[IMVU Logs] The Keep of Highgarden

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Judge : The old forge hadn’t been at his station when Dante went to retrieve his new sheathe and freshly sharpened sword—that had never happened before. The sheathe though, was brilliant, the design impeccable and it even alleviated some of the weight of his greatsword from his back. All morning was spent becoming accustomed to removing the sword from its new home, distracting himself from the obvious signs of his departure. At first the people of his house had created a grand envoy for him, but Dante dismantled that arrangement and opted for a purse of silver in lieu of mass provisions, his hooded, leather cloak that bore no symbols, his owl, Wise, and a one man boat to get him to the mainland, where he would buy a horse from a small family he was quite fond of in Duskendale. The maester was not happy to let his lord ride to Highgarden alone, but once the master of the house set his mind to something there was little opportunity to have it changed. He arrived at the gates of Highgarden, mid-day on the seventh day. The rain poured down on him like an open spout, running off his leather cloak in a mass of small streams. Wise, a small grey spotted owl the young lord had been friends with since his move to Dragonstone, had burrowed under the cloak and perched on his shoulder. As Dante approached the gates of Highgarden, he felt the shift in stance from the men on duty. He didn’t lift his head, the wide hood of his cloak covering his features, but his signet ring was visible on his hand as he held the reigns of the horse. He hadn’t been expected that the great seat of The Reach. He knew was horrible rude to show up without sending a raven, but his business couldn’t afford the relaxed air of tradition. He managed to make the guard understand who he was without much speech and was quickly taken inside. Greeted by the Lord Chamberlain and offered food and drink, Dante waved that away and instead opted to meet with Lord Julien right away. He’d changed his muddy boots before being whisked through the polished halls of the castle at Highgarden and left to wait in Lord Juilen’s office.

Olena: Lord Julian was tending to matters elsewhere in the castle when his page boy approached him, dropping the knee, and rising again. “My Lord, you have a guest awaiting your presence. The lord chamberlain bid you come at once…”he dropped his tone so the others around might not hear, “it’s the prince.” Julian’s eyes lit up with a certain cross between anxiety and excitement. “Send for Lady Davena at once. Have her come to my office, and have them make sure the Lady Odessa is prepared to be presented. Have her wait outside my office.” They both turned briskly on their heels, crossing the castle, the page at a sprint. Before long the lad had disappeared to go about his task, and before Julian arrived at the entrance to his office, the sound of heels could be heard clicking down the hall, and the great lady of house Tyrell appeared from around the corner. They interlocked arms, exchanging a quick peck on the lips before entering into the chamber. As the door closed behind them, they both sunk to their knees before the unexpected guest, the hulking and unmistakable Baratheon before them. He was every oUnce the family look that his brother completely missed by a mile. People would love him for his image alone, if nothing else. His character was yet to be witnessed, but they would soon discover more. “Welcome to Highgarden, your Royal Highness.” Lady Davena offered warmly. “Had we been expecting you, we would have arranged a more suitable arrival and chambers for your royal person.”

Judge: Dante turned as the doors of the office opened and in came the great Lord and Lady of the house, their arms interlocked and in unison they bowed and curtsied to him. The doors closed. A single corner of his mouth turned up on a dream-like half smile. It was one thing to live in compliance with your marriage it was another thing to care for your betrothed as they clearly did. When the Lady Davena spoke his smile was whisked away. He despised being referred to as “Royal Highness”. He wasn’t a royal, barely a prince,  as far he was concerned. He was an outcast of his own house, a Lord of Dragonstone and nothing more. She went on and he waved a hand, both in dismissal of her comment and for them to stand. “My presence need not disrupt your house. I have accommodations at an Inn in your quaint township. I must apologize for not sending a raven, but what I have come to discuss with you are not open matters.” Slowly, he took steps further back into the room, without turning or taking his eyes off of them. He stopped with his massive hand came to rest at the far corner of Lord Julien’s desk. “I do have one other matter that is most important and must be carried out before we can do anything else. Please, Lord and Lady of House Tyrell, do not let anyone eat my bird.” With a light voice he made his plea, but it was a serious matter indeed. Near every time Wise was left to its own devices he’d gotten into some instance with someone, and almost been eaten. He wasn’t in desperate fear of something happening to Wise just yet since he’d placed the bird in his dirty boot and left him with his saddle but once Wise woke up there could be problems. Digressing in his thoughts, Dante shifted his deep blue eyes to Lord Julien then his petite wife. “How many whispers are known to leave this room?”

Olena: Davena took her silence at the Prince’s dismissal of her words. He did not seem in the mood for their typical level of Tyrell hospitality, and she knew well enough when to press a royal and when not to. Their eyebrows cocked in unison at the mention of what they hoped he meant was his pet, and the lord Julian chuckled, “Unless your bird is chicken, duck, pheasant, or quail I do not foresee any harm befalling it.” The soft sound of a lady’s slippers could be heard coming down the gallery, approaching the door to his office. Undoubtedly, the page had sent for the youngest lady of the house, requesting she be ready to greet any guest, but they did not order for her to enter. “Braxton, please wait outside the chamber,” the lady spoke, dismissing the lord chamberlain. Clearly whatever matter he had brought to discuss was intended for their ears, and they’d not risk the chance of disgracing their honor should a servant choose to repeat words spoken in confidence. “I assure your highness that whatever ‘whispers’ you have to offer shall not leave this room if you do not wish it so. You have my word as a Tyrell.” Julian’s honor meant everything to him, just as it did to any of the men in their family. They would rather be racked to within an inch of their lives than to bring disgrace to the name. “Share with us whatever you wish.”

Judge: Dante chuckled at the Lord’s rebuttal to his request. Idly he played with the dark stone that hung about his neck, giving pause as the chamberlain was ordered out a moment after the sound of slippers crept into the hall beyond the room. His pause waned on, eyes scrutinizing the two people before him. He hated this. This talk of treason and always having to second guess whether his intended allies would laugh in his face and send word immediately to his brother. Thus far he and his cousins had been decent judges of character but there was always that one. It only took one. Taking a deep breath, Dante let it out slowly as he began to pace the room in front of the desk and forced himself to relinquish the nerves habit of playing with his necklace. “I came to ask for your support in treasonous act of overthrowing my brother and taking his throne.” There. Much less tact that he usually approached the subject with, but he was tired and the suspense of the whole situation was killing him. Let it be done and over with. Mid step, he paused and turned back to the Lord and Lady of the house, to gauge their reactions to his blunt words.

Olena: If Julian’s brows could rise any higher they would go beyond his hairline. Eyes wide as the river Mander as he looked to his wife for guidance, but the small woman stood solemn, her gaze unyielding from the ‘Pensive Prince’s gaze’ gaze. One could almost see the bubbling calculations going on within the lady’s mind, and anyone within a hundred miles of the Reach knew fool well such would be what decided the outcome of their present session, not the honor-bound bumbling of her highborn husband. Without saying a word, she nodded her que, and the goodly lord spoke up, “You have our attention, your highness.” “His grace’s taxation of our people has become too much to bear, not to mention the mistrust directed at our most honorable family. We, like all the other nobles, have been shunned from royal court. The man is…present in body. Although, tell us something, your highness. Now that you have our attention, how will you keep it?”

Judge: Lord Julian was nearly knocked off his feet, but his wife matched him stare for stare the gears of her mind visibly turning behind her eyes. He understood Julien’s reaction and felt for the man. It was a lot to take in. He was more mindful of their silent exchange than what they presented him verbally. He was a good man, a strong man in his own rite for his wife respected him, clearly. But she was the brains and he knew it or he would have met with Dante alone. He valued her opinion. From the words flowing from the little woman he was right to do so. Flatly though, Dante shrugged. It was not the most confidence inspiring reaction but it was a true and honest one. His hand went back to playing with the obsidian bound by gold around his neck. “The Iron Throne is stationary. If you’re lucky, if you’re good, you can keep it for a lifetime like the kings before me. If not, you meet an end before your time like my brother and the kings before our fathers. I intend to bring the kingdoms back to that flatline of peace we all enjoy. As for keeping it? Well a man must sleep and eat and fuck at some point all of which leave him vulnerable. Beyond that, all I can ask for in good faith is good faith from the house few and far between that I have come too.”

Olena: Dante seemed humble enough, modest, and possessed a certain composure seldom held by one of such high birth and lavish upbringing. They both knew that a slip in this conversation, or if the stag should choose to renege it could cost them everything; however, he would not have come alone without the presence of an escort if he were not serious. Prior to having arrived in the office, Davena had sent out a group of men to scout the town for any newcomers, to be sure the mad king was not implementing some plot to strike down one his supposed ‘enemy territories.’ If the prince was bluffing he would be hung from the highest tower in Highgarden with a wreath of yellow roses about his spiked head. Alexander could not be trusted, so caution and pre-meditation was key. Julian cleared his throat and patted the lady’s hand at the mention of fucking in her presence, but once again she paid little heed nor showed any concern in the slightest, and continuing in her serious tone, “If you want the support of House Tyrell in such an act of treason, we want security and assurance that our Great house shall not be placed asunder when you come into what is yours.” Julian turned his head to the door and called out, “Odessa.” With that, the door swung open, held by the lord chamberlain, and then entered the fair Swan of Highgarden herself—Odessa Tyrell. Her beauty was well-known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, like all the Tyrell women. She wore her long silken-brown hair in a single braid over her shoulder. A diamond band wrapped ‘round the crown of her head. A green gossamer gown slipped over a smaller bust, and accentuated well-rounded hips and a tiny waist. Her skin was like a soft pink rose, and just as delicate to the touch. She stood hardly at the level of the royal’s collar bone, but something about her commanded a greater presence by which one might overlook her height. Th silks dipped to the floor as she sunk into a deep curtsey, first to the prince, and another to her lord and lady parents. “Lord Father.” She kept her eyes lowered, long dark lashes covering irises that were the classic Tyrell mix of green and gold. The seed was strong indeed, even in the women.

Judge: Dante nodded to the Lady of the House, her response was normal. Each house wanted something different from him, a pound of flesh of sorts. The terms however hung in the air since he didn’t ask for the escort of guards or soldiers. He half expected the man to call one of his sons to be named to the small council but instead he called a woman. By the old gods and the new. Panic exploded in his chest. Dante was not a man that was good with single women. Not without the heavy assistance of wine or ale and only if they agreed to leave in the morning. Many houses he could never again approach having turned down their daughters in perfectly reasonable marriage contracts. If the Lord and Lady Tyrell were proposing what he thought well… The chain around his neck snapped, the pendant ready to crack under the pressure of his hand as the woman entered the room. “Fucks sake.” He muttered looking at his hand, then took two steps back when she bowed to him and gave a quick nod in reply. She was, by far, the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across with her soft features, gold and green eyes, and the petite body of a woman ready to bare children. ‘Fucks sake.’ Dante cleared his throat, panic spreading like wild fire until his brain kicked back into gear. If they really wanted what he thought they did, he wouldn’t be taking her back to that dreary little rock. No, she’d be queen and if she was anything like her good Lady Mother, he’d be damned proud to have her. He half smiled then, tucking his broken necklace into a pouch at his side. “Lady Odessa.”

Olena: She tilted her head to the side, the golden-green hue of her eyes just barely peeping from beneath the long lashes. “Your Royal Highness.” She dropped the curtsey once more, and approached closer, standing at an angle from both her parents and Dante Baratheon. She chuckled inwardly at his comment, for she was well-aware of the effect she had on men and she didn’t mind using it to her advantage. She slowly brought her hands from her sides to clasp together just at her waist, sliding them slowly across her hips, as if to straighten the gown. “It is truly an honor…and pleasure.” The words slid off her tongue like the sweetest of honey, with a voice that was soft like a chime in the wind, yet warm as the radiant summer sun. She wasn’t the kind one may want to simply take to bed, she was the kind one wanted to keep in bed—a lady to the core. Without them saying a word, she and her mother exchanged a knowing glance, the smirk on her mother’s face telling her all she needed to know. It did not take a genius to know why she was to be called in that day, or why it was this man she was called in to meet. “Your Highness, may we present to you the youngest of our children, the Lady Odessa Tyrell. If you agree to take her as your wife, you will have all you require of The Reach and then some,” Julian said with a level of confidence in his favorite’s ability to captivate the prince.

Judge: For a flicker of a moment he wondered if he could convince the people to call him Lord Dante. All this Royal Highness Prince nonsense was making him crazy. It wasn’t important now, maybe he could bring it up later. No. Later he’d be bound to them and forever bound to this quest and have to accept his royal titles. Shit. He opened his mouth and then quickly shut it, when she spoke again. The way she said pleasure sent his brain spinning in a whole different direction. He suspected she was a virgin, but the twinkle in her eye said if she was she was an extremely willing one and if she wasn’t? Well Dante had never understood the allure of an inexperienced partner. He watched as she and her mother exchanged a look. There it was. He knew it. He comes the damned hammer. As if on cue, Lord Julien went on to offer his daughter for peace, but Dante wasn’t going to take just any woman for his wife. Had he been that man he’d have been married many times over already. “Leave us.” He said abruptly wanting to be alone with the Lady Odessa for a moment. He wanted her honest reaction to him, not what she’d been trained to do. Of course his demand would be the first time in his life he’d ever done anything pompous or highborn.

Olena: The Lord and Lady exited the chamber without question, a brief exchange between mother and daughter showed Davena lacked any doubt in her mind Odessa would be capable of taking on the challenge that was to be her new husband. She remained before him, eyes lowered until the door shut behind her parents, and her chin lifted. “To what do I owe the honor of a private audience, your highness?” She walked from around the desk, nearing closer, but still remaining a respectful distance from his person. The same smirk her that her mother bore now adorned her own face, but her rosy lips were slightly parted, revealing the tips of her small white teeth. She hoped and prayed to The Mother he would not be one to request a favor prior to their joining in the septum. It could be so hard to tell with the noblemen outside her native Reach. Chivalry and honor did not extend as far as one might have hopes, so she was not entirely too surprised he would wish to speak with her alone, granted he could get the words out. In time, sooner rather than later, she would have to learn to better read people for what they wanted, but her gut told her he wouldn’t do anything too rash. After scanning him over, as least obviously as she could manage, she wasn’t so sure she wanted The Mother to grant that prayer…fucking hell he was the most attractive man she had ever in her life lain eyes one, not to mention the tallest.

Judge: He’d startled himself with how quickly the Lord and Lady of the house left. There was no hesitation in their step at all. He wondered if it would be like that when he was king. He wondered if they left so quickly because they thought him a spy and she could kill him with a dagger hidden along the thigh they though he’d be after. He shrugged it off. He wasn’t going to attempt to rip her dress off her coax her into doing it for him and he wasn’t a spy. Nevertheless as she moved around the table in a glide he took a step back, her question lost on him for a moment as his chin lowered and he took her in once more. There was a way about the woman, a very deliberate way of doing things. She was calculating but not cold. She would fare well in court, possibly better than himself and he wouldn’t have to worry that other nobles might intimidate her. His teeth pinched the inside of his lower lip in thought. Requesting for her parents to leave and actually having something to say to the woman once they were gone were two entirely different things and he didn’t have the latter. ‘Breathe you giant idiot and say something before she thinks you’re dumb.’ “How many name days have you seen?” Dante reached up immediately and rubbed his scruffy face from hairline to chin. He needed the presence of all the Gods and their good graces for this.

Olena: “Fourteen, your highness, soon fifteen shortly following the Harvest festival.” She replied without hesitation, edging another step closer as he backed away. She took note of his apparent anxiety, and found it strangely amusing, cute even. “May I ask the same?” She’d seen the king on many occasion, but the two brothers were not to be compared, save for a certain air of nervousness. If the two were joined together, she could see something similar to the relationship of her parents, but she did not think she would find him to be as docile or as easily influenced as was her father to her mother. However, she felt it would be far more interesting to have someone of a more equal standing. She did not care to play the role of the completely-in-charge tyrant wife, the man she married would need to take control..within reason.

Judge: “Eighteen. I’ve just seen my last name day.” And what a day it was. The old maester had flooded the castle of Dragonstone with all the people of the township, the dragonseeds and a few lessor lords of the stone. Man of the smallfolk had never even been close to the great gates much less inside the castle itself. It had been a great day of dancing and music and the castle was full of light and petals and laughter. His first name day celebrated with other people since his seventh. The woman standing before him didn’t seem like a girl of only fourteen. She was clearly wise beyond her years. His cousin Rhaelle had still looked like a boy at fourteen and if she hadn’t sprouted the little buds she called tits and Kainen hadn’t blown past her in height, they’d still think she was a boy. There were ladies in the crownlands that had quite buxom bodies but they had nothing going on in their minds. They stared at him like hungry wolves and giggled when he spoke of nothing. It put him off women for a good while, at least noble women. Whores on the other hand had minds. Shame really. They were learned and couldn’t even read half of them. Dante moved and leaned against the front of her father’s desk, slouching, throwing his long legs out in front of him and crossing his arms over the barrel he called a chest. He was trying to get closer to the ground so he wasn’t towering over her. “Tell me, Lady Odessa, do you want to be queen?”

Olena: She shrugged, remaining where she stood and keeping her hands clasped in front of her waist. “What little girl does not dream of someday becoming queen of the Seven Kingdoms?” She bit her lip for a moment in contemplation of what she might say next. Her parents would never think to dictate her words for her; though, they might try and sway her in one direction more so than another. Her mother had always encouraged her to think for herself, and she knew leaving her to her own resources would certainly place her at an advantage over the other women at court who had never had a thought of their own in this lifetime. She opted for a very direct approach. She would grant him the respect of always telling him the truth, in hopes he would return the same. “Becoming the wife of the next sovereign is no little matter. I’d not want to be the queen of a man who might further the chaos in the other regions not as fortunate as my own. I’d want to see to the welfare of the small folk and improve their living conditions as best as possible, as well as form charitable works to their benefit. The question, Prince Dante Baratheon, is what role would you have me serve as your queen? Granted you have taken the time to approach the matter of our marriage in-private with /me/ you either care very much for my opinion or you care very little. Tell me, would I be your equal in matters of state or your subordinate? What role would you have me to play?”

Judge: Everything was going so well. He read the hesitation in her first words, the typical answer for a Lady speaking in the wake of a potential disaster. She was cunning for sure. Careful and didn’t blurt things out the way he did. He waited with his arms still crossed as she weighed whether to go on or not. When she did, he was happy. Direct, polite, prodding him for information gently enough, but the title lobbed before his named caused his arms to unravel quickly. His right hand smacked the desk with such force the hair line fracture in the wood would be neatly covered by the tapestry that stretched over it. Dante gripped the edge of the table and spoke through gritted teeth. “Lord. I am Lord Dante Baratheon of Dragonstone. I am no Prince and has of this moment I am no king.” Dante took a deep breath, looking down at his boots. “My apologies. I just do not feel much like a Prince.” He looked up at then. “Just call me Dante. As for you question, if I am to do this I need good and loyal people by my side. Honest people with views very different to my so I may weigh every option there ever was or will be. I need a woman by my side that will counsel me honestly, above anyone else because she will be the mother of my children, the whisper in their ears. I want an equal,” He pushed off the desk then, crossing the room to her and looking down, his arms back folded over his chest as he bent at the waist to meet her gaze, “Someone not afraid to fight me.”

Olena: Not wanting to be called a prince? This was most definitely an issue that would require some work. If he were to become king and not wish for them to be referred to as ‘Graces,’ he’d be alone in that sailboat. The way his hands gripped at the table and his near-constant fidgeting made her wonder what bothered him truly. Something lead to this behavior, and if she had her way she’d curtail and channel it before it turned him into a madman like his brother, Alexander. Although, she had no qualms being on a first-name basis with the ‘lord of Dragonstone.’ There was certainly no lack of respect for women, the way the words sang the praises of his wife-to-be. His swift motion across the room, leveling himself to her face, nearly caught her off guard, unsure of what he might do, but she managed to keep calm. Instead she stepped even closer, bringing her face to his own, and touching a hand to his folded arms. “Dante,” she spoke in her usual warm tone of voice, dropping her eyes, “I promise you. You shall never want for…confrontation,” bringing her eyes back up to meet his own, “be it of any variety.”

