[IMVU LOGS] The Red Keep

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Grimm: The roads were thick with the constant stream of traffic heading to the capital of Westeros. Caravans carrying wears from all corners were converging within Kings Landing for the Harvest Festival. The chance to pedal their wares and enjoy the festival atmosphere was something not likely passed up by one of any station. From the Nobles who would spend most of their days within the Red Keep, to the not so rich who spent their time rubbing shoulders with any and all types that littered the streets and alleys of the capital. Even as tension's were high, it was a brief respite for those to try and enjoy the lives they were living and ignore the day to day struggle that plagued their endless thoughts. One such, not so poor, citizen of Westeros was now barreling his way down the last stretch of road as the walls of Kings Landing rose from the horizon like a welcoming morning sun to greet him. The once white horse, now marred and stained with the hardships of a long ride on dirt covered paths, galloped it's way passed not so pleased pedestrians, some of which had to dive and dodge from the streets so as not to be trampled. Finally the reigns of the beast were pulled, steel coated hooves skid to a halt on the stone surface as the massive horse reared up on it's hind legs just inside the city gates. Once it settled, a monster of a figure dismounted, clad in black, scaled and spiked armor with a long cape just as grimy as the mount that heaved it's great breast for breath after a hard ride. With it's crimson hood drawn, it was difficult to tell who this obstruction that stood in the middle of the main gate was, though guards slightly hesitated in their advance upon the person, taking half steps and looking to one another for confirmation. As the obviously male specimen went about pulling his sword, still sheathed, from the side of the horses saddle, another horse arrived, this one carrying two riders and wielding the banner of house Baratheon. The male on the back of the second steed dropped to the cobbled street and walked up to the man, barely reaching the center of his chest. "My Lord, you almost killed my horse" The annoyance the male presented in his words was palpable, but when the hooded man lowered said hood and turned, the one who spoke seemed to shrink in his presence. "Nonsense, he's still breathing isn't he" The words were spoken prematurely as the large white horse collapsed behind him. "Hey, you deserve a better horse anyway, that one was slow" With that, the man turned away and started to walk into the Capital. "Lord Kainen" The man still upon the horse called after the eldest son of the Baratheon's of Storms End, only to be ignored as Kainen turned a corner and lost himself in the bustling crowd, leaving those at the gate now staring at the dead horse wondering what in the world just happened.

Biird: In her company were five men of the Night’s Watch, clad in black and at her back by at least a horse’s length. It had only taken one show of annoyance prior to reaching Winterfell to establish just how little patience she had, especially when it came to talks of Alistar Crow, who was both the bane of her existence and curiosity she couldn’t shake. Between this township or that, the men in her company were boisterous and loud, but Rhaelle only spoke with her young son, Rhaegar, every now and again. The boy, seeing only his fifth name day recently, was over joyed at the long rode from Winterfell to King’s Landing. He’d been just as happy with the ride from Strom’s End to Winterfell, but this ride was far less pampered. They had no escort, rode under no banners and provisions were hunted or bought in minor shops. They stayed off the main roads whenever possible and kept to themselves, Rhaelle never showing her face in towns, or that of hers son’s. Rhaegar didn’t much care either way. He enjoyed hunting and fishing, and riding wildling on the under used roads on the back of his own pony. There was even a time the men of the Night’s Watch had allowed him to ride for several miles in jailer’s box they had in tow. He learned quite a few new words from the men traveling with mother and thoroughly enjoyed their manner of speech, which was much cruder than his mother’s, or even his uncle’s. More than a month they spent on the road, the boy was still lively as ever when they arrived in King’s Landing, but a single look from his mother as she handed over his cloak reigned in that behavior immediately. In the capital the formation of the men and the woman they rode with changed; the recruiter for the Night’s Watch now taking the lead and going about his business and usual while Rhaelle and Rhaegar broke formation and drifted off to join her brother’s company. She arrived in time to watch Kainen’s dismissal of the death of a loyal animal. In a rush to do who knows what, he hadn’t noticed her presence but it was quickly picked up on by the men around, even if she wasn’t mounted on the back of a great wild stag. Stranger was often abandoned for a more typical mount when moving through towns and so he was no doubt on his way to the King’s Wood where he would find himself on the northern brim of the Stormlands and soon home again. “Lady Rhaelle.” Said the man still mounted on a living steed. His eyes begged questions he was too afraid to voice as she gave him a nod. “Ser Grayson. Ser Yennrick. It’s a shame about your horse but you should have known better than to take worn steed behind my brother.” The brunette man nodded. “Take mine, barely more than a colt. Fresh and fit. Go on.” He smiled and took the reigns of the animal from her hand, noting her fingers were ringed with the red paste of the wierwood leaves she favored. It matched her eyes and the markings on her face. A face he had not seen in almost a year. “You’re too kind, M’lady.” She didn’t respond. Only placed her hand upon the shoulder of her young son and headed toward the royal apartments, where no doubt her brother had gone and her cousin’s court had made room for the family that shared his name, if nothing else.

Aegon: *Days seemingly grew ever longer and always ever boring, he was only One and Twenty yet his mind was that of a matured elder. Brandon never claimed to be learned man as far as world and its innovations go, but he was certainly more experienced then many twice his age. Two years pass since he took the oath in which his hand will never again raise against Dornish of the Marches, two years of stagnation and life at castle walls after five years of relentless fighting in disputed lands of Marshes. After his fathers death, year and five moons back, he took upon himself to manage the vast income and estates of house Swann, and men loyal to Stonehelm, but he also groomed his younger brother for the position of the Lord. Teaching him every detail of the governing a castle and neighboring standfasts. Knowing the people from personal experience he learned to always be ready for there worst, but cherish each moment that is anything but. Raven brought word of the Harvest Feast, it is to be held at Kings Landing and under protection and invitation of the crown. Brandon welcomed this with zeal, ordering for the house to be packed and ready at ones, there is good deal of traveling from Stonehelm to King's Landing, and life in Marches made him accustomed to being somewhere earlier rather then later. News of King Alexander state of mind was no secret, his flickering thoughts and paranoia were talk of the Realm, not wanting to believe in them, but still being practical man.. Bran left his younger brother and most of household in Stonehelm. Taking with him only his man-at-arms Berric, two soldiers, squire, septon and two pages. They took the small speed boats to pass the tin, fast and waterfalls riddled river Slayne, leaving the Cape Wrath and mountain range behind them where fresh horses waited for them, rented in Bronzgate. They then took the Kings Road and without much delay came right in to the southern entrance of the Kingswood and soon after Kings Landing. They traveled more then a week, after passing threw the River Gate they took much needed rest in one of the Inn's in the Fishmonger's Square. It might not be the most suitable place for highborn man, but Brandon knew for much worse in his young life, and was grateful just to rest after long ride and sailing. Morning after he spend in with one of the tailors of the capitol, silk and fine tunics knew to tater and damage only by transport, and he wanted to look his best for the royal court as well as for all the nobles who will attend. He only noticed then, that Kings Landing was transformed in to a huge tourney ground, music and tunes from many minstrels and bards caught his attention, wishing for the tailor to hurry. Ones done, he was dressed in dark black tunic, with white silk sleeves sawed on them two swan necks cascading down toward his hands. Talk about rebellion and unrest was fairly known, so this splendor covered his usual doubled chain-mail. His hips and lower legs were covered in a thick steel plates, color of rust with small ornaments of gold. On his right hip stood his dagger for fast draw, while on left sheathed was his trusted blade.. Sirens Kiss. Handle was of a naked woman with her arms spread in to a hug which shielded his hands, lower half of her body was scaled and with two long flippers forking as the apple of the sword. Ones the time was upon him, his two guards lead by his mat at arms started the walk toward the pavilions outside the Red Keep, his father has a custom which he done during his youth, and his son wanted to honor it. Brandon Swann, with his tall and strong figure, lead the group from the middle, throwing coppers in to the crowd of Kings Landing same as his father before him. Knight who is born with wealth have the duty of sharing it on to a joyful occasions. Kids were fastest and gathered the most Bran noticed with a smile, skinny and small, they would crawl between peoples feet, women's skirts.. and scoop the coppers like they were sugar cubes. Cry of a dying animal echo just some 50 feet away, its rider was, it seemed, very large man dressed in night black armor with sinnister looking spikes ornamenting its shoulders. Brandond's men placed there hands of the hilts as the animal roared for last time.* -He must have road him hard, he sounded as though falling from exhaustion, my Lord.- *one of his man noted, as the cart rode just in front of the dead animal. Bran slowed down his pace to allow whoever is in it to enter fist without creating the unnecessary crowd. Stone around them made him hear partial sentences.. 'Lady Rhaella' was something he understood very clearly. His fingers closed around his man Berric's shoulder, stopping him, his eyes passing across the young woman's features. Whispering to his company..* "Look at those eyes, they shine bright even on this distance. That is a lady daughter of out late Liege Lord." *His fingers loosen, and the men again moved forward. The closer they were to the entrance, the more formation opened up, allowing Brandon to step out and walk on the head. Few steps more and he was in the eyes sight of the group in front of them. He glanced on the dead horse on stone road, then in to the boy, and then in to the woman's eyes. He spoke to all of them, but watched only her.* "I do apologize my Lords, ser's, but I must admit those eyes caught me off guard." *His neck bowed down, and his back followed. Arching down in to a gentleman's greeting. He placed his left hand on the body of the siren on his left, speaking while still in the bow..* "I did not mean to eavesdrop my lady, but these walls have nature of there own I'm afraid. Brandon Swann of Stonehelm, it is pleasure to meat you lady Rhaella." *His body moved back up, and his hand from sword on to his back. Moving just one step closer to the beautiful and a very strong looking woman.* "This is my man at arms, ser Berric Green." *He pointed, and all three of his men bowed again. Green eyes went across the big mans features, but he did not recognize him, nor anyone else from the ladies vicinity.* "Forgive me, but I do not recognize any of your companion's. I'm afraid we Swann's are rather closed in house." *He wished to ask her to be her escort to the Keep, but that would be out of place and rude towards other men around them.*

Grimm: The Red Keep was as busy as the city below, the only difference being, people wore nicer cloths to run around in on their daily tasks. Kainen never saw his sister or nephew enter the Keeps main gate behind him, he was too focus on his goal to let even the slightest of things, like a dead horse, disturb him. Bumping and nudging his way through the crowd, that for the most part moved out of his way, bar a few that Kainen plowed through without breaking a stride and who did not offer a complaint once they saw the hulking male of an assailant that struck them. With a turn, Kainen vanished into the kitchens, much to the disappointment of the chef inside who was trying to prepare food for the gathering nobles. "Well this is a feast worthy of a King" Kainen's words bellowed cause one or two of the younger serving girls to giggle, while at the same time retreat a couple of steps from the hulking male. Grabbing a serving platter that was used to hold an entire roasted pig, Kainen walked about the kitchen gathering enough food to feed a family, before resolving himself to a table in the corner of the room, sitting down, feet up on the desk and quickly making up for the last day of riding and not eating. Back at the gate, however, the banner men that were meant to be by his side, were now stuck organizing a way to move the deceased horse. Grayson had handed the reigns of his horse to Yennrick who lead them off to the stables further in the keep, though it seemed already a kart was being hauled out so the animal could be moved. Things were far more efficient in the capital than the other houses they had to visit in the last number of months. Bowing his head again to Rhaelle he spoke low "If you will excuse me M'Lady, I should go tend your brother Lord Kainen before something else goes arry" Before he left, Grayson bowed to Lord Brandon also, then turned and left for the kitchens after Kainen.

Biird: Rhaelle hoped the heads of the house would arrive quickly. This ‘Lady Rhaelle’ bullshit was grating her nerves already. Rhaegar attached himself to her leg as per his usual manner and peered up at every man and woman that bustled past them. When the voice an unfamiliar voice called her by that insufferable title, Rhaelle turned, and Rhaegar followed suit, never missing a beat. She gave the man she’d never seen before a nod. He introduced himself and the resemblance was clear now. He was the spitting image of his father. “Lord Swann.” She said flatly, disregarding his comment about her unusual eyes. That was even less of a topic she wanted to breach with a man she did not know. Rhaegar squeezed the back of her thigh. Her fingers found the end of his braid and wrung it around her fingers idly as this new man introduced the man he’d come with. He was regarded with a nod as well, a flickering moment before she moved her icy gaze to the men that had come with her brother,”Ser Yennick and Ser Grayson. My son, Lord Rhaegar Baratheon.” She said giving the boy’s braid a soft tug. “A pleasure, Lord Swan.” Came the boy’s small voice, though he carried a firm tone. Rhaegar separated himself from his mother long enough to mirror Brandon Swann’s bow. Then Grayson, his body already vibrating with anxiety over the loss of his ward for lack of a better term, politely excused himself before something exploded deeper within the keep. The though almost caused Rhaelle’s stoic, even mean features to crack with a smile. She acknowledged his departure and motioned with a flick of her wrist to the horse removal behind him. “Stable your new horse, but bring my affects to my room.” Yennick’s hand went to the replica Warhammer strapped along the side of the horse and he nodded quickly. “Yes, M’Lady. Of course and for the young lord?” “I got nothing!” Rhaegar piped up, receiving another tug from his mother. His voice would carry to all those little leeches swarming around the keep and cause questions to be raised about the nature of their arrival. He frowned looking up at his mother, who made no eye contact. Not understanding what he’d done didn’t change the fact that he knew that tug was a reprimand. “Lord Swann. I hope to see you during all these grand festivities. No doubt your eerie resemblance to your father isn’t the only thing you’ve come to take from him.”

Aegon: *Little man clinging to his mothers leg looked so cute to Brandon that he could not hide the curving of his lips. His eyes followed those of the boy, as she presented the two men beside. With regular curious nod Brandon acknowledged there names and titles. But on boys name he smiled bit wider, lowering his upper body as child's hair got tugged and he spoke, moving all brave-like closer to the broad shouldered Bran.* "Oh pleasure is all mine my young Lord. Such a beautiful name for such a brave young boy. I'm sure you will live up to its glory when your older." *he winked at a child, and moved one step backward. Giving the youngling the needed space. Sound from the Keep made them all jump a bit, his men gain placing there steel beaded fingers over blade hilts. -So much tension- Bran noticed, as one of the men from there company excuse himself, and went inside with fast pace.* "Ser Grayson." *Brandon said as a parting courtesy, observing the war-hammer that the other knight, Yennick, pulled from the side of the stallion. -Formidable weapon- he thought to himself, glancing at the woman's hips. He realized company of women was not something he was accustomed too in his life. He frat from her beauty and armor piercing gaze more then he would against fifty Dornish spear-men. As she moved, so did Bran, nodding to his men to follow but give space. Her words about his looks made him lower his head to side, childishly smile.* "I cant say I received higher praise in my life. Lady Rhaelle. I did aspire to be like my father almost all my life." *He did not like that these words came out, this he did not admit to anyone. Not in this way. Were her eyes to blame, or her last name?* "They say I am my fathers reflection in many things, but mostly in his sense of duty and honor." *Green orbs lowered down on to the boy one more time before he would turn and walk in to the Keep..* "You have a beautiful boy my lady. If you ever find yourself in a of fitting Knight for young Rhaegar to squire.." *He said in a very low tone, but honest and friendly, looking in to both of them on the end of the sentence* "..I would be honored to care for the boy, as well as teach him everything my house knows in the terms of Knighthood." *Though ones finished, he thought this might not have been the best time nor place for asking such a private thing. But Swann men do things in there own way, sadly. He nod to the woman one more time, before disappearing threw the arched gateway blinding with light from within.*

Grimm: Grayson walked into the kitchen, his manner a bit anxious as he looked around the room where his charge had disappeared into without waiting moments before. The tension in the room was palpable, Kainen was definitely in here somewhere and with the giggling of the two kitchen maids and their locked gaze to the corner of the room, Grayson spotted the monster scoffing down more food than he had packed for a weeks travel. Sighing, the young man walked across the gap between them and came to a stop a few feet away, his voice low enough so only Kainen would hear him. "My Lord..." The title was punctuated with annoyance that he did not hide at all, there was no need, Kainen never stood on ceremony and even if he spoke to the eldest son of the Baratheons respectfully or not, a punch was a punch if the mammoth of a man didn't like being spoken too at all. Grayson was a little more relaxed around Kainen than Yennick was, though there was a 4 year gap between Grayson and Yennrick, though they were brothers. It was one of the reason Kainen allowed them to accompany him, he had a thing for family bonds, plus, he knew Grayson wouldn't let Yennick do something stupid. Grayson was a good kid, 2 years younger than Kainen, headstrong, he knew where he wanted to be in life and had the determination to get there. Yennick on the other hand was always a trouble maker who was forced to serve alongside his brother by their father after he got caught stealing a third time. What better way to scare someone straight that put them as a charge under the Dragon of Storms End. So far it was working. Kainen scoffed down half a chicken, an apple, 12 strips of smoked bacon and 2 mugs of ale before he replied to Grayson who had now resigned himself to the seat on the opposite side of the table. "Yo should eat something. You won't get as big as me if all you do is worry like an old hand maiden" Kainen's scarred lips cracked to a smile before he tore into another piece of meat. "Your sister arrived the same time you did but your nose distracted you again My Lord" Pointing a piece of bone at Grayson, Kainen gruffed, my mother smacked me with a name, not a title, use it when it's just us." Grayson frowned and sighed yet again. It was as if the giant of a man was completely oblivious to the fact they were sitting in the middle of a kitchen with people running around trying to do work. "Kainen.." He wasn't comfortable with using his Lords name so easily in public "Lady Rhaelle is in the courtyard" Kainen threw his head back and laughed "And that's a title that will get you a look that could kill faster than my fist" Kainen knew Rhaelle hated her station, but he quietened himself and stood up from his seat, chicken still in hand as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and bellowed so loud one would swear the walls of the building itself shook "LADY RHAELLE BARATHEON. You took your time getting here!" A devilish smirk tugged on the edge of Kainen's lips. His lavender eyes could not see his sister, but he was sure his voice would find her without fault. Grayson bolted from his seat and held his hands up as if to pull Kainen back inside but quickly thought better of it. "Please, My Lord. not so loud."

Biird: There were precious few words spilling from the lips of this young Lord that Rhaelle cared about. Rhaegar on the other hand was completely wrapped up. He adored being acknowledged without the hanging mark of his birth manner, so this man had the full attention of his great big grey eyes. Eyes that seemed to widen at the soft spoken offer to be squired by someone who hadn’t snubbed their nose at his mere appearance. His head swung up to his mother, beaming hope and want. She didn’t look at him. She rarely did when he wanted something she was going to say no too, but didn’t stop him wanting. “A generous offer, Lord Swann, so soon into introductions. I would be sure to keep your tutelage in mind when my son sees his seventh name day.” Rhaegar swallowed a squeal that shook his entire little body as he pressed to his mother’s side. His nose wriggled, head shook until finally he righted himself mimicking her stone like features and gave Brandon an appreciative smile. “Thank you very much for the offer, Lord Swann.” He chimed in. Though his face was stilled it beamed in thanks. They continued through the courtyard all three high born children in step toward the guest quarters, until suddenly a familiar voice boomed across the yard loud enough to turn everyone’s head and cause Rhaelle’s face to twist with anger. It a flicker of a moment, a small ripple across an otherwise still pond. She broke immediately from Rhaegar’s side and snatched a long spear free of the hand of its rightful owner. Her stance was firm, rooted, her arm baring muscle under the hugging cloth of her dark tunic, when she hurled the spear in a great arc that gliding over the head of every person in her path until it embedded so deeply in the dirt at her brother’s feet that the blade was gone. Muttering angrily, Rhaelle snatched Rhaegar by the hand and stormed through the parted crowd toward her brother.

Aegon: *Boys innocent gaze disarmed him completely, at least in this moment in this conversation, Brandon was like a molding clay. Cow-eyed by this little bundle of shyness. He again had to smile very widely and without any reservation, he know not the joy of children and there easily obtainable happiness. This little one however thought him more about it then his father in thirteen years of his life. He wanted to pat his head and brush threw his hair, but he stop himself in time.* "Preparations can never come too soon, in my experience at least. Any child should be offered best chance for his or hers growth. Knowing that some of the.. others.." *He glanced over his shoulder toward the music and voices of the Gods only know how many noblemen packed in to the Main hall.* "..would propose same thing, only watered down like a bad vine of skills and knowledge, make me want to say it first." *He parted his hands just a bit, gesturing an apologize if he sounded to abrupt with the offer. Or making the child too excited. Ones the boy shock and move from his words, Brandon promised him with his eyes..* "After his seventh name day it is." 'Loud scream echoed from the side, coming from one of the servant kitchen passages. Man whom Brandon saw entering the Red Keep not a moments ago, yelled and called Baratheon girl a 'sister'. -Kainen Baratheon, by his age and looks- he said to himself, his hand resting on the Sirens Kiss apple without him even noticing it. And the moment later gripping the hilt as the spear started to rotate threw the air, as the woman took its stand for the throw. It was a very well executed stance, it could rival any of the best Dornish spear-men he encountered. But Brandon's face was emotionless, only watching the little boy who now stood alone beside his young mother, with few fast steps he was beside him. It was far from it that the child was in any form of danger or even mishap, but for some reason Brandon appeared behind him like a shadow, not alarming him at all. His men watched the girls form and bouncing tits with open mouths. Spear went flying, scouring the ground and creating the symphony of huffs and sighs. Brandon moved from the boy before she could see him, his opinion of her fully changed now, with a firm and wide steps he walked pass his men same time when he heard her steps behind him.* "Close your mouths and move." *He said with shaking voice, tossing one more look toward the Baratheon siblings. Muttering in to his chin* "It seams that apple fall far from the tree."

PainlessLaceration: The road to Kings Landing seemed to take ages, and was a bitter-sweet journey for the Lannister family. It was a grand thing to be invited anywhere, let alone to the Harvest Festival. Of course the jealousy of the Lannisters still run deep, and having to travel to a place where they once ruled almost seemed shameful. The younger generation could feel it. As though the entire group traveled with their tail tucked between their legs. Why? What was so shameful in graciously accepting an invitation to a festival? The youngest Lannister openly asked this and was quickly scowled by her mother Alysanne. *Alysanne*: "Joanna, please. This is an opportunity to put our family back into the good fortunes of our neighboring houses. Something that we cannot take for granted." *Joanna*: "I do not understand? Why? Why must we walk on eggshells?" Even in her youth and knowing the story, Joanna could not fathom the thought of walking on eggshells when this was supposed to be a time of celebration. She of course was quickly reminded of how if she did not straighten her act and wise up, she may spend the rest of her days in Casterly Rock and never see the light of day. This methaphor was taken back immediately and her mother graciously apologized, but Joanna had none of it. *Joanna*: "I am blind, mother. I cannot see the light of day whether I wanted to or not." The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Joanna traveled with her mother, two brothers and about seven loyalists to the Lannister House. A small entourage with nothing flashy, so they arrived in Kings Landing under the radar practically. Joanna travelled on a older steed. One she could easily control and not hard to ride. It was led by a servant of the house so the blind girl did not have to lead it herself on the road less taken. Upon arrival, Joanna was removed from her loyal horse by one of the senior loyalists and gaurd, led over to her mother who was already dismounted. *Alysanne*: "Darren is aware of our sleeping arrangements.." The old woman knew her daughter well. She would avoid another hole for as much as possible, insisting she be allowed to explore. Away from her pesky brothers and hovering mother. *Alysanne*: "If you need me, you know where to find me. I have some business to take care of. Behave." She bent low and kissed her daughters forehead who turned away and took Darrens arm. *Joanna*: "Lead the way, ser." She requested, voice dull. Unruly blonde locks crossed over her face and in her mouth, wearing a dark blue dress made of decent fabric. As well presented as she could without wearing a finer dress, she would save those for the noble activities. Without a word, both she and her loyal guard began to trek into the crowds, Joanna with her shoulders back and head held high.

Grimm: Another mouthful of chicken was torn from the bone before Kainen tossed it aside, leaning against the door frame in which he stood. Grayson was still behind and to his side, sighing, trying to urge the towering male to act a bit more, respectful when in the company of, well, anyone really. Kainen's arms folded across his chest, he knew Rhaelle had more control that the other siblings of the Baratheon line in Storms End, even if she could destroy a man almost as quickly as Kainen could. "Did I not just tell you to stop worrying, you gained at least 3 years just coming in here, not to mention the other 40 on our journey." Peering out the door, Grayson heard no reply from Kainen's sister, maybe she had no heard the oaf, but then again, that was impossible. Going to take a step passed his charge, he was halted when Kainen shot upright and a moment later, right where Grayson would have been, a spear impeded itself in the ground between Kainens feet. "You know, maybe that was a bit loud" Kainen's face contorted slightly as one eyebrow raised, the sight of his raging sister and nephew moving quickly through the parting crowd almost made the Dragon fear the Beast, almost, if Kainen was capable of such a thing. Grayson on the other hand had turned whiter than a walker from the North. Rhaelle had as much of a temper as Kainen did, but managed it better, usually. Reaching forward, Kainen pulled the spear from the ground and handed it to Grayson just as Rhaelle pulled up in front of him with Rhaegar. Behind him, Grayson gave Rhaelle a nod before taking a pretty big step backwards. "All that traveling make your arms weak? I think you should have been able hit me from that distance at least?" Kainen teased as he looked down at Rhaegar and gave him a wink. "Should have let him throw it" A smirk tugged at the edge of Kainen's lip, knowing he was not really just playing with fire anymore, his legs were already burning, slowly.

Biird: Of course her outburst was not typical not her, not really for her. Rhaelle’s reactions to thing were usually more subtle though just as brutal if not more. Rhaegar’s little leg struggled to keep up with his mother, who blatantly ignored all stares and whispers, but he didn’t so much as make a noise of discomfort. They pulled to a stop abruptly in front of his mountain sized uncle, just as he ripped the spear from the earth. The little boy couldn’t quell his giggle when his uncle spoke,”I can throw far, uncle!” A jerk on his hand from his mother just down his beaming smile. “Never. Do. That. Again.” She sneered through gritted teeth, the eyes of a white demon dropping onto Grayson. The man managed to pale more and widened his distance from the Beast of Storm’s End. “Forgive me, My Lady. I tried to stop him.” Jerking upright from leaning into her brother, Rhaelle’s already ramrod posture stiffened further. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally uncurled her fingers from around her son’s hand. If he was damaged by her angry grip he never said a word. Raking a hand through her shoulder length hair, Rhaelle’s eyes darted around, sending spectators back to their jobs with a single look. As her rose red lips parted, something exploded in the back of the kitchen. A dark plume of smoke mushroomed out of the kitchen chimney and filled the room behind her giant brother. The cooks were cursing and shouting. The smell of spices flooded the air. Two men came running from the darkness of the smoke carrying a long tray of charred meat. They were about to run out of the door where Kainen cast his shadow but instead stopped dead and let the burning carcass fall to the floor. “Move you giant oaf.” Rhaelle said shifting to the side of the door. “Why are you in here anyway? We have things to get ready for. Have you seen the other one yet? No. I do not need an answer. I know it. You followed your massive stomach here without a care for anything. You couldn’t even be bothered to notice the arrival of myself and Rhaegar.” Rhaelle moved away from the kitchen, her gaze drifting across the court yard once more. Another caravan of people arrived at the gates. There were few families that accept the invitation to the festival yet lack the boldness to fly their banner during their march. None of those families received a visit from herself or Kainen. It had begun.

Aegon: *Overly agitated respond by a Baratheon girl made him some what panicked, he dismissed his escort with a wave of his hand, telling them to go inside and mingle around guests. Any news would be welcomed at this snake pit. Brandon however turn to the right and back threw the big arched gateway he pass threw to get in. He leap from the small bridge and down to the side road of the Red Keeps entrance, smell of stables and ale could be sensed. Rhaelle did not do nothing too drastic, or out of the ordinary, but for some reason he found it very repealing at that moment. His fingers pressed between each other, making his bones clack under the pressure.. Dornish Marshes made him behave like that all day long for five years, he perhaps expected to be spare of such sites in the capitol. But that was very naive and childish view on the world. He wanted to slap himself for even thinking it. Cart arrived at the moment he jumped from the lowered bridge, but he did not look back at it, just lost in his thoughts with eyes crawling up the bricks of Reek Keep. Soft sound made him lower his ear though and turn just a bit to side, then again sound moved, closer. Ones he turned he noticed a guard leading, it seamed, a child threw the tin and foot layered out track around the entrance. Guards eyes met his, and Brandon did try to look as pleasant as possible. His body moved to bow, but on the half way he stopped, noticing the misty net reflecting light in her eyes. Girl was blind, he knew. Ones closer he also noticed she was not as young as he originally estimated, but she just had a very young looking face. He made sure to make a sound with his belt buckle ones he straightened out, knowing that this cannot be anyone else by the Lannister girl. Blindness in the Red Keep was simply too rare to be any other girl.* "Lady Joanna. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh. My name is Brandon of house Swann.*

PainlessLaceration: The sounds of the buzzing world around her was overwhelming. Usually able to pick out at least a general direction of where someone was by their voice was muddied by a thousand voices. Her guard, clad in "hand me down" plate armor weaved his way through the crowds while trying to keep people from bumping into her. Darren was a young (ish) man, though hard labor had increased the age lines in his face and dark hair now peppered with grey. He kept Joanna on his right, his other hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. While he saw no immediate danger in anyone intentionally at least the man made it his best effort to give Joanna a smooth walk. Joanna, while confident in her stride, clung to the man with her scrawny arms. The new sounds and smells sent her senses into overdrive and while she tried to maintain composure if you knew her well enough there were signs of her comfortability level shrinking dramatically. One sign was she began grinding her teeth. Another and less obvious was her at times was hesitant to take a step, in which Darren reassured her with a gentle pull. He could get away with pressing the Lady to an extent. Not only did he watch this girl grow up he was more often than not her escort. Joanna felt no personal tie to him, but obviously had to have enough trust in him to allow him to be her eyes in this new place. "What is all the ruckus about, Darren?" Joanna's high pitch voice squeaked. For someone nearly sixteen years old, she sure didn't look the part. Before her escort could respond he stopped. Joanna took another step forward before realizing they had paused. Hearing the man, she tilts her head to the left as if to better hear him. Darren kept his eyes locked on Brandon. "While I am pleased to know that names and appearance travel well, Swann.. I wish I could I have heard of you." The young lass smiles, as if the insult would be overlooked by her cute features. "However. Pleased to meet you as well, ser. I pray your travel was swift and without conflict?"

