The Square

Xara rose at her usual time and roused the other ladies with her. They all did as their daily routine bid every day - they washed, helped each other dress and picked out an appropriate outfit for their Lady. This morning, however, there was one more thing to see too before their appointed Lady and that would have been her little sister. Xara informed the little Rhaenyrs of her plans to visit the city and helped the girl get into pair of riding leather breeches and loose wool shirt which she then cinched with a leather corset that would hold the little dagger Rhaenyrs seemed to favor, at her back. The boots she'd arrived in were polished and cleaned for her to wear. Xara then set about retwisting a few loose strands of her hair and threw the top layer of a traditional Crownlands gown over the outfit. It's long bell sleeves and heavy robe like fashion would do well to conceal her more comfortable clothes underneath and the black fabric embroidered with dark blue stags guided through the wood by twinkling blue stars would suit the mode of mourning the keep had been set in.

By the time they had come into the main room, Lady Rhaelle was in the bathing chambers and little Rhaegar was in the tub while she and strange man who had just appeared out of no where were behind one of the dressing screens. It was quite a sight to see though they didn't glimpse it long and left them to their family morning. When they were summoned, they helped Rhaelle dress. She wasn't a fan of long veils and since she wore black more often than naught, Xara threaded her hair with black roses and short veil, no longer than her shoulder length hair.

It wasn't until after the Lady, her son and her lover left the chambers that Xara, some of the ladies and Rhaenyrs set out for the city beyond the keep. They were accompanied by half the guards Rhaelle had left in the rooms and a few servant boys to lead and care for a horse that would be strapped to cart.

Once they had reached The Square, Xara took the top layer of the garb from Rhaenyrs so she could run free without being hindered by noble dress. As she folded the fabric and placed it on the cart, Xara looked around the half empty square that was slowly filling with people as the morning crept toward midday. "I have to return to the castle by midday, if you wish to return with me, I will meet you right back here when the sun is highest in the sky." Smiling, the child of summer then handed the littlest Baratheon her favored scarf. "Be careful, please. It's never pleasant explaining to your siblings when one of you is hurt."

And with that the two parted ways; Xara to her shopping and Rhaenyrs to who knows where.

Most strangers to the capital of Westeros couldn't feel it. Nobles moved straight through the streets for the keep and never once thought to feel the air of the narrow streets. Foreigners of trade often familiarized the feeling with most trade towns and port cities. It was a feeling of tension and unease, something that should have kept you on your guard at all times but it was also something else. Something that had been building, that would always build among people when they were oppressed.

People rose with the sun, the majority anyway, and with the people so too did their hopes and dreams, fears and angers. The people of King's Landing had more to fear than to dream about and more to be angry about than to hope for. With word that Alexander had been executed in his own court by his own blood spreading through the streets like a breeze that sense of dread and tension lingered over the natural bad smell of city.

For days before the fall of Alexander there had been a vacuum of power left within the City Watch. Five of their men were missing, the paramount of which was their Captain. All anyone had to speak of was a moonlight glimpse of what may or may not have been one of their own leaving the city by boat a few days ago. The general tension that spread among the people had tipped onto those boys in armor. Without a leader, be it king or captain, dissension had corroded their ranks. There was only one thing they could agree on that would quell the infighting - turning that aggression on their easiest of targets.

This rumored new king had yet to address them. Only the rumors of his conquest, of his slaying of his own kin and king, had spread through the streets. They knew only that he was the size of a house, grim featured and fierce to behold or so they had heard. What was this new king like? What would he do to their ranks? How many days of power would they still hold? From the rumors, they held firm on the fact that a tyrant had replaced a tyrant. Letting off some steam would do no harm but to those they willed to harm.

Xara had spent most of her morning between the Street of Looms purchasing fabrics for her liege lords. Her Lady of the house had made of point of not arriving to King's Landing with funeral ready garb, only things appropriate for the festivals and the climate of the Crownlands. The same was to be true for both her brothers and well the surprise of the appearance of the younger sister boasted that she had no clothes for the occasion at all. The littlest Baratheon was going to be the hardest to clothe. Her distaste for the mandatory dress of noble ladies was more overpower than that of her unconventional sister for even Rhaelle was garbed appropriately for most events, corsets and all. Despite it all, Xara was looking forward to the challenge of making something both comfortable and appropriate for the younger one.