Judge: He could have leaned in another inch and pressed his mouth over the spout of those honey flavored words that caused a stir in him but he didn’t. Instead he moved back and rose to his full height, letting his arms drop to his sides and cleared his throat again. “Yes. Well…” The way she said his name, so matter of factly, as if she’d always been saying it. He liked it. The sound rang in his ears. Of course he hadn’t missed her innuendos, not by a long shot. Even so, being called Dante took precedent over her verbal tickles to his loins. No one had ever just called him Dante before. Maybe his mother? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even remember what the woman looked like. It didn’t matter. “Tell me honestly then, what do you want in your king?”

Olena: With his withdrawal, she moved her way back to her father’s desk, leaning lightly against it while she contemplated her response. “I think…in a king, I should want a man who is capable of inspiring others. Through his own acts of valor or simply out of his good nature, people are inclined to follow him. A man that sees the needs of the people, and within reason, of course, tries to meet those needs to the best of his ability. The people cannot grow too strong, or they will rise up against him, for power is only power so long as too much knowledge is not brought into light. However, he should also allow culture to flourish and use it to his advantage, not shun if for fear of those around him becoming too enlightened. In times of need, sacrifices will need to be made. A king should weigh out all his options and explore alternative methods before charging ahead with the simplest solution.”

Judge: Dante nodded as she spoke, happy to hear that they shared the same mind set for the most part. He was warming to Lady Odessa Tyrell quite rapidly because he felt her words were true, then again, there was always one. It only took one. Scrubbing his face, Dante turned and looked at the door then back at Odessa. “I enjoy your company, your words, perhaps we’ll share more. But I must go now. I am starving and I’m sure Wise is too. Please tell your Lord Father and Lady Mother that I would return tomorrow morning to finalize our contract, if they would have me.”

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Olena: Having taken her parents the news the day before, arrangements were made for Odessa to rise with the sun and be dressed and ready for the meeting that would be held that morning. A green and white silk gown, embroidered with flowers and lined with gold, was slipped over her body, and she ordered a few of the sweet smelling white flowers from the garden to be placed in her hair, which she worse in a long thick braid down her back. She, followed by a group of four of her lady cousins, walked down the halls to her father’s office on the North Wing. The Lord Chamberlain would motion for her to enter the room where her parents were awaiting. A scribe sat at a side table, quills and ink prepared to write up whatever piece of history occurred therein that day. With a flick of her wrist, the ladies took seats outside the chamber in the receiving room, which was filled with cream colored couches and lounges with jade accent pillows and gold throws all about. The office itself was equally as grand, stone walls encrusted with the golden roses of house Tyrell, and splendidly woven tapestries depicting scenes of the family’s most glorious moments, as well as the joining of Margaery and Edric—another reminder of the centuries-old bond that had been forged between the two houses. Lord Julian sat at the desk, draped in green, and lady Davena to his left adorned a lighter shade. There could be no mistaking who was dealing with who today. A show was everything. Odessa loved the great beauty that being from said house enabled her to have been exposed to. She knew that others, in the North for example, would never live to see something so grand as her daily surroundings, but each and every creature and thing had its place in the world. She bent the knee to her parents, taking the seat at her father’s right hand when he motioned for her to do such.  “See to it that Prince Dante arrives with the greatest discretion. Have him brought in the servants’ gate and escorted up the passageway. Any mistakes made today, and I you shall meet with my extreme displeasure, Lord Chamberlain,” Lady Davena spoke calmly without so much as flinching. She ran a tight ship, and slip ups in Highgarden are what lost people their lives. Neither she nor her family would lose such because a servant could not maintain the level of confidentiality that a servant of a great house needed.

Judge: Dante had slipped out of castle Highgarden with the same discretion that he had come with. He’d fallen asleep with her scent strong in his nostrils still and their conversation loud in his mind. Wise watched him with upside down face until he’d fallen asleep only to bounce on his chest before dawn making this soft hooting sound. No different from the way he was roused every morning, but today was different. Today meant everything that had been planned would live or die today. Today he would take a woman by his side for the rest of his days, tie his life to a family and a throne. Everything was different today. Except his clothes. Like a fool, like a lord who lived in an empty castle he’d forgotten to pack anything formal or useful for such occasions. Shit. How many favors would he ask of the Tyrells before even reaching King’s Landing? He could send Wise back and tell the old Maester to send him clothes with the lesser Lords that were invited to the festival but it seemed ridiculous to stop mid siege, no matter how quiet it was to change clothes that would probably wear blood before the days end anyway. Rubbing his face, Dante rolled from his hard bed to wash his face and hands, it was the best he could do, after chewing mint leaves and washing his mouth out. When he arrived again at the Castle, his horse was taken without a word to the side entrance and his was shuffled in through backways and side passages. Coming into view of the dainty little row of a handmaidens outside the chamber, Dante paused, his hand moving his uncombed hair. When the doors to the office opened and he was met with the sight of Odessa draped in green slight, wearing flowers like The Mother and her parents so well dressed he stopped completely, holding up a hand. “I… Wait…” Turning, he paced away from the door, attempted to dust himself off, shook out his unruly hair and knotted it at the top of his head. He scrubbed his face, pinched his cheeks and gave himself one last dust off before re-entering the room and clearing his throat. “My apologies. I didn’t realize the scribbling of notes was a formal occasion.”

Olena: There was no sound of giggling erupting from the chamber, as would happen if one of the Tyrell brothers had passed through; rather, the handmaidens were stunned into silence. When he entered the chamber one might think Lady Davena had seen a ghost, but she somehow managed to keep the solemn expression, save for the semi-widening of her eyes. Odessa, however, was not unimpressed with the rugged specimen of a man that stood before her. Despite her virtue, she surprised herself with the thoughts that crossed her mind where he was involved. Ever since he departed from her presence the day before, the mere thought of how awkward he seemed to be around her forced the corners of her cheeks to rise, and her to shake her head. His attempt at being serious with her, drawing himself away and crossing his arms, only served to amuse her. She would make the seduction and unwinding of his nervousness a life-goal, and perhaps influence him to change a few lives along the way for the better or worse. Why not?  Julian seemed unmoved by the royal’s attire, his honor blinding him to a fault, more often than not. “You need not apologize, your highness.” He spoke as they all rose and dropped a bow or curtsey at once. “Consider all these things in your honor, a token of our esteem.”

Judge: Dante made a point not to look at the maidens by the door as he entered the chamber fully and under the weight of Lady Davena’s gaze he shied away, even when she curtsied like the rest. The door to the chamber closed once more and Dante nodded to the Lord of the house. “Thank you. It seems in my attempt to be discreet I have forgotten tradition. Though, I must say, there were not many formal occasions in Dragonstone.” Moving to the center of the room, in front of the grand desk, Dante folded his arms to keep from wrapping them around Odessa and squeezing her petite body against his dirty frame. “Lord and Lady Tyrell. I have to take you for your hospitality and the offer of your daughter’s hand. She is quite the woman and I would be proud to have her by my side as my queen. There isn’t much time before the harvest festival, so tell me is there anything else?”

Olena: The lord would motion for the prince’s chair to be brought forward, placing him directly across from the bride-to-be.  They would abide by tradition and remain standing until he opted to take a seat. At his words, pleasant smiles adorned all the faces present in the room, including Davena’s. She had no doubt that Odessa could handle him. The way he looked at her, and the fact that after their private audience from the day before had lead him to these words for her person only served to reassure her. “We should like to move on with the matter as soon as is possible. You shall have the support, both financially and militarily, of the Reach at you beck and call. We have only a select few stipulations which we have arranged to be written on this document for you to review.” Julian paused as his arm extended to place the parchment on the table before Dante, granted one should never directly touch or hand something to a royal without permission or clearance by position in their household or family. “Firstly, we should like the marriage to occur prior to your ascension to the throne Like yourself, we cannot afford to be without guarantee your end of the bargain shall be upheld. Secondly, should anything occur that would render yourself unable to rule, granted the union had produced a suitable heir or heiress, Odessa would be appointed regent.  Thirdly, a member of House Tyrell should be appointed to the King’s council, preferably to the position of Master of Coin—where we feel we might be most useful. For our daughter’s dowry, we offer you one million gold pieces, reduced prices on food in the Crownlands, and a regiment of additional guards set to guard the Red Keep, under the supervision of the Kingsguard. Are there any terms you wish to include as we draw up the contract, or any of our terms which you feel needs discussion?”

Judge: “Please, sit.” Dante said, simultaneously stepping away from the chair that was brought before him. He wasn’t much for sitting. In times like this, he would end up pacing the room anyway. It happened a moment after he took the parchment from the table and began to go over it with his own eyes as Lord Julien spoke its contents. As he read, his head bobbed. Most of the terms were completely agreeable. The dowry took him by surprise but only for a split second after the Tyrells were always flashy. One million gold was not something to shake a parchment at, especially since he had no idea how indebt the crown was. Higher taxes didn’t always mean the crown was well funded. He stopped beside Odessa and tickled her ear with the rolled up parchment in his hand before looked to the Lord and Lady of the house. “These men to be ruled under the Kingsguard, would you have them wear the uniform of the gold cloaks or would your parade your flowers boldly around the court? Or man to join the small council, I would like to meet him. If my queen doesn’t produce an heir before I take my last breath,” He paused there, mulling over his next words carefully. There was no way he’d leave the throne to Kainen in lieu of his own heirs. Leaving the throne to Rhaelle was the same instance as leaving the throne to Odessa. Both women were level headed enough, that he it didn’t seem fair to give it over to Rhaelle simply because he had the name Baratheon. Lastly there was his cousin Azaroth, whom he didn’t know well. What if that one was just as mad as his brother? Hell, what if he was? On that note, Azaroth was supposed to be somewhere within these walls. He made a mental note to speak with him, then continued on, “the kingdom should remain in the hands of my wife.” Looking down at Odessa he half smiled. It was weary almost sad at the thought of leaving her the burden of the throne. “It will be up to you to decide if you will remarry or live out your years as the regent alone. For myself I have only two requests. I would ride with your family to King’s Landing in time for the harvest festival and well… If I could borrow some clothes, it would be much appreciated.”

Olena: The family took their places in the seats, per royal order, ready to hear his opinion on the terms he wished to discuss.  The matter of the guards came up, just as Davena had expected it to; although, she had thoroughly advised Julian well-enough that he was completely aware of all the ins and outs of the situation. “Your highness, it was our hopes that they might simply join the ranks of the castle guard. Not partaking in rounds where they might go out into the city, simply based at the keep to ensure the safety of you and yours. Ensuring the survival of yourself, your queen, and any royal children would be their sole priority. One never knows if the keep may go under siege. The colors of the gold cloaks would be more appropriate, given they will not be bound to service of House Tyrell, but to the crown.” Odessa blushed as the paper brushed against her ear, keeping her eyes raised to meet his own. If he wanted an equal, he’d surely found one in her. All their jaws dropped at the suggestion that the throne would fall to Odessa should he pass. It was a mile beyond what they would ever dream of requesting. She knew her mother was now wondering exactly what it was she did to sway him so greatly, and she expected congratulations as soon as she found her alone. “The honor is…your highness...” Davena stepped in to offer the words he couldn’t find. Politics had never been his strong suit. “You have our thanks, your royal highness. As soon as the scribe has the details drawn up we shall sign and begin preparations to make our way to the Harvest Festival. Odessa. See to the Prince’s wardrobe.” She would obediently rise to follow the last orders she might ever receive from a noble, stepping towards Dante and the door.

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Judge: Dante waved off the Tyrell’s stunned reaction to his comment about Odessa and the throne. “Of course the stipulation is that if she or someone in her company or command is found to have killed me, well… the usual. I doubt that would be the case or I wouldn’t have said what I said. As for the kingsguard and its addition those details will be worked out after the coronation or the marriage, as that will be happening first. Either way. Draw up the papers, I’ll review the wording and it will be signed before we leave and revisited after the coronation. I have to thank you for your hospitality Lord and Lady Tyrell.” When Odessa rose to see him out, his hand stretched out touching the back of her arm with the tips of his fingers. The flowed down the smooth silk of her dress to her elbow and further until her tiny hand was dwarfed by his palm alone. A smile cracked his face before he curled his hand around hers, leaving her fingers draped over his own so his thumb could brush her hand as they moved. “Before I’m forced to change, will you take me to see my cousin, Azaroth?” That boy would be about fifteen now, but the last time Dante had seen him he was child no taller than his knee. They didn’t know much about each other but Azaroth was family and Dante had very little family to be close too. Besides, from this moment on, he was either walking to his doom or leaving the isolation of Dragonstone forever. If he were to live, he needed all the family he had beside him.

Olena: Chills flooded up her arm and to her neck at the caress of his hand against the thin silk of her sleeve. Thankfully the front of the gown was padded otherwise one might be under the impression that her ladyship had just stepped into Winterfell. She draped her hand lightly across his own, allowing him to escort her from the room, marveling at how petite he truly made her feel. His touch, however light, was hundreds of times stronger than that of her own, and she prayed to the gods he would not break her. She didn’t fear him, but she certainly was not foolish enough to underestimate what he could do. Although, she felt for certain, he’d have no intentions of hurting her. At the mention of his cousin, her family’s ward, her ears pricked. A slight discomfort filling her belly, but she felt comfortable in the knowledge that Azaroth had been ‘round long enough to be fully aware that Davena would see to it that his body nor Odessa’s would ever be found, and Highgarden would throw them a splendidly glamorous memorial service at the Starry Sept itself. Thankfully enough, it was only a kiss… “Of course, Dante.” She had told herself that she would always be honest with him, but she thought fit to save that bit of information until after the birth of her firstborn son. “Ladies,” she nodded as they passed through her father’s office receiving chamber, as they all rose and dropped curtsies, following in procession, ten paces behind them for their privacy. She led him down the halls to the West wing of the castle, which would soon allow them to pass through the double doors into the training yard where the Master at Arms trained with her brothers and the Baratheon ward.

Acheron: Ser Anthony Crane, Castellan to the Tyrell family, and possibly one of the finest Knights in the Reach shook his head with disappointment as lifted his arms to fold them over his broad chest. “Enough lad, you aren’t practicing your technique anymore. I’ve told you time and time again that if you don’t put forward all your strength your skill will go to waste. There’s no point in striking the perfect spot if you lack the force to penetrate the armor or sink the sword in far enough.” The old Knight watched on, he knew from watching the young Baratheon Lord for years how much he tried to keep his nature at bay, even in times of stress or anger he would rarely let loose. The old Knight had seen too many men fell to their inner beast and he was determined that Azaroth wouldn’t walk that path. In the middle of the courtyard that was usually filled with other trainee Knights, young lords in training and even maidens on the side lines watching those growing men, Azaroth Baratheon pulled a large training sword over the ground, etching small lines into the stone as words from Ser Anthony cut through his mind. The sword he held was indented, jagged edges with small pieces of the metal missing from the blade, all in all it looked like a large slab of metal instead of a proper sword, but it had done him to this day and he wouldn’t change it until it was no longer usable. Azaroth wiped the sweat off his forehead using the back of his hand, fingers pushing up into his hair that had grown longer than he liked it being but it wouldn’t be long before it was cut once more and he’d be back to not having to worry about hair in eyes or styling it every morning that he woke. Even though it was only mid-morning the sun was high in the sky, a gentle breeze from the Mander river kept his body from over-heating but it didn’t do much to stop the oiled looking substance that coated his upper body. Like most days the young lord wasn’t wearing a shirt, infact the only clothing that he had on were boots and trousers that weren’t too heavy and easily acceptable to train in. Raising the sword in both hands Azar aimed towards the large training dummy in front of him and continued his exercises, arms already burning from the previous strikes that he’d been doing from before the sun lined the sky but his freakishly bright blue eyes still filled with determination. Each strike was filled with knowledge that Azaroth had gained over his eight years of being in Highgarden. Each strike to the dummy being one that could kill a man in a single blow, each stance something he’d practiced thousands of times and all of this was evident by his body and form.

Judge: Choosing Highgarden as the last place to visit prior to King’s Landing was turning out to be both unnerving but decent practice. In Dragonstone the only person that followed him around was the old maester. Though he was uncomfortable being flocked by a gaggle of maidens, it was good practice. If he did succeed in taking the throne, he’d be followed by kingsguard and her handmaidens when she accompanied him around. Vaguely he remembered the days of walking through the Red Keep with his mother and her hand maidens. Odessa led him out to the training yard where his cousin would be and he hadn’t taken much notice to her falter when he asked for the younger Baratheon. None of that mattered much to him. For a man that was about to take the Seven Kingdoms from a mad man that would likely either charge him head first and try to strangle him, or have him burned alive, or tormented then beheaded, Dante didn’t really sweat the little things. It was one of the reasons he decide to leave Odessa as regent even if he died. If she did poison him and take the throne for herself, that sin wasn’t his. All he really wanted to do was lead Westeros onto a better horizon and part of that would begin with not stripping a perfectly capable woman of what she’d been given just because she wasn’t born sharing his name or he lacked the fortitude to carry on his line. When they stepped out into the training yard, Dante turned to Odessa and lifted her hand to his lips. “You may stay with me if you like, or I will come and find you later.” Waiting for her response he turned and looked out into the yard. It wasn’t hard to find his cousin. The only boy there with hair as black as tar and board as a ship’s side, though he’d yet to fill out, had to have been his cousin. Dante watched as he attacked the training dummy over and over again, not wanting to move from his spot until Odessa decided her actions.

Olena: Growing up a highborn lady, daughter of a Great lord and of a Tyrell at that, she was well-accustomed to being followed or constantly in the presence of another. Thankfully, one had to option to be alone with family at least, and she had found that being alone with her husband-to-be was a welcome change. They would be alone together a great many nights to come. A king and queen were always given separate chambers, but if a queen were fortunate enough, her husband might forsake his bed-chamber almost completely if his wife could manage to enchant him well enough. There, no one save for the two were allowed to behold one another’s graces in the flesh, save for the night or morning attendants. It was often in said place the two would speak and advise one another on matters of state from the day or discuss family matters, in addition to the production of heirs; however ,all depended on the trust that was placed between the two. Some royal marriages amounted to nothing beyond the line of succession, and others were on fully equal terms—it depended upon the individuals. Nearing the courtyard, as the doors parted, her eyes immediately fell on Dante’s younger cousin preparing for future warrior activity. The sweat glistening on his body, and the lack of a shirt made her turn her face to Dante immediately. The two were so much alike, but also so very different. Something about Dante seemed to soothe her, a peace and comfort that was unsettling all the same—in a good way. Azaroth, on the other hand was all fire and indomitable, appealing but infuriating all the same. During the upcoming encounter, she thought it best to oversee her interests. She, like her mother, would not be crossed in a matter concerning royal marriage. “I should like to remain with you…always.”

Acheron: Even with the heaviest of blows the wooden dummies placed around the courtyard stood their territory, they were made specially to be used for years before they’d break or give in to their daily beatings. With each swing from the young Lord his dummy began to shake more and more, each precise attack hitting somewhat harder than the last as the words of Ser Anthony strung tight in his mind. Was it true that he couldn’t amount to much if he didn’t give into the man inside, or could he forge his own path without relying on physical strength alone? Azaroth had always admired the way his elder brother could down a man with a single punch, hell he knew if his brother went up against a raging bull chances are the bull would end up more damaged than his sibling. Then there was Rhaelle, a woman who refused to be a Lady, her strong will bowed to no one and her physical prowess wasn’t something to be laughed at either. Yet he wasn’t as strong in the mind as his sister, nor was he overpowering like his brother, many a time Azaroth found himself wondering where he fit in with the family but the only answers he ever seemed to find were ones that pushed him further away from being a Baratheon and only made him fear his bloodline and the beasts it created. “Lad…Lad…AZAROTH.” The young lord came out of his trance like state when the sound of his name cut the current thoughts to pieces, as his freakishly blue eyes fell onto the training dummy he found it torn, broken with large cracks all over the body and attached head rolling slowly across the courtyard. “I, I’ll clean it up at once.” Ser Anthony unfolded his arms from his broad chest and brought his hand down on Azar’s shoulder, a friendly gesture from a caring man who had trained the boy for just over eight years. “Take the day lad, and try not to get caught up in head too much, you need to learn to control what’s in there and not let it control you.” A simple nod was given to the Knight as he turned, sword still in hand, a rather tensed hand at that with white knuckles from his hardened grip. The first thing to cross his sight was a rather tall man, someone just as tall as his brother and didn’t look that different either, except maybe missing a few scars on his face...Azar caught his breath for a second as his eyes followed the outlined shape of the two holding hands and started heading towards them, his hues flickered over Odessa for the slightest of moments as he stepped closer to the couple. His voice was no louder than it needed to be for the two in front of him to hear, and even though he spoke in a questioning tone he was pretty certain of who this man was. “Dante?”

