Velaryon Family/Monterys/Lyanna

Roleplay from Lyanna Arylon

One year ago, in the city of Sirion, late afternoon. It had been roughly one week since her election as the Margravine of Sirion City, and Lyanna was restless. She had, over the years, grown quite accustomed to her previous estate in Avamar, and it had felt like home to her. The beautiful city at the southern tip of Sirion was not only an important military outpost, but it was also home to some of the most remarkable architecture in the known world. The fine Elven craftsmanship and stonemasonry had created a breathtaking urban setting. The people of Avamar had embraced her, welcoming her back with thunderous celebration each time she returned home. Sirion, by contrast, felt cold. She had actually never even wanted to seek the position, and had only been convinced to challenge for it due to Prime Minster Zadek's desire for it. She greatly liked Zadek, but the concentration of power his election would represent should not exist, and she felt compelled to stand against it. Lyanna hadn't expect to be successful, though, so it was quite a suprise when she was told that Sirion was hers and that she would have to abdicate her ownership of Avamar. Arriving at the city gates, there was no major welcoming procession for her. There was no thunderous applause, or celebrations among the common people as there had been for her in Avamar. This city was larger, more anonymous. She had her things moved into the great palace inside the city, which, like Avamar, had all the hallmarks of Elven craftsmanship, but the size of the building -- and the anonymity it granted -- made her feel much less connected to this place. For one week now, she had been spending most of her time attending to business in her study in a vain hope that work would make her feel at home. Instead she was only left feeling more disconnected, isolated and alone. This afternoon, feeling the weight of her misery acutely, she had decided to get out of her study and go for a walk in the courtyard. Directly in front of the palace was a large, circular shaped water terrace, which served as a centerpiece of the west end -- what most people considered the "front" -- facing Trinbar. Adjacent to the water were the famous Gardens of Sirion, covering 800 hectares of land, landscaped in a classically Elven style. It was replete with sculptures, fountains, and exotic flora masterfully incorporated into a walking pathway. As she exited the great doors of the palace to begin her walk, she noticed a man standing on the other side of the terrace near a statue known as The Citizen, which he seemed to be studying intently. Curious, Lyanna walked toward the man, who noticed her approach, glancing at her and smiling. He was dressed in a uniform of richly adorned leather, and accents of pale blue. The pale blue of Shadowdale. "This man... who is he?" the man asked as she arrived in front of him. He was magnificently handsome, though with noticeable scars. "We call him The Citizen," answered Lyanna. "He represents the sovereign power of the people of Sirion and is a testament to republican values." The man chuckled. "Don't mistake me, madame, but I've always preferred the rule of a King." "Yes," Lyanna snapped back, "I've found some men do prefer to live on their knees. Ruling one's self requires intelligence and fortitude, something many men lack, I think." The man did not like this, shooting her a disapproving look. This made Lyanna smile. "What are you doing here, Shadowman?" "My name is Monterys Velaryon, and I..." he could not finish his statement before Lyanna had drawn the knife she had hidden in her sleeve, and had lunged at him, holding it against his neck. He hadn't moved a single inch. "General Monterys? What foolishness would bring you here?" she hissed. Monterys laughed. Why was he not frightened? Why had he not even flinched? He calmly reached up and pushed the knife away from his throat. "I am here today to pledge my sword to Sirion." Taken aback, Lyanna froze as Monterys continued. "I am looking for the Lord of Sirion, so that I may offer my service to him. Where is he?" Lyanna paused momentarily as she considered his story. She was unsure whether or not to believe him, but answered him anyway. "I... am the Lady Lyanna of the House Arylon, Lord Speaker of Sirion, Duchess of Avamar and newly elected Margravine of this city. It is I you seek." Monterys froze, clearly not expecting this. After an awkward pause, he whispered under his breath, almost to himself, "Arylon?"