Grimm: The rage bellowing behind the haunting hues of his sister did not stop the Dragon from laughing at his nephews words and patting him on the head, or going too until Rhaelle all but punctuated her words with a poke on Kainen's chest. He could hear Grayson retreat even further backwards which also caused him to laugh. "But if I did not, I would never get to see that fire you keep inside." Kainen always hated when she just stood and took the beatings from others that earned her the nickname the Beast of Storms End. His sister was not an attractive woman by normal standards, but she was built like most males her age wished and it drew out what he could only describe as jealousy on their parts. It's what drove him to be what he was, though he does not remember it being that way, he does not remember a time not being anything other than what he is now. It was also the reason he pushed her to release that fire she kept 'mostly' under control. Kainen paid no attention to the ruckus behind him, that's what Grayson was for, and the boy had a weapon, what more did he to sort out whatever problem was occurring. Though when his sister ordered him to vacate the doorway, he still did not budge, instead he crouched slightly and plucked Rhaegar off the floor as if he were naught more than an empty cup, placing the young boy on his shoulder allowing him to overlook and survey the entire area. Eventually he left the kitchen doorway, Grayson in hand who did eventually return the spear to the knight it was 'borrowed' from along with an apology. "You know the food in the capital is better than anything I have eaten in weeks on the road. I'm a growing lad, I need my food. Ain't that right little mouse?" Kainen poked the boy in the stomach and tickled him with a giant digit. The boy squeeled and kicked happily. Kainen never gave it a second thought as to where the boy came from, all he knew was he was his sisters son, and that was all he needed to know. Turning his attention back to Rhaelle to continue to answer he flood of questions. "You know our brother, if he is not lost in training then he is probably fawning over some hand maiden. I'd be surprised if he has even left The Reach yet. Hell I'd be surprised if he knew with a hand maiden if he ever caught one, like a puppy chasing a carriage" Kainen and Azaroth had a strained relationship of sorts, though it was basically all down to Azaroth wanting to be better than his brother and Kainen reminding him daily it wasn't going to happen. "Anyway, enough talk, I have eaten, I have laughed, I have been threatened with bodily harm, bare the horse though I haven't killed anything in a while. So I think it is time for a rest" Behind him Grayson let out another sigh, it seemed that was the boys favorite noise to make when around his charge. "You already forgot the man that tried to stop you to pay a bridge tax a couple hours before he arrived?" He didn't say it loud enough for Kainen to hear, but the mountain of a man had punched the guy so hard in the chest he shattered the mans ribs which Grayson then assumed pierced his lungs and heart because he was dead moments before hitting the ground, though Kainen had kept talking telling the man it was a bad line of business to be in, bridge taxes that is, before remounting the horse and riding off. Grayson had given up a long time ago on counting the amount of people Kainen had 'accidentally' killed or had forgotten he did so moments after doing it. The number was too great to think about. Following the three, he was to make sure they got in safe, if that could be used in a sentence describing Kainen at all, before he would retire to his own quarters for the evening.

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Biird: Her morning bath had been less than stellar, her morning meal was nothing to mention again, and constant smell of piss and shit that came over the castle walls made her want to go home with every other passing thought. At least Sunspear smelt of orange blossoms and the food had flavor. Her personal bath looked out over the water gardens, the bathhouse watched the waves of the sea and bath in her brother’s room viewed the line of orange groves that lead winding paths to the water gardens. This place was shaping up to be as boring as her little sister, whom she hadn’t seen since the drama in town. There was one thing that kept her lurking about and interested in this dung pile of a capital; that giant man who had killed her bodyguard with one blow. Now that a beast worth dissecting. The night after the incident in town Lux had laid in her bed and let the whole scene play over and over again on the ceiling of her guest quarters. She tried to deduce who he might have been and kept returning to the same conclusion; he had to have been one of those big burly cousins her mother was always fretting and fussing about. Maybe even the one that had come in the night to speak with her parents and disappeared before dawn. Either way, she was intrigued. So much so that after her morning routine she’d set to the halls of keep in search of a man that couldn’t possibly go unnoticed. However, she’d been distracted and found herself wandering the expansive gardens of the castle. At least here smelt sweet until the wind took sway and hauled a fresh stench of poor people and their troubles over the wall. Luxia wrinkled her little pierced nose and pulled her hair over her lip, filling her nostrils with the scent of coconut and orange oil. This harvest festival thing was a bust. She’d been promised tournaments with blood and guts not shit smell and hoards of people rushing here and there and everywhere.

Joshuel: The Western winds had blown him from Myr all the way to King's Landing. Aboard the deck he had stood, overlooking a pearly blue sea which had darkened the further west they came. And yet, the darkening of the waters or the cooling of the wind did not bother him. He was homeward bound. And it was the best feeling in the world. He had been in contact with the Maester back in Sunspear, who had informed him that his family was in King's Landing. His farewell had been short, his comrades had said their thanks and goodbyes and had sent him off. They knew what it was like to miss their families. A lot of men had signed up for years, not seeing their kin for just as much time. But Dastan had decided he would go home. The way into the Blackwater had been clear of any trouble. And after being cleared to dock by the harbormaster, finally Dastan set foot back in the lands of his home. He'd not seen Westeros for many years. His only contact had been the letters that he'd sent his family. His half-sisters, his friends back in Sunspear, the Watergardens, wherever. The smell of salt and fish was overpowering. And yet could not fully mask the stench that came with a city of this size. King's Landing. He'd always thought of the place as a hellhole. It tried so hard to be something it was not. A pit of snakes and spiders, a pit of shit. But alas, if this was where his family would be, he'd endure. With feet finally on steady ground, he had to adjust. It took a moment for him to feel the groundedness of the quay, and stop wobbling. A breeze picked up, grasping at his tunic. Light, airy. Exactly what Dastan was used to. His trousers waved. With his feet on stable ground he then stepped off, after nodding to his personal serf, who'd gestured to Dastan's luggage. “Find a winehouse where the beds are not infested. I have slept in tents for too long.” His tongue dripped with his Dornish accent, which had mixed somewhat with that of the Valyrian language. He'd spoken Valyrian for so long that it'd snuck into his regular speech patterns. Something which he hadn't noticed himself. Then, with his hand on the knob of his sword – which hung freely by his right hip – he stepped forward and into the city.

Grimm: The travel from the North was long, though it was comfortable and the gradual upgrade in temperature with each step was welcoming to Varien, the second born son of the Stark house. Both him and his younger sister Mirna were sent in the stead of his older brother Jarik who now was head of Winterfell with their father recently passed. Varien was not very comfortable with this, but, it was not his place to question what is asked of him by the Lord of Winterfell, plus, Varien would also do anything to help Jarik regardless of his personal feelings. Arriving the day after the Dornish caravan, Varien and his group of escorts pulled into the Red Keep, having passed the wreckage of a former tent and the flurry of annoying mutters that seemed to be directed at a house guard that was trying to offer some funds it looked like to pay for the damages. Varien did not get a look as to who the guard belonged too, though it was definite he was not of the Kings Guard or a soldier of Kings Landing. As they pulled into the main courtyard, Varien turned to his sister and smiled. "We have finally arrived. Lets hope things go smoothly" Varien didn't really have the penchant for tactful speaking in public places but he quickly cleared his throat and dismounted from his grey steed. One of the banner guards moved to the carriage Mirna sat within and opened the door, offering her his hand in aid to disembark.

Guest_iBlackSapphire: Mirna had played with the ends of her frigidly stiff hair throughout the ride in the carriage, all she wanted was to be out front on horseback with her mother, but formalities called for her to ride by herself in the claustrophobic space. Even though it felt like it had been forever since they lost their father, Mirna still considered it mourning for the family and did not wish to attend such a grand feast with the feelings of grief and disarray the entire situation has caused. She fiddled with the edges of the sleeves of her black gown as she watched the Red Keep get closer and closer into view. Finally their caravan came to a stop and her door opened to one of their many bannermen, with his hand extended. “Oh... thank you,” she whispered, taking his hand and slowly climbing out of the carriage with her dress in her other hand. She glanced up at Varien for a moment, but kept her head down as they headed closer to the Red Keep. She straightened out her hair over her shoulders and dress, ready to meet what this new adventure to begin. "I'm ready brother," she said in her small voice as she stared at the oncoming gates.

Biird: With nothing going on in the gardens, Luxia found her way out. After a few twists and turns she’d ended up in front courtyard where still more people were arriving. Standing on the steps of a platform that led down into the courtyard, Luxia wrinkled her nose in though, her massive ears twitching slightly like a cat trying to hone in on a specific sound. For a king that was cruel and mean and solitary from what the stories told, he sure had quite the shindig set up. Luxia was would have thought with all the people he’d insulted over the years, including his own kin, that no one would have obliged his request to hold the Harvest Festival centrally this year. Light bulb! Maybe they were going to poison him and he would die gagging and gasping for air with his eyes budging out of his head the way it was described that King Geoffrey had died. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. She’d almost squealed at the thought. It didn’t matter to her that in reality King Alexander the Mad was her cousin by blood. She’d never met the man and still hadn’t since her arrival. Her parents were being very secretive and keeping rather low profiles for the time being which made the hairs on her body stand at a tension. There was a buzz of something in the air around the Keep that made Luxia think if she could bide her time and quell her ADD for long enough she’d be privy to something she’d never forget. Well. Whatever. Stark banners came through the gates piquing her interest. Winterfolk. Someone who could explain snow to her and tell stories of wildings no doubt. They funneled into the gates followed by the banners of their lower houses, women coming out of carriages and men dismounting horses. Nothing to terribly different than the way she and her family had arrived. With the exception that they were all pale, worn people and she and her kin were sunkissed and happy. It made her wonder why her sister was so keen to travel. Everywhere seemed pretty shitty compared to Dorne.

Joshuel: Perhaps it was the confidence with which he walked, or perhaps it was the fact that with his weapon on his hip, he looked the part of a thug. But people did not get in his way, but moved out of his path wherever he went. It was quite a funny sight, really, watching commoners, people like him, lower their gaze and move to the side. It was something he would have to get used to. He wandered through the streets, following the directions he had been given by the Maester in his letter. Soon he found himself walking up the mound to the Red Keep. He was perhaps not dressed as a noble, but hoped nonetheless that he would be allowed in. And if not, at least he could leave a message, that way his family would know where to find him. Caro, the serf, would know where to find him. And if not, send a message. Dastan stood out, at least among the pale-faced Westerosi that surrounded him. When he came upon the Keep, there were guards by the gate. And those guards stopped him by crossing their halberds infront of him. Dastan found this to be bad manners, and rose an eyebrow. “Who goes there?” Asked the man on the right, a man that didn't sound like he'd have too much brain in his head. “Dastan Sand, first born bastard of Oberyn the second Martell.” “Tha'so? Ca'ye prove it?” “I'm sure that if I had papers, you'd not be able to read them.” This sparked a low growl from the less than intelligent sounding fellow. “You've got a sharp tongue, perhaps a bit too sharp.” Dastan couldn't help but laugh at that comment, and tilted his head, pursing his lips as he did. “Then let's hope your mind grows to be half as sharp as that tongue of mine, don't you agree? Now run off and find someone to verify that I am infact myself.” Dastan saw the threatening glint in the man's eye, but soon enough a runnerboy was sent off to find himself a Martell, who could verify Dastan's identity. Ridiculous. “You don't sound Dornish, you know?” “No, he sounds like a smart-arse.” Again, Dastan chuckled and rose his eyebrow yet another time. “Can't believe they let such bright lights as you end up as guards. You sure they maesters couldn't use you? I'm sure they need pigs to practice on.”

Grimm: The second son of the Stark's had dismounted and relinquished the reigns of the mount to a stable boy who came to collect the animals. Standing behind Mirna, her personal guard Ser Fenris, an elderly gentleman with greying hair scanned almost clouded eyes about the crowd that was gathering in the courtyard. Fenris was a seasoned knight having served the previous Lord since his youth. The death of Richard had his Fenris hard and he was not too happy with being sent away to protect the young Lady on this voyage, but alas, he also knew his duty and agreed to Jarik's request, knowing Richard would have wanted it such as this. Giving a nod his Lord Varien, Fenris watched the boy depart to find out more information about what the current standings on the festival were, preferable straight from Lady Rhaelle, though Fenris did not know this and simply sent 2 guards with Varien. The commotion at the gate behind did not go unnoticed, but it did not seem to warrant the old Knight to turn his attention and simply held a hand towards the Noble Quarters where Lady Mirna would be staying. "Perhaps you should rest after the journey M'Lady."

Guest_iBlackSapphire: Mirna simply shook her head lightly as she gazed about the courtyard, the air was full of salt and some wretched stench. She waved in front of her nose though it was of no use, she would either have to ignore it or come to get used to it. “No, Ser Fenris. I believe I will wander about for a bit of time,” she distantly answered him. She picked up her skirts and moved further through the courtyard and the crowds of people. Something in her gut told her not to wander too far, but curiosity of this new place overruled that feeling. Some people remained silent watching her and her caravan, while others were smiling and talking about. All the flurry of the people around her reminded her of the Northern blizzards, but this time there would be no shelter for her to hide from them. In the back of her mind all she wished was to be back at home with her elder brothers instead of this reeking city. She put it off and continued to try to move through the crowd, but kept an eye on where Ser Fenris was so that if he lost her, she could go back at any moment. The last thing she needed was more bad news getting back to Jarik.

Biird: What was it about this place that made everyone look so gloomy? Maybe it was the smell. King’s Landing needed aquaducts like the one in Dorne. Indoor plumbing. It was a big thing. In the midst of her wild notions, Luxia spotted a familiar face. He was older than she remembered and more the spitting image of their father than when he’d left. A smile craved through her features as she darted down the steps, shoulder bumping the young runner who’d been sent off to see if he could verify his very identity. She crossed the court yard, darting past the young Stark woman and her man, and ducted under the arms of the guards that held her brother at bay. “Dastan!” Luxia chimed, her large ears wiggling under her loose ponytail, arms wide and directed for his waist in a warm embrace. “Brother! How did you know were here? Where have you come from? What did you bring me?” The guard with an I.Q just north of a Lady’s silk slipper frowned to find that the man had not been lying, for he knew the unusual blond head of the Princess Luxia Martell, her voice, ears and mannerisms were a hard feat to forget. Her presence force he and his gate partner to stand aside and allow the man with the strange accent entry into the court.

Joshuel: He waited, leaning back on his leg. His eyes going over the two men, who were still weighing their chances against this southern looking fellow, who stood so confidently infront of them. Were he not whom he said he was, he'd have to be taken in. But that sword on his hip did look sharp, and there was something about his eyes that made the men wonder if it would be a good idea. Then, a voice. A voice he recognized as belonging to his young sister. One of three voices he knew by heart, mind and soul. “Luxia.” He said with a grin, as he watched the girl bump through the men infront of him to reach him. She was spouting a waterfall of questions, one that Dastan would answer, but not among these people. Perhaps in the confines of the girl's room. “My sweet sister, you have grown more beautiful than I could have imagined.” His arms had gone around her, pulling the girl's frame to his with a smirk around his lips. “I have my sources, my darling. Where are your sisters?”

Guest_iBlackSapphire: Mirna was too busy gazing around at her new surroundings until a flash of blonde hair rushed past her in a blur of her vision, the girl was shouting at someone in the distance. Mirna followed her curious about what might have caused all her commotion. She saw a dark haired man that somehow didn’t look all too similar, but something about their interaction made her think about her and her brothers. Mirna fiddled with her moonstone choker, her fingertips smoothing over the largest stone in the center of the bottom of it. It calmed her nerves a bit and gave her strength to approach the young woman without a timid response. “Pardon me mi’lady,” she stuttered a bit, still grappling with her necklace in one hand and reaching out to tap the girl’s shoulder. “I felt the need to just tell you that your gown is just beyond beautiful.” She gazed down at her own black gown hugging her bodice. It was nothing as extravagant as hers, but it was the best from the North.

Biird: Luxia tried to mimick coy when Dastan called her his sweet sister, but it wasn’t genuine it was foolish. “Imagine often on your travels, did you, brother?” She teased not unaware that he’d glossed over her flurry of questions. It was fine, she’d get her answers in due time. They embraced for a long moment, Luxia taking in the smell of his sea worn skin before backing neatly out of the hug to look into his face with a bright smile which faulted when he inquired about her sisters. “How should I know? They are so dreadfully boring. Yesterday Quorah and I went into town and she got crushed! That wasn’t boring, it was wonderful. I haven’t seen since though.” She mused, tapping her chin in thought for a moment. Looping her arm into that of her brothers, she practically pranced back into the courtyard. “I hope you aren’t planning to stay in some tavern. We should find you an apartment. Mother and Father will be delighted to see you.” A small tap to her shoulder caused Luxia to throw her head onto her shoulder and bat lashes at the person to claim her attention. It was the small, delicate little blue rose from the North. Her voice was mousey like Quorah’s but not as firm. Freeing herself from her brother, Luxia turned fully and gave herself a once over. “Why thank you, Lady of the North! I am Princess Luxia Martell of Sunspear in Dorne. This is my brother Prince Dastan Sand…”placing her hand up to her lips as if to create a wall between herself and her brother, Luxia feigned a whisper,”my father’s first bastard.” Her voice rose again,”Isn’t he beautiful though? This is what real Dornish men look like. I have another beautiful brother too. You should meet him.” She frowned in thought. “But he won’t leave his room. He’s being that way again.” Her eyes had drifted far off but abruptly returned to her new friend. “Who are you? A Stark, I know that. I watched your banners come in.”

Joshuel: “Why, a man needs to think of something when he's overseas. And what better to think about than beautiful sisters?” He said, grinning, his head rolling back as they embraced. When she started rambling about her sisters' whereabouts and what happened to Quorah, Dastan grumbled and rose an eyebrow. “You should be nice to Quorah, my dove. She is your blood.” Then, he was dragged along into the courtyard, but was once again stopped when Luxia was once more distracted. This time by a mousy looking northern girl with skin pale as snow. Dastan had never liked those with fair complexions. To him it was unnatural. The darker the girl, the lovelier he would think them. He was well-known in Volantis for that very fact. Though, that was a story for another time. “Luxia. Perhaps you should let the girl take a breath before drowning her in your musings, don't you think?” He did, however, bow to the lady Stark after his sister's mention. “My lady.”

Guest_iBlackSapphire: “I’m Mirna, Lord Rickard’s only daughter,” she answered with a small smile to the girl. Her flurry of words were almost overpowering, she indefinitely had the spirit of Dorne in her. At the mention that the man was her brother made everything click into place for her. They were the complete opposite of her house. ‘Amazing how these events bring all the varieties of the Seven Kingdoms,’ she thought to herself. She waved her hands in front of her when the man bowed. “No, no please. There’s no need for that.” She made a tiny curtsy and tried her best to keep up with her words. “She is quite alright. In fact, this is probably the longest conversation I have received in some time.” It made her beyond happy to have this sort of interaction with her arrival to such a strange place.

Biird: Luxia waved off her brother. She didn’t much care to fawn over her sisters, though Isabel was probably the more entertaining of the two and she wasn’t taken by his little ribbing about thinking about her. In addition she never stopped talking until she was completely gone on her train of thought. He’d been gone for a number of years so having forgotten that was to be expected. Luxia lived in her own little world, occasionally she passed from the trap of her own mind into the reality shared by others but it wasn’t often and she didn’t really care for their rules or ways. Her eyes fluttered over the little Northern blue rose and her simple gown. “We should go find some lovely fabrics and have some gowns made. I hear the styles here are like nothing either of us know. When else will be get to dress like other ladies. I don’t know much about these hairstyles, too many twists I think, what do you think?” Again her arm looped into the crook of her bastard brother’s arm and she patted his forearm. “I would take you to mother and father but I haven’t seen much of them as of late. Perhaps at dinner? How would you like to escort lovely ladies about the town?”

Joshuel: “If I'm fairly honest, sister dear, I've been on a godforsaken boat for the better part of two weeks. What I would like most now is a bottle of wine, a glass and a comfortable chair. But don't let me hold you back. Please, explore the town. But take guards with you.” He then gave her a smile and stepped back. “I'll send a message with the tavern I will be staying at. As nice as it is of you to offer me a place, I need my space, and I'd rather not be locked in by walls.” He then looked around, as though nervous, at the high rising, red stone walls of the Red Keep, and swallowed dramatically. “Once I've sent a message, later today, mother and father can invite me for dinner. But for now, I still need to redress myself and I have an urge for wine that needs to be quenched.”

Guest_iBlackSapphire: Mirna smiled a bit wider and brushed a loose hair back under one of its pins. She could see the heat and water in the air begin to bring out her naturally wild waves in her hair. “I’d love to get some new dresses, but I’m sure I would need to contact my eldest brother first. We did after all… we recently lost our father, so I’m not quite sure how our finances work currently.” She glanced the man over again. He mentioned traveling by boat, she wondered what it would be like to travel all over without a care in the world and nothing to hold him back. She snapped back into the real world out of her mind as she noticed he was about to leave her and the other lady. “I.. I could call my guard for us if you wish.”

Biird: Luxia’s pout started small then grew with each passing word of her brother until a light bulb went off in her head. Mirna’s words glazed her mind but really all she heard from her was agreeance to her wild plans. “I have an idea! You should walk us to the nearest dress shop.” As was her way, she glazed over the dilemma in Mirna’s fianances and was too wrapped up in her own ideas and plans to give condolences about her recently deceased father. “I have guards…” She turned and let out a loud whistle which drew a good bit of attention but nothing seemed to change in the swing of things. “There we’re protected. There’s nothing wrong with doing a little looking around, besides we’d have to get measured and all of that. I hate getting measured. I hate standing around.” She started for the gates which she’d previously dragged her brother through and quickly behind appeared two Dornish guards, one still living from the ordeal a day ago and another fresh body of dark meat.

Joshuel: Dastan sighed. Luxia had been, ever since she could walk and talk, a handful of energy that could hardly be contained. And if he was honest, he did not feel quite up to the task of running his little sister down to a dress-shop with this pale-faced wallflower in tow. But he'd follow, if he really had to. He was sure to lose the girls, anyhow. As soon as Lux would see a shop, she'd be gone, which was just as well. It gave Dastan the time to disappear into the crowd. One of his specialties. Harder, ofcourse, thanks to the fact that his skin was darker than most Westerosi's were. In Essos it had been easier. And by muttering a few words in Valyrian, one could mix among the people of the East quite easily. “Well, if you insist...” He sighed, and followed after his sister and her newly found companion. Poor girl. Luxia could be quite rude, because she was so intensely self-absorbed. He had even found himself to be annoyed by her demeanor. That bothered him, but he blamed it on his time away. Whenever he would be adressed, he'd answer shortly and politely, and once the girls found themselves in a store or by a stall, he'd take the opportunity to blend away. From there, he'd make his way back to the yard. As a good lad, Caro had been waiting there for his master, after having his delivered to a proper winehouse. One with a good set of whores too, as Caro had made clear once Dastan arrived. When finally up in his room, with a bottle of wine, a glass and some assorted fruits and nuts, he made himself comfortable by the window. His sister would be fine. No Dornishman would allow a Princess to be hurt, else he'd have failed his duties. Hopefully the meet-up with the rest of the family would go over a little less bothersome. One could only hope. “Caro. Send a message to my father. Give him the name and location of this tavern.”

Guest_iBlackSapphire: Mirna walked behind the pair of siblings and gazed around the many shops as they walked back out the gates to the streets of King’s Landing. Seeing the vibrant colors, smells, and distinct sounds were so eye opening she wasn’t sure if she even minded the bit of reek that hung over the city. She glanced back at the gates of the courtyard, unable to find her guard. “Luxia, I believe it would be best for me to first find my chambers before I go about the city to go shopping. I do enjoy your offer though,” she said as she back away slowly hoping to have her recognize her leaving before she could make a break to find her brother and finally get settled into her temporary home. She picked up her skirts and brushed her hair completely behind her back before brushing through the crowds searching for her brother. Instead a guard that recognized her offered to escort her to her wing of the castle for the night.

---

---

Androphobia: Isabel's eyes blazed violet flames as she took a sip of wine from her golden chalice. King's Landing. The sea had been quite forgiving during her voyage, so she had no complaints as far as the trip was concerned. She did, however, hate the smell. The metropolitan stench of King's Landing was nothing like perfumed heat of Dorne, or the floral breeze of Essos. Essos. That's where she had been for the past month. Her parents had asked a favor of her--entertain the affections of a dignitary in order to secure a trade agreement. He had visited Dorne a bit of time before her voyage, and of course Isabel caught his eye (Didn't she catch everyone's? She'd even made out with a eunuch, once). He begged her parents to allow her to accompany him back to Essos, in hopes that by the time they arrived, she would be persuaded to marry him. They obliged, knowing that when it came to seduction, Isabel was much more fearsome than anyone they knew. That being said, by the time they reached Essos, Isabel had not only been given the trade agreement, but also an estate in the Essos ("to come visit"), and as many gifts as her ship back home could carry. This included jewels, gold, clothing, rare fabrics, perfumed oils, and animals for her parents' menagerie. Isabel sighed as she looked onto the steeples of King's Landing. If she was going to survive this hellhole she would need two things.. A hard man and a stiff drink.


Merc: Castos pushed by a few of the other sailors to put himself on the back right hand side of the princess he was sworn to protect, both hands moved at once to his back and clasped together as he stood there wearing nothing but boots, pants and arm wraps. Whatever there was that used to make up the rest of his attire had been taken from him and cast aside into the sea many moons ago, after all the princess preferred her guards topless, and kept in the best conditions so that she may put them to whatever use she saw fit; it was a very stamina depriving job. The 5’9 sand kissed solider stood perfectly still against the cold winds of Westeros, even if it wasn’t as warm here as it was in Dorne or Essos he was still without that shirt though the only difference it made to his body now was the effect the cold winds had on the fine hairs of his body and his nipples which now stood rather erect. Snake like green eyes searched the area as the winds moved his well-kept hair out of place which was something he adjusted to fix almost instantly, bringing a hand from his back to comb the slick hair back into place, after all a bad looking guard around princess Isabel was general one that didn’t have a job or a head for long.


Grimm: Kings Landing was bustling as it always did, though it was even more alive with the festival drawing closer and closer and the number of people growing and growing. Kainen had, for the most part, locked himself away in whatever kitchen he could find both inside the Red Keep and outside, though his visits were usually only one time afairs as he was quickly barred, though he did not know it himself. Grayson was usually the one warned and tried his best to usher Kainen to a new location everytime he ventured out under the guise of "It's always good to try something new". Today though was the first time the monster of a male did not head straight for the kitchens, instead he found himself ontop of the Keeps wall, overlooking the harbor below. Many of the mian fleet was anchored off shore as always, though most were posted more towards Dragon Stone. Merchants were scrambling along the docks, peddling wears or at least restocking those recently sold. This was a time where gold was plentyful and sharp minds were rare when coupled with the alchohol that flowed freely through the streets. Grayson sat at Kainen's side, glad for the day off from the constant shouting he endured following his charge around, his younger brother off tending to who knows what, just as long as he wasn't here bothering Kainen with question after question. Not that the man ever answered, Grayson was usually the one that had too. Cracking his neck to the side, Kainen rolled his massive shoulders as he kept his gaze out across the dock and it's ant sized workers.


Biird: Lux spent the morning being lectured by her mother on goings on of being in the public market. Apparently her mother and father had an audience with her cousin, whom she’d never met, Rhaelle, in regards to destruction of a public tent, and the death of one of their guards. The slight was basically swept under the rug because well… family. Their mother new of the Baratheon side much more intimately than any of them. Luxia had never even so much as laid eyes on her cousins as far as she knew. Unbeknownst to either her or Kainen, he was the great beast she was infatuated with and the one that had destroyed everything with one punch. The lecture was boring and the only thing that piqued her interest was the final few lines of how Isabel should have been arriving today. Her eldest sister would surely liven up this stink pit they’d been brought too. Having to wait for her mother to stop fussing and worrying was a terrible chore. Even though Lux was rambunctious and wild, she still respected her mother enough to sit, even if dramatically, and wait for her to finish saying whatever she’d been saying for the past hour. “Do you understand me, Luxia?” “I do!” She said merrily though she’d heard nothing. Her mother quirked a brow suspiciously, shook her head and dismissed her middle child. Barefooted, Luxia bolted out of the door but not before slamming a kiss to her mother’s cheek. She scrambled down the hall of their apartments and burst into their father’s small study, wiggling her way into his lap. “When will Isabel be here? Will it be soon? How soon?” He chuckled, a deep fluid sound, encircling her in his long, lean arms that were adorned with golden bands and cuffs. “My little hummingbird, so full of energy. Your sister should be docking soon. There’s no point in going to meet her, it will take hours for her to ready her grand procession and make her entrance.” Lux preened. Both she and Isabel were over the top but in completely different ways. She couldn’t wait to see how she burst through those drab gates of the Red Keep.


Androphobia: The princess heard a rustle behind her, and turned her head to see what it was. When she spotted the guard, she immediately locked eyes with him. Isabel’s eye contact was something that was unsettling to some. It didn’t matter what was happening in the conversation, or how awkward not breaking her stare would be. She looked into your eyes as if you were making love to her, even if you were simply asking her what time she would be ready for dinner. She smirked and turned back to the view that stretched before her. “Tell me, Castos. How shall I behave once I enter King’s Landing? Will they think me uncivilized because I am not chaste?” She continued smiling. “Would it be better suited for my time here if I behaved like a proper lady?” Her questions were, after all, more for her own amusement than for than for the answers that would follow them. She loved testing wit, especially with Castos. He was one of her favorite guards. She leaned forward and peered at the crowds that stood underneath the arches and steeples of King’s Landing. This was not a place that she intended to spend much of her time. The people were too stuffy here. They looked down on the ideals that her people prided themselves in. Sexual freedom… gender equality… These folk were sure to turn up their noses at her scantily clad body and “free spirit”. Let their noses turn. She took consolation in the fact that they would later use the memory of her slopes and curves to furiously stimulate their genitals. Monkey, her, uh, monkey, leapt onto the railing from a ledge below and gently tugged on her finger. She poked him in the stomach and he smiled. Speaking once again to Castos, the princess said (quite matter of factly), “Nice nipples.”


Merc: As she turned Castos had just enough time to place his hand behind his back once more, though this didn’t stop the onslaught of her gaze , the assault of her stare that seemingly beat the man down without her ever having to lift a finger or even bat an eyelash. The sun kissed male refused to blink at her challenge, he wouldn’t pry away from her gaze but he also couldn’t deny the appeal and need that her very stare brought to life in him. Giving out a heavy sigh as she turned away from him to once again face the city he knew he was saved, a couple of more seconds and he would have either looked away in shame or jumped on her out of wanting more. Castos head rolled against his shoulders with weight, the games the princess liked to play were almost exhausting to the point where the job wasn’t worth it, but the sight when she turned around or wasn’t facing in his direction was something that kept him around and acting well. The princess spoke and Castor shook his head, again with questions she didn’t care about, he hadn’t seen her ever change who she was, other than the times where it was required for her to get something that she wanted, but even then she was always the seductress, always bringing out the dark parts in others minds. “I think if you be yourself you could walk away from this place holding the crown, and I have yet to see not act like a proper lady, princess.” A small smirk crossed his lips as she spoke once more, her compliment was rather flattering, but then again he knew why she kept him around and all the other guards like him, it was no secret she was one for those with looks she approved of; and in this case he could just so happen to defend her at the same time. “Not quite as nice as yours are, princess.”


Grimm: Kainen pushed himself from the wall of the Keep, stretching his large arms over his head and turned, moving down the stairs without a word to Grayson or the others that greeted him with a polite bow or greeting of his title, not that he ever really responded to that, in that sense he was much like Rhaelle. It wasn't that he didn't like it, it didn't annoy him to be addressed as such, it litterally went in one ear and out the other unless he choose to actually hear these random people. Grayson often found himself having to his Kainen with something, from distance of course, to get his attention. Turning into the courtyard of the Keep, Yennrick came running around a corner and crashed straight into the hulking mass of muscle. Rubbing his head, the boys face paled when he saw who he had hit, though Kainen only chuckled and reached down, grabbing Yennrick by the scruff of his neck, gripping the fabrich and hoisting him to face level. "I'm not that hard to miss that you would not see me standing there, am I?" Grayson came around the corner in time to see Kainen holding Yennrick and quickly ran over to him and dragged him from Kainen's grip, smacking the boy on the back of the head for whatever he had done and told him to vanish quickly. Yennrick did just that, the color still not having returned to the poor boys face as he ran and full speed back towards the stables. "One day he's going to land in real trouble and I won't be around to help him" Grayson sighed. "Sure you will, you're like an old woman that's always there to scold the young ones," Kainen laughed loudly as Grayson grunted. "Where are we going M'Lord" Kainen looked around but shrugged, he didn't have a plan for today, but surely something would show up, eventually, to entertain.