Judge: Hearing Odessa’s decision to remain with him, Dante smiled and kissed her knuckles once more. He kept her hand in loose grip of his own large digits as Azaroth approached them. The young Baratheon’s single utterance sparked a dual reaction in him. Initially he was somewhat offended to be spoken to so informally. While he didn’t consider himself a prince, he was a Lord and that alone commanded some sort of respect. If Azaroth had any idea who he was, which he obviously did, proper address was in order. On the other hand, it was nice not to be seen as daunting; some high born fool who couldn’t be spoken to like a man. The latter idea stuck with him as he nodded. From his tone, Dante decided the young knight in training saw him as family above all titles and noble dictation. It was nice to feel like family. “Hello, Azaroth.” He said, keeping his voice low as well. “Walk with us, cousin, so I may pick your brain for a moment.”

Olena: She smiled warmly as his soft lips touched at her dainty hand, sending a blush to highlight her pale cheeks in just moments. She followed suit, trekking down the steps and into the courtyard behind her royal fiancé. “Lord Azaroth,” she nodded, lifting an eyebrow at the blatant informality. She felt for him in that moment, but thankfully his cousin had the good graces to turn a blind eye to the matter overall. She prayed to the mother what matters had occurred in the past would remain there for a long time to come. She scanned about, checking to see if any of her brothers were present at that moment, but they had only come to find Azar and their family’s Castellan. “Ser Anthony, if you’d excuse your pupil for just a moment.” The master-at-arms offered the lady a bow before dismissing himself from their presences.

Brute: As far as introductions were concerned the conversation was rather quick, though there was still a spark of interest behind Azaroth’s eyes. As they moved off and left the other knights in training behind along with the Castellan the younger Baratheon pulled his jacket over his previously exposed torso but made no attempts to button it up for the heat was already on the threshold of what he found comfortable. Around the backend of the castle it wasn’t long before the three vanished to a spot where they were seemingly alone, no one else in sight and no stray ears to listen to whatever matter brought his cousin here and intertwined his life together with Odessa’s. Azaroth finally came to a stopping point and turned to face his cousin, Dante’s freckled features, bright blue eyes and Baratheon jawline was a clear sign of his bloodline, a bloodline that since birth he’d been raised to put above all other things. “You seek to pick my brain dear cousin, but I’m afraid unless you’re searching for a few tips on wielding a sword there isn’t much else I’m overly useful for.” Azaroth was perhaps cutting himself a little short, of course for half his life he’d been trained to strike a man down with a sword, but similar to myths of men he was a man who wore many faces.

Judge: As Azaroth’s stride slowed and stopped, Dante’s did as well. He drew Odessa’s hand in front of his body, idly playing with her fingers. This was perhaps the first time he’d spoken with Azaroth, for the last time they’d shared the same space the boy couldn’t have been older than five. Now he was a man. A shrug lifted his massive shoulders, eyes rolling toward the sky where the clouds had begun to gather, blotting out the light. The air smelt of rain and flowers and though she was in his presence the scent made him think of Odessa. Lowering his chin, Dante’s eyes swept the area around them. He wasn’t worried about who might hear them speaking, but it didn’t much matter since there was no one visible in their current range. Since he’d begun this endeavor to murder his older brother, he’d been warned several times of discretion and to be aware of his surroundings. To never trust a soul. Rhaelle had said it even before they’d begun to plan and like an echo of his cousin, the old maester had rung in his ears almost every day since. A frown flickered across his broad features, then faded as his attention centered on his young cousin. “Even a man who focuses on the swing of his sword realizes the politics that dictate those swings. How long have you been here, in the care of house Tyrell?”

Olena: Odessa delighted in the warmth of her hand pressed in Dante’s, allowing the grip to ease the anxiety that the upcoming conversation proved to bring her. She nodded yet another bow of greeting to the former boy…now man, that served in her household as her family’s ward, and followed the two as they walked to a more private area to discuss whatever matters the prince saw as worthy of being talked about with his younger cousin. Once they engaged one another in conversation she opted to remain silent until she was called upon to offer something to the exchange, and to be sure it went in a favorable direction for her father’s house. If the wrong thing was said, and Dante were to take the matter thee wrong way it could cost house Tyrell very dearly. Such would also likely be the last thing that ever escaped the lips of the young stag. She made an effort to keep her eyes lowered and off of the sweaty glistening form of Azar, for nothing good could ever come of a queen allowing her eyes to wander upon that of another, lest it possibly inspire jealousy in the man that was her lord husband and king.

Brute: Azaroth smiled lightly at the words from his elder cousin and as he continued on to ask about how long he’d been living in Highgarden Azaroth thought back a second. If the numbers in his head added up, which they did, he had spent over half his life in Highgarden, after all he’d been sent there younger than most at the age of seven. Azaroth’s eyes flicked back to the present and focused on his cousin. “I’m afraid blood from politics will never coat any blade I wield, rather I’d protect a man’s life over the gold or interest of another…Whether he be of high station or not.” Perhaps these were the views of a man fresh into adulthood, most likely fantasies about saving men, protecting maidens and being known as a hero flowed through his mind, atleast that’s what most people thought when they heard the young Baratheon speak. “Eight birthdays I’ve lived in Highgarden, only returning home for the more important things happening in the family.” At his own words Azaroth felt a hint of shame, yet even the smallest of hints would have been noticeable in his eyes, even if he knew his sister had done what was best for him after all these years there was still the absence of family in his life; an absence perhaps both present Baratheons had in common.

Judge: At his cousin’s words, Dante gave a soft sigh. If only he could live in that delusion. In a world where heroes were just heroes, but what were heroes without monsters and mad kings? His fingers flexed for a moment around Odessa’s delicate hand. Heroes and maidens. Love stories. Kings and Queens. Monsters and madness. And the world goes ‘round. Nodding, almost absently, Dante cleared his throat. “I used to wish for that. In time, cousin, you’ll see that nothing you do solely for your own pleasure. Every man you bleed, will be in the name of something bigger.” He turned then, away from Azaroth’s fresh face, from the face of a man that had known only the love and understanding of his sister and possibly much of his family. Odessa’s little hand shifted to another of his, lost in the length of his worn fingers. He patted her hand. Something about the feel of her skin made even memories of being thrown out of the Red Keep like bucket of shit easier to remember. He was going back there now, to murder his brother in warmth of the summer sun amidst a festival of good harvest. He couldn’t bring himself to ask this boy, unwashed in the blood of violence and politics, to follow him into that great hall. “Eight namedays. That’s quite a bit.” His gaze swung to Odessa then, brightening a bit around the edges, “Do the Tyrells throw lavish parties? I’ve heard stories. The entirety of the Reach rejoices.”

Olena: Lost in her train of thought she startled a bit at his sudden turn to her. Her mind had begun counting the ways he might explode or end the possible alliance over her one little mistake with the younger Baratheon brother; however, she did take heart in the fact that it had not extended into the loss of her maidenhead. The men of house Tyrell were not the only ones who had the deeply ingrained sense of honor, and for a lady of such youth to give up her once chance of becoming something so great, given she was not even permitted to ride horseback no one would believe otherwise. Once she regained herself, and began to comprehend what he had just asked her it was like a light hit her face, “Yes, of course. The harvest festivals inspire everyone to come together and rejoice for the gods’ plentiful blessing. There is an abundance of sweet golden wines and breads to go around. Music fills the streets and great-halls alike. Man, woman, child, and elder alike all take part in the revelries.” Her cheeks were growing flushed from both the excitement and slight-embarrassment, “My family holds grand celebrations every year in accordance with the tradition.”

Brute: Maybe it was just in his mind but Dante seemed to be thrown off course after he had answered him in honest. After he responded to Azaroth and swung around to meet the gaze of Odessa Azaroth’s eye brow arched slightly, had the conversation so easily changed to parties that Dante had overlooked the statement of picking Azaroth’s brain. Or perhaps the picking off the brain was to do with parties and such, and with how Dante’s fingers danced around Odessa’s hand chances were this was to be a wedding party of sorts. Azaroth’s eyes flickered from the bulk of his cousin to the flushed cheeks of Odessa, clearly not wandering away from the affection of the torn prince, after her speech about the Tyrell celebrations each year Azaroth couldn’t help but agree with her words, though there were still some shadows in the background of the story. “Was picking my brain all to do with parties, or perhaps there was something else on your mind, cousin?”

Judge: Absent-minded, the old maester had always scolded him for flitting to subject to subject like a butterfly. In truth, though, he often changed subject when a single notion drew him to darker corners of his mind making him seem fickle. Head craning slightly, he watched as Odessa jumped to attention and sputtered to answer him. “Where did you go just now, little flower?” He asked, releasing her hand to draw the weight of his fingers in a whisper across the softness of her cheek. “I offered to let you be free of the boring conversations of men and you turned me down.” His thumb patted her lower lip affectionately then found its way between his own lips as Azaroth spoke up. Another shrug hefted his shoulders. “Parties, accommodations, people. I haven’t had the pleasure of your company, dear Azaroth. The last time I saw you, you were no taller than my knee and stuck to your sister like a grotesque appendage.” He mused for a moment, still sucking his thumb like a child, but it had the taste of Odessa on it. “You seem like a straight forward young man, but aren’t we all? The way of the stag. Tell me, what do you think of House Tyrell?”

Olena: Her flush spread to her chest as his finger touched at her lip. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one charming him? Or was she? As his digit pulled away she bit at the lip and lowered her eyes as her cheeks spread with a smile, “I do apologize, your highness. My mind tends to wander from time to time. The female mind is a complex thing.” She tucked her arm more firmly into his own, enjoying the warmth he radiated, in spite of the heat around them form the warm summer day. “The squabble of women bores one should they listen too long. I feel that I shall find myself rather immersed in the conversations of solely men soon enough. One might as well get all the practice she can while the company is so worth having.” She looked up at his eyes, breaking protocol, but necessarily so; however, his attention had already turned to the other stag, and her golden orbs followed suit. If he fucked up in this moment, she swore to herself it would cost him his life and likely her own when her mother found out.

Merc: ‘The way of the stag’, Dante’s words bounced around in his head for what seemed like many days when in reality it was mere seconds, the question that followed that one statement was a rather straight forward one but it would lead to such complicated answers. In the moment between the words leaving Dante’s lips and them finding Azaroth’s ears he couldn’t help but catch from the corner of his eyes the sight of Odessa finally changing her view to him. As he thought back on days spent in the court yard training, or even swimming in the clear waters around he couldn’t recall a time where the eyes weren’t on him, Odessa’s included. Being a Baratheon even though Azaroth was only fifteen years old he was still taller and built better than most years older than he, the Baratheon curse of height and body was something he’d come to love about his bloodline, though there were quite a few things he found himself disliking about that same bloodline. Azaroth’s answers were already in his head, what did he think of house Tyrell? Well Dante was in for a surprise or two at the very least. “If you want a pick a pretty flower then there’s no greater place than Highgarden, all the flowers have been kept well, trimmed, watered and of course always delightful to look at. Most people outside of the Reach tend to whisper about the Matriarchy that is the Tyrell family and from my time here there’s no doubt it’s true. The men may be brave and honourable but they’re ruled and commanded by their wives; who I’ve heard in a whisper keep their husbands well fed with poison so that if they ever dared not come home they wouldn’t receive the antidote.” Azaroth took a breath in the middle of his views and news of the Tyrell family, though he was far from done talking to his cousin about it, and even though the youngest Tyrell was right there, her presence wasn’t enough for him to hold his tongue. “Every now and then a man tries to pick a flower not intended for himself and when that happens people tend to disappear from Highgarden, delicate flowers come at a price and the Lady of the house is the one who deems that price; or so it seems. Waking up in a tavern with one or two squires missing and noble girls not seen around the castle anymore is rather evident of the goings on. The Tyrell’s are of course a high born family though whether it is friend, foe or family one should always consider them dangerous.” It was yet another moment for Azaroth to take in a breath, though it was over before anyone got a moment to interject. “As for the lovely Odessa, she’s quite the rare flower to be plucked; I myself was rather intoxicated by her charms and tender smile to the point of pursuit and capture. Though I will admit it didn’t go any further than a heated kiss and some touching.” It was all out in the open and he’d done nothing but tell the truth, though he knew when word reached the Lady of the house he was bound to end up in some kind of trouble.

Olena: Her grip on Dante’s hand steadied and grew firmer, it would seem with each word that passed through the lips of the younger stag. He was blessed by the gods in that moment that her mother was nowhere within earshot or he’d have been struck through the chest with an arrow the moment he stated that the women of the Reach kept their husband’s dosed with poisons. She, however, found nothing offensive in the statement. She and every other resident within a hundred miles of The Reach knew exactly who kept the region thriving, and its industry booming. Exports were at an all-time high, and the cash flow had practically made them untouchable. In the office they had only just departed a mountain of gold was piled in the corner, and it was not by her father’s cunning that it had made its way there, it was her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her. She knew there was nothing she could say or do at this point to stop the words from flowing, and her fiancé needed to learn one way or the other that her family was not one to cross under any circumstances. Even the prince’s own brother knew not to push ‘Lord Julian Tyrell/Lady Davena’ entirely too hard, lest the retaliation be too much to bear and their forces overwhelm them. She was very much her mother’s daughter, and in many respects she knew she would follow in her footsteps in her approach to getting her way with her husband, until Azaroth made one final point…one which she had prayed he’d never dared to utter, yet he did. She blanched, the porcelain complexion lighter now than that of the silks of her gown. Her spine stiffened, and she found herself unable to move, unable to free her hand from its grasping that of her intended’s. Her golden eyes cut daggers into Azaroth, the betrayal more than she thought she might be able to handle. With just a few words the fool could have possibly disrupted an entire alliance, or even cost her life by way of the imposing figure of the man she had only moments before been promised to in holy matrimony, or that of the woman who had given her the breath of life itself—her mother. She regretted acting upon her lust more than anything in that moment, perhaps hypocritical, but she knew that she had behaved impulsively and such things could cost a woman of her social standing her entire reputation. Granted she survived the occasion long enough to make it back inside the keep, she’d see to it that it cost him. She trembled lightly, with emotions which she could not differentiate from anger, hatred, betrayal, or fear. “How could…why?” she could just but mouth the words. “Azaroth.”

Judge: The air hung heavy with silence that seemed to last an eternity as they stood in the solitude of a garden patch just off the training yard. Suddenly as if lancing the air with his words, Azaroth let loose a barrage of words that that caused Odessa to vice his hand. Her fingers, tiny and delicate as they were, began to press down on his own, worn digits with such pressure and force it gave him flashbacks of Kainen’s handshakes. She was mortified at the boldness of younger cousin but those same words pierced Dante’s otherwise placid features with a pleasant grin. Half through the speech, Dante began to free his fingers from the vice of his betrothed’s hand. He kept her fingers in the unworn grip of his other, and flexed the near broken ones, with a light laugh. His laughter grew to uproarious heights, sure to cast eyes upon them, as Azaroth went on to talk about sharing a kiss with, and the heated groping of Odessa. He near doubled over, his hand never releasing her own for fear she’d run back to the keep. Righting himself Dante pulled Odessa into his chest, brushing his hand across her rosy cheeks, “What a sweet flower you are to have all the bees buzzing about her your head. My sweet has a thing for Baratheon men then, I see.” His deep blue eyes sparked teasingly. He brought her closer, loping his arms around her tiny waist and stared over her head at Azaroth. “How were they cousin? The lips of my intended? As sweet, soft and venomous as I suspect? How much longer do you expect to live past this discussion of ours?” Another laugh rumbled through his barreled chest, the scent of the flowers in Odessa’s hair flooded his nostrils, drawing his face into her hair for a moment before he looked back to his cousin. “Thank you for cementing my interest. Her mother peeked my interest. I don’t mind a little danger in my bed.” And he didn’t. It was better to have the danger in his bed, than at his back. There was no way to survive King’s Landing without a bit of deception and cruelty. Dante wanted a woman much like the woman her mother had presented to herself to be, sharp, quick witted, political. Azaroth had done nothing more than cement his thoughts and feelings about the family and the flower he’d plucked. Her certain indiscretions didn’t faze him. He had no feelings towards her acts as she seemed to be visceral disturbed by the presumed consequences. There would be no consequences for her or his cousin. Asking a straight forward question and receiving one was rare for anyone of noble birth. This may very be his last. He wanted to enjoy it, and not be swept with the guilt of what her mother might do.

Merc: Clearly it took a couple of minutes for his words to sink into the two people in front of him, well maybe more so Odessa than Dante because by the time Azaroth stopped speaking he was laughing like a madman, perhaps he and his brother had that in common. By the time Odessa asked why he couldn’t help but shrug lightly, it was rather simple to Azaroth, his cousin had asked a question and he’d answered it as honestly and precise as he knew how, even if that hurt her family or himself he didn’t really care. While Dante spoke up towards Odessa and then questioned the lips of his intended Azaroth once again rolled his shoulders into a shrug. “They taste like lips.” Again, truthful and to the point. The young Baratheon’s back straightened when his cousin brought up the impending topic of how long he expected to live beyond the conversation but yet again this was answered simply by the young stag. “So long as I watch the food I eat, keep my back to a wall and hold a sword in my hand I don’t believe I’ll be leaving this world anytime soon.” Was Azaroth aware of what would happen when the Lady Tyrell found out about the conversation? Of course, though it would never shape the choice he made or the man he was and at the end of the day he would have rather died for being who he was rather than living a life as someone lacking the courage to be themselves. “Should I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding to Odessa, or was there something else you wanted to discuss, Cousin?”

Olena: She was once again at a loss for words as Dante took the firmer grip of her hand and doubled over in laughter. As she regained her senses, wanting to hide her face in shame, she found herself unable to move once more; although, now from the pull he had on her hand. She’d be forced to await the humiliation that was to follow, but she was swooped up in his arms before she was quite sure what was even happening. Was he mocking her? Was he teasing her? He still referred to her as his betrothed…His lips were so very close to her own, and she called upon all the strength that her body possessed not to slam hers into his and quell this conversation before it continued on any further. His stating that her mother had sparked his interest and that he wasn’t afraid to invite danger into his bed seemed to knock the weight of the bolder of dread straight off her shoulders, rushing in strange feelings of relief and something familiar….desire? Her hands found themselves resting upon his biceps to support herself in his grasp, as his height lifted her, and crushed any lift the gown might lend her. As Azaroth answered the question regarding how much longer he thought his life may extend beyond the conversation, and she once again cut her eyes to him. Despite the relief that flooded her, she was reminded in that moment of the trust she had once borne the young stag. She allowed a scoff to escape the lips he had named as so very general. “There are some things facing forward and holding a sword will not save you from, my lord. Every man lowers his blade at some point, and as for your food, be careful not to bite the hand that feeds you too hard. It’s Reach is rather large.”

Judge: This cousin was quite funny, he had a flat view of life like his sister and but was more talkative than Rhaelle and Kainen combined. An asset to keep close at hand, though between his soon to be and her mother, his cousin may expire before he could serve any real purpose. Another chuckle murmured through him meeting Azaroth’s response to the taste of her lips. While he heard him continue about living, Dante found himself staring at her flushed face and small mouth. They cut into a thin line of irritation as she stared daggers to his cousin. Her threat was palpable and very real and bold. She’d been mortified to hear him speak of their adolescent fumbling, but there was no quiver in her voice to threaten in life in front of his blood. He could have struck her down there, verbally or physical. He could have castrated her words for speaking to his family with such aggression but it wasn’t his style. Besides, it didn’t matter to him if they squabbled to the end of time so long as they never actually each other. They were going to have to live with one another to some degree because he was blood and she was going to be wife. As the thought struck him, his arms went slack, letting her flutter to the ground like a petal in the wind. His arms folded over his board chest, Dante regarded the two of them for a long moment. “Come now, there is really no need for threats and hostile reprieve. We are just speaking plainly. Let’s have peace between us. You two should kiss…”A chuckle was already breaching his lips,”and make up.” Bursting into laughter again, he reached for Odessa, lest she storm away. No doubt she had a line, he just wasn’t sure how close to it he was, or how close to a poisoned goblet of wine on their wedding day, but he was fast approaching a grand like for this danger in his bed.

