Ballroom Sirus, CharlotteCarrendar, collaboration, creative, dragon, fantasy, Joffrey, King Sirus, LadyBelz, Mirari, music, Prince Joffrey, Prince Sirus, roleplay, royal, Tempest Storm, wedding, writing
Sirus needed no other prompting, pulling Tempest into his arms and kissing her deeply, The applause from those watching was slightly muffled to her ears as her sole attention was focused on her husband. She smiled against his lips as a feeling of absolute happiness suffused her soul.
The Bridal March began to play and Sirus withdrew, linking her arm through his as they made their way down the aisle. Seeing her Aunt Clarice clapping and cheering, was all the inspiration Tempest needed to hand the youngest queen in Casterly history the bouquet she’d been holding and placing a kiss upon her brow as she did so.
Sirus lead her to the center of the ballroom and seemed to have another surprise for her as he held her in his arms.
“I’ve been practicing. he grinned as the music began to play.
“I didn’t know you couldn’t dance.” she giggled. He gave her a boyish grin as he began the steps of their first dance to swirl them around the room.
Arianna stayed behind to supervise the arrangements for Sirus’s coronation.
The Archbishop strolled into the room, holding a cushion upon which rested a crown, the same crown Leifold wore when he was crowned. It was only fitting his son do the same.
“As you requested, Your Majesty. Cleaned and polished to your specifications.”
“Thank you Lord Bishop. The coronation ceremnoy will begin in a few hours.”
“Why not now?” he wondered.
“My son just married, My Lord. I will not begrudge him time with his new mate. Let them enjoy their moment.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” he bowed before moving off to supervise the other arrangements.
As Tempest was whirled and twirled around the room, her thoughts moved in another direction and she felt her face flush. It would be the first time she’d ever been with a man on an intimate level and she was nervous, scared and thrilled at the same time. She knew there would be some pain involved as he took her virginity, but she wanted to be his completely.
Sirus spun Tempest around the dance floor, her dress swirling as he did his best to not stand on her feet or her gown. He was pretty chuff, as he internally counted the steps, after spending hours with Willow, learning how to dance. She was off on the side, giving the thumbs up as he passed, before taking some small nibbles off a tray that was being carried by a royal staffer.
Clarice was dancing with Nanny off on the side out from the view of all the adults that were watching the royal couple. Clarice was very impressed with Nanny’s skill but asked. “Do they have boy Kings, Nanny?” Now this was a question that stopped Nanny in her tracks. “Boy Kings? Uhm…not that I know of, your Highness.” Clarice pouted, and then said. “That’s okay, I can always marry my turtle, Togs.” Nanny chuckled at that idea, and thought he might make a better husband. Least he never answers back.
The Prince noticed the flushed appearance of Tempest’s face, and got the wrong idea. “If you wish to rest, we can take a walk out on the balcony.” He offered, thinking that Tempest was over heating.
“Oh no! I’m fine love. I was just…um…thinking about….things…” she murmured, her face going as red as a tomato.
She hid her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn’t know what she was thinking about as they continued to waltz around the room.
On the outskirts, Pyres watched the two of them, envious. Sirus did not deserve her. The boy-prince thought he was in love with the hybrid? Never! Pyres was sure Tempest was everything he’d ever wanted: powerful, impressionable, and beautiful. All the things he coveted.
“You will be mine, Princess of Brax.” he whispered to himself. He turned on his heel and strode from the room. He couldn’t bear to watch her with Sirus for one more moment. He had plans to revise.
An almighty roar shook the castle, scaring men and women alike and a moment later, Philippe appeared in the center of the ballroom. Tempest stopped dancing immediately, forcing Sirus to do the same less he trip.
“Warm greetings to you, Tempest Storm and to you as well Lord Sirus.” Philippe’s deep voice rang throughout the room.
“Philippe! Not that I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” she smiled brightly.
“I wished to impart my own blessings to you and your mate upon this joyous occasion.” Philippe stated. Drawn by the commotion, Arianna appeared and nearly froze in shock upon spotting the large dragon crowding her ballroom. He spotted her and gave her a bow with his large head. “Blessed tidings, Arianna of Laegess.”
“Blessed tidings, Mighty Dragon.” Arianna stated.
“Philippe.” Arianna nodded. “What brings you to us?”
“I have watched over Tempest since she was a young child. I have been her mentor, her protector and her friend. I think of her also as the daughter I never had and I have come to give her and your son my blessings on their union.” Tempest had been unaware of Philippe’s fatherly feelings toward her and it brought tears to her eyes.
“And I have always thought of you as a father-figure.” Tempest smiled, placing her hand upon a large, scaly forepaw. Philippe bowed his head, nuzzling against Tempest’s shoulder.