Biird: Luxia accompanied her mother and father to the courtyard of the Keep just about the time her sister was said to show up. The other two were probably locked in their rooms and her parents seemed rather happy to have them that way since they’d forewarned of the snake-like nature of King’s Landing. In Dorne they were the paramount and all the snake-like dealings went through their household and their children were rather carefree, but their protection and safety could not be completely guaranteed in the capital. Not with the way the king was and the nature of the city of itself. While Luxia was aware of all this, outwardly it didn’t seem to faze her. She was a bit more diligently when scooping her surroundings but no one that didn’t know her intimately would be any the wiser of her here or there. Almost daily she had new guards, the ones before exhausted from following her around, were often traded out to watch her tamer, albeit more boring sister or some other family member. As they crossed through the Red Keep weaving down this hallway or that, maids and maesters and septs alike greeted them with gentle bows and murmured hellos of respect. That part was much like being at home and Lux took little joys in flicking their noses as they bowed or tickling their ears, even wiggling her bare toes in their lines of sight when their heads were down. She giggled and trotted along behind her parents. Her mother was looped around the strong arm of her father and he stood straight and tall though he was of average height. The two strutted like a pair of panthers down the halls, all flounced and silken. Their mother had soft creamy features that had finally taken to the Dornish sun. Her eyes were vibrant lavender like that of her children but her hair was like an oil slick. Their father was polished cherry wood next to her with his own black hair and silvery grey eyes. The only boy since Prince Duran not to be cast from his noble house for not being pale enough. He wore a circlet of gold around his head, taming his long wavy locks and his wife matched him. They came into the courtyard, their mischievous child in two and paused at the bottom of great stairs, the very same that Lux had been on when her bastard brother showed his face to the gates. She chittered merrily behind them, prancing the length of the landing of the stairs, unbearably excited for the arrival of her sister.


Androphobia: At his final remark, she gasped in mock disbelief and turned around to face him. The heat had caused her to glow with sweat, and it slicked her exposed body. A trickle slowly journeyed between her breasts, which were already large enough without her poking them out in his direction. “Why, Castos! I could have your tongue for saying that!” She stepped towards him slowly, her violet eyes dimmed underneath her thick lashes, her lips full and soft. “I could have your tongue right now.” She stopped just before him, still locked in a visual embrace. “Would you like that, Castos? If I had your tongue?” Her breath was shallow, and she breathed her words in that way that brought thoughts that were not of conversation, but moans and screams of pleasure. She leaned forward and kissed his neck, her lips parting and tasting the salt of his flesh. “How about it, Dornishman? You said I shall have a crown. Shall I also make your face my throne?” She was interrupted by a loud trumpet signalling that the ship had docked. She smiled up at him, wickedly and innocently at the same time. Straightening her body, she cast aside her thoughts of riding his lips and prepared herself for what was to come. Her parents would be proud of her success, but disappointed with her tardiness. Her brother would be… in his room. Gods knew what he did in there. She had a theory that he dressed up in a gown and fondled corpses in his spare time. Quorah would be buried in a book, imagining lands she’d never visit, and things she’d never do. The poor girl was as intelligent as she was boring. Honestly, the only person Isabel was anxious to see was Luxia. Her little sister was just as spirited as she was, and her antics always made Isabel laugh. She held Monkey to her chest as one would cradle an infant, and she spoke to Castos. “Escort me to my chamber. I need to change into something a bit more scandalous to greet the good people of Sewer Village.” After saying this, she made her way to her room, without turning to see if he would follow. He would. After she entered the cabin, she shimmied out of her dress. Her pet tiger lay in a corner, his eyes blinking slowly in acknowledgement of Isabel’s presence. He had been a gift from her father. Isabel was sure that were her life in danger, the beast would protect her. At least she thought so. There was no way to be sure… He spent most of his time napping. On her bed lay a number that was shinier and more expensive. It was also barely there, as far as fabric was concerned. Servants, slaves and guards prepared her procession. Isabel being Isabel, they had rehearsed this process twice a day during their journey. Animals were brought from below, exotic beasts that yowled and hissed. Luxia would enjoy taming them. They also carried gifts that she brought for her family, gold, jewels, and other treasures. Her tiger, Rhaeses, was fashioned with a golden chain by Isabel and handed to her maidservant. “Walk with him.” With everything ready, Isabel departed the ship, her long gown trailing behind her. She climbed onto a dais that was gilded with gold, and carried on four poles by four large, muscular men. She looked down at Castos as drummers began to play. “Walk beside me.” The procession started, and before they knew it, they were entering the courtyard where they were being expected. Isabel couldn’t help but make a mental note to have everyone walk slower next time. She enjoyed being watched, even if it was by curious commoners. As they entered the courtyard, the crowd that gathered there stared at her, open mouthed. She ignored the men nudging each other, licking their lips at her and exchanging lewd comments amongst themselves. She ignored the women, plumed and pompous, with their twisted hair resembling pastries and their bodies shaped like pudding. She ignored all of them and searched only for her family. The dais lowered, and she was lifted onto the ground. Her hair fell in a long, soft braid that shone in the light of the sun. Her dress was spun of gold, and inlaid with precious gemstones. It wasn’t a gown so much as a silhouette… it outlined her body and only covered enough of it to avoid revealing the petals between her thighs. Where on earth was her sister? Isabel knew she wouldn’t miss her arrival, no matter how hyperactive and easily distracted she was.

---

Biird: It had been quite the morning. So much that Rhaelle had put her sleeping babe to rest in the center of her large glided guest bed in her chambers and left his knights at the door with orders to remain standing until her son awoke and summoned them or came looking for her; the latter was more likely. In her chambers her ladies waited patiently, doing what, she could not say, even if they always seemed busy. Rhaelle waved them out of the room and behind her. "The sun is warm today, and smell of shit is less than it was yesterday. Come out and let some of the lonely nobles look at what the Beast of Storm's End keeps in tow." She knew well the unflattering name that trailed around her when amongst other women and most men; it rarely phased her. Rhaelle had more important things to worry about than what bratty lords and ladies thought of her garb, manner of speech or actions. Most importantly however her actions were always under the careful and knowledgeable watch of her son who suffered the same indiscretions, an example had to be set. It was about noon now, so the courtyard would be more alive with the arrival of many more nobles. However, on this day, she'd already managed to come into contact with a good deal of allies, there was only one left that would set to arrive today but they were cast so low on the rung nobility now that they would not be breaching the gates of the keep until they were summoned. Their guest accommodations would be outside the gates and between the keep and the township, so that's where Rhaelle led her ladies.

Olena: Padmé cast aside the shirt that she was mending for the little lord of Storm’s End, placing it inside the chest upon which she sat, and dropping a curtsy with the other handmaidens before following their liege lady outside the chambers to the courtyard. She bit her bottom lip to refrain from chuckling as her mistress made jest of the terrible nickname so many of the other more posh nobles had seen fit to bestow upon her—leave it to the Baratheons to make light of an awkward situation. The crowds would part for the senior noble woman and her troupe of ladies and guards behind them, but they all remained silent keeping their eyes lowered to those within the crowd. If they were needed to attract the attention or gain information from another, they would do so when they were bid, not before. Padmé took short, quick, breaths to keep from inhaling too much of the putrid smell of waste that lined the streets of King’s Landing, nothing similar to the sea breeze that washed over Storm’s End. Everything was so crowded here. No matter which way you turned, perhaps save for the guarded Red Keep itself, there were always at least a dozen people to either side of your person. She took the time to glance over Rhaelle’s attire, seeing if there were any adjustments she would need to make when the garb was discarded later that evening. She was under the instruction of the dowager lady Eirlys to see to it that her daughter fit the part of a woman born to such high station while in the capital, but one could only do what their betters allowed them to do—miracles were for the gods. If the ladies were not fussing over their battle-clad mistress they were being terrorized by her little blonde haired son, who went from cherub in his mother’s presence to a hair-pulling, wall-climbing, lightning-fast imp in theirs. They all took their turn at the wine bottle, needless to say. They did, however, manage to present themselves to the public eye in a way that complimented their lady’s look. Given the purple sash at her side they all made effort to wear similar gowns of the same hue, Padmé’s being a floor-length dress that outlined her feminine shape and bared her shoulders. Given their function, it was their job to make others look, to talk, or to seduce, if need be. Their duties were well-lain out for them before they ever went into her service.

KeiichiroTsukishima: "Yes, father." Were the only words that Yuan spoke after the slew of instructions that were given to him by both his parents, the Lord Tully and his wife quite anxious about the behavior of their children, even though they were mostly of age, while in King's Landing. Sometimes he wanted to swear that he knew their lessons by heart, but the heir apparent of House Tully was too tactful to say such things to his parents... well, even if he thought of them. In truth, he believed that they would fare fine especially without Ygor, bless his soul, around to spew words that could curdle milk in a few seconds. It was only when he exited their modest apartments that he was able to breathe freely, although only for a moment until he realized that his father had asked a couple of their men, more than the usual, to accompany him wherever he went. Strict, as was usual of the Lord Eóden, but he can hardly blame his tyrant of father for Yuan knew that it was only for the benefit of the family that he is the way he is. "Lord Yuan." Darius voiced in greeting as the unit bowed respectfully to Lord Eóden's heir, noting the unusually blank expression he wore, something that they knew the young Lord utilized when he was thinking of none-too-pleasant thoughts about certain things. The men were told that Yuan might not like too much company but he knew better than to defy his father at this point, considering where they are. "I didn't realize that I needed this much men to go for a walk." He jested politely with a small smile, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the effort that these men made to protect him, even if he could protect himself. "Well, there we are then. Nothing to be done." Yuan mused out loud before proceeding to walk to a random direction without much of a destination in mind. He's heard a lot about King's Landing but this would be the first time that he will be exploring on his own, away from his father's very watchful eyes. The young Lord was mentally recounting his options, of where to go, but he paused as he caught sight of the gate that led into the massive structure, thoughts wandering off to the significance of the Keep even if the stench that permeated the very air they breathe wasn't too welcoming.

Biird: They breached the same side gate she and her son had done before but instead of being led, Rhaelle led her ladies on a very determined path toward the banners of the knighted Tully house. A once noble house reduced to nothing more than nurse maids with swords for a craggy old liege lord that should have never been; a line that should very well be snuffed out with that of her cousin. Before her were the typical undoings of travel which her eyes needed to shift through in order to find their intended target or targets as it were. They parted ways, forcing Rhaelle to choose one. She shifted her direction opting to address the young wondering lordling rather than his departing father. They’d met only once before in the shabby little keep that was not their home on the Oldstones. Whether they exchanged anything more than a greeting Rhaelle couldn’t recall. Her memories of his parents however were quite vivid and heavy motive for her choice. She was not a fan of the long wended or naturally tyrannical in nature. That wasn’t to say that his parents were wicked people only that they were clearly of a generation of micromanaging nitpickers. In order to avoid having to do that awkward half curtsy bow, Rhaelle had perfected, she fell in step with the young lord Yuan merging his party with her own. “I would avoid that place. My mad cousin flutters through the walls mumbling to himself and lashing out at this one or that.” Her words were treason by Alexander’s decree. The paranoid little snake didn’t like to be spoken of in any ill manner. His eyes and ears were everywhere, but since he refused audience with his on kin, there was not much of him that Rhaelle feared or even paid very much mind too. “How as your travel, Lord Yuan, and how is your family?”

Olena: Padmé eyed the sigil up ahead, that of the former great house, and thus she followed suit when her lady stepped alongside the lord, only she and the others dropped the knee in a curtsy. As chief among the handmaidens she stood a pace closer to Rhaelle than the rest, the only one to be classified as lady-in-waiting, given her birth to a lesser noble house within the realm (not specified which one at the moment), and thus they rose from their act of respect by order of birth rank. It was such a shame to see a family once hailed among the greatest of the seven brought so low, especially to another as vile as the Frey’s—descendants of those would would violate Lady Eirlys’ ancestor Robb Stark in such a disgusting manner. They were likely the only High house would support the weakling that now held the Iron Throne, a weakling who’s very visage made her feel sick to her stomach. He was nothing like his cousins, even her own lady bringing him to shame, and especially that of his brother the one-time Prince Dante, now reduced to Lordship on the isle of Dragonstone, left for dead. She had only a faint memory of him when he was brought to Storm’s End at the fair age of ten for a summer, but Dante at ten was more a marvel than the king nearing his thirties. It seemed as though he was one of few who managed to inherit all the Baratheon looks with none of the stature, looking like the more swallow Baelish family if one were to examine him closely enough. The women exchanged looks at Lady Rhaelle’s treacherous comment, but were met with the cold glare of Padmé’s brown eyes, a mute ‘be still’ communicated without question. It was not their place to question the actions and words of those higher than them, even out of fear for their safety. It was their duty to serve.

KeiichiroTsukishima: Gazing at the gates for a moment or two, the young Lord wondered how his ancestors would've been welcomed into the Red Keep. He knew the answer to his own question, honestly, but currently they will never experience that kind of treatment because of how low their family name had been dragged that fateful phase centuries ago. Well, not unless he did something to change the way things currently are and, young as he is, he recognized that the tides were somehow shifting and it was up to his father... or him, to take advantage of that imminent change. His musing was cut short when a woman and her retinue fell into perfect step with him and his detail, the young Lord simply glancing at her as she spoke treasonous words that he didn't need to remind her about. No, these were things that every noble, of whichever rank and station, knew and must adhere to. There was a subtle understanding that she knew the implications of her own allegations but there was also recognition in the way he watched her speak, seemingly assessing if he should dignify her statement with a response. To be fair, there were so many thoughts that did not manifest in words for him that hearing a blunt opinion was quite refreshing. "Well met, Lady Rhaelle, I will keep your advice in mind." He replied with a small smile of greeting, bowing in respect of the vast difference in their stations and using that pause to quietly acknowledge the woman's detail that greeted him as well. "Our travel to King's Landing had been pleasant, M'lady, thank you for asking." He quipped in a sincere fashion, the young Lord dignified regardless of how the Tullies have fallen from grace. "My family is also faring well and would be joyous to know of your inquiry." Yuan then focused on Rhaelle, wondering if it was mere coincidence that she was here and speaking to him, but knew in his gut that there were rarely any incidents that happen by chance in the political world they moved in. "Have you just recently arrived?" He asked. "I hope that your journey has been as pleasant as ours, if not better."

Biird: It was well that he knew her on some level. Not that it would have been hard for even low born to merely recognize the Storm Cat. Whether the girl liked it or not the rumors of her strange looks, however Baratheon they were, spread far and wide. The rumors had only gotten more prevalent after her roaming about Westeros collecting allies for her solemn cousin who lie in exile but not death saved by his own lanky clumsiness. The relaxed line of her lips turned down for the briefest of moments when the Tully boy turned and bowed to her. He received a mere nod in response, as Rhaelle had hoped he would simply continue walking. Stupid girl. She should have known better. Tully ambition was not merely brute force but politeness and protocol as well. A trait she could respect. “See that you do.” Rhaelle only half joked about her cousin. She had been in King’s Landing nearly a week already and all she ever saw of her soon to be dethroned cousin were glimpses of his sickly figure as he paced through the halls of the keep barking orders with his raspy voice, often to no one in the near vicinity and arguing with vehemently with the gods. The few times he’d been aware of her presence, Alexander had a strange of way of looking down on a person the way a crane spies fish in the river. Each time was the same disdain followed by the same stupid question – “Where is your mother?” His obsession with her mother was beyond agitating. The words always left his lips with lecherous tone, a dark shine appearing his eye. It was no secret he had a penchant for dark haired women, so what he was going to do with that Velaryon girl, Rhaelle only shuttered to think. Her suffering would come to an end soon enough. “A journey is a journey. Frankly I am quite sick of travel at the moment, despite the shit smell, it’s quite nice to be settled for a moment. Do you accompany your liege lord on this trek?”

KeiichiroTsukishima: Yuan Tully was mostly a facial enigma to those that didn't know him that well. There are times that even his liege lord would wonder about what was going on in his head for despite any taunting, direct or implied, the young Lord would simply take it in stride with a modicum of dignity and a demeanor that was politically blank and pleasant. The thoughts in his head were vastly different though, having killed the Freys in innumerable ways that were both imaginable and unimaginable for an even tempered lad like him. "How can I not?" He asked in good humor, as if her previous statement was the most natural thing in the world for him to seemingly agree to. "Journeys can bode both ways for different people, that much I can agree to." Yuan replied to her statement, pausing as she asked if his family was accompanying their /liege lords/. It was hilarious for him to think that they had any hold on his family, to be honest, because he knew from what has been written and told that they've always been the ones truly doing the dirty work. He was aware that if not for the Tullies, the Freys would never be able to manage the Riverlands on their own. Still, he indulged the Baratheon with an answer. "Aye, M'lady. Our Liege Lords have arrived soon after we did and I am sure that their presence will be made known in no time." Which was true, the Freys were so inadequate in leadership that they resorted to dishonorable things that may or may not be appreciated in the capital. He made a factual statement, but there was a difference in the way he spoke the words, and the disdain was so minute that one would've been paying VERY close attention to catch the faint note that mingled with his manner of speaking. "Did you wish to convene with them, Lady Rhaelle?" He asked, wondering what her intentions were in 'seeking' him out.

Biird: In terms placid faces, Rhaelle very well may have met her match. It was an increasingly becoming trait, for the girl never could understand the need to wear your emotions on your sleeve or your every whim on your features. She too, preferred indifference in her tone and manner even when the occasional joke or respite left her lips. Of course she was not nearly as polished as this young lord in keeping her distaste from edging her words. “Absolutely not, I’ve had my fill of piss and shit for the day.” She retorted, her words flat though the stringing together of them was incredibly disrespectful this close to their quarters. Before she could truly delve into her sudden appearance into his presence, a knight baring the sigil of her house clattered up to the two, bowing, out of breath and cut in desperately. “My Lady, my apologizes, but you must come quickly. Your son..” He was waved off then, she needed to know no more than that. “Come with me, Lord Yuan. The wine in the Keep is much better than what you’ll be gifted down here anyway. This will only take a moment.” His rebuttal was not needed, whether he came along or not, her son needed her. The knight led the way back to the guest chambers in the keep with hast. They met two other knights at the doors – they quickly put their helms on to mask the fear in their eyes. The sounds of screaming and heavy furniture being moved could be heard far down the hallway. Just before the doors swung open, her son’s small voice breached the confusion clearly,”I WANT MY MOTHER.” Mumbling and shuffling. Rhaelle stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the damage. Trunks had been turned over, their contents spread across the stone floors. Two of the curtain rods on the bed had been pulled down and Rhaegar’s entourage save one woman, scattered like cockroaches to the walls furthest from Rhaelle, leaving only Rhaegar and his septa in the center of the room. She had a blossoming bruise on her cheek in the shape of a small hand. Her coif was pushed down, hair mused, and part of her top ripped. Rhaegar spun and dove into his mother legs, sobbing wildly. Rhaelle patted his head, her gaze bearing down on the septa as she tried to right herself and rise to curtsy. “My lady, thank the heavens, he would not quell without you. Perhaps he had a nightmare of some sort.” Viciously wiping his eyes, Rhaegar spat back,”She lies! I wanted current bread and cheese. I’m hungry. She said bastards boys should starve to death that’s why my mother didn’t leave food provisions for me. She said you didn’t love me. She said you left me forever in this place. She said the King would stick my head on a spike on the gate for all the world to see what should be done with bastard boys.”

Olena: Padme hastened quickly behind her lady, having opted to wear boots in place of heels to avoid sullying them on the filth-ladden streets that made up this revolting place. That and she knew the much longer legs of the lady Rhaelle could cover much more ground than that of her own in a single stride, so it was best to come prepared. A rush of discontent filled her as the guards made their way so quickly to them in regards to the little lord. She herself had been set to the task of seeing to his care for periods of time on many occasion, and never once had things gone so far as for her needing to send guards to have the boy’s mother come and rectify the situation. He could be a handful, no doubt, as would any child void of playmates his age to help him release such pent up energy, but he was not that difficult if dealt with properly and with a certain playful tenderness. Although, the list of possibilities had sprung up in her head. The king could have gone off on one of his tangents and thought to strike the boy or cause him harm, and it was only to her horror to hear what the child accused the supposed holy woman of. She would step around to the side of Rhaelle to see the situation better for herself, seeing the room and woman thrown all about. “Have you lost your mind? Laying hands on the little lord! You know better!” The words flew from her lips as she stood there aghast, as for whether or not the woman had struck the child at any point she knew not, but her clothes being torn showed she had been fairly close. She felt the urge to slap the woman for being so cruel to a child, it was beyond her comprehension. The other women crowded behind her as they looked on at the spectacle. Granted she wasn’t murdered on the spot, the septa would be begging for scraps come nightfall.

KeiichiroTsukishima: The woman didn't show as much emotion as his brother, Ygor 'The Brute' Tully, but the way she spoke those disrespectful words made Yuan wonder if his brother had been rebirthed or descended in the form of a woman, a lady that was currently in front of him. The corners of his lips twitched but his control won over in the end and he managed to keep a straight face even when a knight interrupted their conversation. With a polite amount of disinterest, Yuan feigned giving the woman her space as she spoke to the knight but cautiously followed as she bid him to. His father was right about recognizing the innate leader in Yuan but the follower in him could simply not ignore the fact that was woman of higher station /invited/ him to come with. To be fair, even if it was not just a moment, Yuan would appreciate more time away from his parents, at this point, for they were insufferable when they wished to be and when they were anxious... they were simply people you do not want to be around of. They hastened to exercise control on a situation that seemed urgent, so it did not take long for them to reach their destination, a place that seemed quite... disheveled. It was something that Yuan felt he should not have witnessed but by the choice he made to follow, the circumstances have changed drastically. He became a quiet observer in the background, knowing it was not his place to execute any punishments but his stance became rigid at the words that the child spoke, a subtle anger apparent in his steely gaze. Yuan held his hand up to stop Darius from speaking, the young Lord annoyed by the fact that there are those that seek to enforce power unjustly. A grown woman doing this to a child reminded him of the moments that the current Head of House Frey usually insulted his family and their honor... so much so that the young Lord quietly stepped forward and spoke: "No one must go through such torment, Lady Rhaelle. State your chosen discipline and if I may, I will enforce it for you." The statement was chillingly calm, the absence of any disturbance like that tranquil moment before a heavy storm sets in. Yuan wasn't even looking at the woman at this point, his gaze level as he waited for the Baratheon's decision.

Biird: There as a torrent of rushed words floating around her. Emotions were running high, and though Rhaelle was burning like the fire of the seven hells, her features had not changes while her son poured forth accusations as to the reasoning for her room being left squalor. Of course anything Rhaegar said needed to be taken with a grain of salt, however, the fact that her child was red faced from sobbing led Rhaelle to believe he was closer to truth than he had ever been. Padme, who had on several occasions been his handler without incident was unable to hold her tongue at the sight before her. The horror in her voice near palpable. “He’s not a lord!” The septa shot back to her,”He’s just a bast…” Leaving Rhaegar in the charge of Padme’s skirt, Rhaelle’s hand found that bold woman’s throat so quickly her last words were stumbled upon while she gasped for air. The septa clawed at her liege lady’s hand, her feet dangling as Rhaelle held her up. “Say it.” The Stag ordered through gritted teeth. “Finish your thought. Let me hear you call my son a bastard.” Bending her arm slightly Rhaelle drew the woman closer a split second before slamming her frail form into one of the heavy pillars in the room. A loud crack caused Rhaegar to yelp, burying his head in Padme’s skirt for the briefest of moments before he turned and stood tall to watch his mother. There would be no rebuttal from the woman, while her eyes rolled to the back of her head and blood began to run down the back of her neck. With a simple flex of her fingers, she could have snuffed the life out of the woman, but softly spoken words were just now working their way into her consciousness. She half turned then, to her child and her guest. She suspected that most other lords and nobles would have been horrified to witness the treat of her septa and not her son since it was widely known that Rhaegar was indeed a bastard. For every single person that discounted his status opting to view him as a child and not a smear on the ass of life, was a person Rhaelle would be more likely to draw into the folds of her life. Pitching the disheveled, wounded woman to the floor, Rhaelle picked up her son rather roughly by the arm and held him against the front of her body. “Thank you, Lord Tully for your generous words but you need not stain your hands with the blood of fools.” Nodding to her guards she went on, “Take her to the rack. Tell my cousin she is a witch who speaks the Old Gods against him.” To leave the woman at the hands of the mad king with such an accusation was possibly the worse thing anyone could have done and yet it left Rhaelle’s lips as quickly and as easily as a comment about the weather. As the septa was removed, Rhaelle motioned for the room to be cleaned and Lord Yuan to follow her out onto the balcony where he would no longer have to look at that mess. Wiping Rhaegar’s face, her usual flat tone returned. “A fool child you are. What have I always told you?” The child sniffled,”Even in death you would always be by my side.” She nodded,”Yes, now stop that fussing, for I am neither dead nor near it and you should never let the lies of others cloud what you know to be the truth again. Understand?” “Yes, mother.” “Now, straighten up and say hello.” Turning Rhaegar around, she motioned to the young Tully. “Lord Yuan Tully, this is my son, Lord Rhaegar Baratheon.” Wiping his round face once more Rhaegar beamed up at Yuan,”Lord Yuan, it’s my pleasure and my apology that you should see me so.”

KeiichiroTsukishima: Has the world been plunged to madness? Yuan wondered as the Septa had the gall to answer the woman with words that would only lead to her folly. Did no one think of consequences anymore? The young Lord's questions whether valid or not were outplayed by the violence that directly resulted from the woman's statements. Bastard or not, the child was too young to be subject to such treatment so even if he abhorred the barbaric ways of hitting someone defenseless, he felt that Rhaelle's anger was justified. Not that he was siding with the Baratheon for using force, and not that he claims agreement of her methods, but there were certain things that a mother cannot stand when it comes to the treatment of their children. In his own experience, there were definitely moments when his own mother resorted to actions that most characterized as something that women of noble birth would not do. However, with all that the Young Lord had seen in the battlefield, there was nothing happening in the current scenario that could much of a reaction from him. There was only patience as he waited for Rhaelle to indulge in her vengeance, not even flinching at the loud crack that resounded in the room. It was that very moment that Yuan knew that the Sept probably regretted how she allowed herself to run her mouth... and to the wrong person too. Bastard or not, a child is a child and no status can change that in a mother's eyes, especially if she were the kind that all mothers should be, and Rhaelle seemed to be just that. "Very well then." Was his only reply when the Baratheon finally addressed him, moving to the balcony when he was bid to, with the usual patience and fortitude that they Tullies were known for. The conversation the Lady had with her child made him smile inwardly, remembering the moments when his own mother scolded him and forced him to be as he should be... creating perpetually useful habits that he will never forget for the rest of his life. As soon as they were introduced, Yuan would actually bow to the renowned bastard, not even caring if the child was indeed a spawn of wedlock. What use would such information, as whose child one is, be in the long run if the person itself would be useless? Better be a bastard of noble intentions than a noble of bastardly deeds. "There is no need for apology, Lord Rhaegar. There are some things that are out of our control, especially what others think about us." He smiled, kindly, before stepping carefully towards the child, the manner easy and unintrusive as he crouched in front of the boy so their faces were at level in a respectful distance. It would seem that the young Lord somehow sees himself in Rhaegar, knowing how it feels to be ridiculed simply for being who you are... and worse, for bearing a family name that you didn't even choose to be born into. "But the restraint we show in such situations is something that we can own." Yuan paused for effect before he spoke on, looking at the boy as if to state that this was a very serious conversation, much like he does with his own willful younger brother. "Remember, sometimes, what others speak about is more a reflection of who they truly are than us." The young Lord smiled. "Never let them see you angry for you only show your fury when the time is right."

Biird: Rhaegar shifted out of his mother’s lap, feeling more like a man than a child as the moments passed as the deeds of his septa began to fade. Though he would never forget every slight others made against him, his mother had warned against grand ideas of revenge. He learned to pick and prod and if he were good and learned well, his mother said he’d lose her rage in favor of his grandmother’s sharp political tongue. His little legs swung off the edge of the chair, his hands on the arms, each word spoken by this new Lord in his company drying his eyes more. His wild grey eyes were wide and doe-like, taking in every little nuance of Lord Yuan’s words. He nodded his understanding, eyes cutting to his mother when the lordling came closer. Though neither his mother nor himself moved, his mother watched the man diligently. He would have been a fool to attempt to touch Rhaegar inappropriately after that little show, but the septa had been a fool to provoke the little lord and his mother, so perhaps today was a day for the foolish. After giving his mother a long look, Rhaegar set a look of puzzlement upon Lord Yuan. For a long moment he stared at the man’s hair. Then his eyes and then leaned back a bit as if measure of him. Before he spoke, he looked to his mother again, then leaned in attempting to keep his questions between men,”Have you lain with my mother?” “Rhaegar.” The boy sat up. “Well, he doesn’t look like you but he sounds like you. I thought maybe you brought my father to meet me.” “I can assure you, stupid boy, that if he were your father you would not be this insufferable shade of blonde.” Gripping Rhaegar by the back of his tunic, she hoisted him off the chair, dropping him off inside the room. “Go now and find your uncle. Let him keep you occupied until supper.” Bowing out of the room, Rhaegar bolted down the hall in search of his lumbering uncle, who he fully intended to set on a quest to find his new aunt, of course with his guards in tow. Shaking her head, Rhaelle motioned for wine to be poured,”My apologies, Lord Yuan, these are not at all the events I had in mind when I first sought you out.”