Merc: It didn’t take long for the inevitable threat to come pouring out of her average lips, as more words left them he remained stationary, though the corner of his lips lifted slightly into a daring smirk. Unlike what she may have thought Azaroth wasn’t afraid of dying, whether that came at the end of a sword or with a poisoned loaf of bread. It was her comment on biting a hand that feeds you that made him laugh lightly, nowhere near as loud as his cousin though…Who moments later threw out the oddest suggestion he had heard ever since the boys of the Reach wanted to stand behind walls and masturbate together. Azaroth shook off the odd moments from his history in the Reach and at the same time disregarded the offer from his cousin. “I’ll pass dear cousin; I find only the prettiest of flowers are worth taking a second look at it.” Azaroth gripped the hilt of the large training sword and lifted the tip of the blade from the ground until it was rested against his shoulder, fingers still firmly holding onto the hilt. As he took a step forward towards the castle he stopped for a second, now in line with the young Lady of the house. “I would never try to bite any hand that has fed me; after all it’s always made more sense to go straight for the throat.” A couple of seconds he let his words linger in the air, though no more would pass before Azaroth intended to head for the insides of the castle.


Olena: With his release her velvet slippers made contact with the ground, and her hands went to smooth the creases in her gown, using the back side for a lady never grabbed at her gowns with her palms. She was aware that making the threat openly in front of Dante had been a risky move, but clearly family was able to speak openly in front of him. ‘Plainly,’ as he said, and though she was not yet family, she would soon enough be his closest of such. From her womb would come for the life which he’d place inside her, and those lives alone would be candidates for the Iron throne. She’d defend her children with her life, a silent vow she made to herself now, seeing that any trust she had once held for her betrothed’s other relations were no more. Anything or one that stood in their way would find a thorn of the Tyrell rose shoved into his or her side, left to fester until it ate away at all they held dear. Not as amused by the following joke, she simply held her ground, not pulling away from his hand nor drawing any nearer. This one would have much to learn if he wished to be king, but she took him for a quick enough study. He would either sink or swim, give or take her assistance. “Alas, my lips are now promised elsewhere. My lady mother would be…greatly displeased; though, I’m sure it wouldn’t rival my own displeasure.” She chuckled, hearing Azaroth’s departing remark, and smirking. “Indeed, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for future reference where you’re concerned.” Death would be the easy way out; rather, she’d prefer to let him savor the occasion for as long as he’d hold out.

Judge: Laughter eased out of him, returning his outward appearance to that of a man lost in gloom. The simple pleasures were so quickly overtaken but harsh lights of reality. As he watch the exchange between his cousin and intended, his chest pulled tight. Dragonstone may have and rain washed, desolate little rock with no pretty scene to offer a softened view of the world but at least the people there could take a joke. The closer he drew to the Iron Throne the more somber he became and the more lighted moments were escape his grasp. There was no changing the animosity his question had brought between former infatuated children. He had much bigger problems to be presented with from this day forth. The squabbles of others over something so ridiculous as a kiss was not something he had much room in his heart or mind for. Though he prayed their feud would die in time without taking one of them with it, as the conversation drifted to a close, so did Dante’s interest in the entire matter. As Azaroth moved away from the small grouping of their bodies, Dante’s hand slipped free of Odessa, no longer worried to see her run away. “I should return to your father and finalize the documents with him. If you are not too incredibly upset with me, would you be so kind as to prepare some affects for our trek to the capital?”

Olena: She paid her former dalliance little heed as he made his way back into the castle, her attention drifting back to the now-somber faced prince. It pained her to some extent to see his face so deprived of joy so quickly, but she was sure that this was only a sample of the things he might see in King’s Landing and much less extreme. She was well-aware that the conversation between herself and Azaroth was not the most kindly, and he would be needed at a later date as a cousin to her lord husband; however, like Azaroth would soon need to do, she began placing a certain distance between herself and those that were not to be members of the immediate royal family. If their own kinsmen could not hold their tongues respectfully so when she was only a lady, what would guarantee such when she was queen. They could not be mistaken for the equals of others. Once the other was gone, her expression softened, and she once more took the hand that had grasped hers own only seconds before, and placed her lips upon it. “I’m not upset with you. Only with myself.” She’d lift her other hand to touch at his cheek if he’d let her. “I shall make the proper arrangements as you wish.”

Judge: Somber moments and silence allowed his mind to wander, often to dark places that deepened the lines about his eyes and along his brow. All of this dissipated rather quickly whenever his little flower wanted his attention. Standing a foot and a bit above her, his chin pulled in, eyes drifting downward and onto her face. Her color had returned to that soft blush pink, the steam of the moment gone. So easily did the world seem to fade beyond her. It would be easy to forget everyone and everything once they were bound to each other under the light of the Seven or whatever gods she took. Personally he had no stake in the gods. He believed them absentee parents to wayward children. She could take the Seven, she could take the Old or she could take the black for all he cared, so long as they took the throne together. A grimace took his face at the thought of the throne. Despite knowing her for only a few days, he knew she would frown at the thought of melting down the throne and burning down the Red Keep. A dream he often had. However a bigger part of him needed to bring light back into the keep in order to bring peace and order back to Westeros. His eyes didn’t break from her face as she took his hand, her own reaching up for his. He bent bring the stubble of scruff covered cheek into the tiny palm of her hand. “Why would you be upset with yourself?”

Olena: She sighed, daring only admit her folly to this one man ever again for the rest of her life. “A moment’s weakness may very well cause a lifetime’s discontent.” She ran her fingers across the stubble, seemingly touched that he’d bend down to take her caress. Her fingers would trace the outline of his strong Baratheon chin. “I enjoyed seeing you laugh, even in spite of the conversation. You have a lovely smile Dante. Don’t let me cause otherwise.” She’d raise the knuckles to her mouth once more before she’d prepare to depart from where they stood. There was so much to be made ready. The fabrics for her and her ladies’ gowns had all been prepared for the long journey ahead of them. It would no doubt take them two weeks to arrive at Kings Landing, partly by barge, and the rest via carriage or horseback.  She would set to making sure garments suitable for a king were organized for him and stored away.

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Olena: Soft summer winds blew across the flower-laden grounds of Highgarden, filling the keep with the delicate aroma of roses and honeysuckle, most unlike the harsh-scent of the capital, but similar in that both could be smelt from miles away. Things never seemed to move quickly in a land where time itself seemed to stand still in admiration of the splendor surrounding everything as far as the eye could see. From the highest of the high to the lowest of the low, prosperity flowed in abundance, and select few wanted for food to eat or clean water to drink, the land nourished by the neighboring river Mander. Lords and ladies of the Reach walked arm-and-arm through the winding mazes of beauty, exchanging bits of gossip and flowery treachery; although, none that was said went unnoticed by the high lords and ladies of the keep, for even the plants themselves had ears, so it seemed. The presence of an honored and secret guest would remain such even if he were to walk openly through the streets of Oldtown, granted one placed much value on the life-giving air in their lungs—such a precious thing, yet so easily taken for granted. The Warden of the South’s youngest child stood before a mass of the finest fabrics and select golden chains weighed down with jewels to signalize status and importance, seemingly planning what some might call a wardrobe, others—a rebellion. Her small group of handmaidens helped her to spread them about so she might have a better vantage point once the one who would be wearing them arrived. Only moments before, her page had been sent to the chambers of the castle meant to house visiting royalty, and to rouse the sleeping stag prince from his dreams. It had taken most of the morning for the young lady to sort through the cloths and decide which she would dress her bridegroom in as he took on the burden that was the governing of the seven kingdoms. A man could claim to rule anything he so desired, but if he neither looked nor acted the part, the people would lose faith in him. Every ride a person of high-standing took through a common square, they put on a show for those beneath them to see. Well-dressed lords and ladies, kings and queens, were a reflection of the might and majesty of the land which they governed. Some saw so little of any real beauty in the world, and the price of a smile and wave to a street urchin from his very own king was immeasurable, he’d tell his grandchildren the story in years to come! Although, the actions one took once they donned such garments could very well make or break him, and no fine emerald brooch could spare him from an angry crowd ripping his body apart for being a tyrant. Odessa prayed to the father that the actions taken by her fiancé did nothing to resemble those of his brother. The madness that had overcome Alexander Baratheon was ripping the kingdoms apart, and a pang of fear struck in her belly that she might one day bear a son who followed in those footsteps. No one could predict what truths the future held. They might only focus on what lay before them, and pray for the best. “Arylsse, where did that page go? I sent for him half an hour ago?”


Judge: As per their usual, Wise jumped on his chest long before the cracking rays of dawn. The small owl, held his head upside down, watching as Dante blinked into reality and departed his dreams. The fluttering of wings filled his ears, talon pressing into his bare chest as Wise hopped and hooted. A soft wind brought in the smell of perfume from flowers, reminding the young stag that he was no longer in Dragonstone. Though a part of him missed the sound of crashing waves and rain, it was a decent change to wake up to sunshine and the smell of something sweet. Sitting up on his elbows, Wise moved now his chest giving another hoot, this time with annoyance. "Why can't you just go hunt a rat or something?" Another hoot and a flap of wings. "Oh right. We're in the land of the rich. No rats for a few dangerous miles huh?" Dante made himself laugh as he pushed a finger under Wise's feet and rolled out of the big bed with the soft linens. He put Wise on the window sill and made the bed as he always did since the stupid bird woke him most days before even the servants were up. After dressing himself, he and the bird wandered down to the servants end of the kitchen quarters for breakfast. He was greeted with looks of shock and panic as they rushed to feed him, begging apologies and pardons. What looked like the woman running the kitchens, rushed to greet him asserting his food would be brought to his room shortly, but he waved that off noting fresh bread on the table. "Could I have one of those?" Someone rushed the tray to him and he smiled taking a roll, breaking off a piece and handing it to Wise, who hopped on his shoulder. "What can we make for you, Your Highness?" Wrinkling his nose, Dante moved over and sat at the table, causing and uncomfortable pause in the room. No one wanted to tell him not to sit at a servants table, but no one wanted to lose their heads once the Lady of the house found out where the prince was dining either. "I will take what you have prepared." "Your Highness, wouldn't you be more comfortable..." "I'm fine here." Uncomfortable pause again, the the room exploded into movement and soon he was served food. By the time he was left the awkwardness of his presence had gone and the servants were laughing with him. Wise was given some dried meat snacks for later and Dante had current roll in his mouth and one in his hand. He went back to his room and sat on the floor in front of the bed, removing his boots and crossing his legs. Wise fluttered over to the window and Dante closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when a page came charging into the room and tripped over him, crashing into the foot-board of the bed and rolling off the dais. Dante's eyes open, with a brow raised as the young man scrambled to his feet, apologizes spilling from him. He rose and helped the tangled boy to his feet. "I thought you were still in bed, Your Highness. I didn't mean..." The 'Your Highness' still grated his nerves but he couldn't possibly tell them anything otherwise now. "It's fine. Did you need something?" He righted and gave a bow. "The Lady Odessa requests your presence." Dante nodded and went to put his boots on. There was a bit of a struggle and awkwardness as he tried to do it himself and the page tried to help. In the end, though, the boy was no match for Dante's brute strength, few were. The walk should have been quick, but Dante kept stopping to look at all the statues and the even for a while stopped to watch some of the knights practicing. Nothing like this was every the norm at Dragonstone, but they finally made to Odessa in one piece. The page looked stressed out. He was unable to do anything more than gently remind Dante he was being summoned and he seemed to fear reprimand once they arrived. Before he could speak, Dante did. "You called for me?" He said, his massive frame taking up most of the doorway.


Olena: The handmaiden turned her head to face her lady, placing a hand to the jewel at the bottom of her necklace before she spoke, “I know not my lady. Shall I go and fetch him for you myself?” Odessa was absorbed by her thoughts, scanning over the items that lay before her, picturing the built body of Dante cloaked in cloth of silver, draped with a gold sash…or maybe the turquoise...The sound of the handmaiden’s voice interrupting her thoughts, “No, things are a bit different when dealing with royals. We’ll send the other page.” She touched the girl’s cheek briefly before passing her and heading towards the nearby table where a goblet of fresh arbor wine awaited her. She had only just raised the goblet to her lips before the doors swung open and admitted the form that was envisioned in her mind only moments before, though he could hardly pass for a king yet, given his current attire. However, his commanding presence was something that ran strong in the Baratheon line. He towered over every head in The Reach, more than a foot over her own mere five feet and two inches. His ice-blue eyes seemed to pierce the soul of anyone whose gaze they met. At this point, with only the slightest delay, she returned the goblet to its resting place on the stand. Her ladies had all sunken into their deepest curtsies, and they would wait there until she had done the same and risen first. Her knees followed suit, a glint of sunlight striking the gold specs in her eyes, transforming the entire iris like that of a gilded dragon, and back to a pale olive green as her soft brown lashes fluttered in difference to his station. “I did request your presence, My Lord fiancé, and it pleases me that you should grace my ladies and I with such.” Her ladies had formed a u-shape around her as they rose from their bended-knees, placing her in his direct line of sight. Her small hands collected before her waist, twisting a small jeweled ring on the index finger of her left hand, perhaps a nervous habit? “I trust you broke your fast in your chambers? You’ve a long day ahead in the presence of myself and my ladies, I should not be responsible for the fainting of such an honored guest.”


Judge: Once more he felt slightly uncomfortable and shabby compared to his hosts, but all of that sort of faded into the background in the presence of Odessa. He loved the way fabric flowed over her curves, the way her hair fell around her face and dainty yet deliberate way of doing things. He fidgeted as they curtesied, waving the page away with a hand behind his back. Giving her a little nod of acknowledgement he smiled, only then to almost pull away at her question. His hand went to the side of his shaved head, eyes lowered to the floor. "I, uh... well. I went to the kitchens." His hand shot up. "But before you say anything, it's very nice down there and I get wake very early. Before the sun rises. No one would have known I was hungry anyway." Color started to rise in his cheeks, a moment before he cleared his throat and looked away, letting himself get distracted by everything that was taking up the space in the room.. and not the handmaidens. In fact, their presence alone made him slightly nervous. He wasn't used to more than about three people in a room with him at one time. "What's all this?" He started to move into the room, closing the space between himself and Odessa, originally headed for a rack of fabric, but as he passed her, his hand brushed across her pale, bare shoulder, flicking the soft locks laying there. "You look beautiful. I've seen you in dim light and sunlight now. Still beautiful. Don't worry about me fainting. I've gone three days without eating." He turned back the fabric then, having rarely seen their like. "Kainen cut me down and left me for dead the training courtyard. Maester Rrys found me later that night, then I couldn't eat for two days while I lay on my stomach." His hand went for a stretch of fabric then stopped as he turned back to her. "That's a horrible story. I shouldn't have told you that."


Olena: She raised her brow at the mention of his trip to the kitchens, the place where she and her brothers had oft’ visited as children, sneaking down to see what treats they could coax out of their cook Mearna. They’d swear themselves to secrecy for fear of stopping their mother’s heart should she learn that the Tyrell children had ventured unescorted into the lower levels of the keep for sweeties. Although, something about Dante’s visiting such surprised her very little. He seemed to enjoy the unprecedented, and given his reaction to the horror story that was herself and his cousin, she thought to brace herself to not be surprised by much of anything. “As is your right, should you wish it.” As he tread past her, she tensed for a moment, if only from natural instinct as one small thing does when close to a much larger thing. The flick of his fingers against her hair sending a warm sensation down her spine. Despite his large and somewhat awkward stance, he carried himself rather well, or so she thought. Although she paled at mental image his story left in her mind, perhaps though for the sake of its being himself alone—her mother wasn’t the only Tyrell both feared and revered in Highgarden. She thought it best to brush over that topic for the time being. They would surely have their fair share of both blood and gore at King’s Landing in the days to come. “No, Your Highness, it’s quite alright.” As he felt the fabric in front of him she drew in closer, touching at the small of his back for but a moment before informing him of what the meaning of a room full of textiles and women was. “We are preparing for your journey to the Capital. Mine and my ladies have already seen to our needs, but alas your highness is still in need of proper attire worthy of, perhaps, a king?” Her ladies exchanged a knowing look as their mistress mouthed the innocent words of treason. She held her hand, and Arylsse placed a long leather strap with small black tick marks in Odessa’s hand. “Might I get your measurements, your highness?” She had stretched the cord out before her, a blameless expression upon her face, but mischievous all the same.


Judge: When she spoke of him being king, his head turned to see the look on the faces of the women that shared the space with them, then he looked down to Odessa. As much as he trusted nothing they said to leave the room, he still wasn't used to having all these people around and it was making his anxiety rise. Of course it shot through the roof when she took the leather into her delicate little hands with a knowing grip. A smirk broke his features, but this time he caught himself before spilling an damning story about a whore in Duskendale that used a similar strap in a very different way. He was sure his future wife didn't want to hear about his random trists with unsavory women even less than she wanted to hear about his unlordly behavior when it came to simple things like having breakfast. Bringing his hands to his to his chest, his rough fingers pulled at the straps of his tunic. Used to undressing himself, the tunic came off quickly and following suit, pulling the wore fabric over his head, so did the shirt beneath. He was almost as pale as Odessa, with a chest lightly furred in a line down to the line of his trousers and below. Each breath he took was outlined in the movement of his chest and abs. His shoulders spread wide and defined, arms looking even longer and without his black tunic to cover them. Leaning into Odessa, his only response to her question was a correct. "Dante. You're suppose to call me Dante, remember, Little Flower?"


Olena: As his clothes started flying off, revealing the chiseled work of the gods that was his body she could have almost forgotten in that moment that he was a prince and she a high-born lady surrounded by nine of her ladies-in-waiting. As an ambitious woman, Odessa cared very little for the concept of love in of itself, as it had no real value if it left you a nobody married to a nobody. She had honestly resigned herself to likely becoming the wife of some fat old lord who was ridiculously wealthy, twice her age, and thirteen times her waist-size; however, she would have done so with a smile on her face had it placed her in some position of power and notoriety. She would not guarantee that the child she gave birth to would be said fat-lord’s true-born heir, but he’d be in the ground long before said idea ever managed to pop into his head. However, Dante Baratheon was not fat and ugly old man. He was but a few years her senior, and she could hardly take her eyes off of him. ‘What in seven hells were you doing on Dragonstone, exactly? Lifting the keep?’ she thought to herself. Once he was leaning in closely to her face reminding her to call him by his given name and not his royal style, she realized she had been paying quite little attention to her surroundings, nor the fact that her eyes were not awaiting his own, but following the trail of fine hairs leading downward through the centerline of his body. Her pale skin flushed like the crimson of a thousand roses, her golden hues gazing quickly to the left to regain her composure as quickly as was possible, before meeting his own gaze once more. ‘Damnit I’ll be the one fainting in the middle of the floor,’ she thought once more. “Yes, Dante, I always remember.” She stepped forward with the cord, moving to wrap one arm about his waist and then the other to catch the other end. She could feel the fire burning in her cheeks, but she’d falter.


Judge: His head at moved off to the side, mirroring an act Wise often committed when he didn't understand. Usually Odessa met him head on, but she seemed distracted for a long moment before responding to him. When she did her skin was flushed despite her steady words. So he took a step back and out of her immediate space, suspecting his natural body heat might have been overbearing for her. His arms went up slightly as she measured his waist, thumbs idly brushing her arms on either side. That soon stopped however as he feared his unmanicured fingers might snag the fabric of her dress. Tilting his head upward, he watched the ceiling as she worked, wondering what the little owl might have been up too. After all he was free to roam the grounds instead of being fitted for soft fabrics to be worn in a very uncomfortable situation. Dante's mind began to wander to toward the up coming days, causing him to begin to chew on his lower lip, pulling his brows together. Annoyed with his own thought process, he lowed his chin and looked down at Odessa for a moment while she worked, his limbs moving to accommodate whatever she needed at the moment. Glancing around he found the women, her handmaidens staring almost blankly at him with that same flushed look. "Can I ask you something?" He voiced, shifting his gaze back to Odessa, now slightly uncomfortable.


