eyes.Β
Maya had her Dire Wolf by her side of course as all Starks did and she smiled sneaking out through the secret way that only she knew and she smiled once in the forest with Shadow and she laughed while playing with the young pup who was at the moment the size of a big black fog but still.Β
She smiled to herself and took out her sword that she had taken from a bandit after she killed him and the black blade gleamed in the light slightly and she smiled training herself as if she had people all around her and she smiled again. She was young a child of 12 but she was by no means anyone to mess with much like Arya though her younger sister still had a lot to learn when it came to sword fighting.Β
Maya then took out her arrows after putting her sword back in it's sheath and pointed them in the direction of the foot steps she heard coming closer and Shadow growled slightly and she smiled to this "Show yourself stranger or I will put an arrow in you" Maya wasn't one to worry about a good fight, though she had a feeling the person that was there wasn't looking for one and yet she waited to see who it was none the less.
As the light shone through the milk-glass painted windows of the temple, the blueness of non-existence peeled away what joyous color Ferra remembered of the Sealords' face. She was knelt beside him, as he lie upon a mantle carved of ivory marble. His hands were cold as she gripped them. His death was not a surprise, but it cut her just as deep. The sickness spread too quickly. Others' gathered at the Temple of Moonsingers in respects of their former ruler. Soon they would send him unto the Shivering Sea on a gig lined with copper and ash with his mouth stuffed of salt and a flaming arrow to follow. Ferrego Anteryon had been a just Sealord for Braavos and with the election of a newer Sealord at hand, Ferra had been instantly stripped her title of The First Sword of Braavos. That died with Ferrego, less the new Sealord of Braavos requested her sword. And that, is not likely. She knew. Not everyone within Braavos valued her skill with the sword as much as her father. And a cunt is less powerful than a c*ck, in most minds. But, there was no hatred towards that. She'd not trust a sword in most hands of women, but she held a unique trait - and was richly fashioned in the ways of the waterdance. The sword was her passion, and wielding it became her swift art.
She did not stay to see her father off unto the afterlife. Ferra took a boat up the Long Canal and rode the Purple Harbor towards the docks of the Sealord's Palace. The streets were vacant and the day was near expired as she climbed the steps of cold stone of the establishment and found herself wandering towards the Sealord's Chambers. Gently, she stood before the door, her eyes dripping to the floor as her hand paused in hesitance. The familiar smell of brewing spice from the heated teas her father drowned his evenings in, musked the old oak hewn door. She took an extra sniff, her eyes closed and the lightest of a smile gave birth to happy dimples on her golden cheeks. When she entered - a yawning in the room whispered a gust of air past her. Parchment fluttered and rattled, and dust swirled up in flight, and danced down and down delicately as a calming settled. Charred black ash lie cold in his braseros from his last fire and his fur still hung over the rest of his char. His absence sent a chill through her. Most times she could never get him away from that desk, and now with her wish made true - he'd never return and she resisted the brewing of despair. His chair was hard and stern beneath her as she slipped behind his desk. Amber lit the room and cascaded down, growing shadows all around her. She overlooked the parchment scattered about and lifted one lightly. It rattled in complaint and she rubbed it between her index and thumb, and traced over wax -- a broken seal. Curiosity pecked her, and her eyes fell over the wax. The color, a deep red and the outline of half an arachnid had been stamped. Her eyes followed the ink that was written, and then they widened.
"You look just as troubled as your father did - sitting in that chair." Ferra snapped the letter down as that familiar deep and forked voice chilled her. He was standing near the entry way, and the shadows were not kind to him as they made his eyes look fierce and his posture monstrous. He bore a white tunic slashed with a deep brown and Pacemaker his bronze gilded sword hung at his hip, shining even still against the dying light. Ferra knew why he was here and her patience grew thin as Tormo Frego approached the desk. His short and stocky build met the desk at the hip and his own set of curious eyes spilled upon the late Sealord's business.
"You couldn't wait until tomorrow to plant your image here?" Ferra balled a fist and imagined it against his fat bobbly cheeks.