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Grimm: After the fitful morning venture through the fair grounds, Rhaelle had all but ushered everyone back to the Keep, mainly Rhaegar, but as he sat on Kainen's shoulder, the large Lord was also steered in said direction. Greyson followed in tow behind his charge and friend, always close by to aid in whatever capacity he could, although being with Kainen, that usually required him to clean up in the wake of one of Kainen's adventures. After a few hours of rest, Greyson found himself walking alone through the corridors of the Red Keep, Kainen remaining in his room to sleep, almost exactly like his nephew. It was almost comical how similar the two were despite their age difference and size. With his arms folded behind his back, a frown tugged between Greyson's brow, he did not like being without his weapon almost as much as Kainen did not enough being without food. But alas, within the palace of the King, he was not permitted such for leisurely strolls. It was not often that Greyson was seen without Kainen, but he did enjoy his brief moments of peace where the world around him was not on the verge of collapse if someone should bump into his massive charge, the Lord of the Storm Lands. Those that passed him gave him a curt nod, a bow from some of the handmaidens and a salute from some guards that knew of him. Greyson was a Knight, though he still acted as a squire in more situations than not when with Kainen, but none could dispute his reputation and the stories that surrounded his prowess in battle. Also, when not marred with worry as to what may upset his Lord, Greyson's features almost fully returned to his youthful expression and in all respects, he was a very attractive individual, one that never went unnoticed by the young ladies and maidens of the court in any place he visited. The life he lived however, did not permit him the luxury of anything passed a whore house door and for now, he was content with such. As he rounded another corner, something a lot shorter than himself crashed into his leg, ramming into the center of his thigh. With a slight frown, he paused and glanced down to notice the young Lord Rhaegar rubbing his nose. "Ouchy." Rhaegar too was frowning as he looked up at Greyson, whose features now changed to a kind smile. Lowering himself to one knee, Greyson placed his fist against his chest and then leaned down further to bow to Rhaegar. "My little Lord Rhaegar. My apologies, are you okay?" Greyson never once treated Rhaegar as anything other than a Baratheon and even a little brother when the two found themselves alone, but always treated him in the capacity of a Lord. Almost being face level with one another now, Rhaegar giggled and patted his hands on Greyson's knee. " Yes yes, Ser Greyson. I need to find Uncle Kainen. Can you help me?" Lifting his head, Greyson chuckled, though in the back of his mind he sighed comically. There went his quiet evening stroll, but he did not mind at all when it came to the little Lord. "Of course. He is in his room taking a nap. How about we go wake him up, I think he has slept long enough, don't you?" Throwing his hands up, Rhaegar nodded enthusiastically. "Yeaaaaaaaah. Time to get his lazy bones out of bed, he's not a baby." Greyson chuckled again and stood up, turning and walking back towards Kainen's room with the little Lord of Storm's End in tow.

Diitzy: Early morning was very eventful for Rhaenyrs Baratheon. Not only was she pocketed by a child. The little bastard gave her a wild goose chase across King’s Landing. Who would've known that this little chase would end up with her reuniting with her Family. Seeing her older siblings Kainen and Rhaelle. Most importantly her new favorite partner in crime, her young nephew Rhaegar. Rhaenyrs found herself later that day in her room. Passed out on the floor, while her beloved companion, Scribbles, had the whole bed to himself. He was rolled in a little ball in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. Til he was rudely awoken by Rhae’s face planted into him squeezing him tightly into a bear hug. “SCRIBBLES!” She began to rant to him. As it dawned on her again, where she was and who she saw this morning. She couldn’t stop talking about the morning, even the pig was overly annoyed of the constant volume in Rhae’s voice going from high volumes to whispering to herself. “Can you believe it Scribbles? We are actually in walking distance from our family? That little nephew of mine has a personality. I tell you what. I just want to go and see them again. Stupid dresses, I don’t think I remember how to put one on. Do I?” She twirled around in her room. Feeling overly nostalgic to be finally with her family. Meanwhile also pulling dresses out of the large chest by the foot of her bed. Maids were summoned for her behalf, however, they stared blankly at the tiny female. They took a few steps forward to assist but then she would twirl around bumping aimlessly into them. Took quite some time to get Rhae’s into the dress she picked out. If she had her way she would just wear the clothes she came with. That outfit lasted her as long as her first day of the pirate life. The way Rhaenyrs attempted to put on a dress, it looked like she never wore a dress a day in her life. She used to love dressing in her finest gowns. She had a talent for always pleasing her mother by her graceful poise. By the time, they managed to get her into the dress fully. Rhae’s was silent for once staring into the mirror. “Well ummm Damn, I need a drink”. The moment she stated it one of the maids came around with a glass of water. “Oh no lassy, not that vile stuff”. She pulled away from the maids finishing braiding her hair as she reached for her sword. Second thought, probably be best not to lug that giant thing around the halls of the Red Keep. Especially since she could barely breath in the dress she was in. Instead, she put on what mattered most. The gloves she always wore. Her very special personal gold dagger, her light torn scarf she just couldn’t part with, and of course the most important treasure in her life, Scribbles. “Come on Scribbles, I clench the thirst for rum and more rum” She clapped her hands together, as she made her way to fetch some. With much help from several knights and servants pointing her in the right direction, she finally was able to chug a bottle of rum. Which also she requested to have a few more bottles to her room. Highly doubtful she would make it this far again. “Let’s go find nephew, your nephew Scribbles” She poked his little snout, happily buzzed but not plastered from her rum bliss. “Nephew should be around here...RHAEGAR!” She shouted down the halls finding it easier to have him come to her, than she come to him. After all, she was already lost again.

Grimm: It took a few moments, a few corridors and the passing of more than a few occupants of the castle before the duo arrived at the door they sought. Greyson waved away the guards that stood before the door of Kainen's room, and if one could see their faces they would have been lined with relief to final escape the vicinity of the Storm Lord. Even when not in his exact presence, those that knew of Kainen still prefered to be at the other end of a massive keep. Pushing the door open once the guards departed, Greyson stepped back and allowed Rhaegar to enter first and of course, wasting no time, Rhaegar burst into the fastest run that his little legs could manage, straight over to the side of Kainen's bed where he still lay sound asleep. Rhaegar paused at the side of the bed, looking up at it for it was far taller than a normal one. A quick glance around the room and he found something to aid in his endeavor, a stool. Folding his arms, Greyson just stood by the door with a chuckle as he watched Rhaegar clamber about the bedchamber. Dragging the stool loudly across the stone floor, with still no stir from Kainen, Rhaegar pulled it to the side of the bed, crawled up onto it, then without a moment's thought or hesitation, dove onto his large uncle. Still however, there was no sign of waking life as the large form of muscle stayed snoring and the only thing to twitch was his nose. Rhaegar began to beat on his chest, shouting straight into his face for several moments before he sat back with a huff and folded arms upon Kainen's chest. Greyson knew full well how hard it was to wake the Lord, but there was one way that he also knew, Rhaegar, being the keen individual he was despite his age, would quickly come to realise, in order to wake Kainen. A moment later the idea Greyson thought about hit Rhaegar, so, crawling further up Kainen's broad chest, he leaned to his hear and whispered the magic words. "Lunch is ready, uncle." Then, as if a bear from its hibernation, Kainen grunted and slowly began to sit up causing his little nephew to tumble backwards down his torso, giggling the entire way. Brushing his hand through his hair and away from his face, Kainen still grunted, the common tongue escaping his own in any audible form as he shook off his sleepy state. Rhaegar gathered himself up to his feet, hands reaching up and grasping Kainen's massive face on either cheek and demanding his attention. "Wakey wakey, Uncle." Rhaegar shouted again, yet again it didn't even seem to phase Kainen, though he was more aware now of his little nephew. "Lunch?" Rhaegar giggled again and shook Kainen's face. Meanwhile, outside the room, Greyson heard the calls of another familiar voice, that of the Lady Rhaenarys. Moving out of the room and towards one of the turns the corridor lead down, he greeted her. "This way Lady Rhaenarys, you will find your nephew with your brother." Greyson held out an arm, indicating for her to follow and guided her towards the bedroom.

Diitzy: “You know I used to think they would move. “ She stated as she poked the statue of the full armored knight aligned with a few others as Scribbles sat by her feet. “Sometimes I would say. One day I’ll be tall enough to dance with you and not step on your boot” She climbed up and tapped his boot. This was a big mistake as it came crumbling down along with Rhae’s with it. She dusted herself off and looked in every single direction making sure no one saw just happened. She clicked the roof of her tongue as Scribbles dashed with her to the next hall, fleeing from the scene. As she turned back to make sure she wasn’t followed she bumped right into Greyson who greeted her. Turning around she flung her arm on his that pointed the direction that indicated where her nephew was. “Oh Greyson! I am happy to see you! There was a loud crash. Um that way! I wasn’t involved any sort of way I just came running after I heard it” She pointed in the direction she came from as she swung back into the room skipping into the room. “Kainen! Rhaegar! Why are you hiding from me? You know how hard it is for me to make it here?” She joined them as she leaped up on the bed standing on her two feet at the end of the bed. The repercussions of her spring made the others jump a little from her pounce. Stumbling a little from the soft surface, she barely made herself to stand still.. “Did someone say lunch? What shall be the menu?” Scribbles wiggled his way underneath the bed to hide from being seen from the mention of food. She fixed her hair from her face so she could get a clear view of the two. She noticed how big the bed is as she jumped up and down. “LOOK at this bed! Scribbles, we need to get you a bed this big!” She plopped on her knees hunching over the bedside to look at her pig upside down.

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Grimm: It had taken a few days, a few wrong turns and an escort of guards that probably questioned just why they were doing what they were doing by leading this supposed naval captain with dirty blond hair that was almost brown at this point, very tanned skin, an eyepatch and a red line mark going down half the left side of his face over his eye, into the Red Keep. Clearly this man was not of normal stock, his crimson hued eye spoke volumes on the subject and the guards with him could not understand how they had never heard of such a person before. As the small procession made their way through the courtyard, the individual in question was Straga, recent acquirer of a naval captains attire from a bet in a local tavern. Just why a captain had found himself in such an establishment was not known to Straga, nor did it really matter at this point in time.

The 'Captain' followed his entourage through the courtyard and into the Red Keep, someplace he would never normally go willingly or without chains. This time however he was being lead to the commander of the naval fleet for inquiry. This, however, would not go over well as the Naval Commander would know each and every Captain under his command and Straga definitely was not one. As they all marched through the corridors, well, the guards marched and Straga did a strange two step in an attempt to blend in a bit more, though his pace was slightly slower until the guards to his back left and right had passed him and Straga quickly dipped through a door on his right hand side.

Peeking back out again, he watched as the guards turn a corner and continue without knowing their escort had vanished. Shaking his head, Straga pondered on just why they wore those helmets, clearly they couldn't even see beside themselves and it seemed rather pointless really. Patting down the front of his rather fine jacket, Straga turned, eye looking to his cloths to make sure he was still presentable, but to whom? Well, surely someone around this Keep would question if he didn't looked as someone of rank should.

"Now that we are all here, we can begin."

The voice was commanding and low in timber with a hint of annoyance, definitely coming from someone use to speaking to a mass of people. Straga paused in his adjustments, blinking a few times before he finally rose his head and looked up. The room was full of others dressed much the same as himself, all captains of other ships anchored off King's Landing. Roughly 15 men in total littered about the room, all staring at Straga, some with a frown, others with indifference and a few with a sense of impatience as if to say, finally you got here we can start so I can go.

Standing up straight, Straga nodded his head. "Yes, of course, let us not delay further." Obviously he had no idea what they were talking about, but a quick glance to the center of the room and he spotted a large wooden table with small wooden blocks cut to the shape of ships spread across a map, the walls also canvassed in more maps with pins pressed into seemingly random locations. Stepping towards the center of the room, Straga placed his hands against the wooden table and leaned over it slightly. What he saw were the plans of the royal fleet, patrol routes, some of which would intercept his own vessels should he not do something and trading routes for more notable merchant vessels.

From the other side of the table, the one that spoke originally, an average sized man, broad chest, finely trimmed beard and hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail. He was nothing special to look at, but he did have an air about him that the other captains seemed to follow whenever these meetings took place. They started with the minutes from the meeting prior before moving then onto events at hand, mainly the security of the ports around King's Landing with the festivities picking up, the distribution of their main fleet, what provisions their vessels needed and their plans for beyond the Harvest Festival.

All the while, Straga still stared at the map and his mind did not really sync with the conversation until the Commodore cleared his throat and slammed both hands on the opposite side of the table. Some of the captains jumped, but still, it took Straga another couple of seconds to look up and blink at the man with a surprisingly innocent confused look on his face as to just why he hit the table. "Is something wrong?" He questioned to the oddly tanned male across from him. Straga tilted his head to the side in query, thinking that perhaps he should choose his words carefully because the other male seemed rather irritated already and Straga did not wish to blow his cover just yet.

Alas, subtlety was not Straga strong suit and as such his hands threw up into the air in front of him, chest height and shook his head. "It's all wrong. All of it. Soiled." The frown deepened on the Commodore's brow, the others around him almost taking a step back. People never really questioned this man when he laid out their agenda, so this was something rather new. "Pardon me?"

Straga could tell the man was struggling to keep his composure through how he sounded, but he paid it no mind as he reached down for the board and started moving the pieces around, which only caused the Captain's face to pinken with increased annoyance, like a child not wanting to share his toys but others refusing to respect boundaries. As Straga continued to move ships around, he finally stopped but then moved over to the wall and started shifting pins from one part of the board to a completely other board. The pace at which he moved seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, but it was all in silence so no one really understood what was going on.

"What are you doing?" The bellow came from the obvious source as the Commodore hit the table again which caused a few pieces on the board to topple. "Hey hey hey, you're messing it up." Returning to the center table, Straga picked up the piece and placed it somewhere else, which only enforced the idea he had no idea what he was actually doing. Waving his hands at the Commodore he ushered him away from the table as he walked around it and stood exactly where that captain stood moments before.

"It's all very simple really. You see, pirates." The pause which came after the final word was far too long as some of the other captains leaned forward slightly, urging Straga to keep going and to stop leave them hanging on the edge of suspense. When his train of thought returned to him, Straga did, eventually, continue. "They are everywhere. My sources say they are massing in these locations where I think we should focus our attention." Pointing to the boards on the walls he kept going. "I also heard that Essos might be trying to mount some sort of naval attack force. Obviously not one that could contend with ourselves, but you know, it's cute they try." This played into most of those presents ego which got a rather hearty chuckle and a nod of approval. Before he could go on though, the captain behind him cleared his throat.

"And how is it you came upon this knowledge and none of the rest of us have." Ego was a rather interesting thing, when one saw someone was gaining a lot of favor with a crowd, they also felt the need to feed off such a thing and tried to gain some for themselves. As such, one of the other captains stepped forward and spoke. "I too heard of the Essos naval rumors." Straga leaned towards the man with a raised eyebrow. "You did?" The captain almost hesitated in his response, not as confident in his claim now when the only other person that said it seemed genuinely surprised. "Aye, I did." Straga clapped his hands together and pointed to that man as he turned to the Commodore. "There you have it then, must be true." This still did not fully convince the old sea dog as his eyes narrowed on Straga, his mind pondering over the information as he pushed passed Straga and stared at the newly arranged board.

Biird: Following her brief intrigue with Lord Yuan, Rhaelle lingered in her room a moment longer debating several things. Many of the Lords she’s spoken with over her two year course had arrived to the capital already. Their instructions were simple and clear; hold the doors. They were damage control, in charge of keeping out the guards and the cloaks until they could be ruled by another man. She and her brothers would take care of the rest, while her cousin took his place.  Simple fast, with the least amount of causalities as possible, a far cry from her mother’s original plan. Rhaelle loved and loathed that woman dearly and while her strategy for war had been a solid one, Rhaelle coveted the lives of people more than power. Since the entire reasoning for their treason had been in favor of the people, she promptly hijacked her mother’s plan, scaling it down to its most minimal proportions.

While she stood on the balcony, looking out over the half-tended gardens and the courtyard, a familiar bob and sway of dirty blonde head caught her eye causing it to twitch. Rhaelle knew that loudmouthed, bubbling fool of a pirate had to have been somewhere in King’s Landing after spotting the very specific gloves her newly found sister had been wearing when they reunited, but she couldn’t fathom crossing paths with the fool in the Red Keep. Even now, watching this vague figure doing some sort of slow, bobbling skip while accompanied by many guards, she found herself at odds, hardly believing what she was seeing. She created her own options of doubt – he could have been anyone from this distance, many of his distinctive features over shadowed by the shine of the guards’ armor, and, of course, this individual was finely clothed. Yet, that didn’t completely dissway her from believing it was the drunken pirate.

With narrowed slits of annoyance, Rhaelle watched as this person was escorted inside. The Lady of Storm's End whirled on her feet then, the drapery of her oddly made ‘dress’ fluttering around her as she stormed out of her chambers and down the halls on a specific path. Startled by what could been mistaken for a mini-explosion of her yanking her doors open, the guards scrambled to follow suit. The man-sized woman marched through corridor after corridor until she arrived in hallway where many of the men of the small council commanded their individual meetings. She was about half way down the hall when a voice floated through an open door that caused her to stop dead in her tracks. The guards behind her were inches from crashing into her back.

Now, many would think that a woman of standing, one who never outwardly revealed the true origins of her bastard child would be deathly afraid to have that low born, unnamed, pirate of all people show up any near her or her own, but as far as Rhaelle was concerned she’d already done the damage of having the child, there was nothing to fear of the child finding out who his father was or even the nosy rest of the world. She was not afraid of his presence, simply annoyed by it. He may not have remembered her clearly, but she remembered him vividly. She had been quite sober when she led him into the back room of the brothel attached to the tavern she and her brother frequented in the night. Young, but never foolish, Rhaelle knew well what she wanted from the handsome, loud, tanned man with the dirty blonde hair. Granted she’d never given a single thought to intentionally creating another life with him, but she had been quite aware it was a possibility. In that moment, she’d wanted to fill a need that stirred with in her, one that rose tenfold in the days prior to her bleed and she chose the best stock to do it with. Despite his drunken antics, the pirate was quick witted, calculating and charming. She’d watched him for the weeks the crew had docked in Storm's End, rob every man to cross his path nearly blind, disarming them with an outward appearance of being slow and inebriated. Beneath his unwashed buccaneer clothing, he was lean and well muscled, his skin kissed by the sun and he smelled of musk and sea salt. The pretentious eyepatch he wore covered only one of two ruby colored eyes that were sharp as a hawk’s.

Turning her head slowly, Rhaelle remained in the middle of the hallway peering into the room where her son’s father moved about the room explaining his plans to ‘protect’ the Crownlands from pirates. Rearranging this, moving that, he slunk around the room creating openings for his crew to free for all the Crownlands while those pompous fools watched and were rolled into his lies simply because they were to egotistical to seem stupid. It almost made her smile. It might have made her if he wasn’t so insufferably goofy. That, and it was like looking into the future. Rhaegar’s manipulative tactics were ingrained into his bones and flowed in his blood. The poor child was his mother’s brand of blunt and his father’s brand of sneaky rat.

Rhaelle rubbed her forehead and started to walk again. Her son would meet his father before they returned to Storm's End, of that she was sure. It would be to his delight, of course, because he had been voicing a desire to do so from the moment he could comprehend the controversy of his birth. Lord Yuan had not been the first person Rhaegar suspected of being his father. He may have only been three but he was aware of the traits he was searching for. His grandmother was prominent in teaching him the subject of parentage and Rhaelle had informed him of things such as hair dye and other ways to alter one’s appearance, so the boy often scrutinized any man of being a possibility but only accused those who shared traits between himself and his mother, usually beyond that of physical appearance. It was as if he were looking for a hero more so than a father.

Climbing the stairs towards her brother’s set of apartments, Rhaelle didn’t so much as pray to the Old Gods to keep that stumbling poser away from her treason as she threatened them to do so. There was little doubt in her mind that he would fall quickly into line without having to be informed but it would be to his own great gain – that is where she suspected the creation of greater problems would lie. The Baratheon woman made a mental note to have all of those idiots sharing a room with him slaughtered like lambs after putting every inch of the fleet back the way it was supposed to be.

Grimm: Mumblings had begun from the others around the room, small groups of 2 and 3 discussing just what had been revealed. The Commodore remained silent, still casting his weathered gaze to the new position of all his ships and resources spread across the map. There were gaps in the defenses he could see, but the new locations did in fact provide good protection from any attack Essos could launch. Still not convinced however, his gaze returned to Straga who was now off in another corner of the room looking at shipping manifests, something he really did not have any business looking through, but for a Captain it was not above his rank to do so, just, unnecessary. The Commodore opened his mouth to call Straga out for his odd behaviour, but before he could one of the other Captains in the room spoke up.

"We should sail out after the festival and meet this Essos fleet head on. Show them what it means to stand against Westeros."

A grumble of agreement reverberated through the rest of the Captains but still, the Commodore remained silent, his grip tightening around the wooden table edge. If he had been a physically strong man, or perhaps a weaker table it may have splintered, but only his knuckles turned white and his teeth gritted together. Should the information he just learned about Essos be true it would mean two things. One, their information network was slacking, this was something they should have learned weeks before and two, an attack from Essos during a time when their King was far from the soundest minded of individuals may spell even greater trouble. Most of the coin went into the madman's pocket and not the fleet. Alexander was more concerned with land based conflicts than anything else. All this new information would need to be run past the Master of Ships before any action could be taken, and if he had also not heard of this rising threat from Essos, then there would be grave consequences indeed.

Flipping through the pages of whatever it was he picked up, Straga was noting departure times for some merchant vessels that would be leaving both King's Landing and Dragonstone in the next coming weeks, even one or two from Storm's End. It was all rather interesting but he could also feel the rising tension in the room from what he so carelessly blurted out. In Straga's mind it hardly mattered however for it diverted even more attention off him and his own poultry fleet of 3 and allowed them to continue their rather exciting way of life just that bit longer. All the pieces he moved also allowed for more freedom of travel for all 3 vessels as well. All in all, it was turning out to be a rather eventful day.

The corner of his eye did catch the sight of someone pausing by the door, but they were gone as quickly as they stopped, their height, taller than Straga so the thought it was a female never entered his mind. As he listened to those within the room talk strategy, he listened closer to the sounds beyond the room, and when the coast was as clear as it could get with it being the Red Keep, Straga slipped silently out the door.

The Commodore looked away from the board and his men to where Straga stood mere moments before, but now he was gone, the parchment he was examining back where it was originally and there was no trace, other than the rearranged map that the tanned, dirty haired male was even present. This threw up even more red flags in the man's mind as he grunted and shouted for the dismissal of all those present, to return to their ships until they were summoned to the court once again. The next destination for the Commodore was the Master of Ships office, though where that man would be with the festivities in full swing, he could not guess. What was suppose to be a simple meeting turned into something far more serious than any intended, and the culprit had vanished as mysteriously as he had arrived.

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Biird: Once Rhaegar was completely asleep, evident by his release of her fingers allowing his mother to move away, Rhaelle traveled back into the small greeting area in the front of her quarters. Her brother was sitting in a chair, idly playing with the stag head pommel of their father's sword, no doubt a gift from their adoring mother. Sweet thoughts of their parents didn't stop Rhaelle's charge. She gripped the legs of his chair, poised in a sturdy squat and ripped it from the floor, tossing her brother out of the seat. The chair traveled across the room, flung aside like a piece of useless parchment as she stood over her youngest brother, reaching for his tunic.

"Tell me," Rhaelle started through gritted teeth,"what possible reason could you have had to flee the Reach in the sudden, unannounced and suspicious presence of our exiled cousin?"

Brute: Whatever light daze he was in while brushing his fingers over his newly gifted long sword was soon brought to an end as he looked up and was finally face to face with his elder sister yet again, though before even a single second passed she squatted and gripped the chair before pulling it away in a fashion far quicker than most men could; considering the size and weight of the male sitting on the chair. Azaroth as probably calculated by his sister landed on the hard ground with a thud, the leather of his pants and his ass being the only thing to soften the landing but even then it didn’t soften it that much. It wasn’t like he was unaware of her unnatural strength infact he was all too aware of it with the way she swung their ancestors war hammer like it was a simple piece of well-made steel. His eyes narrowed to her as she stepped over his form and looked down at him, if he didn’t know any better he’d think his nephew was right, that would infact be the first and last time he’d get to see him, she was pissed, beyond pissed, she was livid and it showed not only through her stare or the fact that she was indeed looking down on him and reaching for his tunic but her words broke through gritted teeth and he could do was answer as her fingers wrapped his leather clothing; he wouldn’t hide away from a punishment he no doubt deserved.

“The night of my Knighthood ceremony Odessa and I kissed, there was nothing more to it at the time than that but a few weeks later Dante showed up with her in the courtyard and she was privy to our conversation, he asked me what I thought of the Reach and in turn I told him about my experiences there and also what had happened between Odessa and myself. Needless to say she was shocked that I’d share that information, I wasn’t completely sure why it was so important at the time but now I realise it was because she thought it would hinder her path to the Throne…Though I dare say even if I had known she would be the future Queen of the Realm I would still have told our cousin the truth. After that conversation finished they went one way and I the other, and my way took me far out of the reach of the prickly thorns. After I got home mother explained things to me and told me what I should have known from the beginning, though it’s simply too late now to go back and change things, I apologise for my fuck up.”

Biird: Rhaelle had a firm hold on her little brother's tunic, watching his features as he spoke the same truth he'd spoken in the Reach as to why he was no longer where he should have been. The more he spoke the more steam started to coil from her ears and her grip tightened on his shirt. With a flex of her bicep she pulled him closer, but it was subconscious. The shake she gave him was not.

"That idiot." She growled, her eyes averted to the side as Dante's visage appeared in her mind. Then her cold White Walker like stare returned to her brother,"You IDIOT." She growled again, pushed him back to the floor and stepping away.

Pacing for a moments, The Beast of Storm's End whirled on her brother once more. "You fool. Do not ever do something so damned foolish and cowardly ever again! Leaving a land for speaking the truth. I should kill you where you stand." She turned then, speaking more to herself than her brother,"I sent him to find a bride with the wealthiest and neediest region of all but you should have been by his side for the entirety of the journey. Who knows what that common minded twit has done or what he's allowed that little rose bush to convince him to do. No matter. They should be arriving any day now. If he was set to wed it means they are indeed ready, willing and able."

Calmer now, she turned back to her brother, pushing a side of her hair behind her ear which had stripes of red across it. "Go to bed, Azaroth. Between now and the time those flowery fools arrive, do try not to run off."

Brute: The more words left his mouth the tighter her grip on his tunic became, to the point where she was pulling him closer to her form and as she did she spoke of how he was an idiot, words he was glad to hear because before that he had images of her devouring him, the Beast of Storm’s End trampling over a younger Stag.

Thankfully seconds later she pushed him back to the floor and stepped away, ha, he had survived the calamity that was his sister’s wrath and for that he’d thank the Storm God herself when he had a moments time by himself. Standing up and dusting off his own ass his eerily supernatural bright blue hues followed her pacing movements as she started speaking again, those this time it wasn’t aimed towards him but that of his cousin and his plucked wife. When she turned and instructed him to go to bed he stepped forward rather than retreating from her chambers, he needed answers about just what exactly was going on, sure he knew the idea as a whole but he had no inkling of the finer details; perhaps that was how his sister had wanted it all along.

“Been riding for three days straight on that stubborn beast of a horse, I am far from tired, sister. I would take council about our mother’s plan for me, or perhaps it was part of your overall idea, she mentioned staying in his corner at all times but did not go into further details about that, or about any of this. Do you intend on sharing your scheme with me or has our time apart and my actions put me at the opposite end of your trust?”

To her comment about him not running off again he simply did not reply, he needed no further telling regarding that as it had already been hammered into his mind by his mother what a horrid mistake he had made, not to mention the way he would probably be perceived by those who knew of the situation, luckily though due to where it took place and with who it concerned, other than his family and the Tyrells, there would be little to no one speaking of such a thing.

Biird: When her brother didn't take his leave but instead opted to fish for more information, Rhaelle folded her arms and watched him while he spoke. Her initial rage had subsided almost as quickly as it came,
but that was usually the case. She was an advocate of violence for that very reason. The moment she released her rage on the source of the anger there was no more anger to be had.

"To be on the opposite end of my trust, dear brother, is to be dead or in exile of my presence. Do not find yourself there for I would quicker kill you than leave you in exile." Her matter of fact tone had returned along side her placid features. Motioning to the chair she'd thrown, Rhaelle bid her brother to pick it up and set it beside the small table where it's match to the set sat. With a clap of her hands, the tray presented for her midnight snack was laid upon the table between them and Rhaelle sat down, dismissing her maids for the night.

"Our mother spoke with me some years ago about about the increasing madness of our wonderful cousin Alexander.
She wished to march on the capital and rip the little weasel from his throne," She paused and poured them both goblets of wine, swirling her own as she went on,"and our people are made for it. They are ready for it. They would fight and die for it if Kainen only nodded to the idea, but what of the others? Of the small folk, the servants, the innocents?" As the question that needed no answer lingered in the air, Rhaelle drank. "So I submitted another idea.
Of course, Dante was always part of the plan as he is Alexander's brother and rightful heir after the fact. He is not a battle worn man, I doubt he knows the difference between good armor and shit. What use would it be to fight and die trying to keep him alive throughout an entire war and during such a wonderful harvest. War over festivities?
How dull."

Rhaelle emptied her goblet into her gut then turned to face her brother fully, leaning on the table. "We will fight,
brother. That is our way. Our fury will accept nothing else. That, however, is no reason not to evolve. Our fight will be with those we quarrel and the causalities will be minimal." Sitting up she refilled her glass as she went on. "You were meant to keep out cousin company. Stags run in herds. It is when we are singled out that we are vulnerable. Not so much as a plucked flower, but our strength is heavy in our numbers. though it doesn't so much matter at the moment. What is done is done. Dante will rise as his brother falls and we will see to it."

Treason. Rhaelle spoke openly and bluntly of treason, but there would be no one save those that already knew her plans and her brother to hear. They were not near enough to the thick wood doors for her flat, mild voice to carry beyond. If they had for any reason, the two men stationed there would have quickly and with out hesitation killed any passerby to over hear. Within her room she never allowed any of the castle residents. She had her own maids, servants and ladies, all of whom were instructed, trained, and diligent in removing any foreign body from her chambers whether she be present or not. Even if the Lady Baratheon had not come to kill her cousin the process would have remained the same for the safety of her son.  

Brute: On the receiving end of her matter of fact tone was somewhere Azaroth had been plenty of times in the past, even when she continued speaking about rather seeing him dead than exiled he knew her words, though harsh as they may have seemed, came from a place of love; her own version of it perhaps. As he went about picking up the chair she had launched from its original place in the room he started to wonder whether he could say what she had and mean it, he knew very well if it came down to it and it was for the benefit of the people that his sister would sacrifice himself, his elder brother, even the future king or her own son if she had to; it was the kind of person she was, that was her resolve and to Azaroth it was unmatched.

As her next words about their mother’s idea broke through his ears he reached out for the wine she had poured and held it within a single hand, thumb brushing over the goblet as he listened to her further sentences until she had finished speaking of their insane cousin and the war that wasn’t needed. His eyes narrowed as words rearranged themselves in his head the way she spoke and when she finished, her sentence left him feeling all too curious about just how long she had been planning this take over, to what extremes had she gone to ensure this was when it would happen, that this festival would indeed be host to the death of Alexander. Her skills in planning and seeing through said plan till the end made Azaroth’s impression of his sister go to further heights than ever before, clearly she was playing a whole other game while nobles scattered trying to play musical chairs all to sit their asses on the most uncomfortable chair of all.

He watched her empty her own goblet before he had even taken a drink of his own wine. He was stunned in that moment, impressed beyond belief and it would be a lie to say there wasn’t some part of him that felt a certain fear in knowing the full extent of his sisters foresight. Had it been a gift given to her by the Storm God herself? It certainly didn’t seem like a family trait, at least not one he shared with her.

His face scrunched up lightly as she began speaking once more, eye brows narrowing and his mind going deeper into thoughts of the previous days past and weeks. His mother had recently spoken to him about evolving, pushing the Stormlands into the future and making them more capable than ever before, surely she had the right idea that Rhaelle was the perfect person to do that, if only there had been a P where she had a V, then perhaps his sister would have led the Stormborn to a place even their descendants, the Targaryens, couldn’t even dream of. Should he ask her advice? Should he bring up what his mother had spoken to him about, ushering in a new way for the Stormlands, or was this his burden to bear alone?