Olena: She took the time to measure his limbs and such for the lengths that would be needed to construct his royal wardrobe. After each time she measured, she’d dabble a quill on a piece of parchment that Arylsse was holding out for her to use after each bit of information was gathered. No doubt that between herself, her ladies, and the Tyrell seamstresses it would take all of a week to produce garments to fit his incredibly tall and broad frame. Measuring some lengths she basically hand to stand on the tips of her toes, since even the heels of her shoes barely brought her up to the center of his sternum. She had quite liked the feeling of his hands resting upon his arms, and felt a sudden moment of anxiety when he withdrew them, but she tarried on. When he muttered the request to ask her something she was squatting down to take the measurements of his inseam, extending her arm from his ankle to just beneath where his breeches’ legs met at the parting of his thighs. She promptly stood, getting a bit dizzy from standing too fast and quickly grabbing at his arm out of reflex, the lightheadedness gone as quickly as it had come. “Of course.” She returned the band to Arylsse, who rolled it up and stored it in a nearby crate. A look of unease had adorned her fiancee's face when she rose, so she made a motion for her ladies to step back across the room, where they set to picking up the fabrics and copying over the measurements on several different pieces of the parchment. “What troubles you Dante?” She stood before him once more, tugging at the sleeve of her gown to straighten some invisible crease that clearly only her eyes could see. Truth be told, she was border-lining a cold sweat after thoroughly frisking him.

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Judge: By instinct alone he seemed to move and sway with Odessa, lastly parting his feet and giving her reach to measure his inseam. Confidently, Dante could say he had been measured for clothing a few times in his life, and not as many as you would think given his size, in fact he'd only had two or maybe three growth spurts then stopped, however never in a time of being measured as he had a reaction to such a brief touch. As his heart rate increased, the blood made a swift beeline for his groin. Thankfully, Odessa was already on her unsteady feet, his arm immediately looping around her waist and pulling her into his side, not his chest, as he didn't want to alert to his simultaneous reaction. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, effectively reducing the appearance of his instinctive reaction to her touch, at least in his groin. There was no way to quell the heat in his veins, not with her pressed to his side. Dante released her slowly making sure she was steady on her feet while she handed off the measuring band. "Well, I was going to ask why there were so many people in the room, but I see now everyone has a task." A frown formed on his face from the brows down for a moment before his features returned placidness. She'd asked what troubled him and all he had were stupid questions about things he should have known, or at least remembered from his maester's teachings. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, his blue eyes drifted toward the ceiling as they often did, then over to nearest window. "Can't we do this outside? I hope the rooms in the capital are bigger..."

Olena: She glanced over at the busy women, scattering about the room with their previously assigned tasks, one being to prepare clothes while the other was to be sure that the attraction between their lady and her royal intended went no further than her touching him as intimately as possible without really ‘touching’ him at all. All a part of her lady mother’s plan to make him want his future bride as badly as he wanted whatever awaited them in King’s Landing—the peace of his people. If there was one thing the women of The Reach knew how to accomplish, it was to take innocent desire and turn it into a burning lust and or passion that could last a life-time. The young prince wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore come the eve of their wedding, and if Odessa survived that ravaging of her body, she’d not leave the Reach a newly-established family of two for long. Although, this plan seemed to be going both ways for the unexpectant lady Odessa, who was using all of her own will-power to keep her mind on the task at hand. After he had protectively reached out and brought her to his side when she found herself unsteady she felt every follicle on her body stand on end. If it were not for the multiple layers of clothing ladies wore, she’d find herself seemingly embarrassed for the tautness of her breasts. As she stood before him, awaiting his question, her eyes lowered if only for a moment as she twiddled the ring on her finger, and she caught the briefest of glimpses of a noticeable pressure in the front of his trousers. Her eyes immediately shot back up to meet his own, which did nothing short of deepen the crimson that had already seized her once-glossy rose complexion. His suggestion of stepping outside came as a bit of relief. “All the proper measurements have been taken, so I don’t see why we might not go for a stroll about the gardens.” She’d turn her head to spot Arylsse across the room readying her own measuring strap, “His Royal Highness and I shall walk in the gardens near the River.” Ayrlsse dipped her lady a curtsey and motioned to two other ladies to set aside their needlework, the others could pick up the slack and hand off the measurements to the seamstresses set to arrive a bit later that afternoon.

Judge: His fingers lingered on the curve of her hips, in the space between them, even as his other hand was resting on the back of his neck and his eyes drifted to the ceiling. It was as if he were magnetized to her in her some way. Her voice caught his full attention, as it always did, chin tucking in to look down at her, finally meeting her flushed face, a mirrored fire burning in his eyes. There was one other heavy gaze in the room, and when his eyes moved over her head the handmaiden Arlysse was staring daggers at the absent fingers he left linger on his would be wife. Dante flexed his fingers, pushing the rough pads across the soft fabric. Part of him wanted to withdraw his hand under the weighted stare, but then some other part of him thought it better than to let himself be intimidated by a mere handmaiden. There were many of his own instinctive reactions he’d have to reconsider in King’s Landing. If he could be so easily scolded by handmaiden he’d stand no chance against his demanding and bratty brother. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t respect the lady-in-waiting’s want to keep the virtue of her Lady Lord, so much as it was he had no conscious motive to take it from her before the wedding. Perhaps his body spoke otherwise, but if there was one thing he was in control of in this out of control world, it was his own damned body. The length of his fingers spread across Odessa’s back, not having to move far to reach her spine. They drifted upward as she spoke, confirming his idea, moved across the back of her shoulder and down her arm as she turned to give orders. Finally her hand landed in his own and he bent to kiss her knuckles before moving to pick up his shirt and tunic. Almost immediately he was swarmed, found hugging his belongs to his chest almost protectively as a maiden tried to retrieve it from him to help him in his clothes. “I.. uhm.. thank you, I can do this myself.” Receiving looks of confusion but ultimately getting his way, Dante put his clothes back on then presented himself to Odessa with his elbow to take. “You’ll need a bigger room. Show me this garden by the river, Little Flower.”

Olena:The warmth of his hand spread across the small of her back sent shivers down her spine. The invisible hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, but it brought a certain surety with it. With this colossal human being at her side, few would dare consider raising a hand to her, not that anyone ever had. She was fully aware that her ladies monitored her every move, and each one would be reported back to her lady mother the very instant that foot touched the grass on the lawn surrounding the keep. As he held out his arm, in a most gentleman-like manner, she wrapped her hand about from underneath, and rested it in the crook of his elbow. With that, she’d lead him in the direction of the garden which bordered the great Mander River, her ladies following behind a few paces back, allowing them the illusion of privacy. They’d pass down the halls towards one of the many staircases, the only sound to be heard would be that of Dante’s boots against the tile and the soft pat of she and her ladies’ silken slippers. As they reached the courtyard, Odessa signaled to her ladies with a simple gesture of her hand that they were to remain a few more paces behind the two. If she wanted one of them for any reason, she’d be sure to let them know. Guards were notified before they ever arrived and performed a full sweep of the enclosed area, those on the walls looking across the river to be sure no may be looking on that would seek to do the pair harm, and they were only just finishing up when they exited the building. “This is the West-wing garden, which borders the Mander. Ships come up and unload their cargo for trade with the seat of the Reach, Highgarden. Over there you can see the docks where we board our barges,” she motioned towards an elaborately carpeted and covered docking area, and then moved her aim towards a gate leading outside the keep, “And through there is the public docks where the trading deals are made. They are not permitted to dock at the Keep.”

Judge: Until now it hadn’t dawned on him that the Lord and Lady of the house were doing their utmost to keep his hulking presence a secret. Dante was so used to empty halls and few faces in Dragonstone, it wasn’t until he and Odessa left her room that he noticed what was once a full hall where voices could be heard, had cleared out before even her doors were open. The path they took along the halls and out to the garden was empty of all but himself, Odessa and her entourage. He found it rather comforting and unsettling that without even a word their security was so meticulous. Odessa had only to mention the location of her want and it was cleared for her and Dante was sure not a single person had left the room before them. Rhaelle was right, the Tyrells were not a house to cross. If the Red Keep had any such infrastructure… the idea made his stomach turn. To comfort himself, his free hand came across his body to pat Odessa’s. Without lifting his head, he noted the sentries on their posts before his attention was drawn to scenery she explained to him. His maester Rrys had drilled him on subjects like these and though he’d tried hard with his studies and been competent enough, at some point all of it began to bleed together. Putting the visual to the old lessons helped. The sight of ships made him think of all the times he’d been at the docks in Dragonstone; his friend the pirate. He’d already told one stupid story for the day and he certainly had more sense than to tell Odessa that one of his best friends was a drunken pirate with sticky fingers and a penchant for whores. He’d be digging a deep hole to tell his future wife that’s how he got most of his worldly experience and learned to navigate the skiff he’d used to get here from Dragonstone to begin with. It struck him as odd that he could share so little of his odd life with her and still not feel as though he were distanced from her but it did make him wonder what things about herself she didn’t see fit to tell him. Of course, he didn’t want to share with her certain things, not because she couldn’t handle it, Odessa maintained the same air of grace in the face of distaste as her mother did, but in reality he didn’t see a need in elaborating on how common he grew up or the fact that there may have been people in his life she would see fit to have removed as loose ends. A soft smirk curled his lips as he watched the waves now. ‘I wonder how Azaroth is doing?’ The thought was fleeting. “Everything here is so polished and scheduled.”

Olena:  To an outsider, the smooth flow of all operations within the keep would seem effortless and appear to be second nature for all those involved; however, the ladies of Highgarden meticulously orchestrated a rigorous set of guidelines and procedures for all staff to follow in order to maintain this constant illusion. Stepping out of line was never an option, and the repercussion for the first folly was enough to make one never repeat that same mistake, or many others, twice. Davena and her mother-in-law before her made few exceptions to any of the rules, and as such Odessa and her sister were taught to do the same. The personnel of Highgarden knew that there was a highly-regarded guest within their walls, but only a handful knew any details concerning his identity or the reason for his being there. Their assignments were given, and there was to be no question beyond that. Any unnecessary inquiries would be reported immediately, and anyone who thought to spread a whisper beyond the walls of the keep would be dealt with quickly and silently. There was no need to disrupt business within the city to further protect their company, for as far as they were concerned there was nothing to be concerned about. Raising suspicion was the last thing anyone needed at this point. Odessa studied his expression, almost surprised at a royal prince’s unfamiliarity with the goings-on of a functional household, but it was Dante and had caught on quickly to not be overly-shocked with much…not that it was working. “As I imagine things are, or will be in The Red Keep. Do you not remember much from your days there as a child? I can hardly recall a day of my life that wasn’t planned out weeks in advance. My lady mother is not one for surprises.” She said the latter part in a more hushed tone, giving him a piece of conversation that was theirs alone, unshared by her ladies.

Judge: When Odessa leaned into him, he leaned down giving her an ear to receive her secret. He enjoyed any excuse to close the distance between them. The secret she shared he would lock away for safe keeping. No surprises, right. Shit. He’d only vaguely given the house any idea of what was to take place at the Harvest Festival. In truth though, he didn’t know much about the plan himself. It was almost entirely entrusted to his cousin Rhaelle, as the idea had originally come from her mother anyway. Could he have been more of a figure head or a willing pawn? “In that case maybe we should have another meeting with your good Lady mother and her husband.” Once more Dante patted her hand, looking down to see how it disappeared for a moment when his hand touched her own, while his mind worked backwards through her statements. He almost frowned. Not only did he have very vague memories of life at the Red Keep, but even his memory of how he arrived at Dragonstone was a fuzzy haze. He did however remember the old maester telling him he’d been bed ridden for almost a week after their arrival, inferring pretty plainly that it was not homesickness that left him that way. He remember his mother’s face because there was tapestry of her in the hall that led to his old room. There was one of her and his father in the main hall and one other in what he suspected used to be a grand ballroom, of the entire “family” where Dante was no more than weeks old and all that could be seen of him other than his swaddling clothes was his mane of black hair. The more he thought, his blue eyes darkening as his thought pulled him further away from Highgarden and closer to the Red Keep, the haze of his memory shifted into different vague forms. “I remember walking the halls with my mother. I remember my brother slapping my first wooden sword out of my hand and sticking me with pins when we were supposed to be studying. I remember almost drowning on the way to Dragonstone…” He blinked, returning to the present and smiled as he looked down at Odessa. “I remember back then people were taller than I was. Maybe things were planned in the Red Keep, but on Dragonstone all I had to do was show up for my lessons then I was free to do whatever I wanted. In any case, I'm sure my Little Flower will spread her vines thickly through the keep. If it wasn't this well structured before it surely will be.”

Olena: Odessa had no real memories of the late king and his queen, as she had only been introduced to the High-court in Kings Landing a few years earlier. After that one encounter, coupled with not-so-good relations between the wealthiest house and the capital, Julian and Davena thought it best to keep themselves and their daughters tucked away safely in the Reach, more so following the death of Alexander’s queen. If they wanted to negotiate with the capital, the pompous king and his small council would be treated with the audience of an Emissary. Although, Alexander did little in the way of frightening them. Closing the Roseroad for two weeks would starve the whole of the crownlands, and it would not be the Tyrells who had the finger pointed at them. Those in the capital would only see that their liege, the crown, was not providing for their needs as was his duty. “I never lay eyes upon your lady mother, aside from official portraits and the like.” There was a certain hall dedicated just to these royal portrayals, as they preferred not to clutter the majority of their walls with images that inspired their own citizens to think past the spacious confines of their own region—nor their own master’s authority. Any real subservience to the crown had fled with the soul of the dead king, the roses of Highgarden having a certain distaste for their incumbent stag. She chose not to discuss his memories of his brother with him, not at least until she could…better ease his comfort….why would she want to do that? What did the daughter of the highest lord of the realm care for this…strikingly handsome, humble, and amusingly awkward gentle giant? This odd stirring within her breast didn’t even seem to follow the path of lust, as it had with his cousin Azaroth. A fleeting image of the two of them lying intertwined, her head on his chest, listening to the sounds of his heart beating whilst he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head brought a smile to her lips, but she realized where her thoughts were leading her and she snapped back into what she thought would be reality…but was it? She hardly ever doubted herself until this moment. Although, her silence was broken at his comment, “Drowning?” her eyes went wide, but he made her laugh in the same line, “I’m sure the matter of anyone being taller than you lasted no longer than a fortnight.” Her giggle sounded like that of one of the many songbirds that filled the area, resonating at a melodic chirp that could be heard across the enclosure of the garden. He was surely the tallest being she had ever beheld the visage of, and given that the largest population lie within the Reach, it was saying something. It served to add to his awkward demeanor at times, until, of course, he wished to approach a matter with more surety in himself, and then an air of confidence seemed to take him over and he’d move like the stag he was—fearless and quick. She hadn’t realized that his notion to speak with her lord and lady parents had completely passed her by. “Oh, I can send word to have them meet us in the library, if it should please you?” She leaned her head in once more, if you glance up to your left, the third window from the rounded tower on the East wing you’ll see a glimpse of the Lady of Highgarden herself carefully watching over our best-interests.” She placed her hand on his, biting her bottom lip in a coy smile.

Judge: "Offical portraits are how I remember them." Dante said with a shrug, his attention now completely on her dainty little hand as it lay on his forearm near the elbow. One of his fingers covered two of her own. He could make her hand disappear by just placing his over hers. He over turned his hand and slid it backwards, moving her own from his elbow to his palm. His fingertips could fold over hers, for some reason this gave him great delight. So much so that he missed her reaction to his comment about almost drowning. If he had caught it, he might have told her it wasn't an accident, no wait... that wasn't comforting. Although, he was pretty sure it wasn't an accident. A smile spread across his features to hear her laugh. As far as he could remember this was the first time he'd heard her laugh, and it didn't surprise him that her laugh sounded like songbirds in the morning. What puzzled him, though, was that he didn't know what she laughing at. Oh. His height. Craning his head, to watch her face light up as she laughed, Dante found his head leaning closer to her own, his knees bent, lowering himself to her. When her head tilted into his, his heart rate lept and instinctively, he licked his own lips. That was... until what she shared with him pierced his thoughts. Immediately, Dante shot up straight, glancing over his shoulder. There was something no nonsense about Lady Davena that reminded him of his cousin Rhaelle. Rhaelle had no qualms about slitting a throat of a person that detoured her plans. He got from Lady Paramount of Highgarden the same feeling he got from Rhaelle and that was enough to keep him from devouring Odessa's ripe little mouth with his own. An uncomfortable cough left him, hand pushing under the frontal flaps of his tunic, fingers dipping into the pockets underneath. Rocking back and forth on his heels, it took him a minute to find his words and get his mind to drift away from the thoughts roaming Odessa's skin with his mouth and what he thought would amount to some extreme torture, just enough to keep him alive so he could take the throne and keep his contract. Odessa placed her enticing little hand on his and smiled at him in a way that tempted him to give into his baser instincts even after gory thoughts of his own demise. "Uhm. Yes. It might be best to go back inside now."

Olena: Through her fit of giggling which she could not seem to conquer for some reason, she motioned with her hand for her gaggle of ladies to move forward. The others remained further back whilst Arylsse came the closest, as chief among them, to receive her lady’s message, “Yes my lady?” Once she had calmed enough to relay a proper message to her lady-in-waiting, she uttered, “Do tell my lord father and lady mother that His Royal Highness requests an audience with them at once. In the library.” Ayrlsse motioned for one of the other ladies to hasten off with the message, and so she did, bypassing the young page boy at the door, for such information would be on a need-to-know basis, and he didn’t. “She peered about the gardens around her, trying to recollect what those in King’s Landing looked like; although, nothing seemed to particularly come to mind, so it must not have made a lasting impression on her. One need only view one of Highgarden’s MANY gardens once for them to be ever-imprinted within their memory. The Castle’s three concentric tiers of white stone walls housed several courtyards, towers, colonnades, fountains, pools, and manmade waterfalls. Between the two outer-most walls was a labyrinth of hedges, but not just any hedges, for like the rose, these things of beauty held a double purpose, briar bushes, allowing guests to wander about in leisure, and to ward off any who might wish to launch an attack. As they neared the entrance the sentries would nod in acknowledgement to Odessa, but they were under strict instruction to not reference Dante as being anything more than a guest. She’d lead him down the marble hallways, across elaborate carpeting, and hardwood floors until they’d finally arrive on the opposite side of the castle before two great doors, which the guards would open to allow them to go inside. The Lord and Lady Paramount sunk into their bow and curtsy, Odessa following suit to her parents when the door shut behind them. “Good day, your royal highness. Might I offer you something to drink? It’s rather warm out today,” Lord Julian spoke in his pleasant Reach accent. Lady Davena would motion towards a table to the side holding aged arbor wine, excellent vintage. A servant would be standing by to taste the beverage before any of them put their lips to a goblet.

Judge: It was a very a good thing Odessa was with him and he could see over many of the shrubs and peoples' heads or he would have surely been lost in these gardens. Dante had given her his arm again once they began what he though was a much lengthier trek to the library than it had been to see the river. There was so many people around he couldn't be sure what they were all doing, but even in day or so of being in Highgarden, he knew no one was lingering, even if many of them were listening. Arriving before the Lord and Lady of the house, Dante remembered to bow a bit, mostly at the shoulders as they bowed and curtsied too. His nerves were far less shaken now that he'd had his initial conversation with them over and done with. Now he would attempt to show that he had manners and knew some bit of protocol. He still wasn't used to be referred to as Royal Highness, but shrugging it off was becoming easier. The offer of wine brought his attention to servant and the side table. No one ever tasted his food or drink in Dragonstone. Also, they had very weak wine. "No. Thank you." He paused, looking around the room and was drawn to the nearest window. "I thought we might discuss the plans for King's Landing. Travel accommodations and well, of course what is I'm actually asking of you. That is, if you have time now."

