Welcome
Welcome to Summer Has Gone. This is an AU Game of Thrones site unlike anything you've seen before. We've added twelve new islands that are Kingdoms of their own - these will be a source of curiosity and fascination for the inhabitants of Westeros, and a source of conflict, as alliances are made and enemies are made. Also, this is JCINK Premium so certain characters have been aged up, as have events. We have also added in relatives to certain Houses, to make things more interesting.
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04.12.16 // SHG has been open for a while now, and we currently have a site event going on that we hope all of you join in on! The site will be undergoing a few changes over the next few weeks, but we still encourage people to post and stay active!

05.20 // I am proud to say, that the site is now open! The staff hope all of you enjoy it here.

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skin credit goes to miss texas, custom structure scripts go to black, and the toggle cbox goes to subdevo. The Toggle Code Box goes to Thunderstruck @ CTTW.

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gif 150 150: http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s430/velvetvictorian/eleana150150.png
age: 18
occupation: LADY, HOPEFUL HEIR TO THE VALE
App: http://summerhasgone.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=445
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Quote: "I wanted water but I walk through the fire. If this is what it takes to take me even higher then I'll come through when the world keeps testing me."
Alias: LYSTHEA
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Eleana Arryn

Valemen

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Jun 14 2016, 10:39 AM
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<p>As she rode through the East Gate, the mood seemed to settle back in around her as if it had never once dissipated. The faces of those who lived within the northern stronghold were just as crestfallen as they had been when she had left earlier that morning. With their Lady dead, Eleana could hardly blame them. The blow had been deep and stunning as it had caught the entirety of Winterfell off guard. Catelyn Stark had been a force in her own right, a good and just woman with a knack for matters of state and an equally strong control over her family. No one could have possibly foreseen her demise nor could they have begun to imagine who would have dared do such a thing as murder the Lady of Winterfell.</p>

<p>The young Arryn had traveled north to rejoin the Starks in their grief, but to also tend to her own mother's desolation. Lysa Arryn had dwindled at the news of her sister's death. What madness her daughter imagined her possessing only increased into the ravings of vengeance and rectitude. Eleana, for her part, had remained troubled but had kept the same heedful mind as her father. Jon Arryn had since spent much of his time with the Warden of the North in an effort to both console Eddard Stark and piece together the mystery behind his wife's death.</p>

<p>However, the hopeful heir to the Vale had more intentions for traveling to the ancestral home of the Starks than simply grieving over the death of her aunt. The words contained in the letters of Robb Stark had pulled her so sharply from the towers of the Eyrie and had left her wanting-- yearning for the North has she had done several times before, wishing she did not have to part ways so sorrowfully each time she left, and hungering for Robb's contact more than she rightfully should have given his betrothed state.</p>

<p>One could tell that she had been outside for the better portion of the morning. As she dismounted from her steed with ease and led the animal back into the security of the stables, her cheeks were flush from the morning chill. Her gloved hands took hold of the quiver and bow she had brought with her that morning and she gratefully acknowledged the two bannermen who had accompanied her before sauntering back into the yard momentarily. Her regard shifted to the heavy wooden doors that concealed the hallowed ground of Winterfell. Not once had she visited the godswood since her arrival and she felt guilty for breaking trust with the gods at such a time.</p>

<p>The wide berth of oaks, ironwoods, and soldier pines greeted her sights as she walked between them. The path was as she remembered, a winding dirt and stone passage that would lead to the very heart of the sacred wood. It hadn't changed for thousands of years and she could recall the names from her childhood of all who had once walked through it, as well as the memories they held for her alone.</p>

<p>The godswood within the Eyrie held no weirwood and therefore the crimson canopy had been replaced with a vacant yet penetrating statue of a woman which allowed little to no solace; she remains forever in tears, a weeping figure to remind one of life's unrelenting temperament. It unnerved Eleana enough that she rarely frequented the godswood. It was a far cry from the mournful stare she now received as she looked at the heart tree that appeared before her, its face red with ancient sap. Both objects were meant to emphasize the same message and yet the slight wind that blew through the oaks of Winterfell's godswood brought with it a sensation of pacifism, an emotion never offered on the peaks of the Eyrie.</p>