Fury she called it, the blood that ran through each Baratheon child was fueled by it, strengthened because of it and eventually every Baratheon gave into it. Such as the old tales of monsters feeding on blood and needing it to survive or those of beasts who got stronger by the pale moon light so to where the Baratheon’s bonded to rage and fury, something the young Stag wanted nothing to do with and tried to keep it chained down deep inside himself; but the slumbering beast always woke up, and unlike his sister feeding her beast a healthy dose of anger on the regular, Azaroth’s was all but starved and feral. He could count on a single hand the number of times he had gotten angry in the past seven years, and one of those times had literally brought him to his back in front of flames so hot they burned far more than the edges of his leather tunic. Her dismissal of him had infuriated the Stag so much so that he actually lashed out on the foundation of an old barn, but he quickly reined it in back then, and it would be the last time he would allow himself to feel that particular kind of anger.

As Rhaelle continued to lean forward on the table Azaroth shifted position in the chair, planting down the goblet of wine as he looked to his sisters face, scanning it as treason lingered in the air, the promise of a dead king soon to be fulfilled. “And what is to happen when Dante takes the throne alongside his new queen? We return to Storm’s End and hope the pretty flowers of the Reach do not extend to the hand or neck of the King? I do not know our cousin as well as you do, sister. Though I suspect you wouldn’t place him on the throne if you didn’t think he was capable of dealing of it, much less match him with the Tyrells. But I do know the Reach, I have a good idea of how far their influence was before this link and I imagine it’ll grow all the more after it, and when that time comes I fear for you. I fear their knowledge of what you are capable of, and I fear what measures we will go to when the day comes that your actions come back to haunt you.” Of course the fear he was speaking about wasn’t the general kind, it would have been clear to the one person who knew him most that the fear he spoke of was internal and linked to the fury in his blood, it was simply a fear of who he would become if someone was to harm one that he loved, of what he would become.

Biird: Her brother’s fear of flowers would have been amusing if it hadn’t been slightly disturbing. Rhaelle let her eyes pass over him. He was relatively unscathed from what she could see.  Reaching across the table, her fingers split the line of his tunic and ripped it open to reveal his chest. She gripped the corner of his top and pulled it down over his shoulders, forcefully shifting him in his chair to see his back before releasing him. She knew for a fact that Azaroth had never been beaten or manhandled during his time in the Reach, not beyond what took place in during training or his few patrols. She knew this because she’d spent time in the Reach all trussed up in armor with gold roses and a helm to hide her eyes. Xara had dyed her hair blond and tinted her skin. Leave her brother alone to the Tyrells? Never.

Nearly two years of her life had been spent on the back roads of Westeros, moving from region to region surveying the noble houses and more importantly how their small folk felt about them. These opinions were the ones that made or broke her intentions to speak with certain people about a very nefarious plan. As it turns out, Rhaelle spoke with very few people.  The knowledge of her presence in their regions was few and far between, often only coming about when she saw fit to approach a noble, or if by some minor glance of the few people that had seen those eerie blue eyes before. Not that glimpsing her presence, free of the normal noble company, was something strange or suspicious. Rhaelle was known for traveling like a hedge knight and traveling often.

In her mild adventures, she’d also had time to view the little Swan of Highgarden. Petite like her mother with her long chestnut brown hair, she was poise and well read, always dressed to the nines. She was small, always trying to be a lady, bigger than she was, just like her sister Rhaenerys but that wasn’t why she was chosen for Dante. No, it was the conversations Rhaelle had been privy to masquerading as her guard. Odessa Tyrell had a head for politics. She spoke well and plainly when needed. Her beauty commanded grand audiences but it was her mind that kept it. Above all, it was easy to tell that she knew what she wanted – to climb. Dante was at the top of the ladder, though Rhaelle had a snaking feeling if she’d enlisted Odessa to marry and murder the mad king the girl would have done so with a smile on her face. It would have been a much simpler plan than what had to take place now, but the Reach had been the last on her list. They were rich and powerful and calculating. They could be a great assets or a great risk, so Rhaelle could slightly understand her brother’s fear.

Soft rustling came from the room and soon a small figure shuffled across the stone floor and crawled into his mother’s lap, rubbing sleepy half open eyes. Rhaegar swaddled himself in the fabric of his mother’s over skirts and rolled into her body. “Mother, is my new uncle still alive?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. Will I like him?”

“I suspect you will.”

Rhaegar made a small murmuring sound that quickly became soft snores. Idly, Rhaelle undid his braid and combed her fingers through his hair. “Dante has been isolated for a long time. Ruling a kingdom, despite how many may see it, is not something that should be done alone. Dante will need men he can trust, he will be surrounded by many he cannot. He will need honest counsel, however, most of all, now more than ever, Dante needs family. Something he has never had before and he cannot fall prey to the delusion that he has only what he has married into.”

Rhaelle rose then with Rhaegar in her arms, his white blonde hair covering his face in soft waves from being braided. He rested in the crook of her arm, still saddled in her clothes; the body suit underneath keeping her decent as she mused over her son’s sleeping form, gently brushing back his hair. After a few paces, bouncing Rhaegar’s dead weight in her arms, she looked up at her brother. “You need sleep as well, brother; we have many long days ahead of us.”

---

Executioner: He fell asleep in the chair he had settled his tail in, his head thrown back over the cushioned ridge that was covered in a bundled up piece of fabric. The posture of his head caused him to snore almost obnoxiously as his mouth was wide open and his nose faced the roof. His feet, propped up onto the table in front of him with his heel sliding down the smooth surface of the table before bumping into a chalice and knocking it off the table with a hefty thud. This thud brought Orion back from his snory grave and caused him to jump up with a swift swing into the open air followed by a relfex of curse words. -Orion.- "Fuck you if you think you can kill m.." The swing went all the way through and caused him to stumble lightly. -Orion.- "Huh... That's embarassing." Orion leaned down and picked up the cup and placed it on the table. He still was half naked from the night before, having no interest in sleeping clothes.

After reality slowly set in from the morning shadow, he rubbed his eyes and looked down at the table. His restlessness started to get the better of him and processed what to do. Firstly, he needed to see Azaroth; those questions came back from the tavern meeting he had with his sister and why she looked so pissed. He reached down to pick up his leather curiass and pushed it back onto his chest, this time no shirt was on underneath. He buckled the leather chest piece together and pulled a series of straps tight before buckling them in place. The curiass acted as a concealment of his chest, the only difference between not having a shirt on is the lack of fabric that stretched down his arms. Instead the leather stopped just at the edge of his shoulders with one leather pauldron over his right shoulder that domed over to meet the flesh of his upper bicep. Leather bracers stitched together at the forearm from elbow to wrist. The rest was just pale skin. His dagger still tucked away in the holster that was placed just above his hip with the handle sticking down towards his knee. The only viable portion of the knife was the very tip of its handle. Well know hiding place that close relatives knew about, Azaroth being the main person.

He brushed his bright almost white blonde hair back and pulled it up to wrap a leather binding, pinning it up out of his face as per usual. Off to see what the brother was doing as Orion made his way toward the door and pushed it open to the next room over. -Orion.- "Azaroth? Wakey wakey, take hands off snakey." His voice rather raspy from his bellowing of snores.

Brute: Like clockwork Azaroth was up before the maids spilled into his room with fresh towels and heated water, he had asked them all to return to their other tasks rather than stick around to wash and over see his morning bath, though that hadn’t been the first he planned on doing that morning. Luckily for the young Baratheon his chambers were quite spacious, more than enough for his regular work out with the sword, though this time said sword had been replaced with that of his father’s, though he would definitely have to get used to calling it his own. As the light broke through the windows and night finally turned properly to morning Azaroth was finishing up the exercises using his left hand, converting all the methods taught to him from the right hand perspective and emulating them opposite. For years this had been what both his morning and nights consisted of, the hours he spent in the shadows of his room training his true arm were rather immense, though they paled in comparison to the time he had spent out in the open training with his right hand, the hand nearly no one knew wasn’t in fact his dominant one.

The side door towards Orion’s quarters opened as he heard his name being called, by the time the ashen hair of the Young Lord Selmy came into view Azaroth had already moved his sword from the left to right hand. Aside from his lower body that was covered in light cloth that he slept in, Azaroth’s body was covered in sweat, something that would soon be fixed by immersing himself into the slightly chilled water of his bath. After having placed his father’s sword into the well decorated sheath and sitting it on a counter, the Baratheon rid himself of the bed clothing and stepped into the cold water, there was no shyness around Orion, or would there be for anyone else for that matter. As his over worked form submerged into the water like blacksmiths did a newly crafted blade Azaroth looked around to Orion shaking his head lightly at the comment he made as he wandered in. “Unlike you, my dear friend, it has been a while since I’ve had to handle my own snake.” He’d smirk before going back to cleaning himself off and cooling himself down in the bath, once again no scented soaps had been used on either his freshly cut hair or the rest of his body.

“What cause do you possibly have to come watch me bathe? Maybe you are missing the maidens of the Reach so much that you wish to share the tub with me instead? Well…This tub is far from big enough for the both of us.” Azaroth’s relationship with Orion was practically built on such odd comments, other than training it was how they had bonded and something that even in the Reach with all the prim and proper ways, kept Azaroth grounded to the person he wanted to be.

TashianaKriemhild: Oriana walks past the open door and pauses, shaking her head in amusement. She didn't understand completely the odd relationship between her brother and Azaroth, but that didn't mean she couldn't slightly tease when she felt there was an opening. "There might not be enough room for the both of you, but I'm sure if you asked nice enough, Orion might be willing to scrub your back down," the shorter blonde woman goes, just sticking her head into the Baratheon's quarters far enough to let herself be heard. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she hears the waters of the bath, though they narrow as a rogue lock of hair falls into her line of vision and she huffs dramatically. "And please if you're going to talk about conquests, do it with the door shut? Some us don't need to know what their siblings are doing on their off time."

Executioner: Orion's ice like eyes rolled slightly as he settled his weight on top of Azaroth's well used bed. -Orion.- "My friend, I take pride in the constant assurance I give my snake." He offered a slight chuckle, giving Azaroth glory for his jab. -Orion.- "Well, as nice of view and tempting as it may be to get in that ice water with you. I am afraid having another man's balls on my leg is not on the agenda today." His tone remained to same as he continued to comical gestures.

His voice slowly deepened with a clearing of his throat and a lean toward the tubs direction. -Orion.- "No, my reason for coming here so early is that I have a feeling something is wrong, or there is something that you are not telling me. I tend to pride myself in almost being able to tell what you are thinking just by your actions and body language.. As well as our dear sister." Orion never separated the relation between Azaroth's family and his own. His family was Orion's family, even though he dare not mention calling Rhaelle 'sister' to her face. Orion tried to avoid talking to Rhaelle, given his witty attitude and her level of seriousness that almost put her as a motherly figure to Orion.

-Orion.- "Yesterday you were quick to to leave after speaking with your sister, and she did not seem happy. What was the pro-." With the climax of his question coming to a close, another voice closed in. The familiar voice of his sister. Orion's gaze shifted toward the door, listening to his sister add her opinion on the banter between the two. -Orion.- "Oh, aye dear sister. I would swiftly wash his back faster than I would braid the hair on yours." He straightened his back and glared at her before he continued. -Orion.- "If you do not wish to hear such talk about cocks, then perhaps being a dear and closing the door as it was before you peeked your pretty little head in here. If you wanted to give him a kiss, you could have just asked." He offered a sly smirk, allowing the edge of his lips to curl lightly.

Brute: Azaroth couldn’t turn his head quite as much to be able to see where Oriana’s voice was coming from, but he did turn it enough to look over his shoulder and try to peer at his back after she spoke. “Is it really that dirty?” Of course this was just another play of the words that had been spoken by the second Selmy twin. The following retorts from Orion had Azaroth shaking his head slightly as he finished up in the tub; all joking aside his brother in arms could be rather snarky at times though for the most part it was aimed towards others who generally earned it. Orion’s retort about how she should close the door over rather than them dispelling their conversation brought a slight grin the young Stag’s lips, he would never understand the relationship between those two, and so long as their banter didn’t result in blood, broken bones or dishonour for the Stormlands then he’d say nothing about it.

Pulling himself out of the tub Azaroth stood there for a few seconds dripping off the excess water, while in wait he reached out towards the Young Lord Selmy as he spoke. “Be a good back scrubber and pass me that towel.” He figured there would be some kind of quick witted remark following but he knew he’d also receive the towel, whether it was by way of hand or it was tossed at him, either way he’d be able to dry off his body. After stepping out of the tub and finishing off drying himself he could finally see around to the door that connected his room to Orion’s, which presumably still had Oriana standing near it. “Bring yourself into the room and make sure to close to door behind you, words travel way too far in this Keep and I would have ours not so publicly announced.”

He’d wait a few seconds to see what the Lady Selmy did, her only options were to further walk into the room and close the door or retreat back to her brother’s domain and close the door behind her, either way it would be clear for Azaroth to at least acknowledge what Orion had brought up mere seconds before. “There are quite a few things I’ve yet to tell you, that much is true and most of them do revolve around my dear sister; that is certain. I believe after today your questions will be answered and whatever new ones come into your head during these hours I would appreciate it if you tried your best to be on your best behavior, at the very least around Rhaelle.”

As he spoke he got dressed, adorning his rather customary dark brown leather tunic, trousers and boots, the golden stag on his shoulders emblem-ed his family and the final addition of his father’s sword wrapped around his waist perfectly; needless to say as he dressed a blade was placed in his left boot and one at his back pressed up into his tunic to keep hidden. Turning and heading for the door Azaroth patted Orion on his tunic before he’d start speaking and head out towards his sister’s quarters, knowing perfectly well where his dagger would be hidden and not just by the slight head of it that was showing, but it was the most common place the Selmy tended to use. “Press it further up and hide it well, some of the guards are rather…Demanding when it comes to our arms.”

Executioner: Noticing his dear sister close the door after such remarks, he only wondered if she would be back or not. It was not like her to not have the last word. Although this thought was swiftly interrupted by the voice of Azaroth gesturing for a towel. -Orion.- "Oh, sure. Anything to not have to look at your cock any longer." Orion stood onto his feet and approached the towel to toss it to Azaroth. Orion listened, but deep down only got more annoyed with the matter. He pressed his fingers together in front of him and finished listening to what Azaroth was getting to. -Orion.- "Well, you won't have to worry about my mouth, especially around Rhaelle.. But I would appreciate that you do not keep things from me again. I am your brother and I told you that I would have your back in any problem that comes our way, I cannot do that if you keep me in the dark." His tone was a little more serious, actually offended by the fact Azaroth didn't tell him what was going on, but he trusted what he said was true.

He followed behind the Stag lord and did just as he mentioned, tucking his knife just a little further up the inside of his leather curiass. Orion pushed his hands around to his lower back and matched the stride of his friend with a slight mutter. -Orion.- "Still don't understand why you get a sword and I don't.. As if I would go around stabbing and hitting things with it..." He raised his head as a thought struck his mind. -Orion. "I hope Rhaelle is in a good mood, last time I seen her she wasn't so...Probably should work on not pissing your sister off, huh?" He smirked slightly, returning the pat that Azaroth had placed on Orion.

TashianaKriemhild: A soft snort escapes her before Oriana could even think of biting it back. Had Orion been anyone else... Her brother was an ass, this much was true, but in his own odd way, he did care in some shape, way, or form. At least, she hoped he did. Then again, one could never tell, considering the two were always off doing different things. The bane with having to be a Lady and trained in the feminine arts. Her face colors slightly at the mention of kissing and she couldn't come back with a quip fast enough. It wasn't that the concept of kissing that bothered her, it was her brother being an idiot about it. Without another sound besides a huff of annoyance, Oriana shuts the door, none too quietly and continues down the hallway. Her eyes take in her surroundings- guards, some various art pieces... you know, traditional stuff that would belong in a castle. While she wanted to go hide off with a book somewhere, the woman knew she was expected by Rhaelle and who knows how long that audience would take. Making a mental note to do that later, the young woman continues down the hall, only periodically glancing out a window.

---

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Brute: As they made their way to the heavy door of his quarters Orion answered back about how feelings in being disregarded from the knowledge that Azaroth had and even though the Young Stag knew he had a right to feel that way he also knew that the Young Selmy Lord was more cause of his lack of information that Azaroth was. As they neared the halls the continued downwards he took in more words from Orion and turned to him as strides were made in their way towards his sister’s quarters. “Had you not rushed off to empty your bladder then taken up post at the bar to refill it, perhaps you would have been within ear shot of our conversation and been informed. Also whether or not Rhaelle is in a good mood or not would not change anything that could possibly piss her off. Just be sure to actually address her this time when we get to her chambers, another scene like the tavern where you walked past her twice without a greeting may see you placed into exile in her eyes, and that my dear brother is a place of no return.”

As the hall ended and shot off into another section of the Red Keep they had just about caught up with Oriana, for whatever reason she had decided to wander off alone was her own business but it did bring about curious looks from the guards who were now following Azaroth and Orion down the halls, both men that had been with them even in the Reach and then the added four that his mother had sent. As they crossed the path of guards Azaroth nudged his shoulder into that of Orion’s, with some weight but not enough to throw him off path or send him flying into the wall, merely to get his attention as he pointed something out while speaking. “Look at how the guards watch each and every move I make because of the blade strapped to my waist, no doubt if Baratheon blood did not flow through my veins they would make a scene of my sword but we are after all family to the King…I would be hard pressed to say that even other Greater houses would be hounded for such things.” Azaroth finally came to a stop outside the door leading to his sister’s room, knocking a few times before the door opened to woman who took note of who he was and turned to announce his arrival to that of his sister.

Executioner: As the approach toward Rhaelle's room closed in fast, Azaroth turned to Orion and made mention of the evening before in the tavern. He raised his left brow slightly as he unfolded his arms behind his back to prepare himself for meeting Rhaelle. -Orion.- "Well. I shall keep that in mind when you have to take a piss. Not to mention the last time I seen Rhaelle, I recall remembering something about her saying she wanted to throw me off a bridge because I talk too much." Now whether or not that was true was vague, it was years ago and it could have been something entirely different that Orion can recall.

When they continued their stride towards other parts of the keep, Orion happened to notice a bright blonde hair far to familiar to his own to be confused with another person. -Orion.- "OH, I'M SORRY MY LADY. WERE WE TOO SLOW FOR YOU?!" He bellowed out slightly to get his dear sister's attention. His voice carried out through the halls to somewhat no doubt embarrass his sister. -Orion.- "Oh no, by all means just go on in without us.. I'd LOVE to watch that." His face relaxed with his lips pulled into the devilish smirk. -Orion.- "Also you forgot to kiss him."

As he finished his final statement, Azaroth had bumped him to get his attention toward the guards passing. He raised a brow and looked back toward Azaroth before scoffing lightly. -Orion.- "Oh, right.. It's a blood thing, I forgot yours is redder than mine." He chuckled softly, understanding what Azaroth meant and assuring him with a slight nudge and grin that he was joking.

TashianaKriemhild: Oriana starts at the shouting coming up from behind her, the all too familiar voice of her brother bouncing off the stone walls of the hall. She turns around, her eyes flashing at him as she says in a low voice when the pair of males catch up to her for the both of them to hear, but no one else. "Do forgive me -brother- for not waiting. It seems while you were off in the Reach with Azaroth, the wonderful people here decided to not see to my training- something Azaroth obviously didn't consider when he left. I think it had something to with something you just yelled for the entire place to hear- that I am a woman." A deep scowl crosses her face as her eyes move from her brother to the taller dark haired male standing next to him. "Or was it the fact it was felt that I shouldn't be here wanting to learn how to better myself, instead staying at home and waiting to get married off like most women?" Upon hearing the door open, her face morphs back into an impassive look, though anyone who knew Oriana would realize that her rigid posture showed that not only was she still annoyed, she was embarrassed. When the woman went back inside to announce Azaroth's presence, she quickly grits out to her brother "I forgot nothing, Orion. I just choose to not amuse you on that train of thought."

Biird: Rhaegar was turning circles in the tub. Around him were several small wood carved boats made to match the detail of grand ships, rising and falling on the great waves he created. “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.” He sang happily, skirting his hand under the water like some sort of beast lying in wait. The beast sprang from the water landing on one of the ships attempting to sink it but the sound of cannons going off sent the creature screaming back into the murky depths. At this point Rhaegar stood in the tub and threw his hands up,”Mother! The pirates won. They won!”

“And what did they defeat, my son?” Rhaelle inquired. She sat on a stool about two feet from him, because he had been splashing water all about during his grand adventures. Rhaegar didn’t have a chambermaid who bathed him when his mother’s was around. She gave him all of his baths and they shared all their meals often avoiding the presence of her elder brother in order to actually have food spared for them.

“The KRAKEN,” said the boy covered in lavender tinted bubbles created for him by Xara. He didn’t require a response from his mother as he dove into the tub once more, swimming under his ships and blowing up bubbles to frighten the crews aboard. A tub meant to fit his mother comfortably was like a small lagoon for the boy and since the arrival of his “new” aunt Rhaenyrs it had become the place of many high adventures on the sea.

Xara Xaq, Rhaelle’s chief lady in waiting, carefully opened the doors to Rhaelle’s bath chamber and curtsied as she entered. “My lady, there is word that the Tyrells have arrived. They bare grand gifts for the king,” She said unable to suppress her Cheshire grin. “As I was returning to your chambers, a page delivered requests from the Lady Odessa Tyrell for you to join her for lunch in her chambers.”

Rhaegar shot from the depths of the water. “Mother! Are we going to see the Swan of Highgarden? Is she the one that ran uncle Azaroth out of the flower garden? Is she pretty? Do you think she chased him out with a broom like the grandmother does me?”

Because Rhaegar had no volume control on his voice when he was excited, laughter erupted from the room beyond as well as within his mother and her closest friend. Rhaelle rose from her stool, handing her book to Xara and took up a towel. She wrapped it around her son as she hoisted him out of the tub and began to dry his hair with more strength than necessary which caused him to giggle and struggle while lost in the folds of the soft towel. “You know too much my son. You may join me to see the Swan if you will keep your comments to yourself.”

Rhaegar head popped out of the folds and his clear blue gaze found his mother’s, ”I promise.”

As Rhaelle made her way to the bed where Rhaegar's clothes had been laid out, a smaller woman, the chief handmaiden, came into the line of vision and curtsied, nodded to the receiving chambers where she and her brother had been speaking the night prior. "My Lady, your brother has returned. He is requesting to see you."

Rhaelle nodded, and motioned for Xara to greet her brother while she dressed her writhing and wiggling son, who always found fun in forcing his mother to chase him to get his clothes on. Xara, smiling at the scene, bowed out of the room and went to the door. A look of surprise crossed her dark features to see all the people with Azaroth but she smiled and curtsied anyway. "My Lord Azaroth," She said, motioning for himself and his party to enter the foyer, "your sister is dressing the little lord, you may go in and speak with her. This way. Come." The doors behind her were closed by Rhaelle's guards, leaving Xara to delicately fold her hands in front of her and led Azaroth and the two in his closest company deeper into the room.

They hadn't been in the room a moment, when Rhaegar scrambled down from the bed, his shirt half buttoned, his mother mid motion, and he ran to Azaroth. "Uncle Azaroth, I am happy to see that my mother let you live. I would greatly like to get to know you. Who are they? How come you have a woman with you? Is she your wife?" The sound of sucking teeth, had Rhaegar backing up toward the bed, where Rhaelle half sat on the edge. She gathered his hair into her hand and gave it a good yank before starting to comb it out with her fingers and braid it. "Mother said you would come home smelling like flowers and boys. I did not smell flowers on you and I do not know what boys smell like."  

Brute: At the words that fell from Oriana’s mouth Azaroth was surprised, stunned rather in the moment when she continued on and to one that knew him it would be rather obvious, perhaps not so much on his facial features that rarely changed unless a smile crossed his lips but more so his eerily bright blue eyes that held so much information of The Young Lord. Just as Azaroth opened his mouth to speak one of the Summer Sister’s entered his sight with a curtsy and began speaking, he simply took note of what Oriana had said and put it on the back burner for later; he would get to the bottom of why her training had been lacking if in fact any training had taken place at all.

As they stepped inside the foyer Azaroth’s right hand passed down to his side, his fingers stretched out and his palm flattened making an ever so subtle stopping gesture that the guards at his rear would take note upon, the only ones that would follow him inside where the two bickering siblings. Finally inside with the door closed behind them, his men stationed outside of the room, Azaroth tilted his head to Xara as he spoke. “Lady Xara, it has been far too long since I have heard your fascinating tales, I pray sometime soon we can take a walk and catch up on the past years.” Though she wasn’t a noble from the Stormlands or even the Seven Kingdoms for that matter Xara Xaq was as much a Lady as the next one, from what stories he had heard and the visits to her home in the Summer Isles as a child she was regarded as a princess of sorts, as was the Summer Witch; her elder sister and Seer of the King. Truth be told there was more than one reason that Azaroth wanted to get together with Xara, though it was true of the amazing tales she told there was also a more important matter that he was sure she could help with, but this was not the time nor place for such things to be brought up.

He followed her into the bed chambers of his sister only to watch the scene at hand for a second before Rhaegar scrambled down from the bed and ran over to him, his eyes lightened from the thoughts of before and he knelt down to better match the boy’s height. At his words the Young Stag couldn’t help but laugh lightly, the boy certainly had a way with words and as he continued speaking Azaroth reached out and one by one would start to finish buttoning up his shirt as he answered the child. “Then we are both equally happy that I lived to tell the tale of how I survived The Great and Frightful Rhaelle Baratheon.” Azaroth once again laughed lightly at his jest with the boy, going on to answer more of his questions. “The man is my brother in arms and was with me while I spent time in the Reach, the Lady is his sister, also my squire and attendant and not my wife.” It didn’t take but sucking of her teeth for Rhaegar to start backing up towards his mother, though as he did his eyes stayed firmly on his uncle, clearly waiting for further clarification about the smell of boys or even where the scent of flowers were. “Your Lady Mother is a very clever woman, it did take me a few baths to get the scent of flowers from my person, and as for the smell of boys; I also do not know what that smells like, and I pray Littlest Baratheon that we never find out.”

Azaroth finally stood from his kneeling position and flatted down his tunic as he did so, his view moving from the young child to that of his elder sister as he gave her the same nodding he had done her Lady. “I trust you slept well, dearest sister?”

Executioner: The intensity that his sister expressed was rather odd, in fact it was kind of amusing as the brows of Orion furrowed slightly. Before Orion could open his mouth to rebuttal toward his sisters' comment about her training. The door opened to a lovely lady of red hair and grace exceeding that of his sister. A light smirk pulled up against his lips at the though. He followed his friend into the room, tucking his hands away behind him and pushing his fingers together. The head-maiden was lovely which was a understatement compared to the figure of the woman whom was in Rhaelle's company.

Orion glanced around the room, noticing the motion Azaroth made before he followed behind to to meet the presence of the Lady Stag, Lady Rhaelle. But before anything could be said between the siblings, the young lord made his presence known. Orion shifting off to left about two foot from Azaroth, he released his fingers from behind his back and raised them up to the collar of his leather curiass and hung his fingers into the hole for his head to poke through.

The mention of his blood being Azaroth's wife caused Orion to give a little chuckle, looking back at his sister with the devil's smirk on his lips. A soft whisper directed toward his sister, behind the ears of Azaroth. Hardly enough tone for Lady Rhaelle or Rhaegar to hear. -Orion.- "Oh, but she wishes." Orion ended the joke there as he turned his attention back to the little Lord and his mother. He could only think about the motion of her slinging him from a bridge, or in this case a window as she threatened when they were younger.

TashianaKriemhild: Upon following Azaroth and Orion into the room, the blonde haired female fights back the urge to coo at the rather inquisitive and boisterous young man- she always did have a soft spot for young children. However all of that got shoved to the side when said child blurted out the question inquiring if she was Azaroth's wife. Great, more matchmaking, and this time by someone a little less than half her size and who knows how many years her junior. A slight hint of red appears across her cheeks and she can only pray that it's not noticeable as Azaroth responds, only to stiffen again once her brother whispers his zinger low enough for her to hear. She holds her tongue though, as losing what little composure she still has left from his earlier antics in front of Azaroth or his sister Rhaelle- let alone her son- would not bode well for her. Instead, she says nothing, only to listen and learn, as was her want. Besides, who wants to hear that the Lady Baratheon has a handsome son, when all women tend to hear that of their children?

Biird: Rhaegar was beaming at the words of his newest uncle. He thoroughly enjoyed whenever anyone treated him like a person. First it had been his new aunt Rhaenyrs, then the Lord Tully and now his newest uncle. He was also completely enjoying this new influx of family. Up until now, Rhaegar’s only playmates had been Xara and his uncle Kainen. Kainen took him everywhere on his shoulders and like being with his mother, no one dared say anything about his white-blonde hair around the monstrous beast that was his uncle. Xara carried him on her hip and told him wild and fantastical stories sometimes at the expense of people who made fun of him. Having more people around him that didn’t care that he didn’t look like his mother and no one knew who his father was had him running on high like a heroin addict with a really good fix. The simplest of gestures like helping to button his shirt, made Rhaegar instantly fall in love with his new uncle. Regardless of how elated he was, while his mother braided his hair, he stood at attention, his little booted feet shoulder width apart his posture straight, neck long and chin aligned with his shoes; much the way his mother stood.

It only took a moment, while his uncle was speaking, for Rhaelle to finish his braid and tie off the end with a strip of leather. She gave the back of his head a pat and Rhaegar took a step to the side so she could come down from the platform of the bed. “I never sleep well, brother. I sleep with this little creature who clings and pinches me with his toes.” Rhaegar burst into a torrent of giggles and went skipping across the room to where Xara stood in the corner. “I trust you slept well in these strange and uncomfortable beds.” Turning her head slightly, Rhaelle nodded to Orion and Oriana. “Lord and Lady Selmy, it is good to see you again, it has been quite some time.” She motioned then to where her son had darted off too,”You may remember my lady, Lady Xara Xaq of the Summer Isles.”

Rhaegar was chasing some imaginary foe from her skirts but Xara managed to curtsy once more. She was much smaller than Rhaelle, standing an inch above five foot. Her thick chocolate brown hair was pulled to one side in a giant spiral baring her shoulders and her smooth dark skin. Her hazel eyes were bright with flicks of gold in a sea of swamp-like green. She wore a wreath of red roses in her hair which helped to perfume against the stench of the capital that came abruptly into one’s nose on the wrong breeze. “A pleasure.” Was all she said, before tickling Rhaegar away from her skirts.

Rhaelle motioned toward the round table in the room with chairs scattered about it then bed trays of fruit and cheese be brought forward. “Be seated, all of you. Azaroth what brings you back here? Shouldn’t you be in the city rescuing maidens or whatever other useless nonsense they taught you in the Reach?”

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Diitzy: Rhaenyrs Baratheon pinned herself desperately against the wall as she reached over to peep into the empty hallway. The little Lady Baratheon was known to be clever escaping from the escorting guards was quite challenging. All she wanted to do was go back to port and check in with her crew members. Maybe stop by a local tavern for two maybe five bottles of rum. Even though the Red Keep was fully stocked. Though people were starting to notice crafts disappearing. That mostly was inhaled  by her tiny islander pig, Scribbles. That adorable thing just needs to have his fair share to drink.  That’s all she wanted to do and she couldn’t step a foot outside without the masterminded guards popping up at her side. This new rekindled lifestyle of nobility was hard to adapt to for the little disguised pirate. The only thing that kept her around was her family finally reunited at last.