“May your union be happy and fruitful. May you rule with wisdom and kindness for all peoples of all races. And if you should be blessed with children, may they all flourish under the love the two of you have shared here this day.” With that, Philippe shot a blast of fire at both Sirus and Tempest, scaring one poor woman into a dead faint. Though the flames were hot, they did not burn. The flames swirled around them both, pulling them together until with a burst of firelight, exploded over their heads, raining faint lights upon them.
“What was that?” Arianna gasped, a hand clutched to her chest in near-fright. Philippe looked at her.
“My gift to them. I will not say what it is. That is something they shall discover on their own.” And with that, Philippe vanished from the room.
Sirus stood in awe of the majesty that was Phillipe, the dragon friend and mentor of his bride. Last time he had encountered the great dragon was on the battlefields, where the words spoken were of a prophecy and one that this day was being fufilled for the betterment of all realms that fought for goodness and light. Naturally, his Mother got a huge fright from both seeing and hearing the dragon as it made his entrance at a time when the couple were enjoying the bridal waltz. Tempest came to an abrupt halt, and this almost had Sirus trip on his own feet, but he steadied himself in a blink.
“Warm greetings to you, Tempest Storm and to you as well Lord Sirus.” The dragon said in a voice that had a very thick accent. “Salutations Phillipe. “
Sirus released his hold on his bride, so that she may and go greet her old and dearest friend. Standing with his hands now behind his back, he watched on with a twinkling in his eyes, to see Tempest so happy to have her friend there to share in the festivities of the night. Arianna joined the conversation, much as one would expect. Not everyday your ballroom plays host to a dragon, and one as large as Phillpe. The dragon explained that he had watched over the young Tempest since she was young, and thought of her in a fatherly way. This must have been news for Tempest, who was seen to wipe a tear away – one of joy.
The young future King walked up alongside his bride, as the dragon announced he wished to bestow upon them both a gift. Fire blasted from the mighty dragon, dousing both the Bride and Groom in the powerful flames, which surprisingly didn’t even hurt at all. The spectacle was marveled by the guests, whose chorus of Oohs and Aaahs grew louder as the flames became intense. Swirling around them both and drawing the couple together as it exploded into a burst of firelight that rained down over their heads.
Seconds after this magical event, the dragon simply vanished from view. No word as to what the fire storm meant, but no doubt it was something that both Sirus and Tempest would have them connected forever more.
Seeing his mother clutching her chest in fear, Sirus simply waved at her.
“We’re fine…cept, I still see spots before my eyes.”
Smiling herself, Arianna stepped forward, touching her son’s arm.
“As much as I hate to break up the happy moment…it is time, my son, to take your rightful place as King. The question is…are you ready?” she wondered, looking him in the eye. If he said he wasn’t ready, she would not push him into it. His happiness and well-being were more important then him taking the Crown.
Tempest took Sirus’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, letting him know that whatever decision he made right then, she would stand at his side.
Before all of this, the Prince had been unsure if he would be the right man to lead the people of Wintervine into the future. He had always believed that his mother Arianna would do so until her death, only he didn’t realize that her death hinged on him becoming King. She had stayed in the role of the Queen against her health and that of her own wishes to join her beloved King, until such time as Sirus was ready.
That time…was now.
“Are you ready?” His mother, the Queen asked, not wanting to interrupt the joyous moment between Tempest and her son. Sirus reached for his mother’s hand and kissed it softly, his eyes warm and the colour of the bluest sky. “I am now…now that I have my adored wife at my side. Together we can do anything.”
Those words said heralded the sound of trumpets to announce that the Coronation room was ready, and the guests and wellwishers from the wedding, had started to make their way into the large hall, where at the top of the room was a large dias that held a chair that was over 1000 years old. This chair was the same one used by Sirus’s father and his father before him. The long line of Laegess Kings had been crowned on that chair.
Sirus bowed before his beloved Tempest and reached for her hand, as squires attatched long red robes to each the new Princess and would be King.
Grand doors opened, and the sound of the choir’s voice was raised in song to welcome the future King and his bride.
Together the two would walk through the ceremonial doors, past family, friends, servants and the court, as they approached the dias. An ensemble of notable clergy in golden robes awaited them, one holding a tray that had two crowns. Sirus and Tempest would climb the stairs, then each turn to be seated, as the Elder of the Clergy came before them and asked both to make their solemn vows and oaths of service.
“Do you, Prince Sirus of Laegess, and Princess Tempest of Laegess solemnly swear, to serve and protect the peoples of Wintervine, its allies and all that live beneath the banner of Wintervine?”
Sirus held his chin high and said:
“I so solemnly swear it.”