<p>Setting the bow and quiver down before the base of the weirwood's white stock, she dared to reach out and touch it, her palm meeting the trunk with care. The Vale worshipped the new gods, the Seven, but they still held to their beliefs in the old deities. There was an almost divine sensation here that could not be found elsewhere and her figure backed away from the tree out of reverence before her eyes closed in prayer.</p>

<p>The concerns came instantly and her mind was fraught with images from the past that still weighed heavy on her consciousness: the death she had traveled leagues to mourn, how fate had appeared to redirect her path at a near constant rate for years, the wars and conflicts that led her own family to this point, and finally the reminder that it was before the weirwood that Eleana and Robb had pledged their devotion. It was the sacred tree that had first become witness to their passions and promises in the form of a kiss.</p>

<p>The awareness of it caused the lady to once again open her eyes to meet the gaze in the engraved trunk. She had looked for Robb when she had first awoken but had been unable to locate him that morning. Having half a mind to believe that Lyra Mormont was to blame for his absence, the face before her looked to condemn her spite. Eleana frowned deeply. <i>Then why do you all content yourselves at placing him in my presence if I am not to feel this way,</i> her thoughts demanded as she pulled her fur-lined cloak closer against her cheeks. <i>What do you want from me?</i></p>


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Jun 11 2016, 12:25 PM
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<h1>to get to dream of life again </h1>
<h2>a little vision of the sun in the end</h2>
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<P>Designing and enterprising, Eleana Arryn isn't interested in living a life solely focused on attaining a better title than the one she now possesses. The eldest daughter of Jon and Lysa Arryn, the young falcon has come to exhibit her father's sense, interest in statecraft, and has become a worthy ally to most houses in the Vale.

<P>With her younger brother's future set to inherit the kingdom, Eleana is not as certain as her mother that Robin's mutable countenance is a proper fit for the title of Warden of the East. This has caused some contention between mother and daughter, enough so that the two are at odds with the other, leaving Eleana to side a great deal with her father while her mother dotes on her son, and Eleana further contemplates how the position could become hers.

<p>Though capricious and guarded with whom she trusts, she is as outspoken as she is cryptic. She handles herself with grace, dignity, and carries an air of respect. Generous, thoughtful, and kind, even she understands that these three qualities have their limits. This is Westeros after all and when you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. Justice, vengeance, treachery... all have their place within this world and the daughter of the Arryns waits for the proper time to use any and all means necessary to secure her future and that of her family.

<p>Eleana is going to be in desperate need for every sort of affiliation. Friends, family, you name it. She is wide open to plotting and developing a storyline with multiple characters. Really curious to see what we can all come up with. Let's throw her into the fray! ^.^

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<h2> ELEANA ARRYN. 18. THE VALE. </h2>

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May 13 2016, 05:13 PM
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Don't You Think We Aught To Know By Now

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The islands felt peculiar to her. Gone were the sharp and massive peaks of the land from which she hailed, a harsh terrain that was obscured in the most volatile of seasons allowing few to pass through and survive, and only to be replaced with lush and fertile forests of the likes she has never before seen. The Reach did not even possess the extent of seedlings that could be found in the Strange Isles, let alone the plethora of culture. Truth be told, Eleana felt almost homesick for the surroundings she was used to and wondered why she had even requested to join the envoy that carried her father, the Warden of the East and Lord Paramount of the Vale, to the lands so aptly spoken of amongst the houses of Westeros.

The lady blamed her meddling on her sense of duty. House Arryn was just as concerned about the appearance of the islands as any noble family. Even Rhaegar Targaryen tread softly, unsure of what to anticipate from their arrival. As such, Eleana had been quick to request accompanying her father to the islands as more of a civic venture than an opportunity to investigate the new inhabitants. Members of House Royce, Brightstone, and Ruthermont had also joined the envoy south.