"The fire was magnificent." Tormo insisted as he knocked on the desk, allowing a hollow thonk, thonk to echo. "You should've been there Ferrato wish your father well as he, didn't say not today to death." His mockery pushed her to her feet; the parchmentshe kept secret in her hand behind her.
"You are a man made only of mock power." Ferra stood a half foot taller than him as her eyes gleamed down. "And I am sorry for the future of Braavos, if they make the mistake of electing you, our new Sealord." She made for the door, but turned and gave him a grin. "But you'll not be rid of me so easily." She knew this would crawl beneath his skin. "I intend to extend my campaign. I will compete tomorrow for the First Sword of Braavos. Someone needs to make sure you do not run Braavos unto the sea." She marched from his company and danced down the stone stairs of the palace and found herself in the clay water gardens in a courtyard drowned in blue as night settled with a cool flare. She smirked to herself, but it was short lived as she realized that she truly would not compete. She'd been the first sword of Braavos since she was eight. Since Syrio Forel gave me his blade and taught me the water dance. The late Sword of Braavos had ended his campaign when her father had become Sealord. He took Ferra under his wing after witnessing how observant and precise she was and entrusted her with Cat's Paw a slender blade of steel with a black hilt and a silver pommel. It was swift and it cut the air like a sparrow's wings. You have a heart as wild as the sea and ambitions as brave as a cat. He had told her. I only became such, to protect my father. She realized that her campaign was over, in her heart. She'd need to find a new purpose.
The parchment letter came to mind, and she sat at a fountain and brought it under the growing moon light. Her eyes traced over the ink. Daenerys Stormborn. She and all of Braavos have heard of the struggles of the dragon queen. is in need of ships to make for homeward bound. Ferra grew curious - as was a very common notion for the people of Braavos. Curiosity ran wild through their veins. Her father always supported the Silver Queen's cause as she, herself sacked slaving cities and cut them of their shackles. She read further; Tyrion Lannister is being transported to Mereen for a chance to possibly aid in Daenerys' council It would be wise to suggest the support of Braavos, as the Braavosi have ended slavery the Northernest parts of Essos. Ferra let the parchment rest as she pondered and realized that the writer was not only suggesting support, but asking to expand the idea of the Free Cities to the south. Nine free cities stood, and many more could be born, if Braavos came in behind this Westerosi. Ferra could take a fleet and sail down the Narrow Sea and port in Meereen and offer such support. The Second Sons were under this Daario's command, she understood by the letter. An army is already there. She just needed to join the cause and surely there would be a string of victories in ending the remaining slaving cities. It could be the development of a new world, and a purpose seemed to shine bright for her yet. She grinned to herself, a light one that dappled her golden cheeks. Not long, the notion of civil war thrilled her and she drifted to sleep with her back against the cold cobblestone walls that lined the place, no longer her home. Cat's Paw gleamed sharply as the moon glittered its image on the Purple Harbor. She fell asleep there, that night
"Any chance you took some poor soul under the moon?" Ferra's eyes peeled open, only to wince as the light was anew and Leon the worm stood over her, his sandy-brown bangs in a tussle abroad his brow. Ferra rolled her eyes, and straightened up with a grin.
"Would you be envious?" She yawned and rose and stretched, only to catch the scent beneath her pits. "I need a bath." She insisted. "You could watch, for trade of your famous southern oils. I'll need to not smell like a cod's cunt when I go and show todays' crowd Cat's Paw.
"You intend to compete for"
"I intend to take a bath." Ferra cut in and ran her fingers through the blonde nest about her head. "I can find another to make the offer to." She smirked and brushed past the oil merchant.