She peeped to the corner with the coast looking clear she began to tiptoe to the next corner. Not only was she hiding from the guards but also her chamber maids that were tending to her long dark black locks. The amount of time a Noble Lady takes to groom herself from clothing to their hair to even makeup  was just a bit ridiculous She couldn’t stand all the pulling to braid her long hair. Just simply ran off. It was all just too overwhelming for the pirate. “Lady Rhaenyrs! Lady Rhaenyrs!” the name echoed through the halls as she made her way to a window. She glanced up as she tilt her head. “I think that is my sister’s room. I think I am just below it. Maybe. What you think Scribbles?” She turned as she noticed her pig laying on his side panting from their little jog through the Red Keep. “Can’t be too sure..” Laughter from her newly known nephew Rhaegar came from above as she clapped her hands underneath her beloved jewel, pig. “Oh my darling. My Precious darling!” She squeezed him pressing him against her torn face beaten up with scars as she nuzzled him. She pulled him away while she tied her scarf over one shoulder and under the other placing Scribbles in it’s wrap. She took a step on the ledge as she pulled her body up the Red Keep’s stone wall. Climbing to the balcony in which held her nephew.  

Rhaenyrs pulled herself to the newly found ledge as she tumbled and somersaulted with a spring to catch herself on her own two feet. Before even greeting her sister whom she saw first from motioning into the room. She rushed to the bed as she placed her beloved pig under the covers. She made it quite sure his head was hitting the pillow as she groomed him gently. “There you go my Scribbles…just sleep. Sleep all the pain away.” She sounded worried and about to burst into tears of her exhausted pig. She pulled away from him and dusted her dress off as her hair was a disaster in the making. “Oh Sister! I am so happy to see you” She clapped her hands together but then fell silent. Realizing she had company with her. “Oh I’m so sorry. I..um. So Scribbles is napping on the bed. I’m just gonna leave him there. I don’t want to go back to my own room. There are evil people in there.. .” She pointed to the bed as she joined her sister and stared at the others. Her eyes began to wander as she looked for her nephew. She began to whistle the pirate -Yo Ho- Song towards the end she swung from her heels to her tiptoes. “Yo ho Yo Ho a Pirate’s life for me.” She smiled as she knew her little nephew would come running eventually.

TashianaKriemhild: "It is good to see you as well, Lady Baratheon. I trust you and your son are doing well? He's very handsome and intelligent for his age- I do think he'll be a heartbreaker once he gets older. And it is nice to meet you, Lady Xaq" Oriana says to the Azaroth's sister, gracefully lowering herself into the offered seat. She goes to say something more, only to hear the sound of scuffling from the outside. Before the female Selmy could rise from her claimed chair, her blue eyes blink in disbelief as a figure vaulted over the railing of the balcony and rolled into the room. Unable to speak, she watches as said figure moves and places something- someone?- under the blankets. Oriana hears the words Scibbles and sleep, but had honestly no idea who or what Scibbles was. So, instead of being stupid, the young woman arches a blonde eyebrow in question. Who was this person, she- the voice sounded like a woman, going around singing like a pirate? Maybe it's best that she didn't know...

Biird:   Xara had little mind for the room with Rhaegar running around her proclaiming his defeat of the fiend that would look up her skirts, but she had enough of a moment to look up and smile at Oriana before being pulled away into a game of hide and seek with Rhaegar. They disappeared deeper into Rhaelle’s chamber and the sounds of women squealing in fright and laughter could be heard; it was often the reaction of her ladies and servants when her son came launching into a room. He would be overly joyous and by default mischievous today because he had discovered a new family member. If anyone inside or outside of Rhaelle’s company were to do him the wicked things people often did because of his bastard status his joyous mode would turn on its head very quickly and the opposite of Rhaegar’s joy was exceptionally dark.

Meanwhile, Rhaelle turned back to Lady Oriana as wine was poured and tasted for them. She pushed a side of her ink black, shoulder length hair behind a red striped ear and went for her glass so that her guests would be free to do the same. Before she could bring it to her lips however, her sister stole onto her balcony then into her room like a thief in the night. The Lady Baratheon was undisturbed by the entrance, her weirdwood painted features unchanged as the tiniest Baratheon since Rhaegar appeared at her side. Her sister, her little sister, was about the size of Xara but her features were unmistakably Baratheon; nearly neon blue eyes and hair as black as night around sharp, pink tinted features. Rhaelle put her arm around her sister’s narrow little shoulders and motioned to Oriana. “This is the Lady Oriana Selmy. Oriana, you may not remember but this is the youngest Baratheon child, Rhaenyrs.” Rhaelle handed Rhaenyrs her cup of wine and glanced to the bed. “Scribbles will be fine. Let him rest.”

As easily distracted as her son, Rhaenyrs was soon off again. It was only a moment after her little song that Rhaegar came bursting back into the room and tackled her to the ground. He was not far off her size. “AUNT RHAENYRS.” He squealed in delight before breaking from her and stalking around the room. “Where is the King of Basilisks?! Did you hide him? Xara and I were playing hide and seek. She’s seeking! We have to hide!”  

Diitzy:   The Tiny Baratheon’s abnormal bright blue eyes exchanged glances with Oriana Selmy. She smiled. “Pleasure to meet you Oriana Selmy or reunited tis the season for being reunited with long missed faces” She reached for a glass of wine as she pulled from her side pouch a bottle of rum and poured it directly with the wine. “Thank you beloved sister!” She hoisted her glass to her sister’s honor chugging the glass down in a matter of seconds. Before being tackled by her nephew. “The King of Basiliks? I thought we locked him in the wardrobe. We were gonna keep him as a riding stead for Scribbles to take to war. YOU SET HIM FREE!” She rolled over him picking him up in her arms. She pulled him over head as they pranced through the chamber. “BACK INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE BASILIKS CAVES WE GO WE GO” She tossed him into a traveling chest with freshly folded clothes as she climbed in after him pulling chest close over their heads.

“I think we have a good hiding spot. What you say, Matey?” She grinned as she placed her finger over her lips trying to shush him. Of course she highly doubted he’d keep his mouth shut. Occasionally she popped her head out to take a sip of her rum while they continued to hide. She was just as bad as Rhaegar as she ranted on and on to him about the day she had with the guards and the evil chamber maids. She flicked the end of her long braided hair across his nose. “You don’t even want to know how much it hurt to get this braided. Mind as well scalp my head off.” she pretty much exaggerated any tale she could think of just to get him going. Course Rhaegar was far better of a storyteller than she was. She often glued herself to his make belief adventure nearly felt like it was reality as she sprung from the box and tossed him back on her shoulder and swung around the room fighting off the monsters to the next hiding place he desired.

TashianaKriemhild: Oriana chuckles softly as she hears the burst into the room at the sound of his Aunt's singing. Was this what it was like having children? The constant ooh shiny syndrome? To be honest... she thought it was adorable. The young woman reaches over and takes her own glass of wine, scowling slightly as that same rogue bit of hair from earlier flopped back into her line of vision once more. "Pleasure to meet and/or re-meet you, Rhaenyrs Baratheon," she says with a smile as she watches the two smallest in the room in search of the Basilisk King "Be sure to not look him in the eyes!" Oriana calls off after them, her voice full of uncontained laughter. Leaning back in her seat, the young woman sighs, her thoughts drifting back to the previous morning, how she unwittingly allowed her brother to crawl under her skin and was able to aggravate her so. In his own way, maybe, he meant well, but it was still an odd way to show it. And to do it in front of Azaroth- could it end up being any more embarassing? ...Then again, her snarky response in his presence to her brother in the hall probably wasn't seen as endearing. Why did she care, though? Did Azaroth Baratheon not also deserve her anger- to take her on as a squire, but then to up and leave to the Reach with her brother and not make sure that she received some sort of instruction in her absence? Did everyone just really want to make a mockery out of her, or perhaps she expected too much of herself. Another sigh escapes her lips as she takes a sip of the wine. "I apologize, Lady Rhaelle, if I am poor company. My mind seems to be running off in different directions at the speed of gale winds."

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Brute: It was mid-afternoon by the time he was done with his sister and things that had to be dealt with that day, to say the morning had been interesting would be an understatement but that was a story for another time. Azaroth scanned the Gold Cloaks that were spread out amongst the entrances and exits, each one looked at him with curiosity in their eyes as their view moved from the man himself to the long sword at his side, or bastard sword by Azaroth’s own account of it. Alexander’s reign had long since seen almost every noble be it lesser or great stripped of their steel, even guards that weren’t wrapped in Golden or White Cloaks who swore legiance to the King were asked to leave their weapons behind when entering the Red Keep, after all they had nothing to fear inside the walls but the Mad King himself; and he would have his prey in the weakest of possible states at all times. The Great Hall soon appeared ahead of him as he continued twisting and turning to make his way towards food to fill his stomach, even at this time of the day there would be chiefs in the kitchen and small platters spread out in the hall for those nobles who needed a snack or something more; though the best of foods was usually kept to when the King wanted to eat or when he deemed it should be served to those lesser than himself. His mountainous yet unfinished form loomed over the tables of food as he moved items here and there onto his plate, all around the room even more Gold Cloaks were placed watching the nobles, probably gathering information on how much they ate and drank so the King could then tax their regions accordingly.

ShayTuan: It was odd to see Alisanne alone. The young Tyrell never left her first cousin and future Queen Odessa’s side. They were always seen together, even with her outings with her future husband Dante. Alisanne was like Odessa’s second pair of eyes, second brain, hell second pair of legs even. So being able to roam the Red Keep alone, only accompanied by her fellow Tyrell guards she seemed to be a little happier. Of course, she loved being her Cousin’s lady in waiting more than life itself. But hardly having time of her own was a little exhausting. She was all smiles when she had walked into to the great hall, eyes roaming at all the men, and women, who were feeling just a hungry as she was.

Brute: It had only taken him a few minutes to select the food from the tables and gather it onto his place, much like his elder brother Azaroth’s plate was completely full with all different manners of food, after he had finished walking through the multiple layouts he moved towards the tables meat for seating and sat himself down in the largest chair he could find at that moment that wasn’t the one reserved for the King; though it was stitched and cushioned just as well so perhaps a chair made for someone from the Royal line or of importance. As he rested into the chair and scanned the hall what had to be the ten time in a matter of minutes his sword was removed from his side and placed upon the table, leaving it there to rest as he ate. Eerily bright blue eyes fell upon the Lady Alisanne Tyrell, cousin of Odess and someone he had known for quite some time now after all the years he had spent in Highgarden. As she moved past with the guards at her back the Young Baratheon Lord stood up once more from the table and bowed his head as he spoke to her. “Lady Alisanne, perhaps after you collect some food you would like to join me? I fear eating alone is a habit of beasts and I dare say I have no intention of turning into my elder brother or sister.” He made a quick joke, something anyone from the Stormlands or who had known him would catch, though to some it would seem odd that he viewed his siblings as such; yet he did and he loved them for it, they were both beasts in their own rights, and as much as Azaroth hated the idea of becoming one himself he would never fault his family for how they were.

ShayTuan: Alisanne stopped her scan of foods to look at the Baratheon before her. It sure was Azaroth alright, she could remember that face from anywhere. Mainly because they were, in fact, quite close as children. Of course, she knew of Odessa’s and the Baratheon’s passed. But, that was less of her worries. She would keep her mouth shut about it, just as her cousin would want her too. She smiled at him, nice and polite before answering. “Sure, why not. I was just finishing up with my selections.” She says, grabbing a small bread roll and turned towards the crowds of people eating, seeing a somewhat empty spot, she quickly made her ways there, one hand on her plate the other holding her dress. As she sits, she looks at the Baratheon again, smiling. “Nice to see a familiar face, I haven’t been out much since I got here.” She laughs a little, taking a bite of the bread in front of her. She could feel the guards staring, knowing what they are thinking. She really shouldn’t be “Alone” Talking to said Baratheon, let alone without Odessa beside her to hear the conversation. But, she tried to put all of that aside her mind. She tried to ignore the stares as she pushed her light brown hair out of her way so she could look at him better. “Nice to see you still have that weird since of humor. You literally called your sister and brother monsters, even though I wouldn’t deny that claim. Rhaelle is a true Baratheon, or so I have heard.” She says, before picking up her drink and taking a sip. Alisanne has never spoken or even interacted with the other Baratheon siblings, she only was really familiar with Azaroth, thanks to his time at The Reach. But that didn’t stop her from hearing the stories.

Brute: As Alisanne finished up collecting what piece of food she wished to eat Azaroth waited for her, in the few seconds between that and her sitting down his eyes caught sight of a few guards gathering closer together in the corner, talking rather frequently amongst themselves then seemingly randomly looking his way. As the Lady sat so too did the Baratheon at the same time, as she spoke he started eating that which sat on his plate, from the meat pies to the thick stew sat within warm crusted bread it all tasted rather nice; though it was a far distance away from those eggs that rattled his mind. While he continued eating his eyes would line up to the Alisannes as he listened to her speaking, the fact that she hadn’t been out much wasn’t a big surprise to him, even he hadn’t visited many places in the City as of yet, and he knew it’d be even harder for a Lady to do such things. When she started going on about his sense of humour and referring his siblings as monsters his face changed slightly, the corner of his lips turning up into that smile that was said to cut like a knife. “I do not think a truer Baratheon has ever been born, and we have a lot of stalk to go through if we were to compare them all.” Obviously the Baratheon’s like many other noble families, specially the Greater Houses had branch upon branch of other Baratheons, however they were far removed from the main house and as such a lot of them didn’t even hold the last name. “By the time this festival is over I have no doubt that you will meet my sister, and when that time comes remember that most of the time the animal is more afraid of you than you should be of it…Perhaps that isn’t the best analogy…I am sure you will do fine.” At this point in the conversation Azaroth was all but teasing the girl, many times in the past people had brought up meeting his elder sister or even his older brother and many of those times Azaroth would tell tales that would make grown Knights think twice about introductions to the two eldest children of Eirlys Baratheon. “Tell me, what else do you have planned for today? Or is this meal your only reprieve of all things prim and proper?”

ShayTuan: She almost glared at him, but kept the smile on her face as she lowered he goblet. She wasn’t one who liked to be teased, her own father and mother wouldn’t even dare tease her, unless they wanted to see her throw a fit of course. The only person who came relatively close to teasing has and only would be her cousin, but she kept that knowledge to herself. “I am sure I will meet her, I sort of look forward to it.” She says this with a smile. She was certain that meeting wasn’t going to be alone, so that took her nerves away. Alisanne was still a little awkward when it came to talking to strangers. And the other Baratheon’s were simply that, strangers. If it wasn’t for Azaroth’s years of time in the reach, she probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day. She thought for a moment, thinking of what she was going to do with the little free time she had in store. When she didn’t quite get anything, she shrugs as she tore a piece of meat and put it in her mouth, chewing before speaking. “Well, I probably will have an hour or so alone as Odessa has some duties of her own to attend too, so I might go around and do as much sightseeing as I possibly can.” She laughs at this, knowing she won’t probably even be able to go sightseeing as she puts it. She had a feeling that her cousin’s guards would sooner or later come with a message from her, telling her she wanted her at once. And she would much rather do that then walk around really. She was mostly an indoors person, sewing up new gowns and such were her things she called “fun”. “What about you, Ser Baratheon? What duties calls of you on this lovely day.”


Brute: His violent azure eyes seemed to light up in the moment she had called him Ser, it wasn’t often he heard this title from people, most chose to remain addressing him as Lord yet the few that changed it up to Ser were rather welcomed to. The difference in title meant little to Azaroth, in the past nobles would certainly use it to show the difference in station from a Knight to a Lord, but there could no shame when it placed in front of his own name, after all it was something he had earned himself and that was a thing that few Lords could say for themselves. When she mentioned sightseeing he nodded to her as wine drenched his thirst, the mug of sweet tasting honeyed liquid was used well to combat the bread he had been eating previously. “Perhaps we could visit the Dragon Pits, I hear all the main entrances are sealed off but there have been stories and rumours of different ways to gain access, darker paths that lead through the heart of the pits where the Dragons was slept yet even there fire has taken over the walls and floor, but it could be rather fun to see what no one has seen in hundreds of years.” The offer was real, well partly, part of him was just seeing how far the Lady in waiting would go with her so called sightseeing and the other part of him knew that she couldn’t stray too far away from her cousin, had she not been around when Odessa called for her there would surely be some price to pay in return. “Myself though, I have no duties when it comes to King’s Landing other than upholding the name of my family and seeing that pretty Ladies do no dine alone, both have been accomplished rather well so far so, so whatever comes from the rest of the day will just have to be a surprise for everyone including myself.”

ShayTuan: Her eyes lit up as he mentioned dragons. Even through the stories, she herself never had seen one. That didn’t stop her from loving the creatures all the same. They were powerful, and loyal beings. And strong, let’s not forget to mention strong. She also her the small comment of him calling her pretty, which wasn’t uncommon for her. She had to look pretty. She was of course the lady in waiting to the future queen, so she had to look the part. The word didn’t seem to faze her much, but she did give a teasing smile. “As intriguing as that sounds, I am sure Odessa would have my head if I go off without her knowing, mainly with you after all.” She says, laughing a little. “I am sure that visit to the Dragon Bit will have to be some other time, if that time comes at all.” She says this as she finishes the last piece of food on her plate. She wouldn’t really want to be seen alone with the Baratheon to begin with, the last thing she wanted was rumors to fly around. That was the last thing Alisanne needed as a lady in waiting. As a lady in waiting to such a lady as Odessa Tyrell of Highgarden. Her name had to be as clean as possible, to keep the image of Odessa high in the people’s eyes. She was a split image of her after all. “I am sure Kings Landing has much to offer when it comes to surprise, right?” She says. She has only been to Kings Landing on business, and always on the side of Odessa so she only went by the stories people told back home at the Reach. She really knew nothing about the land at all. At least for herself rather.

Brute: As she spoke with that lightly teasing smile Azaroth laughed slightly at her words, they made him chuckle the way she broached not wanting to be alone with him of all people. As she continued on about how there would be many surprised in King’s Landing Azaroth just nodded his head in as he agreed with her, the city was large and filled with people from the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, to say it was interesting at all times wouldn’t have been a lie in the slightest. Opening his mouth and slacking his jaw in feign of offence the Young Baratheon Lord narrowed his violently bright blue eyes at her as he spoke. “Well I never, here I am offering the Lady an extra set of eyes to watch her back to simply be put down far below her. My honour has been sullied, I am afraid I might not recover from the devastation you have inflicted.” Of course it was all a jest, he knew more than anyone the reason why she wouldn’t be seen alone with any man, much less one who had kisses her cousin, the future Queen of the Realm. “After some minutes pass I am sure there will be another extremely handsome young knight who wishes to accompany you around the Keep and perhaps he will be better suited for it.” Just as the young Lord finished speaking a heavy armoured hand was forced down upon the table they were sat at, the three Gold Cloaks from before, the ones whispering secretly to each other like little ladies at court were now standing at the ends of the table and the one who had his hand placed upon it also had it extremely close to his father’s sword. Azaroth’s attention was taken away from the Lady Alisanne for a second as he turned towards the guard who had slammed his hand down in order to gain some sort of attention. “Do you know it is considered rude to interrupt a conversation you are not currently involved in?” The young Stag’s words weren’t overly offensive to the average listener but behind what he said were clear implications that the Gold Cloaks were stepping above their station by interrupting a conversation that had not only one noble in it, but two. “Well Ser, we men of the Guard don’t get as much fancy books to read or trained very good for social things, but we’re well informed and trained when it comes to killing a man and we also know the laws of the Keep and as you are currently breaking not only one but two of those laws, will have to insist you come with us for the time being.” Azaroth’s eyes narrowed to the man speaking, clearly he wasn’t completely base born, he had a slight tinge in his words and the way he spoke but it was better than what it would have been if he was from Flea Bottom or any other low born area, though the words he spoke sparked an amused grin to cross the young stag’s features as he turned to face the Lady Alisanne once more. “I believe we were just talking about the surprises that may pop up in King’s Landing, it seems one of those has just happened before your very eyes, My Lady.”

ShayTuan: She sort of felt herself going back to the old days in the Reach with Azaroth as he continued to tease at her. She was glad that he understood her reasons of not wanting to jeopardise her cousins name by being alone with him. She sworn an oath that she would never be alone with a man let alone with a Baratheon man. She was to stay clear of men until Odessa herself found one suitable for her. And of course, she couldn’t have any relations with a male. That could even case her head. But she enjoyed this friendly banter with someone other than the servants and Odessa, it made Alisanne a little happier to say the least. She was about to say something before one of the men from the corner rudely interrupted. This angered her a little, before she could clam herself she turned her gaze from Azaroth to the rude intruder. “I am sure whatever law it is could have waited until our conversation has been done,” She snaps. She stands a little, so she could look the man in the eye. “I am sure you were at least taught not to interrupt a conversation between two nobles in that type of manner. You don’t need books for that.” She shouldn’t have let this get to her, but after all she did have a quick temper at times. Mainly when her fun was being interrupted.

Brute: Azaroth leaned back in the comfortable cushioned chair as he watched Alisanne reply to the Gold Cloaks who stood at their table, noticeably the one who had been speaking. He made no attempt to stifle his laughter as she then rose and faced the guard head on before continuing her verbal assault on him, all of which had the Baratheon going back and forth, wondering what was going to happen now that the Guard was clearly more pissed off than he was before. From the corner of his eye he clocked his men at the corner of the room, they had seemingly risen from their table the second the Gold Cloaks approached his, them eating at another table was rather rare but since he was talking to a noble at the time they had given him some space for said conversation. Much like his own guards, Azaroth turned to look at the ones who would be guarding the Lady Tyrell, even though neither of the family guards held weapons that wouldn’t be enough to stop them stepping should anything further happen. Once again the angered guard slammed his fist down onto the table, this time with such force that Azaroth’s sword bounced slightly. “Manners fall flat in front of laws, and not only does your noble friend have a weapon inside the Keep but he is also sitting on a chair reserved for royalty, surely the fine the stitching and extra comfort of it was a clear give away that it wasn’t a chair for the likes of him.” Azaroth’s head moved ever so slightly to the right, the whole time the guard had been talking he had been taking it as some kind of overly dramatic act for him to get praise from the other guards, perhaps trying to show off his slightly elevated position but now it seemed somewhat more personal, the insult had been clearly thrown Azaroth’s way and from the looks of it he was the target of all unjust things that had gone down so far. “As the festival is meant to show the good will of our King, we will forgive your offences this day and simply take away your sword, let it be a lesson to you that rules are there for all to follow, and no one is above them.” Finally finished speaking the guard reached out those two extra fingers with full intent on taking the darkened blade away from its owner, though as his armoured hand reached for it Azaroth’s own hand smacked the guard’s away, sending it flying to the other side of the table as there was clearly no movement expected from the guard. “What! What is the meaning of this, an attack on a guard is an attack on the King himself, punishable by death!” The words from the Gold Cloak filled the Great Hall and as they did his own guards stepped closer, if not for Azaroth still seated at the table they would surely be surrounding him completely but since he was they stood at his sides, a semi-circle forming at his back as he pushed up from the comfortable large chair and picked up his sword off the table. “As is trying to lay your hands on my sword, now turn around and walk away before you do something stupid that will forever define this moment in your life, or lack there of.”

ShayTuan: She couldn’t believe what was happening, in an instant a nice conversation turned into a heated argument. She felt the anger still boil down her body, but she had to calm herself down. It wasn’t really lady like to explode in front of everyone, let alone a silly guard. She felt the tensions of her own guards around her and she turned towards them, smiling slightly. “Let’s not get hasty, now, I am sure this man is just simply overacting for the sake of his fellow men.” She says this as she glares at the man. “It would have been suitable to give a warning then act like fool in front of everyone, not wouldn’t have been Ser?” She said this in a low tone, showing that she was still angry but she kept the smile on her face. She turned towards Azaroth, her face a little pleading. “Let’s get out of here, yea? I already tired of all of this nonsense.” She says this as her glares hit the Gold Cloak man again. “I am sure your king wouldn’t like to hear of his guard acting why too hasty to a noble, you could have come over here and talked with at least some decency. Instead you choose to make a scene.”

Brute: With his bastard sword still in hand Azaroth watched the Gold Cloak carefully as Alisanne continued speaking after he did, her words once again seemed to cut at the guard they were aimed at and as she finished up speaking and turned to Azaroth claiming to be tired of the nonsense he nodded lightly and moved away from the table with his guards at his back once more. As they were moving away from the table and her continued assault on the guard went on Azaroth shook his head slowly as he walked beside her. “He is no Knight, My Lady. Few of the City Watch are, other than their commanding officer of course. So it easy to see how he fails to act with decency or any type of honor.” It seemed that for now the guard had reverted back to his previous state of whispering between the two others with him, whatever they were secretly saying was something that he couldn’t figure out from this distance but it did bring about a few questions in his mind, surely if the seat was such a big issue they would have dealt with it as soon as he sat down, but of course when it came to blade he may have had a point if he wasn’t so blatantly disrespectful about it. “I think the excitement of overzealous guards will soon reach your cousin, and if it is brought to her attention by their lips and not yours the situation could be altered in a negative fashion, if such an event ever comes to play again I would think about being more reserved, one would hate to think a Lady of the court was getting defensive and protective over an available Lord, what would the gossips say?” Azaroth smiled once more, as he nodded to her and stopped at an intersection within the Keep. “Sadly I will be making the journey alone to visit the Dragons of old and their final resting place, perhaps when my adventure is over we will meet again, Lady Alisanne, till then I wish you well.” He’d wait to hear her response, doing otherwise would be extremely rude, though afterwards his smile would turn his lips up and he’d nod to her once more before turning and heading off down the long winded halls of the Keep.

ShayTuan:   She felt a little bit of relief as they walked out of the keep, her shoulders less tense and her warm face back on. She heard his comment of the defences and she shrugged, before saying. “The presence of that fool angered me, even if he were to do it to someone else, I’d have done the same… even though it isn’t the best thing to do.” She laughs, shaking her head. “My father says I have a short fuse… I think it’s true.” She says before nodding, he was bidding her a farewell. “Be safe on your journey, try not to get into anymore spills with guard’s yea?” She giggled before smiling, nodding his way and turning towards her guards. “Let’s go find Odessa, yea? And tell her of this. I am sure she won’t be too please, but I know she will understand.” At least she would hope so anyways. She then walked away from the Baratheon, her guards in toe as she went to go find her cousin.

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Olena: Odessa and her ladies set to preparing the balcony for their upcoming luncheon with The Beast of Storm’s End. Arylsse submitted the requests to the kitchen Red Keep’s kitchen staff to create the desired pastries, sweet meats, and fruits that would complete the spread. Meanwhile, the servants brought out the table liner and other decorative pieces to set in place along the tabletop’s center such as fresh yellow roses and other small scented arrangements; although, nothing particularly overpowering, only light and elegantly fragrant. Then, pieces of china were lain out to suit both women and their companions. The Tyrell guards were notified to permit only the Lady Rhaelle, her ladies, and perhaps her son, should she see fit to bring him thus.

The meeting with her husband would have to come afterwards. There was little doubt in her mind that the lady stag’s progress to her chambers would be noted by the castle staff, and should any wish to cast a wondering eyes upon them they would see that the women were true to their intentions of meeting together to enjoy a pleasant afternoon lunch on the lanai. That and Odessa wished to gain a better understanding of what she would be dealing with in the line of in-laws, or more correctly who she would be vying against or working with for his attention. As was the arrangement in any set of apartments, one had to pass through many doors to reach the next destination. Rhaelle would first pass through the Lady of Dragonstone before she entertained conversation with the Lord. Although she had corresponded with her mother to see if her family wished to be present for said conversation, Davena deemed that her daughter would be more than capable of handling such negotiations alone; after all, she had been trained all her life to look after the best interests of her family, and was well-aware of what backing they could offer—rather what they were willing to offer.

As far as the lady’s bastard son went, it concerned these Reachwomen very little, Flowers were abundant in both the flora and fauna. Despite their concentrations placed upon chivalry and piety, those same views were somewhat loosened around the topics of sex and sexuality. Not to say it was encouraged for young ladies to partake in these experiences and thus endanger their virtue prior to marriage, but they certainly weren’t left ignorant to the overall process—the size of their population was proof enough of that. The boy’s illegitimate status would simply be overlooked for propriety’s sake so long as no parties were wanting to make some vulgar show of it.   Dwelling upon things that couldn’t be changed was a waste of time and effort that could be spent on more important matters.

Odessa stood before the table, watching as the servants brought in the trays of food and placed them about the table between the decorations. “No, place the meats closer to the center. I have a feeling the Lady shan’t be as interested in our pastries. You may set them closer to the place reserved for her son.” She paced about, looking over the railing to the gardens below, which in her opinion were rather inferior to those back home; although, the king was without a queen or queen mother to manage such affairs, so it was hardly any surprise they received minimal attention. “Arylsse, where has our cousin run off to? See to it that she is present prior to our guest, if you would.” The lady nodded in response and sent the page boy at the door off in search of Lady Alissane with orders for her to return to her mistress at once.

ShayTuan: Alisanne was all smiles as she walked down the court yard, flowers in hand. The whole thing from the Great Hall put behind her as she smiled at every Lady who bowed or smiled her way. In the back of her mind though, she wondered how she would speak with her cousin of the run in with Azaroth earlier that morning. It seemed that the gods heard her thoughts as a page boy came running up to her, stopping her in her tracks. He quickly bowed, looking up at her. “Lady Odessa requests your presence at once, she would like you to be present when the guest arrive, My Lady.” He said this in a quick, and collected tone. She was suddenly out of her smile as she suddenly was in rush mode. Shoot, she had forgotten about that get together. She nodded at the page boy as she quickly made the way to her cousin’s location. She wasn’t quite running, just speed walking. As she finally made it to the Chambers, she noticed that the preparations where set already. She walked a little more until she saw her first cousin, smiling as she did so. She quickly went into a curtsey before going into her greeting, “Good afternoon my Lady, sorry for my late appearance. I am surprised you didn’t wake me this morning.” She finally stood up, walking closer to her first cousin. “It seems that things are going well.”

Olena: The kitchen staff offered Odessa a piece of the sweet meat from the dishes that had been spread out to see that it was to her liking, which it was, and she nodded her approval. “This shall do quite well, you have my thanks.” With that she allowed them to take their leave, and the handmaidens covered the dishes as they awaited the audience that was to partake of them. Then, the sound of her cousin’s heels and that of the guards caught her attention and she turned to face them as they came onto the balcony; however, she took note that one of the guards opted to follow the lady into the room instead of taking his place outside the doors, obviously to convey some message. “Welcome, Lady Alissane.” She raised an eyebrow at the scenario of herself having need of waking her own lady. If there was one thing Odessa was not, it was an early riser. Each morning the ladies-in-waiting were roused from their sleep and made ready by the handmaidens prior to herself, the privilege of being daughter to the ruling family of the region. “That they are.”

