After several days had been granted for the realm’s nobility to arrive, rest, and recover from their journeys by sea and road alike, the call was finally made for all honored guests to assemble within the Great Hall of Dragonstone. Hewn from black basalt and warmed by the ever-present breath of the Dragonmont above, the hall hummed with low conversation as banners stirred in the torchlight. When the murmur at last faded, King Aegon Targaryen rose from his seat, the presence of the Conqueror alone enough to still the room.
Tall and solemn, the king stepped forward, his gaze steady as it swept across the gathered lords and ladies of Westeros. Behind him, the sigil of the three-headed dragon loomed large, its crimson form stark against the dark stone.
“My lords, ladies and lieges as well as my esteemed Dornish guests,” Aegon began, “I thank you for answering my summons and for crossing land and sea to stand here today. Twenty decades have passed since the Iron Throne was forged, and in that time, the realm has known a peace and unity unseen for generations. Where once there were several warring crowns, there now stands one realm: bound not only by fire and conquest, but by law, order, and shared purpose.”
His eyes lingered thoughtfully on the gathered banners. “The dragons brought Westeros together, but it has been your oaths, your governance, and your willingness to endure change that have allowed this reign to prosper. Roads have been secured, borders held, laws tempered, and the realm made stronger for it. For this, you have my gratitude.”
Aegon inclined his head slightly. “This gathering is called not only to honor that success, but to reaffirm it—to remind us all that unity must be renewed, and loyalty publicly spoken. You are welcome on Dragonstone, as honored guests of the Crown, to celebrate my nameday and the enduring strength of the Dragon’s reign.”
With that, the king stepped back, giving the floor to the man at his side. The Hand of the King, Ruling Lord Loras Tyrell moved forward, hands clasped behind his back, ready to address the assembly and formally announce the ceremonies and festivities that would follow At the same time, far above them, the distant rumble of dragons echoed through the stone like a promise… or a warning.
TheConqueringhq EVENT I: "THE COVENANT OF THE IRON CROWN"
Date & Location: Dragonstone, 20 AC
To mark twenty decades since the forging of the Iron Throne and celebrate King Aegon’s fiftieth nameday, the Crown summons the all the nobles of Westeros to Dragonstone for an unprecedented convocation. Dorne is also invited as an esteemed guests, sparking hushed whispers of what their presence could possibly signify. This gathering is equal parts celebration, spectacle, and reminder: unity was born in fire, and it is fire that still guards it.
Below are the official activities open to attending characters during the first event:
The Oath Reaffirmation Ceremony
All houses are called to publicly reaffirm their fealty before the King.
Each house must also present a gift of their choosing : offered both as a nameday tribute and as a symbolic token of loyalty to the Iron Crown. Weapons reforged into ceremonial pieces, ancient banners, rare goods, etc will be presented by a representative of each House in front of Aegon.
What is given (or withheld) will not go unnoticed.
2. The Flight of the Dragons
On the second day, nobles are gathered along Dragonstone’s cliffs or aboard anchored ships to witness a spectacular display of dragon flight performances.
Seven dragons will take to the skies above Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea with their respective royal riders showcasing extremely skilled and breathtaking displays of artistic dragon-riding feats, further proving their bond and control over their majestic beasts.
3. Guided Tours of the Dragonmont
By royal invitation, nobles may view the dragons up close within the Dragonmont itself during the time period of dawn to mid-day, throughout the week of the event.
Small groups will be escorted in turns by dragonkeepers and Valyrian acolytes, who will explain the care, feeding, and training of dragons as well as tell tales of Valyrian rites. They use a variety of hand signals, Valyrian commands, incense and chains to demonstrate their training of the dragons that are housed there.
There will be strict rules on where to stand, where to look, when to kneel, when to leave.
Nobles are forbidden to speak loudly, touch anything, or wear loose metal.
What should be noted by all of Westeros that this is a rare and extremely generous honor by the KIng—and not for the faint of heart.
4. Royal Dragon Rides
Four active dragon-riders: the eldest two Targaryen royals and their Arryn cousins —have been tasked by the King with offering a single dragon ride per interested guest.
Rides are granted on a first-come, first-considered basis and may be refused at the riders’ discretion.
Rides are permitted around the time of midday to sunset during the third to the last day of the event.
5. The King’s Feast
Each night concludes with a grand feast, featuring delicacies and specialties from every region of Westeros. A few famous Dornish delicacies are also included on the banquet table.
OOC info:
The festivities would last for 7 days in-character whilst threads can take place for 9 days, ending on 13th of Feb, in a plot drop will be happening on the 14th. Edit: Event has been extended to the 21st! A plot drop will take place on the 22nd!
