Another Call to Arms

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 The Griffin atop the Golden Tree, Tag: Alynne/Faith
 direct link • Aug 14 2017, 03:57 am
• • 0 posts

Alester had agreed for the wedding to take place in the Stormlands, There was no need for a march back to Goldengrove for the wedding, Especially during a war. He had requested that he stay sepereated from his bride till the night of the wedding and Ronnet was in no place to argue. Alester was paying for more than half of the wedding and had been making as many major decisions about the event as he could. Shifting each little detail to perfection. The minor symbolism of where his table Knights were standing and the way that the Vigilants would wheel and bend the knee and swear new vows to their new lady and reafirm loyalties to Alester. Alester had even gone to as far as too choose what brooch's Lord Ronnet would wear, Much to his protest of another Lord choosing his clothing for him. Everything was a piece in his game of power.

Alester had taken a look over his room and decided that Lord Ronnet would stand next to Alynne and her ladies in waiting when they entered instead of the first seat on the right. Alester stood at the top of the three steps to the altar, The Captain of his guard on the third step, His Castellan on the second, The Knight Paladin on the third and a two of his guard stood on his side, One who would take the place of the Knight who protected Alynne on her walk to Alester. Alester honestlt hadn't spent much time of thinking of her, He was told she was pretty enough.

Alester looked over himself once more in the mirror, His squire polishing his sword once more and a maid of House Connington polishing his boots. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The sword of House Rowan was a beautiful piece of Castle Forged Steel. Alester wore a dark blue velvet doublet, black breeches and black knee high boots, A fur piece adorned his shoulders and his jet black oiled leather sheath showed the shine of his sword once the squire had passed it back to him, watching not to smudge it again. Alester would spare no expense in makings sure that this was a show or Rowan power and future supremacy in the Stormlands political scene. He soon made his way to the altar, a black gloved hand resting on his sword as he entered the room, He was one of the senior commanders and most probably the next Master of War for the Reach.

"Lord Alester Rowan, Lord of House Rowan, Lord of the City of Golden Grove, Lord of the Castle of Golden Grove, Lord of the Villages and towns of Metinna, Ebbing and Gemmera, Marshall of King Mace Tyrell's Forces, Marshall of the Northmarch, the White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Enemies, Lord of the Vigilants of the North March, Protector of House Osgrey and House Webber, Decedent of Garth the Greenhand through decedency from Rowan Gold-tree, Eldest Daughter of Garth the Greenhand, First King of the Reach." Alester had wanted to originally go with the long version but the short version would have to suffice with the timing's he had planned for the night. It hadn't hit him till he was in place, what would his wife look like? He hoped she would be as beautiful as Lord Ronnet had spent a considerable amount of time talking up. But her blood line was enough to keep him happy. His Castellan soon gave a nod to the leader of the Music Trope and they began their song. Alester looked down breathing out before looking up.

Music - Outfit
 direct link • Aug 17 2017, 11:38 pm
• • 0 posts

When the idea had first been proposed that she be married in the Stormlands rather than travel to the Reach for her wedding, Alynne had been grateful. She might be marrying an unfamiliar man, but at least she would be surrounded by the only home she had ever known.

Not long after their guests' arrival, however, her feelings were leaning much closer to resentment and annoyance. Her soon to be husband wished to remain separate from her until the ceremony, Ronnet said. She was required to be absent from the feast held to celebrate their guests' arrival. She could barely leave her chambers without her maids fussing at her incessantly to return, lest Lord Rowan happen upon her and be displeased. She had taken to spending hours perched in her window, watching the commotion as everyone in the keep prepared for the wedding and subsequent celebrations. Alynne couldn't remember the last time the castle had been this animated. Knights strode to and fro, some stopping in the practice yard to spar with the visiting Knights of the Reach. A steady stream of servants flowed from the hall, making last minute preparations for the wedding feast.

Through it all, Alynne had been remarkably calm for a maiden about to be wed. Her nerves had been much worse before the betrothal, when Ronnet was in the process of considering matches for her. Alynne hated unknowns, and she had been glad when the matter was officially settled and the engagement announced. She had immediately set about finding as much information on Lord Alester Rowan as possible. She had to admit it was a good match. Lord Rowan was comparatively young, and had conducted himself well in war. His House was a powerful one, in good standing amongst Mace Tyrell's bannermen. From what she had managed to learn, Alynne knew that Alester Rowan was a skilled lord, but she wondered what kind of man he would prove to be.

Her last hours as an unmarried woman seemed to disappear, and soon she was being laced into her gown. The garment was one of the only parts of the whole affair she had been involved in, and its design had been carefully thought out. The cloth was Connington crimson, but flowers of the Reach and the oak branches of House Rowan had been carefully wrought in the expensive beadwork. Bathed, dressed, and perfumed with her usual notes of vanilla and cinnamon, Alynne pushed her softly waved hair back off her collarbone. She worried briefly that Lord Rowan would be disappointed in her appearance, but she quickly realized that his refusal to meet her beforehand left him few options for backing out now, unless he wished to jilt her at the altar.

She met her brothers outside the sept, where their guests were already gathered. Raymund, always a man of few words, simply kissed her cheek and went inside to take his place. Ronnet placed the maiden's cloak gently around her shoulders. The deep red cloak, emblazoned with a white griffin and trimmed with pure white feathers, had been carefully preserved and passed down for generations. Her eldest brother let his hands rest on her shoulders, and met her gaze. "My darling sister. I hope you know that I pray the gods bring you only happiness, and many blessings." Alynne smiled and kissed his cheek. She had always been closest with Ronnet, who had done his best to ensure her well-being. She worried about who would take care of them when she was gone away to Goldengrove. Although she was the youngest, she had always felt responsible for them both in some ways.

Her thoughts were broken as they heard her betrothed's titles announced across the sept. She laid her hand over her brother's arm and they entered the holy building as the music swelled. She lifted her chin proudly and bared her shoulders back as she took in the room.

A Lord of the Reach, indeed, she thought, taking in the carefully organized scene. Her eyes swept over the room, missing nothing. She observed the Lords of the Stormlands, trying to see what they thought of her future husband. She knew these men, and knew it would take more than a grandly orchestrated affair to earn their respect. Still, Lord Rowan had been wise to include his Vigilants of the North March. There was little they respected more than cold steel and strong men, and her betrothed had both to display.

Finally, her notorious grey eyes landed on her soon to be husband as he lifted his gaze. He made a handsome figure in the soft light of the sept, and she took in every detail, trying to garner as much information as she could from her first glimpse of him. As they reached the altar, Ronnet squeezed her hand and let go, before removing her maiden's cloak and retreating to the side. She turned to face her almost husband as a breeze brushed against her now exposed back.

The septon's words were familiar and yet completely foreign to her as he opened his hands and said, "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." She finally remembered to smile softly at the unfamiliar man across from her, not wanting to appear cold.

 direct link • Jan 03 2018, 11:39 pm
28 years
ASHLEY • she/her • 1876 posts

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