Out in the streets, gold cloaks paced from stall to stall. Their mere presence was a weight on all those around them. While most of the nobles out into town today seemed aware, the vendors and the smallfolk were most uncomfortable rushing through sales and being harsh handed with any one too poor to be amongst their wares. The cloaks also carried an air of freedom of movement that clearly stemmed from the reign of the late king; they were handsy and a bit forward. Several young girls at food stalls were propositioned for favors in lieu of payment, be it for goods or a rather obvious protection racket.

The mark of the stag protected Xara and her small entourage at a distance from the going ons through the town, but it did not protect them from the words that were tossed in their direction. For the most part they were ignored. The Baratheon guards were diligent in their training. In the service of the Lady Baratheon they knew better than to jump at the first flick of bait in their direction even if it was in protection of their charges, but like any man of the Stormlands the itch was in their fingers.

For the time being Xara refrained from stepping into the matters of others. She was on a time crunch and did not want to be responsible for losing Rhaenyrs on their first outing. She did make a mental note of all that she saw in order to relay the information later to her Lady Liege. There wasn't much she new of the new king, other than he seemed to be a gentle, friendly soul in way over his head. She remembered a few of the time he had been brought to the Stormlands; he was quiet and thoughtful, leading her to believe that this would not much longer be the way of the City Watch. By their actions, the City Watch also feared a demise in their own brand of tyranny and were getting their fill while they could.

Making good time, Xara returned to city square. The cart she'd brought with her was nearly full of fabrics and all the necessities of garment creation. With only three days to dress three Baratheons, she would be working through the night. Standing behind the cart, the princess of the Summer Isles spread her small hand over a reem of dark fabric, her thoughts wandering. This would be the first time, that she would be creating a garment for her elder Liege Lord, Kainen Baratheon. The mere thought of him lit a fire in her loins. She had already seen him bare to the world, water steaming from his skin. She had been locked in his intense gaze, been the object of his desire and he had been hers. The speed with which she had gone from being completely unknown to the man to being wrapped in those monstrous arms left her head spinning. There was nothing left to do now, but wait for Rhaenyrs and think of Kainen.

'Gods help me...'

The weather during the night was rather pleasant allowing for a restful sleep until just before daybreak, the bright new sun streaming in through her windows as it had done every morning since her arrival. Not that the young woman minded being woken at dawn, it allowed her to get a jump start on the day, time before others would be roaming around to find a place to read or watch for the day. Yet this morning she was slow to wake, her dreams still lingering in her mind. Shaking them off she slowly got out of bed and moved to the small table in her room so she could sit comfortably while waiting the few minutes for her lady’s maid and confidant Cara to show her face.

Having already laid out the gown she chose to wear today over her travel chest Rysa needed only for her friend to help with her hairstyle for the day, and decided that dressing was a much better use of her waiting time. It did not take long for her to shed the light sleeping gown and position the black gown down over her slightly rounded form. Thankfully most of her gowns, were made from very dark blue or black fabrics, so the court imposed mourning period had little effect on how she dressed,though even she had to admit what she had packed for the trip was hardly enough to wear one everyday. That had brought her to the decision the night before that she would spend some of her day shopping the Street of Looms, looking for a store that might sell something different then she would normally see in the North.

Lost in her thoughts Rysa had not noticed that while she was smoothing the last few wrinkles from the hips of her gown, Cara had entered the room and was waiting with brush in hand. Her harshly freckled face graced with a delicate smiled as she watched her lady prepare herself. It made her laugh inside that she had relented and was wearing the gown that Cara had proposed the day before. Its shape fit to the girl nicely, making her curves look slightly more womanly. It was also quite simple in design, yet still far more intricate than any that the maid possessed and in that respect was a reflection on the woman who wore it. Out of all her Lady’s gowns, that was her favorite day dress.They had fallen into this routine years ago when the young Lady said she no longer needed assistance dressing for day to day activities, but still needed help taming the mass of brown curls on her head. Happy to assist the girl that had grown into her friend Cara gave her the space she needed, only speaking now to inquire as to her health that morning. “Good morning My Lady, how did you rest?”