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Olena: Davena waved the servant away, and the lad lifted the silver tray and away went the wine. Odessa raised her eyebrow, not minding to have a nip to take the edge of the day off, but not wishing to try her luck where her parents were involved. She was still a little hot-and-bothered. Julian clasped his hands together, almost chuckling from the sheer delight of the concept of being father-in-law to the King of the Seven Kingdoms, “Yes, your highness, of course. Shall we sit? We’ve much to discuss, of course. We’ve also been meaning to bring up a few more stipulations and such, none of which would take away or add to the contract.” There was a table towards the hearth, which wasn’t lit, given the outside temperatures, but the light from the stained-glass windows shone in, illuminating the entire room. Candelabras were spread out, kept a safe distance from any of the paper tomes that lined the walls of Highgarden’s grand library—the literate man’s wet dream come true. They would remain standing so long as he did, per protocol, as he was royal and only his wife or superior would be allowed to sit in his presence on a whim. Whether or not he wished to be treated in such a manner…as member of the royal family…he’d receive nothing less while in the presence of the Tyrells, save for the one he’d be dipping his wick in, and even then only in private. Odessa had no qualms with being on equal grounds with her husband, but she knew well the proper way of doing things. Anything less than what was expected of a king and queen would be seen as a weakness in the eyes of the people. That is not to say there could be no public displays of affection…granted there were any…she loved the way he held his mouth when presented with these sort of situations, namely any that included her mother…’Damnit Odessa..’ “Focus” she said under her breath, a silent reminder to herself to remain on task. Although, such was enough to gain the attention of her father, “Yes daughter?” causing her to flush once more, “Nothing lord father. Only drawing a breath.” He’d smile, convinced with any words she’d utter, given she was his youngest and most favored child. One could not say that Julian was a simple man, for he was politically astute and a competent business man. He simply placed great value, like most of the men in his region, on the thoughts and opinions of the women of his family, and acknowledged that without the sound guidance of his ladies wife and mother it would all be too much to handle on one’s own. “Given the proximity of the upcoming Harvest Festival, we are preparing to depart for the capital within the week. As such we would like to press the matter of your engagement to our daughter, and have the wedding ceremony take place as soon as possible, should it please your royal highness. We wish to further protect yours and our interests by sealing this deal with a consummated marriage.”

Judge: Watching the Lady Davena dismiss the servant with the tray, it was just another one of those moments that reminded Dante he had to be very careful about what he said and remember that privilege trickled down the tier. If didn’t eat, no one did. If he didn’t drink, no one did, if he didn’t sit, no one did. As the thought of sitting crossed his mind, Dante, with Odessa’s hand still in his own, moved to the nearest, plushest chair and pulled it out of her. It was nearly in sync with her father’s speaking. “Please, sit.” He responded, once again opting to remaining standing, this time with his hands on the back of Odessa’s chair. As they Lord and Lady made themselves comfortable, Dante took a moment to look around the room. He imagined the library at Dragonstone would have looked this magnificent if there had been enough help to keep it this polished. Far from a book worm, he still enjoyed a good book and was a decent researcher. Perhaps this room was looked upon with such favor because it was a long expanse of room and compared to the full chamber he was in with Odessa earlier, this room seemed almost empty. Given what they were about to discuss it was rather empty, Odessa’s handmaidens having fallen out of line when they reached the library, but even if others were to enter he wouldn’t have felt at all crowded. He and Julian were standing close enough to half hear Odessa mutter under her breath. Julian spoke and Dante arched a brow at her. She had only to smile and dismiss it for her father to do the same. It was like staring into the future, for Dante couldn’t imagine being any less doting on his own daughters. Moving swiftly along, Julian went onto the matters at hand, matters Dante had not been ready for. The punctuating mention of “consummating” with Odessa, a thought that had been heavy on his mind for a fair amount of the time since he’d agreed to marry her, caused him to tense up so quickly his thumbs pushed into the back of the chair with such force the room echoed a loud crack. By no means was Dante shy about sexual relations. His outward antics might have pegged him for a virgin but he was far from it. However, he’d only ever spoke of sexual shenanigans with Straga, who was a pirate and about the same age as he. It was all very unsettling to talk so matter of factly about sex with Odessa when his every touch to her soft skin had been watched like a hawk and he got the distinct impression that if he ever harmed a hair on her head by accident, sex or otherwise, he wouldn’t make it to the next morning. Or maybe it was his own dirty mind that gave him a guilty conscious that was hard to hide. Sucking in a breath, Dante looped an arm around Odessa practically snatching her out of the broken chair as the crack splintered down to the seat. With his free hand, he shoved the chair behind the table putting the disfiguring crack against the wall. Odessa was tucked firmly into his chest. “My apologies. I can make… uhm, I will pay for a new one.”

Olena: Discussions of sex were seldom uncommon in noble houses, and the freedom found in the Reach for sexual expression, compared to other regions, only made the topic seem that much more natural. Granted, young ladies of high-birth were still expected to maintain their virtue, or be ruined when the matrimonial bed was not stained with her maidenhood the next morning. As such, Odessa herself would never have been so foolish as to fall into bed with the first handsome man who came her way. Noble birth was one thing, looks another, but ambition was the true driving force that took precedence over all the rest. She’d not be married off to some boring yet wealthy lord, with a fine estate, who kept silently to himself, happy to bear him a dozen screaming true-born offspring, no. If she, or her mother, had anything to say on the matter, Odessa would marry for power. Therefore, when the prospect of marrying a rebel king came along, like Margaery before her, they pounced on the idea. House Tyrell had long known what it meant to have prestige among peers, known as the wealthiest and frankly one of the most powerful of families in Westeros, but they were simply noble, not royal. A match with their family had not been proposed since the time of Margaery, such it seemed as a means to taper their power in a way. Not that they wanted to claim the throne for themselves, but to at least provide a queen consort every hundred years or so to strengthen their ties. Dante was not only going to make her a queen, but he was already proving that he would treat her as one. Not to mention, scarce few rivaled him in looks, or at least in her opinion, not exactly enamored with the more flamboyant men that inhabited her father’s domain. He was rugged, broad of chest, piercing eyes, and that little trail of hair…blessed Mother…mix that with a crown—he was golden. Apparently she had a type. Things were going so smoothly, and her edged nerves had begun to settle; however, the cracking of the back of her chair sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit right behind her, causing her to jump, and while she was mid-air she found all 110 pounds of her sailing through the air and then pinned against her fiancé’s chest, her silk slippered feet dangling above the ground. It had all happened so quickly that she had forgotten to scream, only producing a soft whimper. Davena and Julian on the other hand leapt up, reaching out their arms as if to catch their daughter, “Odessa!” Guards burst in through the doors, swords raised and ready to cut down whatever had threatened members of their house, but were met with Davena’s hand held out to bring them to a halt, the other pressed to her beating heart. “It is fine, your highness. We have others.” The guards would sheathe their weapons immediately and bow before stepping back.

Judge: He shouldn’t have been surprised that everyone in the room reacted as though Odessa had almost been assassinated, but he was. A flurry of commotion erupted in the room after his stupid hands broke the chair. Odessa was carefully cradled in his left hand like a babe, or more aptly a frightened child; her backside resting on his forearm, back against his bicep, he created the perfect chair for her and this one wouldn’t break. Just as he was about to set his fiancé on her tiny slippered feet, the guards rushed in, causing his arm to flex bringing her back to his chest. His right hand shot over his shoulder reaching for the sword that usually rested on his back. It wasn’t there. It was in his room stretched across the canopy of his bed inside his custom sheath. It wasn’t usual for people to walk around armed in a noble house, but once again, on Dragonstone he’d been free do to as he pleased, also he was hardly ever in the keep. Though he rarely had an occasion to use the sword even out of the keep it had become one of those comfortable accessories people usually felt naked without. He almost cursed, only to realize it Lady Davena had already calmed the situation. Still, it wasn’t until they stepped back that Dante uncurled the little flower in his arms and looked down into her face. A frown creased his features, bringing his eyebrow low on his brow, dark brows bringing out the strange blue of his eyes. Bringing his hand from behind his head, he brushed strands of her hair from her face. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” As he waited for her answer, it was nothing to carry her over to the table by the hearth and put her down. Had they been alone, he would have lifted her skirts to make sure his fingerprints weren’t left on her thigh, but since they weren’t, he just checked her face and bare shoulders for any mars. “Did I hurt you?” Odessa had his full attention until she confirmed whether or not she was okay, it would only be after that fact that he would turn back to the Lord and Lady of the house, apologize again, while helping Odessa down from the table and into a new chair – this one he’d stay away from.

Olena: As she was snatched further up in the air than she had originally intended to be, and placed like a small child upon Dante’s arm, her arms instinctively wrapped about his neck to keep her from falling upon the fragments of what used to be the back of her chair scattered about the floor. Despite the sudden elevation she found a certain security in being pressed against his bulking form. If she had ever blushed before in her life, it would never compare to the deep crimson that saturated her complexion in this moment. They could scarcely be more close to one another’s body, save for him entering her in the act of making…love? Her own golden hues were locked into his eerily blue gaze. It was almost unnatural, but she was drawn to it. There was something other-worldly about it that she could not place her finger on. She knew that her parents’ hearts were somewhere near the carpet beneath them in that moment, but her own seemed to higher up but beneath her still. Her hands moved to his shoulders as he lowered her back into a seat, sliding them down to his forearms as he questioned her well-being after the fall. His frisking her shoulders and face showed her how much he seemed to truly be concerned for her safety, not wanting any harm to come to her, especially any on his own part. Although, she took it as a sign that he’d be able to toss her around in other places, which was only adding to his appeal. “No, no, truly. I lo..I’m fine, excuse me.” She quickly turned her head towards the hearth, drawing a sharp breath to regain her composure. Davena recognized the look born on her daughters face, and what words had nearly come from her mouth. It was also apparent that the…stirrings within Odessa were reciprocated tenfold by this young stag before her. “Perhaps it would be best if we speed this process along, for all parties involved.” She’d no doubt send word for their septon to meet them in the castle’s sept that night. “I think it best if you should wed tonight, your highness. Nevemind the lack of grandeur, your coronation will make up for that in due time.” No doubt, she feared that if she did not one would sneak to see the other. The fire burning between them would be too great to keep from burning them and their reputations soon enough.

Judge: So he was staying away from the chair, and the desk and just about all the other objects in the room, but he couldn’t quite pull himself more than an arm’s length from Odessa. Dante squatted down in front of her chair, resting his arms on his knees, leaving about an inch of space between her legs and his arms. He could see the rest of the room, well that would have been if he had turned to acknowledge anyone else in the room. Even squatting he was still just about eye level with her. The gold flecks in her eyes were swimming in a sea of green that reminded him of the ocean on a sunny day in Dragonstone. Since their first meeting she’d always looked him in the eye, but he’d never been eye level enough to actually see this strange swirl of color. No, that’s a lie. He’d been close enough, just looking at her mouth and not her eyes. A smile eased across his features when she spoke, noting the deep crimson in her cheeks making her look like a rose in bloom. When Lady Davena spoke, he just nodded absently long before the words actually sank in. When they did, he stood, but not before giving Odessa’s cheek a brush of his fingertips again. ‘Gah, stop touching her, you creep.’ Dante had always been drawn to the female form. He enjoyed it, immensely. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t around women often… no that wasn’t it. There were plenty of women on Dragonstone and plenty more in Duskendale. Most of the women on Dragonstone however he had quite platonic relationships with, save a few. So it couldn’t have been that, but whatever it was, there was something about Odessa he couldn’t get enough of. The Lady of the house was met with a look of curiosity. “Grandeur? Why what are weddings usually like? Uhm, nevermind. We will do whatever the lady deems best. If you’ll set it up, I’ll be there. I apologize but you won’t find me much help in the organization of wedding preparations.” His eyes then fell to Odessa again. Yes it was probably best it they were married sooner rather than later. ”If you want a complete wedding, granted I’m still alive after seeing my brother, you can have it.”

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Olena: Having seen the growing chemistry between her daughter and this would-be king, Davena made swift preparations for the Sept of Highgarden to be made ready to join their two houses in holy matrimony, before his natural Baratheon instincts kicked in and demolished the flower before it ever left the garden. Odessa stood before the mirror in her room, where she had been just that morning taking the measurements of her fiancé for his upcoming royal wardrobe, and her ladies were dressing her what would be her wedding. The most delicate of silk gowns was slipped over her petite form, the palest of whites like that of a freshwater pearl pulled from the Mander itself. A gold-lace bodice wrapped around her midsection, revealing the soft flesh that lay beneath on her sides and back. A sheer white and gold embroidered drape hung from golden tassels that attached to the gown just beneath her breasts. Others worked to twist her long brown strands of hair about her head, as a symbol that she was giving up maidenhood to be a wife, and hopefully not long after a mother. This marriage, in all technicality, was illegal by all standards. Dante, be he legally stripped of his royal status or not, was still the brother of the king, and therefore a senior member of the royal family. Whether he chose to or was even allowed to call himself by the title of ‘prince,’ it was his birthright, and more than half the kingdom had never ceased to acknowledge him as such in silent hope that one day he would replace the terror plaguing the lands that was his older brother—Alexander I. In order for a royal prince to wed anyone, he needed direct permission from the crown to do so. Such was the same for the daughter of a High Lord of Westeros, no less the daughter of the Warden of the South. Permission had been granted for Laurel to wed the Hightower boy by King Rux when they were but babes in their cradles, thus they avoided the interaction with Alexander. However, for Dante to marry without permission, and to a lady of such high-status, he’d best be ready to place a crown upon his head or have that very head, and Odessa’s placed upon spikes side by side on the gate of the Red Keep. Elsewhere in Highgarden’s Keep, clothes would have been lain out for the young stag to wed his little rose within the hour. Servants would travel by torchlight through the halls to prepare and dress him for the occasion. A last minute gift from his parents-in-law to be would be brought in last, an object placed upon a blue satin pillow, covered by a cloth of gold—a crown forged with silver metal and black onyx stones pulled from the Tyrell’s treasury not long after his arrival. A cloak would also be made ready, placed on his shoulders last for him to later place around those of his bride, as they were marrying in the light of the Seven, and such was the custom. Once he was made ready, the servants were instructed to take him to the Sept where he would await for his bride to walk down the aisle. Members of the Tyrell’s family, certain noble families sworn to them and to secrecy, and dozens of knights were readily awaiting them there. Julian, would await outside Odessa’s chambers and escort her there and later down the aisle.

Judge: For a long time after coming from the library, Dante just paced in his room with Wise hopping back and forth on the bed canopy, head half upside down, watching him. He was nervous about getting married. Not so much tying his life to Odessa but the ceremony itself. Pacing back and forth wasn’t helping him to remember any lessons on how ceremonies of matrimony went. All he knew was that this would be a ceremony under the Light of the Seven because Southerners and Old Gods didn’t really mix. Where would he stand? What did he have to say? Was it repeated? Who went first? Did they need blood? Dante rubbed his face with both hands. His mind was wandering into dark places that made no sense. Then the rusty voice of his maester entered his mind - 'Wait and watch. You'll never find yourself a fool if you wait and watch.' Nodding to himself, Dante took a deep breath, inhaling new fears. If he failed at King's Landing he was putting Odessa, her entire family, his entire family and everyone that swore fealty to his ludicrous pursuit in danger. Of course this wasn't his first act of defiance against the brother that wanted to forget him. He'd used his own money to pay taxes and debts when his brother set his sights on Dragonstone. Then there were his frequent trips to this place or that. He'd been to Storm's End, often frequented Duskendale, and once he'd even been to Pentos; he wasn't ever suppose to leave Dragonstone. There was a snaking feeling he shouldn't have survived this long either, but he had. That may or may not be coming to an end. There was a frantic knocking at the door and a voice shouting 'Your Highness' repeatedly. With a sigh, Dante rubbed his face once more and went to open the door. The Tyrells had offered him all the comforts of "home", but he'd declined. There would have been nearly no way to calm his nerves if he were constantly in the company of some entourage and he would have had no use for them. The few instances he'd had with other people simply trying to do their jobs had completely confused all parties involved. Behind his closed door was a gaggle of people, all of whom he just blankly stared at, waiting for one to speak. Finally a meek voice stated,"We've come to help you dress, Your Highness." Seven Hells, of course. Nodding, Dante moved to the side of the door to allow them in. The bodies spread through out his guest chamber with awesome efficiency. He was gently coaxed onto a platform near his bed and helped into his clothes. With his mind still reeling, there was little or no resistance from him. Also, he'd resigned to the fact that he had no clue what he was supposed to be doing, so by all means, lead the way. Near the end of the dressing ritual, a page presented him with a cloak and then the room went still as another presented him with a blue pillow and a gold cloth covering something. Puzzled, there was a long pause before he reached out and pulled the cloth to find a silver crown with onyx stones like the one he wore around his neck. One of the head handmaidens lifted the crown off the plush pillow and held it out at the height she thought would resemble him in a kneeling stance. He knelt. This wasn't the first act of defiance but it would be the one that broke the camel's back. There was no turning back now. Rising, Dante was more led than accompanied to the Sept. The night air was cool. The sky nearly cloudless with the half a moon hanging over them. As they walked and even as he was set to his position in the Sept, Dante played with the pendant around his neck. Wise had followed dutifully behind, planting himself on the ledge of any widow closest to Dante without actually entering the Sept.

Olena: Once she was clad in ivory, a cloak of jade green was placed about her shoulders, one bearing the sigil of House Tyrell, the golden rose, embroidered with thread that caught every glint of light from the torches about the room. A page knocked at the door, Arylsse cracked the door just enough to obscure sight of the bride from anyone who might be in the hall, and the boy relayed to her that everyone in the sept was in place. She and Lord Julian need only arrive when she was fully prepared. Once the door was shut back, the lady nodded to Odessa, who stepped off the dais and mumbled a silent prayer to The Maiden and Mother. When the two great doors to her chambers swung open, her lord father, the Warden of the South, would step forward, outstretching his arm to link with her own. He’d give a light pat on the back of her hand and lean in to kiss her forehead while a single tear trickled down his cheek, seeing the youngest of his children wedded, “You are so lovely my dearest.” “Thank you Papa,” she said allowing them a moment of informality at least one last time in the presence of others. Guards bearing torches would lead the bridal party down the long corridors of the palatial keep, occasionally casting light upon large looking glasses and illuminating the hall in a soft glowing light. As they neared the sept, the next set of doors were pushed open, and the soft sound of lyres drifted across the room in a sweet melody. Those few in attendance, including all the members of her most immediate family, formed an aisle leading from the entrance between the Stranger and the Crone to where the groom and septon stood between the large statues of the Father and Mother. Father and daughter crossed the Seven Pointed Star in the center of the room, and then proceeded to climb the steps to begin the ceremony. Odessa felt her heart beating hard in her throat the moment she lay eyes on him, but she maintained a solemn countenance. Julian removed the cloak from about her shoulders, and bowed to his soon-to-be son-in-law as he stepped back, holding the cape so that the family’s sigil was facing outward. Odessa would then step forward, glancing at Dante for only a moment before facing the clergy in subservience to her faith. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the septon of Highgarden spoke. Once the step was completed, the septon would proclaim, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever," his hands would reach out to join those of the couple, and would tie a ribbon of ivory, like that of the bride’s own gown, with silver roses and stags embellished into the design about them. "Let it be known that Houses Baratheon and Tyrell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The septon then announced, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." After he said such he’d unravel the ribbon – they would remain metaphorically joined for the rest of their lives. “Look upon each other and say the words: Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger... I am hers/his and she/he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

Judge: Dante found his fidgeting hand falling to his side once procession of torches began to illuminate the halls. Locking his fingers behind his back, he stood tall with his feet slightly less than shoulder width apart, his blue eyes nearly glowing in the dim light. The sight of Odessa as she and her father passed between the Stranger and Crone struck him with a feeling he couldn’t explain. Yes, he had a very blatant attraction to her. Yes, he probably considered overtly affectionate to a woman that not only his fiancé a few moments ago but one he’d never met prior. However, seeing her draped in ivory silks, with her hair twisted up and a cloak catching the flickering lights of the torches around them, there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach – not a bad feeling, just one he’d never had before. As she climbed the steps he smiled down at her, fingers behind his back flexing with the desire to pull her into his chest. Instead he gave her father a nod, unsure if he should have bowed completely, but no one had corrected him thus far, and began to unclip the straps of his own cloak, baring the sigil of his own house, while Julian removed Odessa’s. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the septon of Highgarden spoke. With a flick of a wrist, the heavy cloth expanded and floated around Odessa’s slender shoulders. Having never taken his eyes off her, even has he nodded to her father, Dante watched the shadow and lights of the torches change the colors of her eyes from green to gold and back again, until she turned to toward the clergy. He made slow and deliberate work of attaching the ceremonial cloth to her, his finger slipping under the thin band of her dress where the straps for her cloak were, symbolically bringing her under his protection. In reality, she already was. He realized that the moment he’d scooped her into his arms and had been prepared to fight her own knights/guards for her. If this strange ritual, usually undertaken by strangers and sometimes even enemies sealed that, then so be it. The clasps snapped securely into place between his thumb and forefinger and just as slowly as he had found his fingers against her skin, did he remove them, finally stepping back and turning to the clergy himself. It wasn’t until then that the septon, who wore a look of mild curiosity, announced to the all the people that Dante had thus far forgotten were in the room, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” He continued on, while wrapping and unwrapping their hands in an ivory cloth. Then, as commanded, Dante turned to Odessa once more. He took both of her hands in his, locking his gaze with her own and repeated. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days.” While Odessa repeated the words, he watched her face, trying to decipher exactly why he felt as though he were detached from everything. It was very surreal, carrying more weight than he’d expected. When the last word fell from her rosy lips, his fingers flexed around her hands, wrist bending, pulling her into his chest. His knees bent slightly, bridging the gap between their heights. When he spoke his voice was husky as if it had been days since he last uttered a word and scarcely anyone beyond the people immediately around could hear as he said, ”With this kiss, I pledge my love.” This time there was no pause between his words and his action. No slow and deliberate movement. One hand had freed itself from her own so he could use his forefinger to lift and tilt her chin, effectively bringing his mouth down on her own.