She had anticipated the strange atmosphere, the inhabitants, and the slight sense of unease that followed her everywhere, but she did not foresee the familiar face that would await her there. His face materialized between the throng of visitors like a revenant from her past. Occupied in conversation with Edmure Tully, he failed to notice that he had been spotted and Eleana Arryn did not immediately push between the nobles to find her place at his side. Did she trust herself enough to do that? She had not seen him for at least a year and imagined it was against her better judgement to surprise him.

Instead she waited, biding her time and attempting to still the thoughts that flooded her mind. Her memories of him were fond and many, and she wondered at what precisely she was supposed to say to him after such an absence. The last occasion where they had spoken had left a rift inside of her that still somewhat ached. She thought she could still feel the press of his lips, the somber and saddened words at his departure echoing within the confines of her recognition, and did her best to suppress such things.

Eleana thought she had forgotten. First the letter of his betrothal and now the sight of him within the crowd quickly reminded her that she hadn't.

She waited the better part of the afternoon to make her way towards him. Certain her soft teal skirts fluttered against the back of his legs as she passed, she softly pressed a note into his palm when she walked behind him, not even daring to pause lest she hinder her own resolve. They had time. The letter detailed how much time they had to talk had he wished to meet her within her rooms. Given her position and title, she would have never dared to do such a thing in Westeros, but this was not Westeros and she was not being judged by her peers here.

Pouring herself a cup of Dornish strongwine, she waited. Her footsteps would carry her slim figure from one end of the room to the other while she took rather deep drinks from the goblet resting in her fingertips. Eleana wondered if she had made the right decision requesting that he meet with her. He was betrothed and in no rightful position to see a woman alone given that the woman in question had enough of a history with him that went beyond mere innocent friendship.

"Perhaps this was a horrid idea," she breathed quietly as the door quietly opened from across the room. Her feet halted their movement when her eyes found those of Robb Stark. It was as if she were seeing them for the first time. In fact, it was as if she were seeing him as she had all of those years ago, but he had grown before her very gaze. He was taller with darker hair than she remembered, looking every bit his northern blood. One could tell he was breaching upon manhood with every year that passed and it suddenly took everything within her not to tell him how greatly she missed him. Instead, she took a careful step towards him as he closed the door.

"Aren't you a little far from home, Young Wolf? What are you doing all the way south away from your winter snows?" She laughed softly then, a soft shake of her head emphasizing her own foolheaded question. "You must be as homesick as I am."

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May 10 2016, 07:40 PM
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Eleana Arryn

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» <b>name:</b> Eleana Arryn<br>
» <b>title:</b> Lady Eleana<br>
» <b>age:</b> 18<br>
» <b>birthday:</b> 21st day of the 5th month, 280AC<br>
» <b>sexuality:</b> Heterosexual<br>
» <b>relationship status:</b> Unattached<br>
» <b>kingdom:</b> The Vale<br>
» <b>house loyalties:</b> Arryn<br>
» <b>occupation:</b> Lady of the Vale, falconry, archery, heir to the Vale<br>
» <b>membergroup:</b> Valemen<br>
» <b>face claim:</b> Kaya Scodelario<p>
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» <b>mother:</b> Lysa Arryn (nee Tully)<br>
» <b>father:</b> Jon Arryn<br>
» <b>siblings:</b> Robin, brother<Br>
» <b>partner:</b> N/A<br>
» <b>children:</b> None<br>
» <b>pets:</b> None<br>

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<p>It is only the loud snap of the crackling fire that pulls me from my reverie. I stir, glacial eyes suddenly vivid despite the hour, and look about my room in a daze. How long have I been sitting here? I've entirely lost track of time. My father, Jon Arryn, would have probably laughed at me at having his Fair Owlet's mind gone astray with thoughts; he always prefers me focused, my lessons of prime importance because they fall on deaf ears with Robin.</p>