Visibly startled steel grey eyes trained themselves on the maid, a silent “O” on her small mouth. “I did not hear you come in,” she admonished playfully when fully composed “but I slept well thank you for asking. And you, are you still having night coughs?” As she crossed the room to sit on the chair again genuine concern washed over her face. Having been her friend for so, she was often as fretful over Cara as the maid was for her. But the maid answered that all was fine so the two began to plan out the day ahead and what places they should shop at while in city. Not having much spending money other than what she had saved, Rysa knew that she would need to be careful in what she purchased or she would go home with not a coin to her.
“I hesitate to ask my Lady but have you been able to speak to your brother yet?”

“No, in truth I have not even laid eyes on him since the incident, I feel if he needs me he will seek me out.” Thinking for a moment she sighed, “I do hope he is well and we will meet soon though, there is much to catch up on that letters can not cover.” Since her hair was finished, pulled back and laid over her shoulders to enhance the curve of her face, the lady stood and moved toward the door. “Come now or we will not have time to shop.”

Once again, she was off as the door to the tavern slammed behind her. Without a moment to lose echoing from the silence came the roaring of laughter among her crewmates. Despite their differences and the tales of conspiracies due to her gender they were her crew, the by sea family. Most of them easily got on her nerves but after everything they triumph through, she couldn’t picture her life without them. Certainly, wouldn’t be alive without them that’s for sure. Catching up with her crew mate Yorin, brought some sort of relief to the young Baratheon in her mixed-up double life between pirate and noble Baratheon Lady.

Finding her place in between was the real challenge. Surprisingly reuniting with her crew went well. She’ll probably never hear the end it with their whining and jealousy of her stay at the Red Keep. They’ll get over it by tonight, the rum will help. She hung her head down staring at the Stag bracelet all the while heading in direction to the center of town.

The golden band shimmered the reflection of the sun above as she spun her sister’s lost (but really stolen) trinket around her fingers. The tiny head with black long silk haired bobbed disappearing between the gaps of merchant carts as her eyes fixated on the trinket, just hoping for one more memory to rise back to the surface of her mind. Nothing. Not a single thing popped in her head. “Such a stupid girl” she muttered to herself, while pulling the bracelet back in her pouch. Annoyed with the hope of something remembering her childhood as ‘Rhaenyrs Baratheon’. Maybe it wasn’t real after all and it was all just her wishful imagination to believe it to be true.

All the meanwhile people stopping at merchandise stalls randomly wasn’t helping her frustration. She clicked her tongue pushing through the swarm of bodies. For once keeping her hands to herself, fighting the temptation urge to pick pocket. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught with all the gold cloaks patrolling around. She didn’t fear the consequences of thievery. However, trying to explain her little hobby to her family and how they would view it is another thing. Finally, the flock of people spewed and dispersed in different directions as she finally made it back to Town Square.

After spotting the small entourage holding the Baratheon Stag symbol, she picked up her legs sprinting over right to Xara’s side. Without a moment to lose, very similar to her nephew, Rhaegar and how he spills his words when he is excited in the moment. Despite the pour Summer Isle’s girl being deep in thought the Tiny Baratheon tugged on her gown at the side and started down pouring a conversation. “Xara! Xara! You wouldn’t believe what happened. What I saw! Look- “At the same time pulling out the little bracelet. “I remember this! The stag and gifts, and something and then nothing. Absolutely nothing.  Am I right or is it in my head? YOU understand right?” Nothing should have made sense from what Rhaenyrs said. She was going too fast for her tongue to keep up with her mind. She then paused waiting for a reaction from her sister’s lady as she started eyeing the cart looking around. Couldn’t help herself from looking the different purchases as it was out of habit.

Taking in the view of the people around her the young girl smiled at the simple acts they were performing. More than once her maid had to push her along because she found herself paying to close attention to one purchase dispute or another. In places like this, at least to those close to her, Rysa came out of her shell just a bit, allowing the hecticness of life in the market to fill her with a sort of joy. Half way through the day Rysa was once again caught up in a haggling dispute between a merchant and a would be client. From what she could ascertain, the woman buying wanted one yard of bright green sheer fabric. Yet the man selling was asking far more than the other shops she had been through that day and her suspicion was because the woman was clearly of a lower class. She wanted to interrupt and help but something told her the woman she watch could handle herself, and so far she was doing just that, having haggled the seller down by almost a quarter of the asking price.

Feeling she was not needed Rysa turned and walked over to where her friend was waiting for her, earning a stern look from the girl before they both giggled and moved further back toward the square. Linking her arm with that of her friend, something they only did when not around other nobles, Cara asked in alight and teasing voice “Have you found any fabrics you like my Lady?”