Days had passed and turned into nights of cold and blustering wind. Prince Joffrey of Brax was now flying with no real sense of direction. Lost, and without home, nor family to speak of – he was a wandering ghoul. A demon that once led great armies into battle, had a wife and daughter who were god knows where, and a father who sat on the throne that was his at one point. In his drunken haze, he gave back the throne, called his step mother some choice things, befriended a cat devil man, and then wound up sharing a mermaid slut on a beach with no name.
But that was before, dear ones. Now the demon lord was barely able to keep in the sky. His wings having grown tired, and the colour of his body starting to change back to that paleness of a human. He couldn’t keep going…not at this rate. A crack of lightning sent spiriting down from the heavens had not only scared him stupid, it caused him to go into a tail spin, and plummet to earth, where a chicken coop was awaiting to cushion his fall.
~BANG CRASH CLUCK CLUCK…COCK A DOODLE…SLINTER….Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawnnn….CRASH!~
That was of course not exactly a text book landing…but at least the Prince didn’t break every bone in his body. It just felt that way. Coughing up a mouth ful of feathers, the transformed Prince staggered out of the ruined hen house. His hair matted and dotted with chicken shit, his clothes…oh…his clothes.
Yes, in his transformation, he…shed his clothes. Now, he was starkers in the midst of what looked to be a small farm. It couldn’t get worse…could it?
~Rain starts to pitter patter to the ground~
In the hills of Wintervine, scattered through the lands, various farms and homes dotted the countryside. At one such farm, a lonely woman lived. No one knew her origins. One day she just appeared and had been a resident from there on out. She did not cause issue with the others. She usually kept to herself, away from the prying eyes of her neighbors.
But there were few who took advantage of her, because she was a blind woman. Though she could not see, she could hear and feel and always knew when someone was on her lands. She had caught many of the village boys trying to sneak onto her farm and steal her eggs from her chickens and milk from her cows.
Thalia of Anvindr had many hidden talents and she was not to be messed with.
That afternoon, she could smell the coming storm in the air and tended to her cows first so their milk wouldn’t go off. As the storm approached, lightning flashed and she heard the distinct sound of something crashing followed by the frantic squwaks of her chickens in her chicken house. Taking up her pitchfork, she quickly made her way over, instantly dodging a rock that had always been on her path.
Brandishing the pitchfork like a weapon, she entered the hen house, just as the rains started to fall.
“State your business or be run through, you thieving little shites!” she snapped, shaking her garden impliment.
It was one thing to fall from the sky and crash head first into a chicken coop. It was another to suddenly have a pitchfork thrust in your face by a girl who by all descriptions looked to be completely blind. At first, the Demon Lord was unsure what was the best course of action. She was liable to run him through without realizing it. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to remain calm even though all around him was the wreckage of her chicken coop, and the odd chicken.
“Forgive me, fair…maiden, but it is I that fell through your chicken coop. Yes, dropped from great height and..it broke my fall.” Now, he waved his hand just a bit to see if her pupils moved to follow it. They didn’t. Well, at least she wouldn’t be able to see that he was butt naked, nor who he actually was. Not that he expected people in a far off land such as this to recognize the Crown Prince of Brax, but you never know.
“I have traveled…very far and I am at a loss to even know where I am. But, if you will allow me shelter, I will gladly repair the damage to your chicken coop, and then be on my way.” He was hopeful this would appease, since it was starting to get cold with the onset of the rains that were already falling.
Thalia had been expecting adolescent mumbling and childish fidgeting. She had not been expecting the deep cultured and weary voice to flow over her.
“Forgive me, fair…maiden, but it is I that fell through your chicken coop. Yes, dropped from great height and..it broke my fall.” a man spoke. As she couldn’t see, she didn’t know he was of royal birth. “I have traveled…very far and I am at a loss to even know where I am. But, if you will allow me shelter, I will gladly repair the damage to your chicken coop, and then be on my way.”
They say when losing one sense, the others are heightened significantly. This was true for Thalia. Over the years, she had this uncanny ability to decern the truth. She could hear the truth in the man’s voice, and she could also hear his teeth chattering as the cold rains fell around them, soaking them to the bone. She withdrew her pitchfork.
“You speak true, stranger. I shall give you shelter and a place to sleep before you continue on your way. Follow me.” With unerring accuracy, she threw her pitchfork into a bale of hay, where it stood upright. She turned and easily made her way back to her home.
The fire was banked high as she lead him inside and she waited for him to enter before she closed the door against the elements. She handed him a wool blanket. “It might be a tad coarse but it is warm and will dry you while I search for some dry clothing. Please, sit and warm yourself by the fire.” she told him as she made her way to the second floor of her home.