Olena: The solemnity of the moment in a dim room lit by the glow of the torches seemed so very surreal to Odessa. As a daughter of Highgarden, she had lived her entire life surrounded by things of incomparable beauty, some which others might never lay eyes upon. However, nothing in all of The Reach would ever compare to the simple exquisiteness that was her wedding to Prince Dante Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone. Everything was about representation in wedding that took place in the light of the Seven, and to her it seemed like no other faith could so gracefully embody such a sacred moment in two peoples’ lives. Odessa, entering by the stranger and crone, walked to wed a man she had only just met, and would therefore be leaving behind her old life. Smith—they would forge a marriage born of rebellion. Warrior—they would fight to take back the realm from the deteriorating mind of a mad king who grew in his insanity and tyranny with each passing day. Maiden—the innocence of the life she had known would be stripped of her once they entered the cruel world that was Kings Landing. Father and Mother—‘I am his and he is mine,’ together they would form a new dynasty that would stand the test of time. His hand came beneath her chin, lifting her lips to his own as he pledged his devotion and…love…it was love. The ball in her throat seemed to swell, and a tear ran down her cheek as it dawned upon the woman that was now, Princess Dante Baratheon, Lady of Dragonstone—she loved him. From the moment she had first lain eyes upon him form, the burning sensation that had plagued her dreams for what seemed like years was all there in that moment of realization. A soft whimper accompanied the tear as she pressed her lips upon his own, but her hand immediately wiped the drop. The crowd could never see her expressing such an emotion, it would wait. She need only seem the happy bride she was, lest her weakness be used against her. For all she was, despite her size, she knew that she would not be the only one in need of protection in this marriage, for in the days to come to they would be faced with a trial that would last the span of their lifetimes. Allies and foes would be made, lives would be lost, children born, love and hate taking their toll, but through all this she vowed in that moment that she would protect him with all that she was. The cruelty of the capital would undoubtedly turn this soft maiden into a pillar of stone and ice, but she would slaughter every last man, woman, and child in Westeros to see to it that no harm befell those whom she loved. The few that were the crowd burst into applause as the couple’s lips joined as one. It was done—rebel prince and wife. The heralds sounded their horns, announcing the match, “Their Royal Highnesses, The Prince and Princess Dante of House Baratheon, Lord and Lady of Dragonstone.” With that, they would be ushered forward, servants lighting the way to the marital chamber, where the marriage would then be consummated to seal the alliance forever. Their belongings had been placed in new and grander apartments, given the elevation in position. They would be treated as royals visiting a vassal house that swore its allegiance to their claim to the Iron Throne. The crowd would sink into bows and curtsies, and would not rise until they had passed by. Her ladies-in-waiting would follow suit, her parents, grandmother, siblings, and then the rest of the crowd by order of rank.

Judge: “They taste like lips.” No, cousin, no they did not. Odessa’s mouth tasted like the honey’d words she always spoke. It must have been the Father himself that pulled Dante by the knot of hair on his head away from Odessa so the ceremony could continue. It wasn’t until he’d turned to face the small crowd that he realized they were clapping, the sound echoing throughout the Sept, accompanied by the sound of horns. Yet he hadn’t heard a sound until now. Bending his arm, he gave Odessa his elbow as they moved down from the ceremonial dais and were coaxed toward the marital chamber. It might have been this feeling of being on an opium high or the fact that this would not be his first go around in a room full of strangers, but nervousness had yet to hit him the way it usually did. There was an almost eerie sense of calm hanging around him. Inside the new set of apartments, they were pressed to move to opposite sides of the bed, while almost every person from the ceremony moved into the room as well. He watched as the handmaiden’s turned down the sheets revealing what looked like an over-sized handkerchief in the center of the bed. Slowly, Dante’s eyes started to widen, the reality of the situation settling in through the fog. She was a virgin. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he began to think back, forming sort of a plan of action. Being lost in thought, when a servant reached for his tunic, Dante grabbed the hand in such a quick motion they yelped in fear. Unsure of how or even if he should apologize, as was his first instinct, he opted to dismiss it. “I can do it.” And he did, all the while watching as Odessa was undressed on the other side of the bed. Her curves outside of clothes were more alluring then hidden beneath the well-tailored silhouettes of her gowns. For a long moment he stood naked on his side of the bed, pondering how to approach this situation. The line of hair revealed when Odessa measured him continued on growing a bit darker and rougher the lower it got. At the moment he stood flaccid but it was by pure force of will.  It would have been very apparent that Dante wore black to shrink his outward appearance, because lacking clothes, the true girth of his arms, chest, legs and… well other things, were exposed. He moved onto the bed, his eyes unwavering from Odessa’s visage, like a wolf in line of a the trees and nothing like a stag at the moment. Holding out his hand to Odessa, he wanted to draw her into his body before laying down.

Olena: Their slow procession back to the royal guest chamber was a complete blur to Odessa, her head filled with the mix of nerves and emotions for what awaited them at the end of this journey. As attendants pushed open the doors, there it was—the marriage bed. It was made of solid cherry wood and its feather mattress covered with sheets as white as the bride’s gown; and eiderdown covers and silk upholstery of gold. Her hand parted from the groom’s arm as they were lead to opposite sides of the bed. Some of her ladies began to disassemble her wedding attire, while another brought over a goblet and curtsied, taking a single sip and returning it to the tray. Nothing she would ever drink again would reach her lips before it had another’s. Odessa sipped the spiced wedding ale, taking as much down as she could without being blatantly obvious before returning it to the dish, per her mother’s advice. Odessa was a relatively small woman, even for the times there was hardly a head in Highgarden that she could see over if it were not below its tenth name day. Contrastingly, the giant of a man standing on the opposite side of the bed had no comparison that she had ever seen in her lifetime. From the corner of her eye she could just barely catch a glimpse of his figure, only seeing the outline of the muscles and then the shadow of his hair traveling down his mid-line to…blessed mother…Her eyes shut for a moment, followed by the swoosh of the silk gown against her skin as it cascaded to the ground about her feet. There she stood, like a small marble statue, her fair skin illuminated by the light of the torches almost as if she were glowing. Her breasts, though not abundantly large in size, were like two plump doves resting on her chest—very reflective of her youth. She had been twisting the rings on her fingers out of nervous habit, but a tranquil wave quickly began to wash over her, which she assumed was from the wine. The muscles in her neck began to relax as well, not making her feel so rigid. She felt the touch of Ayrlsse’s hand to her elbow, signaling her to turn and face the bed, and Dante. At first she kept her eyes lowered, but realized her gaze was focused upon his sex. It did not occur to her what exactly she was looking at until her lips parted and eyes widened—it was not going to fit. She was about to die. The only cocks she had ever actually seen were those of the horses, and her husband’s was not off. Her hands left her center-line and slid back to her beside her broad hips, a trait that had been passed down from both her grandmother’s Redwyne line and that of the Ashford’s from which her mother hailed. Her waist was the great envy of many women who wore tight corsets beneath their gowns to be only slightly larger than what she was naturally. Once the sheets were pulled down, revealing the virgin sheet, Dante had climbed into the enormous bed and held out his hand for her. Reflexively she took the hand and climbed onto the bed, having to walk on her knees to bridge the gap between them. She did not know whether to lie down beside him, or…anything really. She had a very…noble knowledge of sex and sexuality, not to say she was ignorant, nor was the crowd necessarily bothering her. To her knowledge she had never actually been alone. She was, however, purposefully keeping her eyes locked on his own, avoiding further view of what lay at the end of the trail of hair leading down from his chest.

Judge: A smile broke his far away features watching Odessa scuttle across the large bed on her knees. She was moving as gracefully as she possible could but the contrast of the large bed, her petite body and fact that Dante barely had to move at all to reach it's center made him want to laugh. That one moment couldn't completely clear the fog of what had to be done, however. Dante wasn't sure how long a consummation ceremony was supposed to take but they were just going to have to wait. The idea of devouring every inch of Odessa's skin had seldom left his mind since he'd taken her hand to go see Azaroth. The warm spark that tingled his palm then had never left; the first of many sensations he'd never felt before. He used his hand to steady Odessa on the feathered mattress, free hand starting at the curve of her hip and moved slowly along her back to the base of her skull. His thumb ran the length of her chin tilting it upward for her lips to meet his own in chaste kiss. He kissed her chin, the depression in her throat, gauging the feeling of her breathing below him before leaning in and closing his lips around the soft bud of her nipple. Her breasts were enough for a mouthful, but his focus was on the tender flesh of her nipple, flicking it with his tongue, grazing the nub with his teeth. Balancing her in his hand, Dante moved to the other giving it the same amount of attention. His fingers spread along her back, arching her lithe little body as he moved down the center of her stomach. The further down he went, the more Odessa was lowered to the bed, eventually resting her head on the pile of pillows. Balancing on one hand near her head, his body covering but not touching her own, it would have been easy for Odessa to the feel the growing desire he had for her pressing against her core. The member continually throbbed, a physical reaction to his strong internal struggle to stay focused and not ravage the petite little porcelain body beneath him. The moment his lips touched her skin his struggle increased ten fold, but at the forefront of his mind was that she was a virgin, a very tiny virgin. The more blood he lost from his brain to his need, the less patience his body would have with the delicate nature in which he treated the tender morsel underneath him. For a long moment, Dante's mouth hovered above the shallow indention of her navel. His breathing was strong and controlled, causing even his shoulders to move as his chest expanded and contracted. The scent of flowers wafting off her skin was intoxicating. A bestial sound rumbled up through this chest, his nose grazing across her skin until his eyes met her own once more. The light was dimmer under the canopy of the bed with the thin, sheer curtains as the only things between them and the outsiders, but the gold flecks in her those green eyes were bright and enticing. Dante cupped Odessa's head, his thumb brushing across her lips. "Do you trust me?"

Olena: Odessa was unsure of what was exactly required of her past this point, Davena had never truly gone that far in-depth on the subject other than that it was her prayer that Odessa be blessed to have a generous husband when it came to the matter of making heirs. She wasn’t ignorant to the fact that many found use for intercourse for romantic purposes, but how it worked exactly was the grey area for her. Thankfully Dante rescued her from her amateurish standing there by leaning in to place his lips on her own. Animal impulses kicked in, and her hands were on his shoulders, eyes closing as his mouth trailed down her neck and to her nipple, which stood to attention against the flick of his warm tongue. Despite the audience, and the presence of not only her siblings and parents, but her grandmother, she could not hold back the gasp that resulted from his actions. She felt a tightening sensation between her thighs, growing stronger in its intensity with each passing second. The temperature of her body seemed to be warmer than any fever that had held her, but unlike a fever it only left her wanting. He then laid her down as gently as one would a newborn infant against the soft cushioned pillows behind her, allowing her to stretch her legs out in front of her. The hand closest him rest upon his forearm, the other lay across her belly, and she bent one ever-so slightly, providing herself a moment’s relief from the tension rising in her sex. Given her youth, Odessa was one that another might consider hard to…excite. Despite her high station, she was like any other girl that lusted after the touch of another. Only, as the daughter of the Lord Paramount of The Mander, who’s entire reputation and standing in the public eye could be tarnished from a moment’s weakness, she was never permitted to act on those weaknesses. She knew who she was and what she stood for beyond that. She was ambitious, but she was a woman none the less. Now, in this moment, she lay on her back before the man  she need only look upon to feel the moistening between her thighs, and he was hers for the taking with no repercussion. She might call upon him to fulfill her needs for the rest of their days joined together as man and wife, and she prayed with all her might that they would be many. Her fear of his entry had all but passed when he asked her if she trusted him. How could a man so giant and rough, be so gentle and tender towards one such as herself? Her heart lept in her chest. “Yes, husband. With all that I am,” she spoke softly, the words dripped like honey from her mouth, “I am yours.”

Judge: To hear her words, Dante ducked his head, losing his face in gentle slope of her shoulder; it did little to muffle another bestial sound that left him when her honey'd words found his ears. Involuntarily his hips thrust forward at the sound, the fully hardened length of him brushing against her wet sex. The feeling of that dampness damn near caused him to lose all sense. He made a fist in the sheets beside her head, jaw locked and ticking, his entire body tensed for a long moment before relaxing. All throughout, the hand that held her head seemed detached from his body, having not moved even an inch, no, only gently still cupping her head in his palm, his thumb resting on her lips. Lowering himself to his forearm, Dante's body shifted more the right and remained holding her head, fingers gently coaxing her to look at him. "You need only to tell me to stop." In truth, a single sound of discomfort and he would have stopped but in the event he stopped being a man and lost all his damned senses it would have been good to have a safe word. As he spoke, his left hand trailed the side of her body, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over the taunt nipple, in such a deep shade of pink it made her ivory skin seem even paler. His hand continued down, angling over her curves, crossing her belly until finally his fingers moved over the small tuft of chestnut brown hair. A particular damp spot therein is what his fingers wanted the most. The tip of his index finger gently parted her lips, circling the entrance of her womanhood while he fought the urge to bring his hand to his mouth. Distracting himself, Dante lowered his head focusing his need on her nipples once more. While his mouth jumped from one taunt bud to the next and back again, his finger circled the soft bud of flesh between her legs before finally pushing inward. The thickness of his finger was swallowed by her sex sending a shudder down his spine. There was absolutely no way of entering her without doing damage other than the idea he had in mind, and it was a good damned thing he had some idea what he was doing. Deep in the back of his mind, Dante made a mental note to send a raven thanking those patient, schooled whores in Duskendale. He'd paused for a moment after the initial entry of his finger, gauging Odessa's reaction to give her a moment's reprieve if she needed it, before continuing forward. Mentally he was taking a rough measurement while his fingertip sought out the particular pad of flesh that was her maidenhead. He would not find himself completely sheathed inside his new bride. Finding what he'd come for without piercing it, Dante's finger circled the area then retracted; in the same moment his teeth sank into flesh about her nipple. When his finger returned inside of her it found the small space behind her maidenhead. He continued to stroke her insides, cautiously adding a finger after several strokes. He would need at least three fingers to move easily in and out of her before he could even consider using his sex. Meanwhile, his mouth released her breasts and returned those honey'd lips and that delicate jaw line. He was laying practically on his side, resting on his forearm, his deep, pensive gaze watching her features while his fingers teased her sex. He needed her on the verge of orgasm before he could do anything else.

Olena: Her skin tingled all over as his hand made its way across her body; although, she was still enraptured by his attention to her breasts. These were all new sensations to Odessa, and her body wasn’t sure how to handle them just yet. She nodded her assent that she would let him know if she wanted him to stop, but something told her that was something she would not mutter that night. Davena did not raise a quitter, and even if she had she damn-sure wouldn’t be quitting in front of her. As his fingers traced across the hair bordering her sex she felt her back tense, her eyes popping back open when the rough skin of his hands entered her, letting out a soft cry that was a mixture of discomfort and lust all at once. Once she had begun to adjust to the motion, her body found that it gave some relief to the aching that was driving her to near-insanity in that moment, and her body wanted it deeper still, pulling it in.  Her head seemed to be swimming in euphoria, and she felt an odd rising from within, like something was coming, but not quite there yet. When he withdrew his finger it seemed to cause her more frustration than when he had inserted it, and she almost could not help the look of distress she gave him, like a child whose sweet roll had been taken from them mid-bite. Then, his teeth sank into her nipple and more of his digits pushed inside her, feeling a slight pain as it brushed past her maidenhead, careful not to break it. She failed to notice, or simply didn’t care that he knew what he was doing, she was far too lost in the moment; however, those in the audience exchanged knowing looks. There had likely never been a consummation ceremony that took place as such, and likely never would be again in the history of royal marriages unless their son were anything like his father. Her nails dug into the virgin-sheet and mattress beneath them, taking a handful as she moaned as softly as she could control and pressed her head back into the pillows. Her hips pushed out against his hand as her inner self battled against the fusion of pain and pleasure all at once. How much more of this she was going to be able to take before whatever that rising inside her reached its breaking point wasn’t likely to be far away. The hand closest to him had circled beneath the bend of the arm that he was lying on and around to his back, where her nails were slowly beginning to press in. She felt as though she were going to lose her mind once the third finger gained entry. How could it hurt like this yet leave her wanting for more? She was still controlling what sounds escaped her lips, not so much what they were, but the volume she allowed them. Then he kissed her again, and once their tongues intertwined she could barely stand it anymore, she was gasping to hold it back, not really knowing what it was or why she would, but all the while rocking her hips in sync with his motions. His lips were like some addictive drug, and at this point she was obsessed. She’d bite at his lower lip, bearing down the closer she felt, but releasing it to deepen their kiss once more.