Looking over a small stand selling pins Rysa shook her head absent mindedly and replied in a bored tone. “You know I haven’t. Though there is one last stall to search I believe.” As they walked over to the stall however Cara noticed the small assembly holding the Baratheon symbol and quickly pulled away from Rysa and tapped her shoulder to get her attention, “Look over there.” The words were hardly out of her mouth before her lady pulled her into a crowd to prevent notice, though she could do little to hide the four men holding the Stark symbol on them, but Rysa was determined not to be seen by the other party until she knew who was in the party and weather or not she should approach them.

The Baratheon guards parted with ease in order to give Rhaenyrs a clear path to Xara. Startled, the Princess of the Summer Isles blinked down at the youngest Baratheon child and the glimmering gold stag bracelet in her hand. Tilting her head Xara tried to let her mind catch up to the girl's words and process them accordingly. The words were having a hard time piercing the Kainen filled fog of Xara's mind leaving the two women with a long pause before before hazel eyes blinked again. Xara's full lips parted slightly, arching into a slight smile.

The moment Rhaenyrs had been brought back to the life of nobility, Rhaelle had expressed, in a way only the Lady Stag could, that her younger sister never be questioned about her past or any memory she may or may not have about her time as child of nobility. She was to be left to her own devices and pressed or not only by her sister. Of course, there was the possibility of her shaven headed brother to bring forth questions about her absence since it was widely known among the Baratheon household how steadfastly he stood by the promise of her being amongst the living. Other than that, she was to be left nearly totally alone in a single sense. Her reappearance had come at a time of strife and immense danger within the capital and moreover within the Red Keep and she was to be kept safe at all times.

Like any of the other Baratheon, the Lady Rhaenyrs was resilient and resourceful. During the takeover it had become clear to those not already privy to the inner workings of the elder sister's mind, exactly why there was little restriction put on the younger one upon her return. Even self, the older understood a certain delicacy about the younger's return that was not expressly apparently to most people.

In living as a near extension of the Storm Cat, Xara was not one that did not see exactly what Rhaelle did. In fact, she quite keen as well. Other than the physical startle of shoving the dark-skinned woman from her musings, the admission of the little Princess Pirate, did not come as a surprise.

Reaching out, Xara's slender arm circled around the shoulders of the girl who was merely a few inches taller than her and drew her closer. "I do," She said in her iconic soft and comforting tone. "If you let it, more will come. Good and bad and you will feel whole again."

"My Lady," said another lady in Xara's small company, who gently nodded to the gathering of guards baring the symbol of House Stark.

Xara looked up from the face of Rhaenyrs to the other lady then to the company of Starks. It had been many years since the Baratheon children had made their winter venture to the home of their cousins. The last Baratheon to find themselves in Winterfell had been Rhaelle and her meeting had been in secret, her plans so thorough, that the families did little to interact beyond what was natural given the circumstances. Thus, Starks and Baratheons, the busy folk, had little interaction prior to the death of the tyrant king. Regardless, the memories shared between cousins and their servants could have been as vague or vivid as the adolescent mind had deemed necessary. Approaching the Starks in good favor would depend entirely how much more Rhaenyrs, who was Xara's priority in the moment, wanted to delve into these resurfacing memories.

There was this overwhelming worry that nothing of what she said regarding the bracelet could be real. The uncertainty of needing to know the reaction or the confirmation that would come from Xara made the tiny Baratheon focused her pleading water-filled eyes nearly staring into the soul of the Summer Isle’s princess.

In the moment from a single touch and the soothing iconic angelic voice of the Summer Isle’s princess struck the tiny Baratheon making her lips slam shut in silence. At first her shoulders tensed with surprised by the instant contact. Till the words softened her lean muscles to fall as the tiny head managed jerk her head upward nodding in response to Xara. Unaware of what or whom was behind her, as she parted her lips to say something else, as someone from the entourage called out ‘My Lady’ in greeting. In response the tiny Baratheon swung around by her heels to face who stole the summer isle's princess' attention in that moment.

The attention of the tiny Baratheon was short with gazing at the four guards that presented House Stark. In which the scarce minded girl knew off the bat the house of whom they belonged to but, what she didn’t know was that they were cousins to the Baratheons. All family relations except her nuclear family were foreign now too. All she knew was that they were someone important to the family and the only way she knew that was by the expression on Xara’s face.