" and I intend to help you with that!" Leon followed after her as he dipped into his pockets and thumbled the vials of oils. She lead him to a fountain near the heart of the Palace. A statue of a winged cat was perched atop a stone at its center and water flowed from the wings and from beneath its feet. Ferra sat at the brim and tested the water with her fingertips. A chill ran through her and she felt the goose prickles rise about her. With a shrug she rose and loosened the tie about her waist and began to unbutton her white linens from torso to bosom. Her eyes found Leon and she gave a sly grin as she turned and let the linen fall. A scar cut from across her back from shoulder to shoulder, but her curves were cut sharper than that, and Leon was not disappointed. Bending down slowly, Ferra took down the black hosen, leg after leg and when she was bare and naked. she dipped herself unto the fountain. She turned toward him before she sank in, her breasts were ripe and not shy to tell the temperature as her nipples were ample and erect as she succumbed to the cold.
"I'll be having that oil now " She allowed as she lied her head back and let her hair down and explode in every direction on the water's surface. Leon stumbled as he approached and sat at the brim, just so. His eyes looked over her and a ridiculous smile made him look mad. But she only grinned and closed her eyes. He gently lifted a vial of lavender over her and let loose a dozen droplets onto her body. The aroma filled the air and Ferra felt soothed. When her bath had ended, she rose from the fountain and squeezed the water from her hair. She gave Leon a kiss on his brow, gathered her rags and walked passed him, naked and up into her chambers.
She donned her lambswool trousers and her black jerkin of bronze cuts of spirals and brushed down her hair until it was good and dry. A black leather belt-and-sheath buckled snug at her hip and Cat's Paw rested proudly along her left side. She glanced at her reflection on a steel shield that rested on the mantle. She saw the eyes of her father stare back and she tried to forget him. Her eyes went down and she heaved a heady sigh and tightened a ready fist on the silver pommel of Cat's Paw. Lastly she folded the parchment letter from Mereen into her back pocket.
They were cooing and muttering and arguing as Ferra entered the council room. The room grew silent at an instant the moment her presence was noticed. She grew numb, but lifted her head proudly as she pranced forth and found her old seat, next to that empty chair. She felt Tormo's eyes on her, and she could not help but grin to herself. He really wanted a piece of her, she knew. Highly known Magisters and key holders gathered in the room and Ferra knew that they would all elect Tormo their new Sealord. He was most qualified and had been taking part in the councils since her father let out his very first cough. Her eyes scanned the others and she knew they were about to extend their condolences, but she leaned forward first cleared her throat.
"What is the first law of Braavos?" She clicked her tongue and eyed the room. Silence was still at hand and Ferra smirked and leaned back. "Does anyone know?" Silence. She shoot her head and leaner forward again, "That no man, woman or child shall ever be a slave, thrall or bondsman." She heard a few whispers crack the silence and she reached behind her and pulled the letter from her pockets and lied it on the table. "How many of you all knew about this?" She motioned to the letter, and scanned the others. Moments later she huffed a sigh. "You all are the leaders of pig-sh*t, for f*** sake." Glancing at the letter she rose and began strutting about the room. "This here is a declaration from a Pentoshi known as The Spider also goes by the name Lord Varys." She perked her eyes up for a moment before returning them to the letter. "Lord Varys, The Spider has written my father from Mereen. Seemingly as if they've been writing for some time now. Obviously Braavos has been following the occurrences of one, Silver haired queen known as Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen " She arched a curious brow and took in a deep breath. "..the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Mereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea." She paused and looked around the room and smirked. "Here's my favorite part." She cleared her throat; "Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons." She let the parchment letter down and wiped her brow dramatically. "That is some name. Some name and some cause."
"What are you getting at, Ferra?" Tormo seemed amused as he crossed his arms atop his belly.
"What am I getting at?" She mocked. "Honestly do you not know?" She sat down with a thump and crossed her legs and leaned back. "First of all, this Westerosi has done a better job at eliminating slavery in Essos than we've been doing. Should we not see this as an inspiration to aid in her cause. Quite frankly I'm a bit surprised that we've not already taken part in aiding the Dragon Queen. Apparently this Varys has been suggesting aid for some time, as it appears in this letter. It seems either my father has not brought this up to the council, or the council has had this brought up and advised against it. All because our focuses are now on monies and trade." She shook her head. "I'm rather frustrated with where our eyes are turned towards. I do not intend on remaining in Braavos." Ferra could feel the relief brew off Tormo. "But I do intend on answering Mereen's call for aid, and Braavos will help Daario Nahris in Mereen to sweep away the remaining slaving cities in Essos." At an instant the council began to mutter amongst themselves. She smirked and sat back.