Your threads may take place anywhere and at any one of the mentioned festivities at any time. You don't need to follow day by day.
Please tag all starters with the tags of tc.event01 & tc.starter
Most importantly have fun & be inclusive! If you have any questions, at all please do not hesitate to ask the main or in the discord! <3
When morning broke, word had already passed in hushed tones all throughout the Valryian island: the second-born Hightower lord had perished and a handful of nobles who had unfortunately been standing slightly near the incident had been caught by the very edge of dragonflame . Cloaks singed, sleeves blackened, skin blistered in minor burns when they failed to retreat quickly enough. Maesters had tended them through the dawn. The message was unspoken but understood: dragons did not distinguish pride from proximity.
By midmorning, King Aegon gathered everyone upon the windswept terrace overlooking the bay. Calm and somber, he addressed the crowd for the final time at his birth home.
“What occurred at Dragonmont,” he said evenly, “was a tragedy.” The use of the word ‘ tragedy’ instead of ‘failure’ sparked a flame of ire inwardly among some of the nobles. “The young lord was warned. The dragonkeepers are trained from childhood. Their commands are not tricks to be imitated for sport or to show off misplaced confidence in one’s abilities. A dragon is not a simple horse to be mounted nor a hound to be whistled for. A dragon recognizes blood and bond. It recognizes those entrusted to it. To approach without such bond is to gamble with fire.”
The Hightower matriarch trembled where she stood, knuckles white in fisted hands as she swallowed down what was seemingly delivered as an explanation and such a public airing of her deceased son’s faults. No courtesy apology given.
Aegon inclined his head slightly toward her. “House Hightower will have the Crown’s support in their mourning. The realm grieves with them.” He then turned back to face the rest of the assembly.
“But let this be understood.” His hand rested lightly against Blackfyre’s pommel as he spoke in a voice that brooked no dissent. ”Our dragons are the shield of this realm. They are the power that forged it. The power that ensures that the peace we celebrate this past week endures. Our respect for that power and self-restraint towards personal selfish ambitions will ensure the prosperity of this realm.”
The implication was unmistakable. To question dragons was to question the foundation of unity itself.
Then his tone shifted, warming. About three months hence, he announced, he would summon them again — this time to King’s Landing — to celebrate the completion of the Red Keep, rising at last as the enduring seat of royal authority. There, beneath its finished towers, the realm would also witness the formal celebration of the newly declared royal betrothals, binding crown and Dorne in a wise alliance. “We have forged a throne,” he concluded, voice carrying over sea and stone. “Now we shall build a future worthy of it.” The crowd clapped. Half of them genuinely supporting his vision, their faith in Aegon never wavering and the other half, merely out of sheer politeness to mask their true thoughts that might border on treachery. Among the Hightowers, the grieving mother did not clap. The matriarch's eyes were fixed not on the king’s face, but rather on the dragon sigil across his chest. And somewhere in that gaze, grief was beginning to harden into something colder.
And that concludes our Dragon-themed first chapter! You all now allowed to finish up your event threads, write new threads pertaining to the plot drop or plot conclusion or even have threads back at their homes as characters are now free to leave Dragonstone. As per popular vote in the discord the days between our first and second event are 11 days ( and 2 days have passed since our event ended ) which means our new event will tentatively begin at 8pm EST on the 5th of March. We will let you know if the date changes later on. Hopefully all threads can be wrapped up before the next chapter begins! Hope you lovelies enjoyed your introduction chapter to our story and we can't wait to further develop thrilling things with you all!
Also at the top of the post, we did mention that a few suffered collateral damage during the incident by the way of minor burns. Those few individuals are : Ruling Lord Harlaw, the youngest Mormont and a Lannister of Lannisport. Also, the knowledge of the items Myrcella Durrandon unexpectedly discovered by sheer accident during her sneaky search of Dragonmont, will be shared with the heads of house florent, house lannister of lannisport and house stark and one more new powerful house joining the class ;) Everyone else in the Ashen Promise will be given developmental news about it during the next event.
The Great Dining Hall of Dragonstone blazed with torchlight and reflected fire, the long tables heavy with roasted aurochs, buttered crabs, Dornish citrus tarts, Arbor reds, and towering silver platters of sugared almonds dusted with chocolate flakes.
Banners from across the realm hung proudly, all gathered beneath the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. At the center of the hall stood a magnificent cake worthy of a Conqueror king. Five tiers high, white-frosted and edged in spun sugar flames, each layer crowned with delicate red dragons sculpted from candied glass. Fifty slender black candles crowned the topmost tier, their flames trembling in the draft of the sea-wind sneaking through the high windows.