Clasping her hands over the trinket, she discreetly placed the gold band back in her pouch. For the next time she had a moment alone with her sister, she’d ask about it. Right now, she agreed to the advice Xara gave her, ‘if you let it more will come’, with the words almost being heard a second time around as she waited to see which entourage would move first; the Baratheons or the Starks.

It hadn’t been long since Aethon and his daughter exited The Toad Stool, like he had left them his five guards were placed outside and took up around them as they left the alley and made their way down the streets. There was a bustling coming from the street they were walking down that would lead them into the centre of town, even from here he could hear people going back and forth on prices trying to negotiate with one and other and all other sorts of goings on though he took little interest in the goings on of others.

When they had finally reached the end of the street and stood on the cusp before walking out into the center he spoke, his words aimed towards his daughter, though just like before his eyes remained forward as he scanned the area and people within it. “Do you require anything before we make our way to The Keep?” It was a simple question, and even if it didn’t seem overly caring or mindful in the manner of which he addressed his daughter for anyone that knew Aethon they’d have known it was still rather surprising; after all it wasn’t always the case that he cared for the wants of others.

The siblings had come from the Red Keep—perhaps more inconspicuous than other nobles whom ventured into that King’s Landing square. They were of lesser nobility these days, and minimally accompanied by guards and handmaids. Fate had seen House Tully changed from the generations prior to the White War. Simply vassals from the Riverlands reigning over tenants surrounding a once-ruined castle, these Tully members were modest in garb and unassuming in nature.

As rightfully instructed considering a recent royal’s death, Yvaine wore unextraordinary attire. A layered ensemble: it consisted of linen smock, a darkly-dyed kirtle, and outer robe of black wool with funnel-shaped sleeves. Little-to-no embroidery could be seen upon the gown; the outfit itself being thrown together in light of recent events. Down the city lane, Yvaine absently brushed the lengthy black veil behind her shoulder, as the garment seemed to insist on moving in accordance to its own will.

Their walk had been uneventful. But in all its irony, the peddling woman seen by Lady Stark had, in fact, belonged to the Tully group—a matronly female attendant by name of Margarethe. While not a clergywoman, Margarethe had the demeanor of a septa; aged skin, strong nose, thin lips, intelligent eyes. Silver slipped from her temples into the masses of black hair, which had been covered in a dark veil in style of those lower-born but not desolately poor. Heckling the stall merchant seemed a breeze for the sharp woman, her volume intermingling into the white noise of the market square. Few paces beyond and along the Street of Looms, Yvaine had begun to stall her strides to glimpse behind her. It would be apparent to those of her group that the auburn-haired Lady sought to find the lost maid.

“Where is Margarethe?” Yvaine queried aloud to her brother beside her. Through the three guards which followed them and other marketplace patrons strolling about, she leaned this-way-and-that in attempt to see around the various bodies. Concern etched across those coal-grey eyes, “She was just here.” It was a humored curiosity that the noblewoman felt obligated to keep track of the elder as one may imagine a mother would a child. And it during this passing that Yvaine’s attention fell focused on this sole topic; otherwise, for the current moment, ignoring opportunity to sight other noble houses and their groupings elsewhere in the streets.

One of those being Lord Velaryon and his fair-haired daughter as both lingered into the market-place. Unlike Aethon whom all but ignored the atmosphere throughout the streets, his youngest child had been outright looking for anything to keep her attention. Anything or anyone was better than their previous company at The Toad Stool. While movement of her chin or shoulders did little to show her observations, her gaze darted this-way-and-that with each swell and fall of conversation around them. Internally, Brisaenys felt both invigorated and perplexed by the recent event with Daxos. It prompted the Lord's daughter to stay curious of the happenings around them, as if trying to see beneath the scope of the visible world. If those like Daxos existed within her father's sphere of influence... what else lingered in the open?

But in the end, the logical part of Brisaenys reasoned that she truly was none the wiser after meeting The Toad. The sore realization ate at her chest. She could only will it away by distracting her eyes. There was no nerve within her to question Aethon about any of it now. Through the girl's bouncing concentration, her father's question finally placed silence in her mind. While his eyes remained to the crowd, Brisaenys regarded his face in quiet surprise. What did she require?