The guard offered his message up to the chief lady, Ayrlsse, who dismissed him and then made her way over to inform Odessa of the goings-on of the morning in which Alissane had taken part. Standing to object to a gold cloak? In the Red Keep? The king’s own roof? If there was any time that attention did not need to be drawn to the golden roses of the Reach it was now when they were harboring the king’s own brother in a closet with plans to replace him with one more suited to the role in their eyes. “I would have a word alone with the Lady Alissane.” The rest would bow their heads and bend the knee before departing from the balcony to leave the two cousins alone to speak. “Do see to it that you conduct yourself in a way that if befitting a lady of our family’s name and stature if you wish to have further outings from these rooms, or I will have you confined to them. Guards represent the authority of the owner of a keep. While you are in said keep, unless your position is superior, you are subject to what they say and request of you. If they do not address you directly do not feel the need to interject yourself into situations where you are not involved in any fashion. We are in the Red Keep, and I trust I need not inform you whose authority the Gold Cloaks represent? The last thing we need is a report made that one of my ladies thought to cause a show. Do I make myself clear?”

ShayTuan: Alisanne knew the word of her actions in the Great Hall were going to reach her cousin sooner or later so she didn’t really act surprised. Of course, they were in Kings Landing, thing travel fast. A rush of guilt and disappointment for herself and the image she put to her family name came running down her face. She nodded, her head down and eyes casted towards the floor. “Of course, My Lady.” She says before looking up again, making sure to look Odessa in the eyes again. “I promise not to make a scene again. I am sorry for my behavior.” She knew better, even if the Gold Clocks were being idiots and angered her, she shouldn’t have said any words. She should have just stayed quiet, mainly because they weren’t talking to her. They were talking to Azaroth Baratheon. There are ways she should carry herself. And of course, if she couldn’t obey those things she shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere else. She knew that enough.

Olena: She made her way over to where her cousin stood, taking her hands in her own and casting her own golden hues into her cousins green. Although her tone had never risen throughout her warning, it softened now. “You must not think I say these things to be hard. I understand other people can be…trivial at times. However, while you are acting as my lady-in-waiting any actions you make are representation of myself, not the Tyrell’s of Brightwater Keep. Demanding the guards not search the crate was show enough, and only masked by my piety. We cannot afford further outburst. This is not Highgarden and I realize the mannerisms here are different but we must make every effort to conduct ourselves as demure and proper women of the Reach.” She raised her right hand and brushed a loose strand of hair behind Alissane’s ear. “Rise above their common means and know that you are better than they.”

She’d place a kiss on the lady’s forehead and release her hands, stepping back across the balcony to go search for the other ladies. “Now, let’s us continue to make ready for this meal. Go and change your gown. I would have us all dressed in cloth of green and gold to meet the Lady Rhaelle of Storm’s End. Let it be without mistake that the stag comes to the rose garden to dine today.” The sound of her laughter echoed across the chambers like that of a summer bird’s sweet soprano melody, and would be met by that of the other women joining in the chorus. The guards were set to notify them as soon as their company rounded the corner.

ShayTuan: Alisanne’s face softened as she heard her cousin’s laughter, making her laugh herself. She herself was very proud to be Odessa’s lady in waiting. She was sure if she was with any other, she would have been punished even more for her actions. And, of course, she looked up to her cousin full. She smiled widely, her spirits brought back up with the mentions of the dinner lifting her spirits. Alisanne was one who loved gathers. And being out of the Reach and having on excited her, maybe too much. She made sure to nodded so her cousin will know she was listening before quickly moving towards the handmaidens. She let them get her ready, switching her from her other gown to a gown of green and gold, just like Odessa had instructed. She thought it was quite smart; placing the two colors together was a nice symbolic gesture. After she was bathed and clothed, she quickly made sure her favorite flowers were in her hair before quickly walking to the middle of the chambers for her cousin to be ready.

Biird: Once Rhaelle was able to clear her room of all her sudden guests, she peeled her son from the many games he played with his aunt Rhaenyrs and sent him to wash up and tidy himself for the lunch invitation they received. Additionally she left her sister with the task of writing to their mother. It would be a long time before they returned to the keep at Storm's End and Rhaelle believed not only should it be sooner rather than later that she found out her daughter was alive, but the news should come from Rhaenyrs' own hand. So, she and the sleeping Scribbles remained within Rhaelle's quarters.

She gathered two of her guards and her son, then left the room. Before heading to the Maidenvault, where House Tyrell would be housed because it sat directly behind the Sept, Rhaelle detoured to her sister's room. Immediately under the impression they were in deep shit, the women set to take care of Rhaenyrs tried to explain her absence from the room. Rhaelle waved a hand and silenced them all. She then issued orders to have her sister moved to the apartments adjoining her own, reuniting her own company of woman, and saving her sister from having to climb walls to be with Rhaegar. There she would also have a stronger hold on the issues that presented themselves concerning Rhaenyrs' gradual reentry to noble life. By no means did she wish to subdue her sister's overtly pirate way, they would need to find a way to blend so that she could be comfortable and yet not draw to much attention.

Rhaelle had sent a page ahead of her while she delayed in her sister's quarters, to announce her momentary arrival to Odessa's rooms. Of course, Rhaegar was teeming with excitement to see Odessa and well Tyrells in general. He kept his hand in his mother's as they moved through the Red Keep and finally the halls of the Maidenvault. Once they arrived at the doors to Odessa's room, they were opened and a small page waiting in the inner room bowed out and ran to inform his mistress that The Beast of Storm's End and her bastard son, had arrived.

Rhaelle stood with her black hair parted around her cat like features. Her weirwood make up was three stripes across her ears and three dots from her earlobe upward. There was a line through the center of her lower lip. Below her think but well manicured black brows, her eyes were rimmed with red and a overlay of black with the purpose of diluting her unnatural eyes. The Stag Queen had the eyes of a White Walker. They were an unnatural shade of bright blue with little or no pupil and many thin white lines moving like storm clouds through the wide iris that seemed to take up all of her eye cavity. The high collar and long sleeves of her black and purple dress, covered many of the other parts of her body that were painted with the weirwood paste, but the tips of her fingers were striped in the pain and there could be glimpses of the back of her hands having those descending red dots. Her shoulders were covered with well made paladrons, because Rhaelle could not stand to be without some sort of armor on her person no matter how she attempted to dress like a lady.

Beside her, still holding onto one of her hands, Rhaegar was wearing brown leather pants and shin high brown boots of good quality and detail, cuffed with metal shin guards. His tunic was that dusty gold that heralded House Baratheon and fell past his knees. He wore his usual undershirts and a vest of chainmail. On his forearms he wore guards to match that of the ones on his shins and like his mother he had a paladron on his shoulder, but only one, held in place by a thick chain. Today he was his mother's guard. His skin tone had darkened a bit in the sun of King's Landing making his white-blonde hair even more stark on his head, but his braid was neat and his hair had grown enough that the end fell nearly to his shoulders. His grey eyes were like the storm clouds that hung perpetually over the skies of Storm's End.  

Olena: A page boy knocked at the door to Odessa’s chamber, thankfully the Baratheon’s delayed arrival had given she and her ladies ample time to prepare and change their gowns to colors that represented House Tyrell. Lady Arylsse cracked the door enough to receive his message and then sent him back on his way before crossing back over to where her lady stood. “They have arrived, My Lady.” The guards would have ushered the beast and her son into her receiving chamber, so there the gaggle of women went with haste to welcome their most-honored guests. Odessa had donned a form-fitting gown of rich green silks, which was drawn together by a golden belt just beneath her now-swollen breasts, an enhancement brought on by the child which she carried. Thankfully she was not yet showing, so her waist had remained unaffected as of yet. She wore her hair pulled back in a braided crown, the rest falling in soft waves of honey-brown down her back, aside from delicate curls about her face. And what a face it was, her fair complexion seemed to glow more so than usual, hints of rose in her dewy cheeks.

Once they arrived in the room, the ladies, followed by Odessa dropped curtsies to the queen of the stags and her fawn, before she spoke in her sweet and high-born Southern accent, “Welcome, Lady Rhaelle. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” She took a moment to scan over the tall woman, who looked every part the Baratheon, such a unique mixture of masculine traits paired with an ultimately feminine form. Her choice of makeup was unlike anything she had ever lain eyes on, except perhaps for Dornish dancing women, but then she made it to her eyes, which nearly took her aback. From her exposure to both her husband and the woman’s brother she had seen her fair share of Baratheon irises, an entrancing shade of icy blue, but never in her wildest dreams did she fathom a human being could have eyes so frigid as this woman’s—it was unnatural. Odessa’s own eyes, given the colors she was wearing, would shine a bright gold like that of her family’s sigil upon a background of green, or that of their coins.

Thinking it best not to stare, although her delighted countenance never faltered, her gaze fell upon the small boy at her side, who perhaps was not all that small but simply dwarfed by his Baratheon mother. He looked nothing like the rest of his kin. Given the dominance of these traits such surprised her, but word of his questionable birth gave her all the answers she needed. He was a doll, and would undoubtedly grow into a seemingly handsome man, what with his fair hair and tanned skin and dreamy grey eyes. “And who is this? You have brought such a handsome accompaniment to guard your person! You must be Lord Rheagar, or is it Ser? One so bold could hardly be anything less than a warrior.” As they spoke, her handmaidens would open the doors behind the group of women, revealing the grand display that was to be their meal neatly arranged on the terrace. “Come, join me.”

Biird: Inner doors opened to reveal the lady Odessa. She was no bigger than Xara though her curves were much more to behold. The stretch of her pale shoulders was enough to betray that her bust had recently swollen causing Rhaelle to smirk. So like a Tyrell to be overtly fertile in such a time of need. If anything were to go wrong in the wake of the deed coming upon them the royal blood injected to her would make for the perfect back up plan. Other than the swelling, Odessa was as Rhaelle remembered her from her disguised days in the Reach, with her honey colored hair and figure flattering gowns.

Rhaelle took note of Odessa's slight change in expression when her eyes came to rest on that of her own unusual hues but she was better at hiding her surprise than most. The girl before her was gifted elegant and beautiful eyes that were startling in their own right like leaves drizzled in gold. Despite having seen Odessa before, this would be the first time they would share words and Rhaelle would be able to assess her features from up close. No doubt Dante would have been quite fond of those features. With any luck they at least got along. Time and conversation would tell how Odessa reconciled life with that common minded man.

"Lady Odessa." Was Rhaelle's reply to the greeting, dipping her head in a slight nod.

Beside her Rhaegar was practically vibrating with excitement and when Odessa lowered her gaze to address him,
it was all he could do to remain looking and acting like a normal noble child. They were no longer in his mother's apartments and he could not simple blurt out every thing that came to his mind. Instead, his arm folded before his waist and he gave her a grand bow. "Lady Odessa, I am indeed, Rhaegar of House Baratheon and I am always my mother's guard, but I am no Ser. Not yet. You flatter me." He rose then and leaned into her, lowering his voice,"There are many who would say I am not but mother says I am and that is all that matters."

His mother gave his braid a tug, then placed her fingertips between his shoulders, ushering him forward to follow Odessa toward the meal on the lanai. Pushing her hair, which moved like an oil slick, behind one ear, Rhaelle followed in behind her son, and left her guards in the receiving room. She really did not want to have to through all these formalities but since not a single movement of her own could be trusted, it was a must. She was however interested in getting to know the woman that would be forever attached her family through this unsanctioned marriage.

Olena: My! How bright this little half-spawn Baratheon was! Odessa could hardly contain her delight in his presence. He so artfully twisted the use of formal and child-like language, quick to sing his mother’s praises. She dipped him another curtsey, as a lady would do to a knight who had just won a joust in her honor, “On the contrary, you do me great honor in joining my ladies and I here today.” The merry sound of her laughter followed after his latter comment, and she walked around the table, placing her back to the columns of the balcony, leaving the row of seats opposite her for the mother and child. The ladies stepped in to remove the lids from the trays of food, revealing the sweet meats, fowl, bread, lemon cakes, and other delicate pastries before them. She felt a sudden pang to devour the whole tray of lemon tarts on her own, and her hand reflexively went to her belly. Given the look on Rhaelle’s face, and a general knowledge of the way reproduction works, the proof of which was present now, she had no doubt in her mind that the lady had guessed her condition. Reachwomen were renowned for their fertility. Pair that with a Baratheon male, equally known for their virility, and she likely conceived on her wedding night. “It is our mothers' words that matter most, and their guidance that makes us into the men and women we become.”

With that last comment she brought her goblet of golden arbor to her lip, her eyes moving to meet those of Rhaelle’s.  Once the foods were all uncovered and the vintages were left to them, Odessa’s ladies sat on the benches about them, close enough to hear a summons, but far enough to not necessarily hear any specific part of their conversation. “Might I offer you an Arbor Red or Gold, My Lady? They come in dry and sweet variations. There is also a darker vintage if you prefer a more…bold taste.” She motioned towards two young serving boys who stood beside flagons containing the wines. “I have also sent for fresh cream for you, young master, unless you’d prefer our sweet golden wine. I quite like mine watered down,” she motioned at the trays. “With your lady mother’s permission of course. Take what you’d like.” Odessa took from the sweet meats and fruit, placing them on her plate along with one of the lemon treats, per her stomach’s insistence. The boys would sample a goblet of each of the wines before ever offering them to the Tyrell’s company. Should any harm come it would befall the unlucky boys selected to serve them. Of course, being the Highgardeners that they were, the Tyrells has opted to bring their own beverages from the Reach, and thus the containers bore the seals of their region, having no affinity for the Dornish wines that were quite popular in the capital.

Biird: Rhaegar followed behind Odessa and pulled the chair of her choosing from the table, when she sat he gave it a push forward to the table then moved to where his mother was standing near a chair on the opposite side. He removed that chair as well and Rhaelle swept her skirt behind her before sitting. Finally the boy took his own seat beside his mother, with his arms resting on the curved armrests, feet swinging as Odessa spoke. When the lady Tyrell spoke of influence of mothers and fathers, Rhaegar turned to look at his mother but she was looking over Odessa’s head and beyond the balcony. He drew his eyes back to the dewy visage of the Swan and nodded. He could have blurted out a hundred and one things at that moment but he had promised to be good and he always upheld his promises to his mother.

Rhaelle was bored of this already; her son was not. He reveled in pleasantries and conversation be it good or bad. Her gaze lowered slightly to fall upon Odessa’s face at the offer of wine. When it came to food and drink Rhaelle was not very picky, she had a preface for cheese and meat but could and would drink just about anything. “Dry, red,” She said, shifting her gaze to the cup barer who would ultimately bring her the beverage. “I do not like cream.” Rhaegar said beside her, crinkling his nose. “My milk comes from my mother. She only makes a cup a day now. Mother says the milk of animals is for their babes and the milk of hers is for her babe. I am not really a babe anymore so I suppose that is why there is less and less milk as the days go by. Mother may I have dry gold?” She simply nodded, pushing hair back behind her ear, and motioning for the page to give the child as he requested.

When Odessa began to serve herself, Rhaegar began to serve Rhaelle. He moved as though this was often their routine when it came to meals knowing what and how much. Once her plate was filled, he served himself and sat back watching his goblet of wine appear. It wasn’t until Odessa plucked a piece of meat into her mouth that he began to eat as well. His mother took up her usual motion of swirling her wine in the glass, her eyes had drifted over the head of the hostess again. “So many gifts you have brought with you from your home of the Reach,” she began,”beyond that of the physical. It is almost as if the region brings with it sunshine and hope. I must thank you, Lady Odessa, for having my family with yours.”

Olena: She was most impressed with the young lad’s chivalrous behavior, so kindly pulling back her own chair and his mother’s before a servant could even think to step forward. If she didn’t know any better she’d think him a child of her homeland, yet he served as a warm reminder of her days in Highgarden which she would now leave behind as merely a memory. Once Rhaelle nodded her consent for the boy to have the dry gold, Odessa did the same, and his chalice was filled. She studied the boy’s words, listening carefully and offering him the same attention as one would an adult with which they conversed. Everything was so matter-of-fact to him, not too different from that of his cousin, who rested now in her wardrobe room.

The Swan’s attention was then drawn back to the other as she scanned out across the marble terrace of the Maidenvault balcony. At her words, Odessa smirked raising her goblet as if in cheers to the sentiment, “Of course, Lady Rhaelle. The pleasure is all mine, rest assured; although, make no mistake, your family and mine are now one in the same—again.” She spoke in reference to the marriage of Edric Baratheon to none other than Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. History would always repeat itself. For a moment she chuckled and continued on with the thought, sipping the refreshing sweet gold, “We do, however, regret not being able to reunite you with both our kinsmen at once. The lesser of the two opted to take his leave of Highgarden in a most unprecedented fashion. Given his status as a ward my Lord and Lady parents were most concerned for his well-being; although, according to my informants he’s arrived at court unscathed, Mother be praised.” The coast was clear, if there was one thing she knew they could rely upon it was the king’s vanity. If he had half a mind or thought he were somehow unsafe from his nobles he’d never have invited the highest of the high to join him in the royal enclosure, at least not all at once. As far as her own servants went, they were made fully aware that the brutal slaying of their loved-ones back home would follow any treachery on their parts.

Biird: Rhaelle lifted her glass following Odessa and her son followed suit. He was happy to have his wine but happier still to be seated at the table beside his mother with a plate full of meat and fruit. The meal lacked sweet or current bread but he wouldn't complain, however when the woman spoke of his newest uncle as "the lesser" one, Rhaegar visibly stiffened and cut his eyes sideways to his mother. Quickly he stuffed his mouth full of meat to keep from speaking out.

"My brother is lesser to no man." said the Beast, lowering her glass to table, her eyes lowering to meet the gaze of the Tyrell woman head on, the white striations in her eyes flashing like lightening. "As for the other, the sooner I speak with him the better."

But that would have to wait. Alexander had finally come to terms with his wardrobe, opting to wear something a dark blue with silver inlays. The color would cause his own Baratheon eyes to shine like sapphires behind his bushy brows. He came nearly barreling down the hall from Maegor's Holdfast toward the Maidenvault to the far room where Odessa should have been alone. He would have been aware of her luncheon with his dreaded cousin had he opted to listen to the nervous little whipping boy whose lame leg struggled to keep up with his King. There was no time to warn the women inside as the power struck man waved the doors open feet before his arrival. The page begged he follow protocol, announcing his royal presence so that the lowers that visited his castle could be made presentable; Alexander continued on, stopping on in the midst of Odessa's receiving rooms to bellow out. "I want to see her. I want to see this Swan of Highgarden. Bring her to me. You there. Fetch your Lady."

Rhaelle rolled her eyes and pushed out of her chair, taking her son from his own and taking his hand, making her back to the front of the apartments. Alexander could see her coming and visibly recoiled in disgust before demanding,"What are you doing here, you ... you .. woman! How dare you see her before I!" When his beady little eyes fell on Rhaegar, the sound the escaped the mouth of their king was something akin to a startled cat. "What is this, why would you bring that creature into my presence! I should have you flogged!"

Rhaelle waved the door be shut behind her cousin, and her men, wicked little creatures from the Stormlands, gave her wide grins behind his back as the shut out his company save the small page who trembled at the king's side.
His guards were shut out of the rooms as well and quickly engaged in conversation by the men of the Stormlands,
distracting from their duty, though assured no harm would come to him. "I did not bring him into your presence,
cousin, it was you that came fluttering in here like some sort of whirligig."

Alexander hissed again, shifting his form to block Rhaegar from his line of sight. "Shut up, you stupid girl. I did not come here for you. I came for the Tyrell girl. I want to see her. Show her to me."

"I am not your servant."

Alexander whirled then, he almost started to advance on her but then stopped, opting to leer instead,"You are exactly what I say you are." But the beast did not move. Oh how he hated her. Why wouldn't she move! "FETCH HER. FETCH HER. FETCH HER."

"Petulant child."

Olena: She chuckled at the woman’s correction of her words. Their interpretations of ‘greater’ and ‘lesser’ would be based on completely different concepts, given the two women had utterly different mindsets due to their upbringings. Azaroth had fled the Reach, abandoning his cousin out of fear, whereas Dante had ventured into a region unknown to gain aid from a family known for their unpredictability and greed, traits they didn’t care if others were aware of. Odessa had made the comment in reference to their social status and literal rank, but one could view it however they pleased, it was of little consequence. In her eyes, none could equal her husband, or the image of what he was to become. Despite the look young master Rhaegar cast to his mother, and the one she offered Odessa in return, she met and held her gaze. “All in due time, My Lady.”

In truth, the Baratheon sense of loyalty was truly a remarkable thing, for the members of the family that had it. Odessa very much appreciated the lady’s devotion to such, knowing it could one day serve as a great asset to her own posterity. Although, she knew full-well that such a family would be hard-pressed to see that their own influence over the new king remained stronger than that of her own. A queen consort was never fully considered a member of the family she married into, even having to be referred to by her maiden name to see to it that she was discernable from other queens passed, given their lack of numeral bore by their husband’s alone. However, her spouse’s cause and that of her unborn children were things that she held dearest to her heart, and she would dedicate the remainder of her days to their advancement.  She would need to make a friend of this one, no matter their differences.

Then, the sound of an unfamiliar male voice could be heard from the foyer, enough to cause the visiting lady and her son to depart to that place. Odessa rose from her spot, but was met by her ladies rushing forward to alert her to the king’s presence. They ventured closer to the doors to the foyer, which a servant had closed shut behind Rhaelle, and were met by the sound of voices raised in dispute, both offering one another harsh words, including his criticism of her innocent child naming him a creature. How repulsing for such words to flow from the mouth of a man that was supposed to be sacred in the eyes of the gods and man. In all her days, she had never encountered such an acidic tone, and certainly never been spoken to with one. To hear a king regard a noble lady as such was more than she could comprehend. A man in the Reach would be struck dead for speaking to a high-born lady with such insolence. The Baratheon woman treated him with great indifference, and directly opted not to refer to him as ‘Grace,’ she noted. Did she fear nothing? Never had Odessa once been so in favor with such a break in protocol. Despite his, what seemed to be, an obsession with power, had he not realized he had surrounded himself with not only the Tyrell men, but that of the Stormlanders?  Was the king of the Seven kingdoms truly so unaware and trusting? Petulant Child. Rhaelle had dubbed him right.

Hesitantly, Odessa nodded for her page to open the doors and allow them to pass through. If nothing else, perhaps her own presence would serve to shield the young boy. Not knowing what the man was capable of, she’d half a mind to send in one of her ladies to pose as herself, granted they all favored being cousins and selected for that very purpose. He was, after all, brazen enough to burst into a ‘virtuous’ lady’s chambers unannounced. However, noting the presence of both sets of guards outside the door, hopefully this mad king had enough wits about him to know that a single scream and the Tyrell guards would barge in and remove his head from his shoulders with their bare hands. She and her ladies emerged into the antechamber, stepping to the right of the Lady Baratheon and her child. Due to his lack of formal introduction, she shook her head at the herald, who was stationed in the room, clearing her throat before speaking, “Forgive me, Your Grace. The Lady and her son are present at my invitation. I thought it best to behold your kinswoman and ask her about the capital and keep before bothering Your Grace with such trivial matters. I wanted to be prepared before I held sight of so great a man—a king.” She uttered the lie effortlessly, false compliments and tactfulness were all in a day’s work.

And there he was—the Mad King. The man before her was seemingly nothing like his sibling, whose own form she had become rather well acquainted with. He was so thin and pale, and not the pallor so sought after among the nobility, but as though he were riddled with sickness. He had the Baratheon frame, but not the mass to support it. His eyes, the very same sapphire blue, were the only feature she could reconcile as being similar to that of Dante. It was not to say he was an utterly unattractive man, his lineage spared him that, but he would not be her first pick of the litter. It was no wonder the goodly queen had thought to die after her brief time as a matron. Although they had never truly discussed the matter she knew in that moment he could not be left alive. Dante could not simply imprison his brother in a tower to live out the rest of his days. He would die if she did the killing herself, granted he survived the conversation with his lady cousin, who seemed formidable enough to match any man she pleased. [/size]

Biird: Alexander wanted to reach out and slap Rhaelle for her unmoving, unflinching insolence but he wouldn’t. As children he had struck Dante so hard once the boy had fallen and sliced his hand on cheese knife. Without hesitation, Rhaelle had taken him by the hair and hit him so hard in the gut one of his ribs cracked. When the guards tried to pry her off of him, she slammed him into the armor covered man several times using him as a shield and he was not released until her mother demanded it so. To this day she had never apologized for man-handling and to Alexander she’d never properly been punished for the deed. Their fathers were brothers and because the children had been left alone in the room and there was no one around to see his great embarrassment it was settled with Rhaelle getting flogged and never spoken of again. She was just another one of the people who loved Dante more than he. Why did no one love him so fiercely? Even his mother had all but abandoned him after Dante’s birth. The least that stupid beast, with all her words of standing for those weaker, could have done was love him more.

His impulse was redirected as the voice of another woman entered the scene. This must have been the famed Odessa Tyrell for her voice was like honey to match her hair. Everything about her heralded a woman of the Reach, from her curve hugging green dress to the gold green of her eyes and fair features. Those curves! What a woman ready to bare children! His poor, beautiful Xocylla didn’t have hips like that. The Summer Witch didn’t wear such tempting clothing but he had seen her naked on a number of occasions and could speak for certain about her lack of curves. Oh, to have this lovely little Tyrell dove writhing in agony beneath him with all her curves to be explored without those cumbersome clothes and his sweet Xocylla Xaq preparing the tub for what would be left of her!

Turning from the wretched love loss of his cousin, Alexander’s hands disappeared into the opening of his bell sleeves bringing them together in front of him. It was a false monk-like stance. He was hunched, his neck jutted forward, his dark hair framing that long, sharp face, sapphire eyes glued to Odessa’s visage. Slowly his tongue appeared past thing lips, the tip of his tongue was split slightly from the center, less than an inch, but enough to be seen as it passed over his lips. He moved closer to Odessa, leaving her with little room between them as he looked down upon her from the top of her head and her blossoming cleavage. His hand came free of its confines to brush lightly along her cheek. His fingertips lacked the soft ridges of others. They were long ago burned away leaving only malformed overly smooth patches of skin. “Oh yes,” he said, almost shuddering in delight to feel her skin,” For someone so fair you are quite beautiful. Perhaps you and the other girl. With hips such as those you would not fail me.”

Beside his mother, Rhaegar uncomfortably clutched her hand to which she responded by lifted the boy to her hip bringing him nearly to the height of his cousin, the king. Alexander immediately responded with a sneer and put more distance between them by shuffling to Odessa’s side, his chin grazing upon her hair. “Reachwomen are pious and virtuous, so unlike others. You would be such a fresh little flo…” He suddenly jerked away from her, crinkling his nose. “No more of this time with that woman! You smell like her, like musk and man and sea. How disgusting.”

Rhaelle wanted to laugh. It was not her he was smelling but his own long forgotten brother. What a fool.

Alexander rubbed his hands down his chest, smoothing them over the heavy robes with which he cloaked his body. His boney fingers shifted to his hair as he came back around to her front, leering into her face. He seemed pleased with all that Odessa was until his beady blue eyes met her own once more. What he saw there, or didn’t see sent him reeling away from her. “Why can I not see myself in your eyes?! What are you? Creature. That is what you are, some sort of siren. Pious temptress! All of you shut up! Be still!” He whirled back towards the door and flung his arms out as though by sheer will alone the doors would open for him, but the guards were quick and Alexander went screaming down the hall,”Xocylla! Xocylla. My Xocylla Xaq, come to me! Find her! Fetch her! SHUT UP ALL OF YOU.”

Olena: Her stomach twisted in knots as she felt the burned scab of his fingers graze her cheek, and it required all the strength she could muster to not empty the lunch she had only just eaten moments before now onto his boots. When he spoke, his words like that of some sickening snake one need only be rid of, she felt as though she had gotten back on the barge carrying her up-river on the Mander. Surely he was not thinking of taking her to bed? He confirmed this thought when he made mention of her hips. The very idea of him thrusting himself upon her was far more than she could bare, and the blush now upon her cheeks likely only made matters worse.

Before she knew it he was whipping around her and smelling her hair, commenting on the smell of his brother who had been inside her, on her, around her, and any other prepositional phrase the mind might call to mind, every day for the past several weeks. Her eyes widened as she bit at her lower lips to suppress laughter. No man, save for him, had ever been granted such intimate access to her person, and this ghastly figure’s inspection of such made her skin crawl. All her fourteen years of training and structured living were pouring into this single moment to keep her knees from buckling and busting her head open on the floor below, or letting her face hint at the desire to do so. If her ladies didn’t have a bath waiting for her within the hour she’d fling herself from the parapets into Blackwater Bay to rid her of his touch. Suicide. The Baelish girl had to have killed herself.

He repositioned himself one more and then backed away from her in terror, his sudden alarm sending Odessa reeling backwards into the arms of her ladies-in-waiting, who were now supporting all of her one-hundred and ten pounds. There could not have been an eyebrow in the room that wasn’t lifted in that moment. What the flying fuck? It wasn’t the first time she had been called a siren, but a creature? This fool had lost his damn mind. “Close the doors! Now! My lady, are you harmed? Do you need to lie down?” Arylsse was in a tizzy, scanning over her delicate form where the thing’s claw had touched her, but Odessa stood straight once more, taking the moment to regain her composure. The Tyrell guards slammed the doors to her chambers shut in an instant. None would be permitted entry, save for another Tyrell at this point. With that she turned and looked to where Rhaelle and her son stood, both their heads above her own, “No matter what my husband says, that man, must die. He’ll not be kept to rot in some dungeon cell because of Dante’s orphaned heart wanting to keep him as a prisoner of state. Brother or not, he is a menace and must be dealt with. If I must do the deed myself, I will see to it that it is arranged. I want him dead.” She turned on the heel of her slipper to transverse back to the closet where he was kept, “Now, come.”

Biird: Rhaegar clung to his mother, his face buried in the side of her neck as Alexander circled Odessa like a vulture. When the king spoke of taking Odessa to bed, the child's head shot up and his mouth opened but his mother covered it. The more the king went on, the more the boy's eyes would narrow and his body tense up. He reached up and grabbed at his mother's forearm desperately wanted his mouth unmuzzled but dared not try to remove her hand. His Baratheon fury was reaching new heights and he was completely unable to stand still as a statue in a grave yard the way his mother did, watching the entire scene unfold as if she'd seen it all before. Perhaps she had.

When the mad king went flying out of the room in almost the same manner he'd arrived, Rhaelle released his mouth and put him on the floor. Rhaegar flew to Odessa's side and took her hand in both of his, but spoke to his mother. "That is why, isn't it, mother?"

Rhaelle nodded, taking Rhaegar by the braid and drawing him back to her side, giving the woman a moment to breath. The woman of Storm's End had known of her cousin's affliction for quite some time, and she'd been privy to his erratic behavior for many years; he hardly phased her anymore. She was still, however, aware of effects of his behavior on those that experienced it for the first time but Odessa would be spared having to get used to it. So many times had she come close to releasing her own rage upon the man to the point of snuffing out his wasted life,
but killing a king in a fit of rage, even a mad king, would not have done anything good for anyone. Though it would have brought Dante out of exile sooner, the uprisings would have been out of control. No, the plan for now was to set Dante in a benevolent light, and the king to go "quietly" in a cell somewhere.

Hearing Odessa speak, all Rhaelle could do was laugh. It took a single meeting with the man to put her on the same page. Dante would be the only thorn in her side on the subject now. By her words, Odessa was well aware of how he felt on the matter of family and killing his brother no matter how horrible he might have been. He was out voted on the topic however and regardless of his what he wanted, the sickly little monster would find himself stiff in a cell not long after his placement there. It was the one compromise they would have. Dante wouldn't have the heart to behead Alexander, so she would let him take his brother to the cell but after that it would be out of his hands. With so many vehemently against keeping the mad king breathing he would never know exactly which one of them ordered the hit.