Lyanna Arylon

Roleplay from Lyanna Arylon

Republican Palace, Second Floor, Office of the Margravine, Sirion City, roughly one year ago. --- Monterys had been stewing in the dungeons overnight, causing Lyanna to feel no endless satisfaction. In fairness to her, he was General of a realm that was now clearly indicating their open hostility to the Republic of Sirion. What had he expected? That she would bow to him in thanks for gracing her with his presence, accept his oath of fealty, and then let him march with the armies? Bloody fool, she thought to herself as the last touch of sunlight evaporated into night. She would not make things that easy for him. If this man was serious about defecting, he would need to endure some hardship to prove he actually wanted to be here. And yet, she had not thrown him into the worst cell. Quite the contrary, she had intentionally ordered him placed in the one place that was not dripping with filthy water, and in horrid condition. He was still locked behind bars, of course, but there were much worse places to be. She had also instructed to guards to ensure he ate on a regular schedule, was provided drink, and was otherwise tended to in a way that no prisoner has a right to be treated. Why had she done that? Did she want to punish the man, or was this all a game to her? Sitting in her stately chair at the end of a long conference table, she shook her head considering her own absurd behavior. What in the name of Tor was she doing? I'll interrogate him, she said to herself, in her own mind. Enough of this foolishness, it is time to get answers out of this... Monterys. Walking out of her office, and down the long, circular stairwell, she passed the main level leading to the Great Hall, the Audience Chamber, and the State Dining Room, and continued down. The dungeons were buried deep under the Palace, necessitating a long, steep decline down what felt like a never ending staircase. Eventually though, Lyanna arrived in the basement where prisoners were kept. Interestingly enough this area was not terribly large. In truth, they did not often need more than a few cells to hold people -- usually it was just for common folk who had managed to sneak into the Palace, or the occasional aristocratic scion who had gotten too fresh with the servants. In fact, at current, Monterys was the only person being held. She approached his cell, and nodded at the guard to dismiss him so they could be alone. He left immediately. "What are you doing here, M'lady?" he softly queried, while smiling broadly at her. His face was striking in the subtle candlelight. Smiling? Why was he smiling? This insufferable man. Had his imprisonment meant nothing to him? He could at least have the decency to be angry with her! She said nothing, only staring coldly at him. "You don't believe me..." he said in an almost disappointed tone. She frowned disapprovingly. "Is there any reason I should? Would you believe me, if our positions were reversed?" "Lady Lyanna, if a beautiful woman walked up to me and told me that she wished to pledge her loyalty to me, I would count it as a blessing," he replied. She was gobsmacked, looking back at him with astonishment. He thinks I am beautiful? Is he telling the truth? Is he attracted to me? He is so damned handsome, himself... I wonder if... Lyanna quickly grew angry with herself. She had already given him the upper hand and was behaving like a pathetic child. He compliments you and you swoon? Idiot. This man is a practiced charmer, you will NOT fall for this... "You have given me no reason to think you are being truthful. Why would you wish to come to Sirion?" He smiled again. "I had heard you were here, you know." "What?" she snapped, once again genuinely surprised. "My information was obviously out of date, though. I was told that you commanded the city of Avamar, not Sirion. I was expecting to find Margrave Elric Altenahr here. I didn't think I would encounter you until much later, and I certainly didn't want to introduce myself to you this way." "I... you were planning to encounter me? What... what is this? Who are you? What is this about?" "I told you, M'lady. My name is Monterys Velaryon, and..." She cut him off quickly. "Yes, I know your name. I know who you are." Suddenly, he looked melancholy. "No, M'lady, you don't." He paused before continuing, "I know your brother, Gheric, and... I came here because he told me you were here."

Lyanna Arylon

Roleplay from Monterys Velaryon

Sirion City, dungeons, roughly one year ago. Monterys smiled as Lyanna stood perplexed before him. She seemed to had a soft spot for him way below the harsh surface she tried to show, and this didn't escape him. It only drew him more towards her, for he felt a genuine connection despite the awkwardness of the situation. She was beautiful. Her hair was golden and it tumbled over her shoulders. Her saccharine, blossom soft, sweet lips concealed a set of dazzling, angel-white teeth as she tried her best to hide them. She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered and she had a soft complexion. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down gently and her delicate ears framed a button nose. Looking at her in the dimmed light of the dungeon cell Monterys didn't really care for the pristine architecture of the city she ruled, the power she wielded or the House she came from. Nor her brother. No, he was content to rot here for eternity if this mirage that appeared before him remained glowing, radiant and bright. He snapped out of it, though, and proceeded. "Your brother, m'Lady, told me you were here. I am indebted to your brother which makes me indebted to you." He smiled, and continued with a soft voice. "We all play this game of allegiances. We all wear these colors and carry these banners. My true allegiance rests with your House. I have chosen my path a long time ago, and it looks like our paths are intertwined, m'lady." He stirred a bit, intentionally showing that he was in an awkward place, hoping that she will set him free. "I certainly didn't expect our encounter to proceed like it did, though..." He raised up his tied hands and smiled, awaiting her response and forcing his gaze upon her, staring persistently. He could tell she had many inner dialogues right now, but he tried his best to let out his sincere intentions.