Presently, she neither wanted or required anything materialistic. Though-- even for a quick instance-- her pride entertained returning to her sisters with spoils of today... But arrogance, too, was not within her right now. Physically, the young girl looked away from Aethon's face to peer about the busy square. Peer. And ponder. Time had sparsely passed before Brisaenys spoke up, "None from these shops, Lord Father." Then directness slipped her pale lips, "I'd wish to acquire acquaintance with those whom stand beneath the banners across the way." Without raising a hand, her words and gaze gestured towards the high nobility of Stark and Baratheon seemingly absorbed in eying each other.


Steel grey eyes wandered over the Baratheon girl and the woman she had rushed to meet. “Cara, look there.” she whispered quietly, “Do you think that could be the Summer Isle girl that we heard about?” The girl in question was of course Xara, a dark skinned woman that Rysa was unsure of ever really meeting. And of course she had heard the rumours about the woman attending to the Lady Beast countless times. And now watching her interact with the young Lady there was little doubt that they knew each other well and she felt it rude to intrude on such a private conversation. In fact it was when she turned away that she noticed the duo on the other side of the square.

One elder looking male and a young woman who appeared to be about her own age, but she couldn't be sure of their exact ages as they were much to far away from her. It was clear to her however that they were from house Velaryon, as she had seen them in passing before as well. She observed them for a few moments, wondering what she should do. It might be bad manners to ignore one or both of the families and the last thing she wanted to do was to cause an issue that she might live to regret in the future. Biting her lips she looked to her maid who offered no help.

“In all honestly I think we might wish to remain here and see who comes to us,” Cara said simply as she ran her hand over a roll of fabric, testing its texture with light touches. “They may not wish to speak to others today and approaching them may cause some uncomfortable conversations.” Running her hands over her gown Rysa was about to take her friends advice when she notice a Tully girl looking about down the street that they had just come. Deciding to take a chance and converse with someone today she sighed and started to make her way slowly closer toward the center of the square, making it easier for the others to speak to her if they wished. Cara followed as usual and shaking her head leaned against the well. It was clear to her that her Lady was not going to take her advice at this point and nothing she would say on the matter would change her mind.

Her friend noticed Cara’s reluctance to mingle with the higher houses though, and took it under advisement. It was mostly due to the fact that when others were around the maid drew into herself and stood more toward the background instead of at her side like the friend she had become. To lessen the woman's discomfort she leaned in and handed her a pouch containing a few pieces of coin. “Would you please go back and purchase two yards that purple fabric we were looking at? The one that went with the old yellow gown I brought with me?” Her maid looked off put on the surface but her eyes gleamed with the chance to get away from the talk of nobles, and Rysa found herself wishing she could escape as well. But sadly that was not the case and as soon as her maid vanished into the crowd she moved closer to the Baratheon girl and her companion, thinking them the safer of the two to start her conversations with.

Though the actions of the Tully girl seemed to be stuck in her mind, for by her looks, she seemed rather lost. That or she had managed to misplace someone or something. It could be that she needed assistance and before she could think more on it she found her feet bringing her past her aim and more toward the woman. She was still close to her cousin, but position wise she was close to the searching woman as well, making herself available to offer any help she could if needed.

Gold cloaks promenaded through the streets, bolstering and pea-cocking. It was collection day. So many of the little shops in the town had been forced to pay for leniency and care that should have been a natural function for the City Watch, but under the reign of Alexander it had just not been so. Those who couldn't pay had their stalls ransacked, over turned, or were assaulted in back rooms. Taverns often gave little trouble because with the coming festivals and all the activity brought to the capital they were making more than enough to settle the scores of their oppressors.

In the town square, where peasants stood around the well gossiping, complaining, and speculating on the regime change, several Cloaks were making their way down one of the upper lanes into the square. Their armor glistened in the approaching afternoon sun. They wore their helms and lived with their hands upon their weapons. Their presence caused several of the shop owners facing the square to shoo away their customers and make quickly for the back of the shops, out of sight. One owner was locked so deep in haggle with a woman that he had not seen the approach of the dreaded cloaks or even felt the rather obvious change in air about them.

Now, the approach of the City Watch should have spelled some sort of relief for the people around and those locked in confrontation, but a distinct feeling of placing a spark near a barrel of wild fire was all anyone could derive.

