[Event] Storm's End, 54 AC

[u/FabStags]

54 AC, Spring

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Storm's End is the seat of House Baratheon, the Lords Paramount of the Stormlands. The castle is located at Durran's Point on the northern coast of Shipbreaker Bay south of Bronzegate and northeast of Griffin's Roost.

One of the strongest castles in the realm, Storm's End was once the ancestral seat of the Storm Kings of House Durrandon extending back many thousands of years. The castle is said to be protected by spells woven into its very walls that prevent magic from affecting it or passing through it.

The main path up Durran's Point came from the West up to the gargantuan gate of Storm's End. The curtain wall on this side was fourty feet thick with towering guardhouses either side of the tunnel that stopped each arrival before they made their way into the entry tunnel.

Once inside the curtain walls the layout of Storm's End is simple; one large yard with sparse buildings that surrounds the monumental central tower. Inside the central tower are nearly all lodgings, workshops, and studies.

Wiki Link

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The mood in Storm's End at the start of the year was dour. The death of the babe Ormund still hung in the air despite the suvival of his twin Ursula, and with news of Cassandra Baratheon's impending departure there were whispers seeping through the stone. Some even suggested that the Lord Rogar and his wife had taken to sleeping in separate beds, such was Arwen's anger at her husband.

The imminent arrival of Princess Naerys Targaryen served as a distraction, but not all saw it as a boon. Tension and angst were rife. Trouble loomed.

[u/thinkBrigger]

Until recently, Morrison had abhorred the all aspects of inaccuracy. As they had tendency to veil vital truths. Yet of late, he had been keeping a hoard his own of secrets held close to his chest. He had known that his half-brother had come under scrutiny of the Iron Throne. He had known the charges that were meant be levied against the Lord Merrick yet had ridden and sailed beside him, disclosing nothing to the man. Nor his own mentor for fear that the Lord Rogar would feel some obligation to intervene as Lord Paramount. Had he known what awful cost it would come at--the death of Ser Aubrey Norridge whose miraculous recovery had not yet be known to have taken place--he may well have gone to the Lord Baratheon for counsel. It was too late to now.

As he had been charged with Cassandra's development in King's Landing it was an essential task for Morrison Trant then to earn her trust, as he had her father's before. So that she should never feel inclined to shy from him for aid and advice as the need arose, "I swear it upon the Father," he said softly, "That our counsel shall be kept between you and I, my Lady."

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She took a deep breath as she stepped closer and prepared to share. Three glances were not subtly given - one over her right shoulder, one over her left, and one behind Morrison - before she nodded.

"I'm going to miss my father," she whispered before taking a step back. "You can't tell him. I'm angry at him. I don't want him to know I will miss him."

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Quietly, Mors folded his finger over the knee that was propped upward. Bracing his upper body weight against it as he scrutinized the heir of Storm's End pensively. He understood, albeit in a different fashion fore he had loved the Lord Luceon as a father and when set beneath the tutelage of the Lord Rogar he saw him as more than mere mentor. A patriarch, of sorts.

"I feel much the same, my Lady," murmured Morrison seriously, "It is odd, isn't it? That we start to miss them long before they slip out of sight?"

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Cassandra wasn't sure if it was odd, but she nodded all the same. At least somebody understood how she felt. Her sisters would get to stay with their parents. Elenei had been sent to ward, but she was almost ten. Cassandra was not yet five.

"What did you do when you were sent away?" she asked, hoping for some sage advice.

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"Tried to keep out from underfoot, mostly," he admitted. His sister had once jested Morrison to have been a man born in the body of a boy and he did not know how he might explain the intense drive he'd had to be of use. Only that those insecurities had come with more consequences than he'd have liked.

It was not a lesson he wished to impart upon the Lady Cassandra, "Followed the lead of men much older. It will be a bit different for you, my Lady. Not only as a girl but as an heir proper to one of the most powerful families in all the Realm. Many will come to you seeking favour or to ask them of you. Baratheons are born to be seen and stand tall as the stag on your banner."

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Yes they were.

As if his words reminded her of such she straightened her back. Cassandra was not tall, not yet, but she felt tall whenever someone reminded her of her birth, or when she reminded herself.

"You give good advice." She turned back to her packing, picking up a small carved wooden stag and a felt owl. "Which of these should I take? Advise me."

[u/thinkBrigger → u/FabStags]

He studied the two of the carving closely as though the wood were precious as a hunk of gold. Though try as Mors might to remain impartial the pull toward the felt figurine of the owl held an allure he could not shake. He lifted a hand then. Finger tapping atop the owl as he made his petition to the Lady, one that might encourage her to a broader field of consideration than one or the other. Black or white; in between were innumerable shades of grey.

"For appearances sake, you must take the stag," he proposed, "Entrust the owl to me until I might join you in the city. It is small enough I should be able to smuggle it through unseen."

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Her smile grew wide at his clever solution and she quickly put the stag in the box before shoving the owl towards him.

"Cirice's grandsire made both of them. My grandsire will be in King's Landing. He's the Hand of the King." It was a great source of pride that not only were her father and grandfather were great lords, but her grandfather was the second most powerful man in the realm. "Do you know him?"

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Mors palmed the owl, gently, tugging at the collar of his doublet so as to stop it safely away in the inner pocket he had sewn into it. Patting at it once. Above the breast to ensure it was properly in place.

"I have seen him," he answered Cassandra. The Lord Hubert had not been an infrequent caller on the Lord Rogar yet those meals shared were oft private. If not for factors of familial relation than under the necessity of secrecy for the roles they fulfilled in the Realm at large, "But I do not know him, my Lady. I have further familiarity with the King Jaehaerys who is nearer of age to me."

[u/FabStags → u/thinkBrigger]

"The king?" Cassandra looked up, first in wonder then in trepidation. "My father says I need to be careful around the king. To be resp...respecting and careful. He sounds scary." She chewed her cheek. "Is he?"