The celebration of the fiftieth nameday of King Aegon I Targaryen had been grand beyond measure. Laughter echoed. Goblets clinked. Musicians played a lively tune while lords and ladies toasted to twenty years of conquest rule, peace and fire-forged unity. However, when the king rose, the hall gradually quieted.
Aegon stood tall beside the cake, one hand resting lightly against the hilt of Blackfyre. The candlelight carved his features into something almost mythic.
“My lords, ladies and lieges,” he began, his voice deep and resonant. “You honor me beyond measure by gathering here not merely to mark my nameday, but to reaffirm your oaths. Twenty years ago, this realm stood divided. Today, it stands united. You have renewed your vows to crown and kingdom. In doing so, you strengthen not only my reign — but the future of your children and your children’s children.”
He turned slightly, gesturing toward the Dornish delegation.
“And it is to that future that I now look.”
The hall stilled.
“It is my wish to bind the peace between our realms in a manner that no wind nor whisper of war may undo. Thus it is with pleasure that I announce that my eldest son and heir shall be betrothed to the eldest daughter of House Martell. And my eldest daughter shall be betrothed to their crown prince.”
Murmurs and whispers then broke out like the sound of the heavy rustling of leaves as stares were then cast upon the parties involved. Some faces shone with approval whilst some creased to contemplative concern. A few held calculating expressions. Several faces tightened with barely concealed disapproval and even anger. Especially of faces from the Vale and Stormlands. Aegon raised his goblet.
“To unity. To prosperity. To a realm stronger than ever!”
The hall erupted into polite applause and a few cheers as goblets lifted in toast for who would dare openly defy the king at this pivotal moment?
And then —
The doors of the hall burst open. A young nobleman stumbled inside, half-collapsed against the stone, his face ash-streaked, eyes wild.
“Your Grace!” he screamed, voice breaking. “The Dragonmont — the last tour — it—”
The music died instantly.
“What of it?” the king asked, steady as stone.
The noble choked on smoke and horror. “He is dead! Burned alive before us all! The second son of Lady Hightower…he tried to speak the commands for he had the confidence in his study of the Valyrian tongue. And when the dragonkeepers backs were turned, he mimicked the dragonkeepers gestures and spoke again…but he failed…he failed… and the beast….Your Grace, there was nothing any of us could do.”
Silence fell so heavy it seemed to press upon every chest.The noble’s words seemed to hang in the air like smoke.
Burned alive.
Tried to command it.
A cacophony of voices began to speak as nobles reacted with expressions of shock, horror and speculations on further details of the tragic incident that had yet to be revealed. Further down the hall, a few septons and maesters made the sign of the Seven, whispering something fervent beneath their breath, no doubt praying for the soul of the man who flew to close to the sun.
At the Hightower table, the Hightower matriarch rose so abruptly her chair scraped harshly against stone. Ash-blonde hair was now unbound, her composure gone entirely.
“Which dragon?” she demanded, voice cracking.
The messenger swallowed.’ Vaewroth, my lady. Lord Maegor’s dragon.”
“I must see him,” the deceased’s mother whispered hoarsely as she rushed out of the hall, social decorum forgotten as the grieving mother ran to ascertain the death of her beloved son, forgetting all about the presence of the king.
Myrcella Durrandon had slipped away from the last Dragonmont tour when the dragonkeepers turned their attention to a clutch of excitable nobles, vanishing down a narrow basalt path carved into the cliffs of Dragonstone. She had not come to marvel at dragons. She had come to understand them and possibly weed out any possible weaknesses that could help the Ashen Promise. As she steadied himself against a jagged outcrop, her boot dislodged a slab of volcanic rock. Beneath it, hidden in a carved cavity untouched by time, lay a weathered leather case marked with ancient High Valyrian glyphs , older than the Targaryen sigil.
Within, she found a brittle tablet etched with a long High Valyrian text and runes as well as an unusual-looking spiraled horn tied with an old parchment. As she squinted over the stone tablet, her command of High Valyrian was average— but the first line was clear enough to chill her as she translated it: “Zaldrīzes may bleed.” Dragons may bleed. The rest of the text was dense, technical, beyond her in that moment. The parchment attached to the horn bore careful instructions in the same script. For what, she did not yet know.
She did not linger any further for she could be found at any moment if she stayed too long at the same spot. Gathering the scroll, the horn, and the accompanying parchment, the wily Durrandon concealed them beneath her cloak. Whatever this was, a weapon, warning, relic ; it would be studied properly, in secrecy, with members of the Ashen Promise.