A slap landed. Hard. Tossing the woman into the oncoming cloak. The men of the City Watch responded with laughter as the woman pulled herself upright again, a cheek bright red from the impact. She gathered her child, begrudgingly relinquished the coin for the nearly agreed upon price before turning and leaving the stall. Smug in his perceived victory, the shop owner promptly handed over a small purse to the guards now standing at his stall, so they moved swiftly to the next stall over. Here, a woman of middle age and her three sons manned a shop with beautifully hand crafted oil lamps and glass ornaments. She and the three boys busied themselves, avoiding eye contact with the encroaching danger of their supposed to be protectors, but they would not be ignored and chose to gain attention by striking a freshly molded pot to the floor.

Again laughter filled the air as the small family froze. Composing herself quickly, the youngish mother, washed her hands clean of clay and wiped them along her apron as she approached from the back of the shop. The exchange of tense pleasantries quickly spiraled out of control when the woman refused to pay her dues, citing a swift and powerful change coming for the wayward boys in armor under the rule of their new king. It seemed that this woman not only believed the rumors and stories of the Forgotten Prince of Dragonstone, but she claimed to have met the man herself. Her boasting did nothing to strike fear into the hearts of her oppressors. Instead they lashed out by beginning to topple all of her wares to the ground, shattering days of hard work. When her sons attempted to stop them they were callously thrown to the ground. She, too, received a hard slap and became tangled by the hair unable to free herself from the gasp of a gold cloak.

The bystander effect was in full swing as the cloaks dragged mother and sons from their little shop, their little home and out into the square. There were few in the capital with such an adamant belief in this king they had never seen before and had long forgotten, so it seemed that even the nobles around were frozen in form to just watch as those with the nearly the highest authority in the capital, those that were the reflection of their king, man-handled a woman as she refused to pay for their gentle touch.

The last cloak to exit her small shop did so by hefting a lit lamp over his shoulder. The front of the store was quickly consumed by flames sending every person in close vicinity screaming and running. As the flames devoured the contents of the store, the great barrels of oil near the rear exploded, spreading terror and fire three shops down on either side.

Whether or not the man of the City Watch had intended for such large reaction, it was all but too late to change the outcome. The sight of the fire, the devastation to shop that had already paid their dues or had been willing to do so sent the smallfolk into a rage to rival the flames. Shouting and lewd remarks compounded in the town square as the shop owners began to scream at their oppressors. Seeing no fault falling at their polished feet, the Cloaks responded by drawing blades and ordering the people to keep back. It seemed whether or not they believed in the Prince of Dragonstone, their new king, the people had had enough of the Cloaks on this day. All it took was for one cloak to shove an approaching peasant for the square to erupt in fighting and shouting.

The proper motion to ignite any interaction between houses would have been those from the Baratheon house to acknowledge the others and there was intent for that to come in due time. Firstly, however, Xara unrolled the cloak she'd brought Rhaenyrs into town with and helped the girl back into it. In the city square with so many other noble family floating about, it would have been unseemly for the girl to be caught garbed like a peasant or thief or worse - a pirate. The cart before them was the perfect obstruction for prying eyes. Her own hazel eyes, took in the sight of the snake-like Lord Aethon and his young daughter Brisaenys. Also on the street were the brother and sister Tully. The Summer Isle girl had little interaction with any of them, but the young Tully boy had met with her Lady Liege days before the dispatching of Alexander.

Xara absently primped the young Baratheon's hair, stalling for time as a group of Gold Cloaks clamored down the street in front of the cart. The reaction of the peasant folk to their presence made the small hairs on Xara's skin rise. Once they had passed, she came around the front of the cart, positioning herself between two Baratheon guards just as the young Stark girl paused in the street between herself and the Tully siblings.

Any exchange of words or pleasantries that would have passed between the houses was stalled by the sound that shook the buildings around them. Debris rained down as smoke rose from the other side of the well. With instant efficiency, the Baratheon mean, created a shield wall that both protected Rhaenyrs and the ladies of her sister but prevented them from being able to see what was going on. Beyond the sturdy walls of the shields before her, Xara could hear the shouting and scrambling of people.

Gathering her skirts into one hand, the dark-skinned woman climbed into the back of the cart. Having been seated in the front of the cart, prepared to lead the horses back to the castle, the two young boys in her company quickly scrambled back and into her arms. The petite woman caressed their heads, looking back to make sure the youngest Baratheon girl was well protected within their circle before looking out onto the city beyond the shields.