"You intend, by yourself to do this?" Tormo questioned.
" with a fleet." Ferra corrected. "You'll not deny me my fleet. My ships and I will sail down the Narrow Sea and meet Daario and his army of Second Sons in Mereen. I intend to help craft an entire free world out of Essos. We've forgotten what the foundation of Braavos was built on. Freedom." She noticed that she had captured interest as most of the men pondered. "I retire my claim as First Sword of Braavos." She nodded. "But I will always be a waterdancer, and my skill in combat will be taken to Mereen and I will extend my campaign where it is needed."
"Your father would be proud of you." Tormo admitted and looked amongst the others. "And she is right. We should not ignore the request for aid in the South. Nine Free cities have been the staple of our essence. It is time we follow the example of the young dragon queen and extend her rebellion for freedom. I say aye, let us release Ferra Antaryon unto a campaign in the South with her fleet." Ferra grinned and arched her brow toward the others of the council
Fifty ships lie anchored in the Purple Harbor as dawn was at hand, painting the sky with arbor gold and rose reds of cherry wine. Ferra smirked as she glanced up at her flag; a white seahorse on a sea of teal. Her fleet was ready and she had many good men that supported her cause, or more so the first law of Braavos. A month's journey was at hand and she planned to keep them all good and healthy, so her personal monies went to purchasing bales of pickled herring, crab cogs and barrels of apples. Most of their meals would come from the sea, but provisions were richly stocked. She also managed to supply all ships with malt brew, enough to last a few months, granted the men didn't overdo it. Oh and don't forget the rum. She would never
The journey was a celebration. She and her men drank most of the time. Her ship; The Waterdancer was the fastest and lead the fleet against any storm the Narrow Sea threw at them. She fancied a new man every night to keep the boredom at bay. She'd lasso him with a rope and drag him unto her cabin where they'd make sweet love. One night when a night-storm rocked the ship violently, Ferra had taken a young deck lad into her care. She ripped the clothes from him and threw him against the walls and pounced on him like a cat. She could not recall the whole thing, but she did remember him weeping as she roughed him up some. She roared as she rocked him fiercer than the waves outside and left bruises on his neck where she gripped on the apple of his throat. Rum makes me wild. She knew, but kept it handy.
When the months' journey had ended at Pentos , the air was hot and heavy and the air was humid and wet. It made for ill entry as the lot of them were recovering from their drunken journey and many of her men fell ill of the climate change. She herself was a bit dragged as the sweat glistened against her bronze skin. Journey's end was signaled by the sight of the massive pyramid they headed towards. South. She observed. It was much more of a savage place than she was used to. As they pulled in, Ferra allowed her men to remain on their ships until the buzz left their senses. She would take a boat to shore and seek out this Varys and the infamous Tyrion Lannister. I will have to be carefull with that one. Lannisters are tricky things. She'd meet them and invite them aboard her ship where they would continue to Mereen. She bore a light jerkin of black and beige. Her company of five were her most trusted swords, despite the fact that she could very well hold her own.
"Well. . .Alright." The warrior replied. Tyrion's personality was quite becoming and Xena soon found herself nodding in agreement to his supposed game. His confidence had already given away one previously unknown detail about himself. He had at least one sister. Xena suspected she might have known who his sister was, having met her in the past and even defended her against a dragon attack. Strange, Cersei Lannister never mentioned having a brother or any other siblings. Their relationship must have been strained to say the least. If she were honest with herself, Xena also had a strained relationship with her older brother. They had never really spent any time together, away from Lyceus or their parents. Maybe if they had, things would be different. She had been told that her poker face was quite the skilled one and it was unfortunate that she didn't gamble more often. If she did, her pockets would be quite filled with gold. If they were playing for drinks, she wasn't sure how long she would last but had a feeling that he could best her. "What is your first question about me?"