They followed the Lady Tyrell deeper into her chamber now, where she could come face to face with her cousin after nearly three years of absence. It would be his first time to see Rhaegar, since he'd been no bigger than a swaddled babe. The child was more traveled than he could remember and he would have no knowledge of so many time his mother and grandmother fought over where he should be taken. Since Rhaelle didn't travel in a company or in carriage, Eirlys was always as white as fresh snow watching her daughter with her only grandchild slung in a cloth about her neck, craddled in one hand as she rode away on top of a wild beast to some far corner of Westeros. It wasn't until Rhaegar began to run and speak that he was left with his grandmother and his first months of living had been spent on Dragonstone.

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Biird: The little Tyrell girl had cut so deeply into his plans that it had to be amended allowing that pompous Baratheon bastard to get away for the moment. It wouldn't be for long however, no, instead they would be waiting for him outside of the entrances to his room. If he were foolishness enough to put any sort of resistance to arrest then, his guards were out numbered by double not including the three frat boys that would reappear on the scene to take him to the cells. They were blocking the stairs that would bring the Baratheon back to the inner halls that lead to his room, effectively holding him out in the courtyard for all to see and leading the pack, was the same man, looking smug and satisfied with himself.

"I thought it best for the image of our benevolent king to let you drift away with your little Tyrell woman. We hear you like Tyrell women, running to the woman of the house and her daughters with every little knick and scratch. How many could he have really gotten in the Reach, huh, men?"

He received a good deal of hearty laughter in return though not a shred of what came flying from his mouth held any validity. As the laughter died down, the man motioned for his subordinates to take Azaroth. "Azaroth, of the House Baratheon, you are hereby under arrest for the harassment of the King's guard in addition to the crime of carrying a weapon in the King's presence."


Brute: To say he was surprised when he reached the halls that lead to his quarters only to find a vast amount of Gold Cloaks waiting would have been a lie. Each of the men with their hands already on the their weapons, each and every one of them eyeing The Young Lord as he continued forward, eventually if neither stopped they would have crashed into each other and by the looks out of the Gold Cloaks would have had the advantage, after all each and every one had their weapon at hand while only Azaroth had his sword at the other side of the hall. As steps were taken closer to entrance of what would lead to his quarters Azaroth’s attention was drawn to the men at his back, the men who his mother had sent with him and the men who had accompanied him for much longer than that, eight in total. Eight warriors of the Stormlands, ready to fight unarmed against the Gold Cloaks if Azaroth refused to stand down, eight men ready to die for the Lord they marched behind. As they closed in towards the Gloak Cloaks Azaroth stopped, putting his hand out at his back in a simple but noticed gesture to make sure his men would stand down no matter what happened.

It didn’t take the Gold Cloaks long to free him of his father’s weapon, the man who had taken it from him was the same man that lead the charge at lunch that afternoon, still Azaroth couldn’t place the features of look of the guard but now it was crystal clear that there was something of a deep hatred between them. Shackles had soon been placed around his wrists that were placed at his front now, basically for the world to see as they passed by. The guard who had come up with the whole scheme started moving with Azaroth at his side, his hand around the Young Stag’s neck as he pushed him forward; which in itself was rather amusing considering the locked up Baratheon over shadowed all the men at his back.

A vast majority of nobles from different stations and houses had gathered in the courtyards, the Gold Cloak seemed rather pleased with himself, so much so that he took it upon himself to site Azaroth with the reason as to why he was being arrested, doing so in front of so many people was clearly his way of showing off while trying to make the young adult look like a fool. Whispers filled the courtyard after seconds when his name and crimes were spilled, even though he couldn’t hear them at the moment he had a general idea of what they would be yet all he could do in that moment was stare ahead and not say a word to bring on further called retribution. As they exited the courtyard side whispers and conversations caught his ears, why were so many Gold Cloaks required to arrest a single man? The comment in itself made Azaroth smirk for a second before his face changed back to a rather stoic expression. How many more laps of the Keep would they do before placing him in the second level of the dungeons, the one meant for prisoners of noble birth so even at that the stage of the life where they were arrested they wouldn’t have to mingle with the lesser born criminals.

Biird: The men at Azaroth's back stood in confusion, watching the entire scene unfold. If word ever got back to Lady Eirlys they'd allowed her son to be arrested while the mad king ruled they may not live to tell the tale, however they were was little or nothing they could do. The young lord went quickly and each man with him held their breath to see their former Liege Lord's sword handled so roughly. They tried to coax the sword out of the hands of the Gold Cloaks and into the safety of men of the Stormlands but there would be no relenting.
Instead they were forced to watch as their master and ward was hauled away in the most depraved manner the cloaks could rightfully get away with.

After a moment of stunned silence, one man broke the void. "We have to go to Lord Kainen immediately."

"Lord Kainen?! We must tell the Lady Rhaelle. If Lord Kainen were even to remember his brother in that cell his presence would only escalate the situation."

"Lady Rhaelle is gone to lunch with the Tyrell woman, we cannot interrupt her."

All of the men cursed, but rushed off to find their Liege Lord.  

Grimm: Adjusting the single, skin tight sleeve of his attire, Kainen now returned to his usually look which had him clad in armor laced with fabricated dragon scales and a spiked shoulder piece, the over covered with the skull of what one would describe as a rather large beaked animal, arm guards that pointed at the elbow and gloves as sharp as claws. With Greyson at his back, the Knight fitted his Liege Lords long black cloak to his shoulders as it draped all the way to the ground. As the last bits of his attire were fitted, which included the skirting around his waist and finally his sword that would upon his hip, a knock came upon the door.

Handing the sword to Kainen, whose expression was as sober and stoic as it had been all morning, Greyson moved to the door and pulled it open to find a number of familiar faces, some slightly out of breath as a couple more stumbled to the door as they caught up with their company. A frown marred Greyson's usually friendly and welcoming features as he knew where these men were suppose to be stationed, most of them anyways. As one began to speak, Greyson held his hand up before him, the air around the Knight took on a much more stern tone as he embraced the full weight of his position before others of the Baratheon guard. "Catch your breath, then speak."

The men gave him a nod as they slowed their breathing to relay the message more calmly. "Lord Azaroth has been arrested." When the words registered with him, a tick started to form in Greyson's jaw as his brow furrowed slightly. The men before him stood straighter as they swallowed hard. They did not fear Greyson, these were trained and seasoned men, they did not fear anyone, bar the hulking beast that dwelled deeper within the room behind him, and even then it was a healthy life preserving fear rather than a child's terror. People knew it best to fear Kainen then tempt his hand. When it came to Greyson however, it was a nervousness that all men had before a superior officer, not of social standing, but of battle earned respect. "When?" Greyson spoke finally as his mind rolled over the information. "A moment ago, Ser Greyson, in the courtyard." The tick in his jaw worked it's way completely across the Knights features as they turned to a black anger.

To arrest a noble in the middle of the courtyard, Greyson knew that it had been before a rather large audience and he also knew the nature of common nobles to spread gossip, it was a slap in the face of the Baratheon's of Storm's End and Greyson felt it as harshly as any true born to the Storm Throne. "Does Lady Rhaelle know yet?" Shaking his head, the closest of the guard replied. "No Ser, she is currently having lunch with the Tyrell's, we thought it best to tell Lord Kainen first." Without another word, Greyson turned back into the room to where Kainen was adjusting his sword and as the air thickened around Greyson, it seemed to lighten around Kainen. "Was that lunch?" Kainen's features had softened to their usual, almost clueless, nature as he peered passed Greyson to the door. "They don't look like the normal kitchen staff." Shaking his head Greyson spoke in a low tone. "I'm afraid not my Lord. Your brother Azaroth has been arrested, I think it best we meet with the Lady Rhaelle."

Raising a brow, Kainen still looked to the door and the men. "They ran the whole way from the Reach to tell us that?" Greyson's mood did not lift as it usually would have listening to his Lord speak, nor did it worsen, he knew what to expect when he spoke to Kainen and it bothered him not. "Your brother is here My Lord, arrested a moment ago by the King's men for something I'm sure he did not deserve." The situation seemed to finally dawn on Kainen as he opened his mouth and mimed 'Ooooh' before looking back to Greyson. "We should go say hello then, I have not seen little Az in a while, I bet he's still shorter than Rhaenyrs." Kainen nudged Greyson in the ribs as he made his joke and as best he could Greyson offered a smile in reply before speaking. "I'm sure he has My Lord, but I think it best you meet with Lady Rhaelle before hand and then visit your brother together." Kainen scrunched his face then frowned. "Bah, Grey, you take the fun out of everything. Fine, I will tell Rhaelle, you go with the men and see what you can do." Greyson's eyes narrowed for a moment at the prospect of leaving the delivering of said message to a lone Kainen, but alas, he would have to do as commanded and nodded to his Liege Lord. When he saw Rhaelle later, Greyson would be sure to find out if the message had in fact been delivered. With that, Greyson bowed to Kainen and turned for the door, ushering the men away to find out whatever else he could about he situation. When they left, Kainen too vacated his room, alone, for no guards willingly followed the Dragon.

It had taken far longer than it should have, but eventually Kainen did indeed find Rhaelle's room, after two stops at the kitchen and an uncountable amount of wrong turns. It had gotten to the point that one of the lady's that served in the kitchen had taken it upon herself to guide Kainen to Rhaelle's room door just to forgo the fear that he would somehow return to the kitchen for a third round and eat the rest of the days provisions. Though one thing was for sure, if the guards that Greyson would have sent by now to accompany Kainen in his stead had actually found the Baratheon Lord, the kitchen would have been saved their ransacking. But alas, with how much Kainen had gotten himself lost, it was almost impossible now for the guards to find him, for every time they went where he was suppose to be, well, Kainen was off somewhere very different. It was a good thing, however, that the kitchen girl took Kainen to the room in the guards stead for the hulking Lord had no idea where Rhaelle's room was, the two usually were not the most social of animals, even with each other.

As he approached the room, Rhaelle's guards offered a confused look between one another, not knowing why Kainen would be coming here of all places though quickly offering a bow and standing to the side. Had it been anyone else they would have forced them to stop, but they knew better than to question their own Liege Lord. Banging on the door, Kainen ignored the men as they repeatedly told him to back away from the door, going so far as to place their hands upon their weapons, though hesitantly given that even if they were White Cloaks, everyone knew who Kainen Baratheon was and what he was capable of doing. "Sister, answer the door, something important has happened." Kainen's voice bellowed through the wooden door before him as he kept banging on it with enough force that he was already causing a dent to form in the wood. Should someone take too long to answer, well, there wouldn't really be a door left to require knocking upon anymore.

Biird: They were stopped, stalled and stone walled at every turn in attempt to reach Azaroth's cell. Until finally the head jailer decided he had enough of the darkness and dank and wanted to get some air. He bellowed loudly that all visitations would have to wait until he returned and gave the Stormboys a vicious grin as he departed. After that, none of the guards would even make eye contact or acknowledge them.

Meanwhile, Xara Xaq was started from her sleep at the sound of frightened yipping coming from the main room. The ladies of Rhaelle's company were thoroughly startled to hear their liege banging on the door calling for a sister that was not there. No one wanted to be the one to answer the door, lest he come barreling in and steam roll right over them looking for Rhaelle as it was a known fact that a Kainen on a warpath was a Kainen that did not look down.
Many an expensive dress had been ripped in his wake. Furthermore, with no Rhaelle in the room and food on the table, there was no telling what Kainen would damage or break or in his hunt for her.

Xara was still reeling from her encounter with the living giant this morning, but it had sparked a deep curiosity into this other side of him she'd never seen before, so she pulled herself up from her bed and brushed down her dress. After recrowning her head with a wreath of roses, she entered the open chamber where most of the ladies were huddled in a far corner away from the door. Just as she entered the room another booming knock caused her to jump, but she took a deep breath and moved to the doors, pulling one side open as lady-like as she could manage and gave him curtsy, standing to the side of the door. "Lord Kainen. Is everything alright?"

Grimm: As the wooden door creaked open and Xara stood before Kainen again, Kainen's eyes did not meet hers this time around as they had done earlier that morning, instead he stared directly over her and into the room. There was a certain eye level Kainen knew he needed to look towards to see the people he wished to find. Rhaelle stood much taller than basically all other females, so anyone that fell below her height was not the person Kainen was looking for and therefor, in his mind at this moment, not the person he wanted to talk too.

Again he called out. "Sister, where are you?" Though this time his eyes did drift slightly lower when he did hear a more familiar tone, until they looked upon Xara. "Hey it's you, paper girl." This time his mind and manners were not like the creature she had seen a couple hours prior, there was a much lighter tone to his words, though much like a lion rolling in a a field playing with a ball, there was still the air of lethality to ever dip and flow of his movements. "Where is my sister? Something important happened, I think." The limit to retention was quickly causing Kainen's mind to purge whatever it was he was sent to relay to Rhaelle. It was actually surprising that Kainen had held the same idea in his mind this long, but if he did not find Rhaelle soon, he would completely forget that his brother was sitting in a cell.

Diitzy: “No, no, no, can’t start off with that. Come on Rhae, you sailed the treacherous seas and plunged your sword in the heart of your enemies. You can do this!” Rhaenyrs Baratheon slammed her forehead against her sister’s desk with fluster trying to find exactly what words to say to their mother. There was so much she wanted to tell her dear mother all at once. Rumours spread across the land of her death. How to tell her mother she was alive all this time? The last shred of memory of her mother was waving goodbye for her arranged life with the Greyjoy house. Her mother was overjoyed of the destined lifestyle she’d come to become. That memory was long faded in the back of Rhaenyr’s mind. That little girl was long gone. Flashback memories taunted her as she scribbled to the anger arising within her. Dropping the quill she clenched a fist slamming it to the letter. “I’m sorry Mom. I don’t even know how to tell you I’m alive.” She muttered as she stared at her reflection among the window glass. The scars upon her face, a visual story of what briefly  explained what exactly happened to the young Baratheon.  She crumpled the piece of paper up into a ball as she tossed it to the side along with multiple previous failed letters. She dabbed the tip of her quill with fresh ink as she began to write.



Being alone in an empty room in Rhaelle’s chambers Rhaenyrs’ emotions caught her off guard. Emotionally distraught with the image of her mother enduring the stories of her tragedy tears started forming as her throat swollen up from the tension of her face caving in. She managed to fold the paper up and sealed it with Rhaelle’s seal emblem. She ran her fingers over the name upon the letter lost in faded memories of her beloved mother. She inhaled as she cleared her throat shaking off the excess water starting to seep out of her eyes. Outside of the study, a large bang against the door took Rhaenyrs by surprise as she sprung up turning around tossing the chair across the room. She reached underneath her gown to unsheathe her dagger that was buried in gown. She tiptoed over to the cracked door as she leaned closed flinching to another large bang as she heard the familiar low male vocals. She lowered her guard a bit knowing that whoever was behind the door wasn’t the enemy.   While Xara greeted the door with announcing her brother’s name she tucked dagger back into her gown completely hidden. She swung the door and fled to her brother standing aside to Xara.. “Brother, is everything alright?” Rhaenyrs followed his glance as she turned around. “Sister is not here, brother.” She paused and looked at Xara. She was so caught up in writing this letter she forgot exactly what her sister told her about her whereabouts.

Brute: However long it took them to reach the stairs that lead down into the dungeons wasn’t quite clear, mainly due to the fact that each time they’d pass a group of nobles the guards would stop and continue on their made up stories of Azaroth and his supposed sheltered life in Highgarden. When they finally reached the stairs that delved down below the Keep Azaroth turned his head to look at the many guards behind him that were not from the ordeal that morning, his eyes narrowed to them with a questioning look of how far down they were going and from that split second one of the guards actually started speaking.

“You can’t seriously be thinking of placing him further down, there’s a reason nobles are jailed separate to the common folk on the first level and that both are kept away from the third level, if the King finds out…”

“If our King finds out that we arrested a noble who only paraded around the Royal Keep with a sword but also blatantly ignored the orders from his Royal Guard, I’m sure the King will give us a reward or perhaps a promotion, you know how he loves to punish people to show his power and we’ve just given him the perfect opportunity to do so on a silver platter; venison will be served to the Knight tonight. And we aren’t even finished searching the criminal, one would think if he was stupid enough to carry a sword that he’d also be dumb enough to keep a dagger on his person, when we get to the Black Cells we will check and when we find the added weapons it’ll be more than enough cause for him to bypass the pleasant cells of above and rot in darkness for a little while.”

Even with what the ring leader Gold Cloak was saying some of the others were still rather iffy about it, if others were around they would generally not question another of their order but since it was only them and a criminal they were rather loose tongued. Though even with the reasons he had given, some of the men at his back weren’t completely satisfied with it, though this wasn’t so much about the Mad King and what he would do if he found out they had abused their power, which would almost never happen any considering their power was borrowed from him and he saw himself as almighty. No, what they were worried about was the rest of the Baratheon herd, the eldest brother and Lord Paramount was a demon among men, rumours spilled from visitors to the Stormlands that he was actually hatched from an egg like a dragon, and to look at the man himself would all but confirm the possibility. The Beast of Storm’s End was a whole other monster to them though, elder sister to Azaroth and every bit Baratheon as her brothers were, she had gone toe to toe with the King on many subjects in the past and not once had they witnessed her walk away the loser, she infuriated the King to no end yet he still held back on aiming his wrath at her and for that very reason alone she was known to be rather untouchable.

Finally the darkened cells of the third level passed him by, the only light guiding their way was the torches held by some of the Gold Cloaks, unlike other levels of the dungeon above there was no wall hangings for light and this was the reason the Black Cells got their name in the first place. Half way down the hall Azaroth was forced into the small dark room, the wooden door pushed to the side wasn’t even tall enough for the man to enter, but crouch down he did until his form was under and inside. At first his top was cut by the main guard who had sited the situation while the others held their torches, with darkness surrounding them it would take but a slight flicker of the flames for him to miss his mark and slice into the Young Lord, but thankfully that hadn’t happened.

“You see boys, what did I tell you? Another weapon at his back and now that we’ve found this we wouldn’t be doing our duty if we didn’t strip him of the rest of his attire in search for more blades.”

He was loving this, it couldn’t have played out better if he had set the whole thing up himself, which in actual fact he had done, and done it rather well. When news hit him that the Younger Baratheon Male had reached King’s Landing he talked with all his Gold Cloak buddies about letting him slide on the weapon, some had thought it was a sign of respect, others fear, but none had really gathered that it was just a set up. After getting Azaroth to step out of his heavy boots they found yet another dagger, in sighting the search of his trousers and causing them to be removed, leaving him wearing only his braies that covered his waist all the way down to around his knees.

“I think that’s it gentlemen, unless he’s hiding something within these.” With a pull of the waistband the guard laughed and let them go before turning to his people and heading out of the tiny blackened cell. “Just as I thought nothing worth mentioning down there.”

When the thick studded wooden door closed over Azaroth was left in perpetual darkness, even though now he couldn’t even see a finger in front of his face he had seen enough when the guards stood around with their torches to know just how small the cell was, and the fact that it held no windows, beds or even a bucket to shit in. The Straw on the floor was all but wasted and probably hadn’t been cleaned in centuries and to top it all off the bastards hadn’t even taken the shackles from his wrists and as he stood there wondering just what kind of diseases he’d catch from sitting on the straw below the bitter cold was starting to set in.

Biird: After leaving the noble alone in a dark cell the group of gold cloaks split in the courtyard to go about their general duties, several of the men went to find food in order to take a breath from what became darker much quicker than they had expected. For a long time they sat in silence around their table, slowly picking away at their lunch. Finally, one broke the silence,”Commander or not, I do not want to lose my head for his petty differences.” The statement was met with noises of agreeance. The single statement sparked a hush debate on the best course of action to save their own skins.

Meanwhile, Xara Xaq was half shaded by the door as Kainen continued to call for Rhaelle but before Xara could inform him of where his sister was and inquire as to why he came barreling into the room, those deep purple eyes fell upon her face. The paper girl he called her, so he hadn’t completely forgotten their conversation this morning. The summer girl could only nod to his question, lost in her own thoughts of trying to translate his own. She was saved by the appearance of Rhaenyrs, who was sporting a jovial face, but the fading red around her eyes betrayed the tears that had just fallen.

Leaving the door open, Xara moved to the table in the receiving room and picked up a tray of meats and fruits bringing it before Kainen,”My Lord, your sister was invited to lunch.” She paused a split second before stretching her arms to Kainen in offering. The sudden realization that whatever was going on was no lost because of her foolish error in bringing him food before completing her questioning made her want to kick herself. Drawing the tray closer to herself and hoping he didn’t take it before her words reached his ears, Xara went on,”Something important? What has happened, my Lord?”


Grimm: As Rhae came bursting from another room, Kainen smiled more towards her as his arms suddenly opened wide and he wrapped them around his tiny sister in a rather tight bear hug, lifting her from the ground and laughing. The guards behind him at the door almost wanted to reach out and tap Kainen's arm to have him release her before the youngest Baratheon became a lot skinnier than she already was. Leaving her down a moment later, the guards expelled a sigh of relief as they returned their watch to the corridor.

"Rhae, it's been so long. But, you're still so short, maybe it's not been that long. Hmm" In Kainen's mind his sister was expected to almost grow as large as Rhaelle, but that was not ever going to happen, his sister was a beast and everyone knew it. Turning to look between both ladies as they asked what it was his urgent business entailed, Kainen's mind tugged at the fleeting images of just why he had come.

Alas, those fleeting images vanished in a puff of smoke when Xara mistakenly presented a tray of food before him, and even as she tried to recover from her mistake it was too late, Kainen was already moving forward, his massive bear paw like hands encompassing the edges of the tray as he took it from her and moved to the closest table within the room, his large frame sitting down into the seat as he began to devour the plates holdings. As a large shovel full of meats and grapes filled his maw, he paused as he considered what they had asked before he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, swallowing the mouthful.

"It is hardly too important, and if it is, I'm sure we'll here about it soon." There was no shred of caring for the lost knowledge from the Lord of Storm's End. Perhaps his sister would scold him when she did learn about whatever it was he lost if it really was something important, though her scoldings never did anything to jog his memory, that was where Greyson came in more often then naught, but even at this stage Greyson was no where to be found.

While the lack of action was not being taken by Kainen, Greyson and a small number of men were still stationed around the entrance to the jails, though there were being given no quarter or information on Azaroth's condition, something that did not sit well with the Knight. Even if he were jailed, nobles should be allowed visitors and he highly doubted Azaroth had done something worth such confinement and solitude, though little did he know of the true conditions the young Lord was now subjected too.

As Greyson paced, arms folded across his chest, one of his men returned with information on a small group of gold cloaks that were seen with Azaroth now seemingly off duty and eating lunch. The tick returned to Greyson's jaw as his teeth gritted. "With me." Greyson's command was cold and direct, there was no option for question from any man as the small group of 5 made for the dinning area. Glances were cast between the small group for rarely was Greyson ever seen as anything but a disheveled individual always carrying a coin purse and cleaning up in the wake of Kainen. Though most knew the stories and none questioned his skill, to see his demeanor change in person was an interested thing to behold.

Quickly they came upon the dinning area and the group that sat eating and speaking in hush whispers. Nodding his head to each of the 5 with him, Greyson indicated the position they should take, 3 of them going to the exits, one to the kitchen door and another to the stairs that lead to the upper area, none looking too out of place in the halls. Each man was a seasoned fighter, most loyal to Azaroth save one that was almost like Greyson's own squire but his abilities were on the far, darker side of things, he was not a man that usually operated in daylight.  Approaching the table, Greyson stood at it's head, leaning forward as he placed his hands on the heavy wood surface. Without looking at any of the individuals who were slightly questioning what this man wanted, Greyson spoke in a low tone laced with a thick growl. "Azaroth Baratheon." It took a moment for the men to realize what or who this individual was, but one finally did as his eyes widened some. "Greyson Wylde." With that all others knew who he was and though there was concern for their own well being, they saw it as an opportunity to purge themselves of the involvement of their commander.

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Executioner: Executioner: By this time it was evening, the sun was starting to fall from the highest point in the sky and slowly collide with the treetops. Orion was off in the quiet space of his room, the lack of purpose and activity was weighing on his mind and it caused a great deal of boredom; in The Reach, there was always something going on, always something to be done or learn and it gave a sense of purpose to be fulfilled. This weight caused a sense of madness to almost set in, the young Lord looked a bit of a mess; long blonde strands covered his face with very little parting for vision. A slight hint of stubble formed on his young features from the lack of maintenance and hygiene. He had been spending less and less time with Azaroth because of this sense of madness, he spent most of his time away off in a quiet place practicing his swordplay, trying different techniques and tricks. His likeness toward using the blade incorrectly started to elevate his understanding in mixing positioning of the blade correctly in hand or upside down in hand and tricky motions to switch in between.

The young Selmy Lord was getting ready to go eat, he hadn't bothered to feed himself since yesterday's morning and his stomach was surely letting him know that it was time. He was in the process of taking a bath, a cold bath to starve off the slight drunkenness of his mental state. The features of his body were pale, almost milky in texture with his face a slight shade darker but no less milky from the constant presence of the sun in The Reach. The young Lord stepped out of his bath and embraced his body with his the soft touch of cloth, wiping away the moisture. As he started to clothe himself, pants first the boots and worked his way up. As he gripped the thick hide of his newly made vest and shirt, the sound of banging on the door caught his attention.

Orion was not a nervous individual, but always cautious when it comes to people; hardly ever trusted anyone. His knife was on the table just beside the door and normally it would be on his person for many reasons, a man always needed a knife is a situation called for something to be cut. Without a care to give where the knife was, Orion called out for the door. "Enter.." His voice was gritty and worn out like he had been screaming or choking. Reality had it that frustration would set in when he was practicing with his sword.

The look on the young Lord didn't change like it didn't even bother him. By the time the words came out of the guard's mouth, Orion had put his leather vest onto his body and strapped it tightly to his chest and midsection. The newly made leather armor was much nicer and less worn out. It was slightly thicker but leather wears and becomes more flexible the more it is used and it certainly had the new tight fitted feel to it. He picked up his cloak, and clasped it to his vest, the fabric was far shorter than other nobles and easily removed in case of an altercation. On the back of vest was a stag, large antlers stretched out over the back of the young Selmy lord's shoulders and below about mid back was the wheat sigil of House Selmy. "Is that so? It'd better be for a good reason."

With that statement, Orion had approached the door and shoved past the guard to enter the hall and grumbled softly. "Does Lady Rhaelle know?" The guard nodded and motioned away. "She does, I must return to my duties." The Selmy Lord didn't acknowledge the guard leaving, only glancing down the hall with the light blue eyes that looked much like ice as his facial expression unamused. "I am sure she is peeling someone's eyes out with her fingers to get answers.." A mutter under his breath as he left the doorway and followed the hall to leave the keep itself.

As he made his way down the halls, and to the outer parts of the keep. Orion's eyes caught the glimpse of a familiar figure afar along with table full of gold cloaks. The Selmy lord furrowed his brows and knew that the particular figure wouldn't be away from his Lord Liege without a reason and considering the company he was in, it could be for the very task he had set out to do, find answers. Orion pushed past a few guards and placed his hands behind his back, the newly made vest he wore now suited for a small break in the leather that allowed his knife to be tucked away just below his spine, covered by a cloak and only revealing portion of the knife was the round head of the hilt that seemed as if was only an accent to the armor itself. He kept himself off to the side, out of sight Ser Greyson himself as he questioned about his Lord's family. No doubt the unsettled nature of the guard's didn't go unnoticed by Orion as he payed close attention to their actions more than their words.

Grimm: Glances were cast between all men at the table, a light at the end of their personal dark tunnel had finally shun, though it was dim for they were not too stupid not to think they would suffer some form of repercussion for their actions. Silence, however, still held their tongues as no man wanted to be the first to go against their commander, even though all wished to be free of their burden. The quietness lingered on but was finally broken as a cough echoed from the throat of Greyson's shadow, the male that covered the stairs, which pulled the Knights attention towards him and then the indication of a new direction to cast his gaze.

Behind Greyson stood Orion Selmy, a face he was very familiar with, even if it had been years since he saw the male, faces were never something Greyson forgot. Once again, the tick returned to his jaw as his gaze lingered upon the Selmy for a moment and then moved back to the gold cloaks at the table. "First man to tell me their story remains free from my report to the Lady Rhaelle Baratheon." The, as if a well exploded and water flooded the streets, words poured from each mans lips in such volume that Greyson had to slam his hand down upon the wooden table again to silence them, and silence them it did as each man returned to their seated positions. Nodding his head to one, the closest cloak, the individual explained, in a low tone so as those around them were not privy to their divulging of 'state secrets' as some might see it. He explained the slight Azaroth had inflicted upon their commander, then the commanders plan to embarrass Azaroth by parading him through the courtyard after his very public arrest, even tossing in some conversation that nobles they passed offered up as the party made for the cells. Finally his tale ended with the location of Azaroth, the Black Cells. Greyson's eyes narrowed as his cold stare seemed to ignite with a Baratheon's rage.

The mans words grew quieter and quieter as he sunk back into his seat before he grew to a hushed whisper before snuffing into silence like a candle in the wind. Returning to his full height of 6ft, Greyson turned from the table and took a few steps towards Orion who he knew had heard the tale. There was no personal space that Greyson offered Orion as he stood a hairs breath before the young Lord of the Selmy's, though his title mattered none, it was his duty that Greyson cared about. "Where were you when your Lord was being arrested?" Again his tone was laced with a growl as Greyson looked down to Orion, hands by his side, one balled to a fist in an attempt to stave his anger.

Much like Greyson to Kainen, Orion had a duty to protect the young Lord Baratheon in all things which included all his time in The Reach. Though Greyson did not know how or when they had all arrived at King's Landing, for Azaroth to be arrested and Orion not be with him, it only caused Greyson to question the young man's ability and his duty when away from the Stormlands.

Executioner: The actions of the gold cloaks surely did not go unnoticed by Orion, neither did the display of anger by Ser Greyson himself. It was actually kind of intimidating. The intimidation that Ser Greyson's anger and the very mention of Lady Rhaelle caused all of the Gold Cloaks to spill their Commander's plan like a stuck hog bleeding out. Orion's glare went cold, the fact that Azaroth was in the black cells caused an anger to spark in him much like Ser Greyson. But Orion's anger was different, the fact that his friend was in that kind of place made Orion want to kill in order to see saftey of his friend and the madness surely would lead him to do it.

Space soon became crowded as the invasion of Ser Greyson's shadow cast a darkness over the young Selmy Lord, the fact that Ser Greyson's anger directed toward the young Lord caused his demeanor to change, instead of the nature of Orion; calm collected. It was now defensiveness. His glare matched that of Ser Greyson with his teeth clamped against each other. "Unfortunately all of my Lord Liege's duties do not always require my presence. As much as I would like to be with him everywhere he goes, he does not require me to do so." His glare did not fall from that of Ser Greyson, even though he had respect for Ser Greyson's abilities to fight Orion challenged the fact that he insinuated that Orion did not protect Lord Azaroth, even if he did agree that he didn't. Surely he expected the wrath of the Ser that was steaming from the fire that was being fed within him.