Fire was ripping through the connected stalls and buildings. Those that were not being attacked or attacking the Gold Cloaks were scrambling to douse the flames. From each street that connected to the square came the march of more cloaks which only heightened the emotions of the people they were meant to protect. Without engaging in the conflict, the Baratheon guards did their best to stand fast against the chaos around them. Demands for them to do more came from the cloaks but the men stood fast fearing the wrath of their Lady more than that of some pompous cloak whose reign was coming to an end.

Rhaenyrs continued to play the little staring game of the Stark family in the distance as her bright hue eyes darted back and forth looking for the member of the family who was accompanied with the guards. The feeling of fingers grasping on to her shoulder by the Summer isle’s princess broke her concentration as she stumbled back on her heels to behind the wagon. Switching her attention to Xara and watching her pull out the gown. Her lips curled down at the sight of it. Gritting her teeth together she slipped her small body into the gown. The tiny Baratheon’s head bobbled into nodding to Xara for saving her from being noticed as a pirate. As the cloaks passed by her body slightly turned away avoiding drawing any sort of attention from them.

After they disappeared, the two ladies moved back to the front of the cart standing in between the aligned Baratheon guards. It was then the runt of the Baratheon family noticed the other noble houses in the square. Now, she was more uncomfortable and anxious. Too many noble families for this pirate girl. Though, there was a part of her that wanted to meet the Stark girl. There was something familiar about her. After contemplating in deciding she should go up and talk to her. At least the proper respectful thing to do would be say hello. As she glanced over to Xara, she thought to herself. ‘What would Rhaelle do in this situation?’ She shrugged her shoulders up after answering the question herself. “OH, what the hell”. She spoke out and began to stride forward to the of House Stark.

In unison to her step the ground rumbled causing her to stumble back in stride. The clashing and collapsing of buildings erupted causing dust and debris. The horror and terror filled the streets and every scream fueled the young Baratheon.

The Baratheon guards circled the cart enclosing the ladies in for protection. While Xara climbed up on the cart, Rhaenyrs glanced forward trying to peep through the open spaces between the guards glancing at the unfolding of chaos. Drawn to the thought of wanting to know what was going, she was not going to stand around and be helpless. She tried to push through the barricade of the guards. After not budging through she placed her palms on the shoulders plates of the closest guard and pull herself up and roll her body over him and somersaulting forward. After landing on the tips of her boots, she darted off into a full on sprint toward the Stark girl’s direction.

Down the street Cara was locked in the flow of a similar group and was unable to break free of the forceful push of foreign hands and bodies, in fact it took all her might not to fall and be trampled by the crowds. She could see the Stark Banner not far up the lane, but before she could reach them she was yanked out of the crowd, pulled to the side by one of her lady’s guards who must have been sent to find her once the gold cloaks were spotted. Though the more likely reason was that so her Lady did not do something reckless and put herself in danger to try and find her. Though she feared that the man failed to tell Rysa that he was going to fetch her, and knowing how her Lady worried over everyone and how much she tended to disregard protocol and sense, she couldn't help but feel that the one in real danger was her friend.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion for Rysa as it occurred to her what was happening. The fire in the background filled her with fear as she looked once more to where the Tully woman was, only to lose her in the crowds. Unsure what to do she started to back off the main street, her guards surrounding her and attempting to shield her from the view of the encroaching gold cloaks. Unable to see much over the heads of the men keeping her safe she huddled back more, until she was met with the brick wall of the fabric shop she had just left only minutes before. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed a break in her guards large enough for her to slip away. In the back of her mind there was a persistent thought, one that kept repeating to her that leaving their protection was a bad idea, but her mind was occupied with the more pressing concern that she could not locate Cara, nor could she see what happened to the other nobles in the square. So taking one small step to the side at a time she glided through the opening and disappeared into the throng of people panicking around her. There was some sort of commotion behind her however so instead of moving forward she looked behind her to see the tiny Baratheon girl charging over to her at full speed. Her first thought was to move out of her way, frightened, but her feet seemed cemented to the ground as she heard and felt a building close by collapse due to the fire destroying its supports. Dust and smoke filled the air, causing her sight to become blurred, obscuring the oncoming woman and everything else but a few bodies falling and tripping over each other.