Judge: The visual of pleasure an frustration that rolled across her normally collected features in reaction to the movement of his fingers was driving him crazy. His sex was steel rod of need. His composure chipping away with each of her soft moans. By the time he'd reached his second finger, her hips were grinding against his hand and one of her little hands had found the back of his shoulder. As her fingers dug into his skin, he let out a hiss of pain feeling his skin begin to tear under the pressure of her nails. He hadn't known such pressure could have come from such a little frame. "Seven Hells." Dante growled into the curve of her neck before their lips found each other. As he kissed her, his body shifted, lifting off his side and moving until he lay completely over her, her pale, warm legs parted around his hips. Another growl left him, feeling her teeth digging into his lip. Slowly shaking his head, Dante freed himself from Odessa's intoxicating mouth. He needed air. To clear his head and regain some sort of composure. Tilting his head back, Dante took a deep breath to clear the fog of desire from the forefront of his mind. He'd come this far without giving into wild abandon and permanently damaging Odessa, so it was too late to go back and turn into some sort of savage. There would be plenty of time for that once she was a bit more ... open to him. Gods bless whatever fool ever tried to keep him from her bed chamber. His fingers shifted inside of her, moving to the bottom of her entrance, while he placed his own sex in his hand, the swollen head brushing her lips. Despite being on the brink of losing complete control, the whore taught Lord of Dragonstone, still managed to keep enough wits about to him to have picked up on the fact that Odessa was trying not to be to loud. His hand had never left her head, giving him almost complete control over which area of her mouth, neck or chest he wanted. Leaning down, he captured her mouth, but didn't smother, knowing she was going to need to breath in a moment. Without warning, having only been listening to her body and waiting for the moment of her climax to betray itself in a sudden overflow of fluid on his fingers, Dante thrust his hips forward and removed his hand in the same motion. Just as he'd predicted before, not all of him would disappear inside of her and he'd forced himself to stop before piercing her maidenhead. A deep, guttural growl left him. His sex was suffocating inside of her in the most euphoric way ever to be conceived. The need to ravage her sex with his own was almost unbearable. So much so his chest heaved as he tried to control himself. Gripping her hip, with his now free hand, he waited until her body started to relax before pulling back and pushing forward slowly. Lifting Odessa's perfect backside off of the mattress, his slow piston like motion continued through her climax. Releasing her head, his hand made a fist in the pillow, head hanging over her shoulder, while he used her body to sate his own desire. He wasn't until he couldn't hold back anymore that he pushed completely forward and finally pierced her maidenhead. His release rapidly over taking him, Dante swiftly unsheathed himself from her sex and rolled onto his back. His throbbing member stood at attention, his chest rising and falling rapidly, fighting to catch his breath. No, he hadn't finished. Strangely enough, he didn't want to mix samples. She was going to be sore and uncomfortable enough without the hope of their heir dripping out of her along with her innocence. Odessa's shoulders rested against his forearm as she lay beside him. He couldn't tell how she was feeling, he was going for satisfied even if he had not finished himself, but for the moment he just needed to stare a the spots of light jumping before his eyes on the canopy of the bed. When he was able to speak again, Dante rolled onto his side, kissing her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Olena: She cried out as the wave of her first orgasm washed over her, hitting her like a ton of bricks head on. Once his lips left her she was no longer able to muffle the sound, and didn’t particularly how loud she was or who heard. Dante pushed his way inside her, the pain dulled by the strength of what had already befell her. It was not the horror story she had been forewarned of all her life up until this point. No, it was an intoxicating process that held her completely captive to him. The sharp piercing of her hymen came with momentary shock, but it was hardly enough to sway her attention as he lifted her up against his own body, which was hovering over her own. She could feel her sex pulsing around him, squeezing him tightly inside of her. She was barely finished herself when she felt the resistance of him releasing himself from within her only to fall back on the cushions beside her. Her lady, Ayrlsse, had been given the assignment to stand by and signal that the sheet had been stained with Odessa’s virtue, and she stepped from around the bed and down into the area where all the others stood and nodded in confirmation. Then the crowd parted from the room, led by Julian and Davena, and then her ladies would usher the rest out and follow to their own chambers, closing the door shut and leaving the wedded couple alone to bask in their half-shared after-glow. Odessa could see that he was still standing firm, not soft from his own release, and then it occurred to her he hadn’t had any. There was no remnant of his seed at the tip of his member. Had she failed? A flush of rose up in her, only to be met with his asking how she had faired the ordeal. If he weren’t so beautiful and she so in love with him she’d have slapped him. Irritation and embarrassment were not emotions that she dealt with well.  It took a moment for her to regain herself, her chest still heaving to catch her breath, but this was not over by a long shot. Despite the soreness between her thighs, her yearning for him had not been satisfied. She wanted all or nothing. Once she was sure that the crowd had fully departed she turned over on her side to face him, the gold in her eyes shining fiercely with the light of the torch that was behind them. “No, I want you to finish.” Her face leaned in a little more closely, “now.” He could consider that the first order of many to come from those same honeyed lips. She wasn’t his lesser now, she was his equal by law, be it a queen, princess, lady, or traitor. “We are not done.” This rose, no matter how small she might be would weather this storm—the ache was rising once more.

Judge: Well shit, had Dante known they would have shuffled out the moment her blood befell the bed he would have...no, they'd have still had to wait. He didn't have it in him to hurt Odessa not even for the sake of privacy. The idea had never even been an option. He'd imagine she was sore anyway, but at least he'd done all he could to temper that blow. Together, they lay in silence, breathing heavily. Dante watched the shadows of all the figures quietly shuffling out of the room --that was a lot of people he'd forgotten even existed a few moments ago, most of which were her family. Once the door had shut, Odessa turned to him with an almost angry look in her eye and he froze. The word no might well have been the slap in the face she wanted to deal him. "I hurt you. I am so sorry, I really tried not to.." 'I want you to finish...now.' He let out a breath of relief and sank back into the bed, his free hand resting on his heaving chest as he used the other arm, which still lay around her shoulders to pull her into him. The moment Odessa came to rest on his chest, she had more orders for him. Orders that made his chest rumble with laughter. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled her across his body to sit on him. The stiff and wanting length of him throbbing to feel her round, firm backside against it. Lazily grazing his hands up and down her form, from shoulders to hip and back again a wicked glint came into his blue eyes. "You scared me there for a moment my Little Flower. That wasn't very nice of you." His hands came to rest on her backside, fingers kneading into the plump flesh, while he toyed with the idea of lifting her onto his girth. Being honest with himself, Dante wasn't sure he would last inside of her for another moment if he wasn't in near absolute control of those devilish hips. If she remained on top of him when his release hit, he might snap her in half and that could not happen. Lifting himself off of the pillow, his lips met her own, his arm pressed against her back, drawing her closer. His hesitation to follow swiftly after her orders came with the feel of blood that still dripping from her, now falling onto his pelvic bone. Her thighs were nearly split over his lap even though his waist narrowed sharply in comparison to his chest. From behind, his fingers found her sex again, gauging her dampness. Blood and the natural fluid that signaled need had a slightly different texture. Once he was convinced her want outweighed the drip of blood from between her legs, he hoisted up in the air placing the center of her body over his own stiff torment, praying she didn't tense up. It was difficult enough catching her between motions of convulsion in order to get in there the first time. As her sex began to open up for him, he couldn't contain the growls that emitted through clenched teeth. Unable to hold the kiss, he fell back to the pillows, both hands holding his new bride by her rear as he worked her up and down his shaft and slow and unbelievably pleasurable movements. By the time she'd worked her way back to nearly re-sheathing him in his entirety his control was hanging by a thread. It took a single moment for the little Swan of Highgarden to find herself on her back once more and his hands were gone from her body. He was too close to his release to risk touching her delicate little form. Instead, his arms were planted on either side of her shoulders, holding his body over her own while his hips worked toward a frenzy between her thighs. It wasn't until that single shred of control finally left him that his pelvic bone finally came flush with her own. Everything he'd been holding back finally emptied into her pulsing womanhood with one final deep growl. It was a long moment before Dante uncoiled, tension rolling out of bulked muscled and once more rolled off his fully consummated bride, unable to hold himself up any longer. A thin sheen of sweat glazed his body. His chest expanding and contracting as he tried to fill his lung with air. Deja vu may of struck his bride in that moment as he turned on his side and kissed her shoulder. "Now are you alright?" Came his husky voice with the edge of laugh.

Olena: ‘Scared him?’ If there was one thing Odessa Tyrell Baratheon was quite indifferent to in this moment of her life was how scared he was. Do not think that she did not care deeply for him, for she did, but this would need to be the first and last time he made this mistake. Firstly, she could hardly stand the throbbing agitation he had left behind, her body craving the re-entry of his cock into the depths of her, the only thing that seemed to soothe it. She was dripping-wet, and he needed to do something about it. Secondly, heirs were not made by pulling-out. Her family was risking everything by backing him for the throne. A number of things could go very wrong, and if he were to die and she be barren she’d be sent back to Highgarden the unrespectable widow of traitor with only her family name to shield her—no one would marry the king’s rebel brother’s widow. If she were pregnant she’d be the mother of the next rebel heir. Everything rested upon the future, and passion be damned, ambition and cunning were her true driving forces. It would destroy her to be without him, but she’d rather be the frigid dowager hell-bent on revenge than a shut-in with no prospects. She surrendered herself to him completely as he lifted her onto his pulsing shaft. His furious onslaught of her sex causing her to want to cry out in pain, but she gritted her teeth and remained calm, letting her body react to him as it willed. Her hands pressed down onto the rock-hard surface that was his abdomen, sliding to the sides to offer her more balance, in her own mind, than what his were giving her. The, he flipped her onto her back and she could hear the slapping of his flesh against her own, and this time she did cry out, wrapping her arms about his neck, pulling herself flush against him. She moaned in pleasure in his ear, her teeth grazing over his neck or sinking into his flesh. The action seemed to do something for her, whether it be to herself or to Dante. Her mother had been so terribly wrong about the ordeal that a wedding night with a lord husband would be, in either the fact that she was being fucked like she were already the queen of all seven kingdoms, but she was right in that it was a torture she would have to endure. It tortured her to no end, and she loved it. Just as his pelvic bone collided with her own, and the steaming stream of cum shot deep inside her, she felt her own body react in sync, thrusting back against him as she began to pulsate about him. The whole room went dark, and all there was to be found was the feel of his form both in and on her. When he fell back beside her she just lay there, basking in what had been the most staggering thing she had ever in all her name days experienced before. It would be her new favourite pastime, she was sure of it. She felt drunk. Any pain she might experience would have to come later, she didn’t have time for it in her life right now. Once she regained some measure of control over herself she’d roll onto her side to face him as she had before, this time reaching one arm across his heaving chest. Her lips would press to his own, her tongue swiping against all that was in her way before withdrawing. “Mhm,” she purred, resting her head on his shoulder, “I love you Dante.”

Judge: His head rested in the palm of his own hand as he lay watching the torch light move across the walls beyond the curtains of their shared bed. The other arm was still looped around Odessa's shoulders, fingers idly drawing patterns on her skin, while he awaited her answer. Again, with just a few words, Odessa had sent his mind reeling. Dante opened his mouth, closed it, looking down at the top of Odessa's head. He wasn't entirely sure he'd heard her correctly. What if she had mumbled something else against his chest? What if she were just groggy and tired. What of his feelings? He'd never actually given them much thought. Now, as he laid there in stunned silence, his mind reeled backwards to their first meeting and every meeting thereafter. His incessant need to feel her skin on his, to keep her close, the way the world seemed to melt away when he looked at her. Once he was out of her presence, he’d just counted himself as crazy. After all, Dante couldn’t remember anyone ever saying that to him. Maybe his mother, but he couldn’t remember her face much less the things they’d have said to each other. He knew the old maester on Dragonstone loved him like a son, but they’d never openly expressed such feelings to each other. He wasn’t sure about Kainen, but he knew without a doubt that his aunt Eirlys and her eldest daughter loved him, and yet they’d never exchanged those words either. The only time Dante had ever heard one person bare that statement down on another was when he’d seen mother’s speaking to their children, thus he’d come to the conclusion that only mother’s spoke that way. Maybe that’s why the idea of his feelings for Odessa had never bared that word in his mind. What did Odessa know of love? She barely over her fourteenth name day and furthermore she was a noble. Not just any noble. She was a girl of a notoriously strategic family. She came from a line of women that new exactly what they were doing at all times. Hells, that had been one of the initial reasons for his consideration of her father’s offer in the first place. So, she must have had some idea of what she was saying. Maybe he just didn’t. Even if he wasn’t your typical noble, Dante had been around plenty of manipulative people. He was well aware that she could have been speaking from a place of power and not actually a place of love, but it didn’t matter. It had never mattered. For as far back as he could remember, he had always been driven by his own motives. Did he love Odessa? Yes, possibly from the moment he’d flicked her hair with parchment and she restrained a giggle turning it into a blush. It just wasn’t until she’d given a label to his feels that he fully acknowledged them. If she hadn’t, he might have gone the rest of their lives without ever saying it. If she didn’t know he loved her by now, she might never know. Even still. Dante shifted, turning slightly onto his side and brushing strands of her chestnut brown hair from her face. Tilting her chin up, his stormy blue gaze met her own when he said,”I love you, Odessa.” He kissed her forehead then, slipping out from underneath her to get off the bed. Crossing the room to the door, the rebel prince pulled the massive door open and stood stark naked, his cock still streaked with the blood of his wife’s innocence, while he conversed with the guards standing on either side. He needed someone to bring food and wine and someone else to go and find his owl. Before returning to his bed and his bride, Dante stopped at the pitcher and the basin on a stand that was probably reserved for the attendants, he wet a cloth in the still warm water, before returning to the bed. He had only to lean across the bed to reach Odessa’s lips, though he returned to her side, gently turning her onto her back again, his hand parting her thighs. The warm cloth wiped away all splatter both red and white from between her legs and all the while he kissed her, stopping only to make sure the deed was done well. Sliding a hand under her backside, he removed the virginal cloth from the bed and got up again, folding both the cloth and the rag and placing them on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Climbing back into the bed, his mouth met her belly and continued downward. His stomach growled, but the taste of her wet flesh would be more than satisfying until the food arrived. In the meantime? There were plenty of things to keep him occupied.

Olena: It was the morning following the wedding of the daughter of House Tyrell to a one Prince Dante Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone. The consummation ceremony had only occurred a mere six hours before, and the sun was only barely beginning to appear across the fields of golden roses that lined the way to the Keep of Highgarden. However, despite the tender hour, life had long before begun to stir within the castle walls. It was a cycle which never ended, and the guards that worked that night would soon enough be replaced by an oncoming shift, to be sure no drowsy man guarded all that which lay inside. A young page boy scurried across the central courtyard, a message in-hand, walking through the flowery landscape from the lordly chambers towards where the protectors were housed. He was to deliver such with great haste, a summons for a one guard, Ser Derek, to come to the privy chamber of the high lady of the house and wait outside said apartment until granted entry. A separate note would be given to Ser Anthony Crane to inform him of the goings on and any change in status so that he might know who to place where to complete the duties that would need to be performed in the knight’s absence. On his way to fulfill his task, the boy would walk past a half-empty apartment, one which had been furnished and occupied only the day before by the guard set with the charge of protecting the now-royal daughter of the house; however, now said chambers were stripped half-bare aside from the bed, side table, chair, and linens that were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, excluding the possessions on the opposite which belonged to the night guard on-duty now. The boy would not know this room from any other or the man who used to live in it, save for in passing, so this detail would pass him by like any other matter that didn’t concern him. He knew his instructions, and they were all that mattered. Once there he’d knock sharply at the wooden door to summon the man’s attention. The rooms of the sentries would each house four inhabitants, two which worked during the day, and two more that worked at night. Only the family guards were granted rooms for two inhabitants. Once the proper man had been addressed he’d be given the letter and told to report to the location at once.

LordChampion: The morning shift was only just about to start, though Derek had been up for the past few hours of his own accord, as usual. Every morning he woke up two to three hours before his shift was to start and began his routine. This consisted of a hour long jog, followed by multiple work out routines for another hour, and finished by a thirty minute swordplay routine. After this, he'd return to the quarters assigned to him by the Tyrrell house, freshen up, and prepare for his guard shift briefing. However, Derek's day would not be so cut and dry. As he finished tightening a breastplate strap for his fellow guard, a knock on the door drew his attention away. Upon opening it, he was handed a letter by a boy. From the insignia on said letter, he could tell it's contents were the utmost importance. He reached into his coin sack, and tipped the boy a small amount for his service. He shut the door, opened the letter, and read it. "What's it say?" Asked his comrade. Derek took a few seconds to finish reading before answering, his blue eyes quickly gliding over the contents of the parchment. "I am being summoned...Crane has already been notified. Looks like you'll have someone else watching your back this morning." He said. "Thats...not at all ideal..." Derek didn't reply, he simply opened the door, tucking the letter into his belt strap, and left. He rushed through the city, heading directly for the privy of the high lady. Having wasted no time, he reached her doorway within mere minutes of receiving the letter. His brow was slightly wet with persperation, but he seemed otherwise calm and collected...a testimony to his terribly well kept physical form. The guards at the door way halted his approach. "Ser Derek. Reporting, as summoned by the high Lady." The guards nodded and one knocked on the door, and upon being allowed entrance, would usher Derek to follow him inside where he'd be introduced. The one guard bowed, while Derek took a knee, head bowed. "M'lady, Ser Derek has arrived as summoned." Derek remained in his position, and would do so until told to stand.

Olena: Davena sat on the balcony of her privy, which was enclosed with a lattice structure covered in vined roses. It was there that she often broke her fast, a table spread out before her and lined with a runner bearing the Tyrell and Ashford insignias. She sat at the very end of the table, in one of the two armed chairs, befitting her station, it was all second nature to her after her thirty-two years, eighteen of which had been spent here in Highgarden. A maidservant brought forth the news that the knight had arrived, so she waved a hand for him to be brought forward. Thus, the maid would transverse the privy to where the man stood between the two guards, motioning him to step forward. Once she had lead him to the balcony, she’d leave him to kneel and then stand before the wife of the Warden of the South. Davena looked up from her tea glass, taking a final sip before returning it to the saucer in her other hand, and then to the table before her. “Good morning Ser Derek, thank you for your services thus far, but you are here to be given your new assignment.” She’d bring a silk napkin to her lips to be sure none of the tea would run down or to remove any possible crumbs before she spoke. “I do not know if you noticed, but the guards chamber where a one Ser Harland used to reside has been cleared empty. He was the guard to my daughter, her royal highness, up until yesterday evening when he was…released from his duties. You see, he failed in his assignment to guard her virtue entirely, and then he hid the information from me.” Her voice lilted towards the end, but then dropped to a more solemn tone, “I don’t like secrets, Ser Derek. Service of this household must always be absolute.  The tidbit which he opted to hide involved a matter concerning her highness and a former ward of this household, one which I know you bear a certain familiarity with, a one Azaroth Baratheon.” She held up a hand to silence any possible questions or replies, continuing, “Before you make any assumptions, know that it is not your place, but no major scar was left upon her virtue and she bled the sheets for her husband only hours before this very moment. None the less, word might have spread which could have damaged her reputation regarding a flirtation that could have been prevented. We shall be going to the capital for the Harvest Festival in only a few days. The princess is your assignment. Guard her with your life, or I will take your own. Until the crown sits on her husband’s head she is neither wed nor royal, but a noble daughter of this house, understood?... This will ensure her safety as this coupling is an act of treason. If we lose it never happened, if we win, she will be queen. Anyone who so much as whispers a word of Prince Dante in reference to ‘Lady Odessa Tyrell’ is to have their name sent to me, and they shall be dealt with accordingly.”

LordChampion: Upon being motioned to move forward into the room, Derek nodded and obeyed. He stepped further into the room until he reached a place he was showed to stop, and did so. Before him, sat the Lady Davena, high Lady of the Tyrell house. She was every bit as stunning as everyone said. He had never had the honor of meeting her personally, and this was most definitely a more private situation than what he'd ever thought their first meeting would create. He stood upon being told, and listened to Lady Davena's message. In less than a minute, he had been told three major secrets that the Tyrell would rather have kept that way. The Lady Odessa had been married to Dante Baratheon. A Prince. Well, everyone knew that the King had pretty much disowned the rest of his family in order to remove any chance they had of claiming his throne so he was no longer a prince in the eyes of the King. Yet, it would appear the man was planning a coup...a rebellion...and it would seem the Tyrell...HIS Tyrell agreed and were a major part of said coup. On top of this, his new job is a direct result of another guard failing in his duty and then keeping this failure a secret from the leading Lady in all of Highgarden...probably in all of The Reach. If any of this was to be spoken outside of the walls, it would mean ruin for a house that he loved and held dearer to himself than his own life. And yes, he had been told of Azaroth and the Lady Odessa by the boy...or...man himself. Once the Lady finished, he remained silent for a few moments as everything finished sinking in. He had just become one of the most important people in Highgarden, if not the entire Reach. "M'lady, this honor is beyond the likes of me. If I may be so bold as to suggest that Ser Crane would be the best bet. I live to serve, and shall obey your commands, M'lady, if it is truly your wish that I take this honor upon myself...despite my own personal thoughts. Your daughter, and through her this house, shall not come to harm so long as I live. You honor me, M'lady." As he finished, he took a knee once more.

Olena: She regarded him with cooly, “You may not. The castellan of this keep is an invaluable asset. Why would we demote him to a guard? Everything has been arranged, and you will depart with us within the week to travel to the capital. The servants are packing your belongings as we speak, and they will be loaded onto a cart with Ser Brendan’s, your opposite. Now rise, you will return to the barracks and speak with Ser Anthony, who will brief you on your duties and explain the significance of what lies ahead of you in King’s Landing… Should all go as planned that is where you shall spend the remainder of your days in service to our would-be queen. If there is anyone in particular you might wish to bid farewell now is the time, paper and quill with be provided.” She’d rise from the table, neatly folding her hands neatly before her and dismissing him, “That will be all, Ser Derek. You may go. Thank you for your service.” If there was one thing Davena was quite indifferent to it was the personal feelings and dutiful words of honor that poured forth from the man’s mouth like a poet’s sonnet. There was much planning to be done, granted the preparations had all been made far in advance for them to part to the stinking cesspool that was the capital; although, the royal marriage had not been anticipated, so that changed matters quite a bit. Odessa’s entire wardrobe and household would need to be taken along with them without being explicitly obvious. Not to mention they would need to somehow sneak a man of mammoth proportions into their apartments of the Red Keep. Thankfully the Tyrells were known for their excess in most all things. Davena rose from her seat and walked past him, disappearing within the many rooms of her chambers.