<p><i>Sweetrobin</i>, as mother calls him. She could not do anything to keep his indispositions from breaching the illusive and impenetrable walls of the Eyrie. My youngest brother is considerably younger than I and of a much different temperament. He was born languid and feverish, a child very much prone to the wild flights of outbursts that at times mimic my mother. She coddles him and indulges his whims while I do the opposite when he is left in my care, which is often. We wander the white stone halls and recite our history in the High Hall of the Arryns while Robin sits atop the weirwood throne in anticipation of his future reign.</p>

<p>But that isn't quite decided now, is it? I know what that could bring some to ponder: "She wants the seat for herself." Never has a woman ruled the Vale, but never has the Vale been under the pressure of a young boy who may not be capable of fulfilling his duties given his atypical sensibilities. I wonder if that is why father remained a slave to my enlightenment, let alone even allowing me the freedom not afforded to some members of my own sex or position. Mother tells me to expect nothing of the sort, to banish such thoughts. "You'll be the wife of a powerful lord," she says to me. On her face lies a scowl and it only smooths when I don't retaliate. "Your father will find somewhere for you worthy of your name. What is it that you think you know about ruling, Child? A woman reigning over a sea of men. What is it that you know of men?"</p>

<p>The shrill cry of a hawk echoes into the depths of the keep and I feel myself rising up to meet it. I pull a fur-lined cloak closer to my chest and shoulders, venturing out into the twilight of the balcony to see the creature dive into the pitch of abyss beneath me, as deep and perplexing as any woman's heart.</p>

<p>I was always full of secrets. She asks me what I know of ruling, of men, and little does she know that my father's lessons only extend so far; politics is more than knowing your people, the laws of the realm, its history, and knowing ones way through the treacherous maze that is our game of thrones. I've visited other kingdoms and listened, hidden away behind doors and walls to absorb what I have been dismissed from hearing and what I have been told is no conversation for a lady. Robin would struggle and pry his hands from mine, begging for us to play outside in the fallen snows and build snow forts together. He would tell me I wasn't listening to father's demands and I would simply tell him that he wasn't telling me something I did not already know. I was never good at following the rules and the cipher that is my spirit only grows more difficult to unravel.</p>

<p>The wind blows and howls into the bowels of the Mountains of the Moon and sharp peaks surrounding me. They echo another clandestine declaration. No, they will never know about him or the years that have trespassed without a word being spoken between us. It was always fleeting, weeks or months filled with a propensity that eternally ended on a bittersweet note and left me knowing that what had occurred would inevitably end. What do I know of men, she asks? More than she knows.</p>

<p>His influence, just like the authority of any of my peers, did much to shape who I would become. I came to treasure archery and falconry, the two of us spending hours amongst the rivers and valleys scattered around the Eyrie on horseback. Though I was never a timid child, I became more enterprising and auspicious, perhaps a little too daring, and more willing to test my boundaries. Overall I was a happy child in my youth, but one who was also prudent, pretentious, and cautious with those whom I had handed my trust, a trait surely passed down to me by my father who keeps his allies close and few.</p>

<p>My hand absently finds the ruffle of parchment in my cloak and I frown, pulling on it to stare at the flow of words that met my gaze earlier in the evening. I never realized I had even taken it with me. The writing is familiar and a deep sigh falls from between my lips, never mind the pang of disinclination that breaches on jealousy.</p>

<p>This was bound to happen and I had known it for years; when one is born into privilege, they forfeit all matter of choice. The union between House Arryn and Tully was designed to bring peace and balance after a war that tore apart the Seven Kingdoms. Why would anything be different now? I also somehow neglect the infallibility of our situation and know that though our paths were destined to cross for one reason or another, it would never be as simple as we might have imagined it to be, even alone amongst the nearly impassible mountains of the Vale with no one to tell us otherwise.</p>

<p>The draft catches a corner of the missive and it slips from my fingertips. The stone ridge of the balcony fails to catch it as it tumbles down behind the hawk, waving in the wind as if it were dancing, and finally disappearing into the dark void beneath me.</p>

<p>Tomorrow is another day. Only the gods can tell us why we venture down the roads we do and I tell myself that over and over as I walk back inside.</p>

<p>This is solely the first few pages of my story. Turn the page, keep reading.</p>
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