Gods, I am so sorry for lack of reply. I've been severely busy. Anyway - I can send a starter. Would you be okay if we run into plot points as we write. Sometimes it makes for a more epic adventure when things unveil themselves. Ferra Aavalo Antaryon THE FIRST SWORD OF BRAAVOS
"Toris, he was my younger brother." Xena said. "He was my best friend until that day when our village was raided. I still remember the way he fought, so sure that nothing bad would happen. I was the one who asked him to join me in protecting Amphipolis. We were both teenagers at the time." She had spoken the name of the only person she had bonded with during her childhood. Truth be told, she did have one older brother but she and Lyceus had never gotten along. They pretended to so the youngest of the family wouldn't be upset. When they were alone, it was as if two wild beasts were backed into corners, starved and then shown to one another. The memories were too much to do deal with without the aid of alcohol, which is why she had downed her mug in a matter of seconds. Something about the dwarf with the mismatched eyes were comforting, though she had no idea why. He was kind, not automatically judgmental, which was something she greatly appreciated. The last person she had spoken to about her siblings was Gabrielle and they were no longer on good terms with one another.
"Drinking games?" Xena asked, considering what he could possibly mean by such a thing. The wench had heard the mention of a game and immediately went off to fetch a pitcher of what she could tell was straight beer. In her village, this meant quick intoxication and not something she would have normally agreed to do. Something about this man kept her rooted to her seat. She inclined her head, trying to keep her blue hues or her ruby lips from giving away anything. She had developed a poker face, thanks to dealing with the likes of the God of War and the Goddess of Love, Ares and Aphrodite respectively. If one let their guard down around either one of them, they would have paid with their life. When the mugs and pitcher was situated on the table and the sides brought upwards and locked in place to allow more room, she withdrew a few gold pieces from one of her pockets and laid them on the table. "Do you mean in the form of bets because I can spare this? What do you think?"
Xena considered the option he had given her and smiled, nodding once. The sound of the man's guards taking care of the people who had caused the faint disturbance was enough to drown out any audible reply she might have offered. The bartender had been eavesdropping on their conversation it would seem, before only a few seconds later a frosted mug of ale was placed in front of her. She accepted it and gave a smile to Tyrion over the rim of it before taking a few swallowed. The alcohol was stronger than anything she had tasted in the past few weeks and it burned her throat, though she was thankful for the warming sensation that traveled down to her stomach. The men returned, one of them wiping blood away from the sharpened edge of his sword with a cloth. Once he was satisfied that it was clean, he tucked it away in his belt once more and took a seat at a table behind Tyrion. Still not sure who he was, she watched them warily just as they seemed to be watching her. The only thing she knew for sure was that he was kind and commanded a certain level of respect that she hoped to always have at her disposal should she need it.
"That is a nice name. My brother had a similar name." She paused, staring into her alcohol as the memories came rushing back. She pushed them down with another mouthful of the drink. "So, what are you doing here? Passing through town or looking for someone? Those are the most common answers I have heard." She explained. The bartender seemed interested in the answer as well but Xena gave him a look which suggested that she would smack him with her chakram if he didn't leave them alone to talk in peace. Once he was at the other side of the bar, she leaned in close to him to whisper, "You may find some trouble if you go too far North. There is a village which is planning an attack soon. I think they are going after someone by the name of Lannister. I have never heard of that family or where they come from but these people really hate them. I was nearly hauled off to their dungeons because they thought I knew something about them."
Glorious! Particularly a storyline set aside during Tyrion's travels to Meereen from Pentos with Lord Varys. I have my character; Ferra Antaryon at that time struggling with her position as First Sword of Braavos as her father, Ferrego Antaryon -- the Sealord of Braavos is declining in heath. She, however is insisting on launching her own fleet towards Meereen to aid the Dragon Queen in her quest for conquering the slaving cities. Braavos itself is founded on freedom and Ferra sees this as an opportunity to act and perhaps abolish slavery in Essos for good. That would be the main focus of Ferra's ambitions.