Half expecting the blind woman to start poking Joffrey with the pitchfork, he was somewhat surprised when she said that he spoke the truth. It was true, every word for he really didn’t need to lie. He did fall from the sky and crush her chicken coop. But the adding of the chill to the air, made his teeth chatter so and this alerted the blind woman that her unusual guest was suffering from the cold.
“You speak true, stranger. I shall give you shelter and a place to sleep before you continue on your way. Follow me.”
Stepping over a dead chicken, he frog hopped after the blind woman, whose accuracy with her pitch fork throwing skills proved to be a little too intimidating. She might not be able to see, but damn she was a good shot. Following along behind and trailing chicken shit in his wake as it fell from his hair and body, he reached what was a very humble little farm house. He was almost about to ask if people actually lived in these dwellings, but thought better of it, when she opened the door, and he felt the heat that was coming from within. Warmth, fire. What a blessing to a naked man.
As she closed the door behind him, the Demon Lord bowed politely even though she couldn’t see and then thanked her kindly for the offer of the coarse woolen blanket. It was rough alright, like it had been spun from a camel’s scrotum hair. But, you never kick a gift horse in the teeth, and Joffrey draped it around himself, before planting his ass down before the fire.
The fire was well staked up and he felt the generous warmth of its heat as he held out his hands. He could only imagine what he looked like. Pretty darn poorly. Once a Prince, now..a pauper. There was a low rumble in his belly, from days without food or drink. He had to wonder if there was a chance of a meal, if that was not too much to ask. Then he thought, could she even cook? So many questions now, and then he thought to do the honourable thing. To introduce himself.
“I..really can’t thank you enough, M’lady. I am…Joffrey…Joffrey..of…the…” at this he paused and wondered if he should admit he was from the night lands. Had she even heard of him? He sighed and then said …..Joffrey…of the Nightlands.”
As she was rummaging around for clothes for the stranger, she could hear him below as her home was pretty much one open area.
“I..really can’t thank you enough, M’lady. I am…Joffrey…Joffrey..of…the…” she heard him say, heard the pause in his voice, “…..Joffrey…of the Nightlands.”
“No need to be so formal, Joffrey. My name is Thalia and I hold no such airs here. I am a simply farm woman, living a simple life.” she announced, finding what she was searching for in a trunk in the corner beside her bed. She grabbed a couple of garments and headed back downstairs, easily dodging a low sitting table and a stool. She handed him a bundle of clothing. “These were my father’s. I cannot judge your size so I am hoping they fit you enough to warm you.”
She heard a faint rumble and resisted the urge to grin. She knew that wasn’t thunder. “If you give me but a moment, I was about to serve myself some dinner. You are welcome to join me.” She turned and headed for her kitchen area where she had a large pot of stew simmering over a cooking pit. She easily poured two bowlfuls, setting them on the table. She moved around like a woman used to doing such things on a daily basis, blind or not. Taking up a knife, she cut up some bread and placed it in the center of the table. To finish, she took up the jug of water she’d gotten from the well earlier in the day and poured two cups, setting them and eating utensils on the table.
“Please, come and join me for a meal.” she stated, moving to take her seat.
Formality by way of speaking merely came from upbringing, and so to be told that there was no need to be formal with the farm maiden was yet another smack of reality of how far he had fallen. The kindly woman’s name was Thalia and she was one that held pride in not displaying false airs. She lived a simple life, simply. Joffrey had never known of such an existence, and this was going to take some getting used too. His compass in life was broken, beyond repair. There was no returning to Night lands, nor to the Vaas, where they would string him up for murder.
Handed a bundle of clothing from the blind woman, Joffrey was about to ask what they were, but then the blind woman informed him they were her father’s and that she hoped they fit. Lifting up the shirt, then the pants, they were a little on the small size, but Joffrey made the effort to put them on and be gracious to his hostess. He looked like he had stepped out of a time a hundred years before, and the colours. Joffrey did up the shirt and tried to tuck in his pants, but it all came undone, exposing his belly. Ah yes, that belly of his was also making calls of its own, much to the knowledge of the farm maiden; Thalia.
“If you give me but a moment, I was about to serve myself some dinner. You are welcome to join me.”
Stew, bubbling in a pot over the in the kitchen. The first real meal that Joffrey had had in probably a week. He was famished and joined her at the dining table, which was a fine example of what one can do with bits of an old tree. The bowl placed in front of him as he sat, he gave a weak smile, feeling just awful about eating this woman’t food, but his hunger overtook that. Dunking a piece of bread in the bowl, he brought the moist morsel to his lips and ate heartily. It tasted so good, he grunted like a pig in the trough, devouring the meal in a trice. So much for manners.
Finishing, he let out a loud belch and patted his now swollen tummy.
“I feel I should repay you for your kindness, Thalia. How can I be of help to you?”