Monterys Velaryon

Roleplay from Lyanna Arylon

Republican Palace, Dungeons, Sirion City, roughly one year ago. --- Lyanna was speechless. In her mind, she had assumed this man was a craven opportunist, or even perhaps an enemy spy sent to infiltrate Sirion ahead of a military confrontation. But then, why send your best? Why send a man of such talent and accomplishment and put him in jeopardy? Would that be logical, in any way? Monterys noticed that she was lost in thought. "Lyanna...?" "I... you... you've known Gheric? I haven't seen him since he left our estate here so many years ago to return to Dwilight. He... he was intent on recapturing our father's lost kingdom. He asked me to go with him... he begged me... but I thought his vision of the future was hopeless. I thought Dwilight would only bring our family misery and pain, as it did in my childhood. I thought there was no way he would accomplish his goal." Sullen, quiet and understated, Monterys whispered, "He did accomplish it, M'lady." Ashamed, Lyanna nodded. "I know. We have kept in touch. We were... very close growing up. With my father's kingdom destroyed and the death of our mother, we fled here to Sirion as refugees and for a long time, all we had was each other. Despite my refusal to go with him, he did not shun me, nor shut me out. He has been insistent to keep our our connection." Her voice was quaking, and her eyes were welling up. Monterys perceived that what he was witnessing right now was an avalanche of guilt crashing down on her shoulders all at once. "I know that he has been crowned," she continued, as sympathy flashed on Monterys' face, "and I know that he not only achieved his goal, but he has built a kingdom larger and more prosperous than our father ever dreamed of. And I... I didn't believe in him. I didn't think it was possible. I... I abandoned him." Tears began to fall silently down her cheek. "M'lady... Lyanna..." Monterys said softly. She lifted her tear filled eyes, and met his gaze. "It was you, wasn't it?" she asked. "Me? I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're..." he replied, before she cut him off. "He spoke of a man. In some of his letters to me describing what was happening in the west. There was... someone. He told me the man's name, but I do not remember it. But if I were to walk upstairs and find the letters, I would find your name on those letters, wouldn't I?" Monterys was silent. She stepped closer to him, pressing her chest against the bars and laying her head between the gap, just inches from him. "He told me none of it would have been possible without you. He told me that his dream was dead, and that there was no way he could save his kingdom and end the war... until he found someone -- he called him a brother -- that stood up and fought for his vision. He told me that without you, he would have failed. Without you, it would never have worked, and he would today be a beggar king, if not a deposed refugee." Whispering softly under his breath, Monterys replied, "No, I..." "Don't deny it," she hissed, "I know it was you. Monterys... Gheric does not say the word brother easily. I have never heard him speak like this about someone. He believes that you -- not him -- are the reason his kingdom exists today. He says that you -- not him -- are the reason the western hordes were defeated and the kingdom expanded. It was you. You were that man." "I..." Monterys stumbled. He was clearly uncomfortable with her saying this. A sign of his humble, decent nature no doubt. She reached her hand up and touched his face gently. "I should have been there. You were there. Thank you." She pulled his head toward her, and kissed his cheek. He could feel the wetness of the tears running down her face pressed against his. Lyanna then reached to her belt, and took out a set of keys. She pulled back from the bars, but kept her hand on Monterys' face, refusing to break her connection with his eyes. Not looking away, she placed the key into the lock, turned it, and opened the cell door. She removed her hand, broke her gaze and began looking down at her feet in shame as the door swung open and he stepped out. "I'm so sorry." He walked up to her quickly. He towered over her, but with a swift and careful motion, he took his right hand and put it on her chin, pushing her eyes back up to his. "Do you accept my oath of fealty to you and to Sirion, M'lady?" She nodded.

Lyanna Arylon