Game of Thrones: A Cold Wind Blows - Chapter 1a: The gathering storm in King's Landing

[Kakita Zoyu]

Allyria's jaw tightened, her lips pursed in a stubborn pout. She wanted to watch Messer Bannon prove himself, but she would not have time to watch him, complete her lessons, and bathe for the Queen's dinner tonight. But she was the last of the Daynes of Starfall, and had her duties, however much they displeased her. She would not give up Starfall to the Daynes of High Hermitage. Lyri gave a miffed sigh, tossing her hair over her shoulder, then took Maester Lorian's free arm, offering her own bit of support.

"Very well, Maester Lorian, let us away to the library for my lessons. It would never do that I should miss one, now would it?"

Heading inside the palatial manor, she looked back over her shoulder, giving Nym, 'Lia, and Morgaine an envious glance, and Bannon a regretful one. She would have to hear about Bannon earning a patron at a later time.

[z007]

The princess sighed, bowing to the inevitable few hours that would be spent in preparing for dinner with the Queen of Westeros. She made a decision, snapping her fan shut and gaining the attention of her guards.

"Ser Olian? Would you please make our new guest comfortable and see that he has access to any training materials he needs for the evening? I wish to watch his spars against your men, and that will have to wait until tomorrow morning. So long as you are agreed to stay the night, Messer Bannon?"

She waited long enough to imply that the Captain and the commoner had a say in the matter, but her servants pulled her and Lady Morgaine off to those mysterious places where the noble and wealthy go to make themselves look and smell beautiful for one another. Bannon and Galiana were left standing at the door of the manor, surrounded by curious guards.

[Davenrell]

One of the servants lead Morgaine to a meeting room. The man inside wore the vest of House Arryn but Morgaine recognized him as one of the spiders "little birds". For the past few weeks Varys had taken an interest in the lady Darry. He told her how he recognized her ambition and had worked out a deal. The two shared information from time to time. Most of the time the information seemed absolutely useless. Varys would want to know what meals people would prefer for dinner. Once he had asked her what type of horses the house had just bought. Another time he asked her the name of the serving wench that had attended them in a tavern. Still she couldn't help but expect there was always a point.

"His Lordship thought you should be aware that the giant who has joined you is a bastard from the river lands. That when he left his village his grand father was found murdered the next day. Many think he did it."

With that the courier walked out of the room. Usually information came at a cost. Varys apparently didn't want anything for this.

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Inside the library the maester gestured to a chair with three books in front of it. "I told Doran that it was a poor idea for you to come here. Court is no place for a young lady who has a house to run. It would have been better to be in Sunspear where there are not as many distractions. How was court today? Hopefully Aerys didn't burn anyone alive. Truly not a place for a young lady." He had a habit of going on like that. Sometimes it was clear he forgot recent events. Every once and awhile he even called her by her mothers name. Soon enough her turned her to the books which were on the history of the seven kingdoms.

[Kakita Zoyu]

Allyria hid her expression of compassionate pity behinds tresses of silver hair, smoothing the silk of her dress across her thighs. It hurt her to see Maester Lorian beginning to lose his faculties, he had always seemed as eternal to her as the Palestone Sword, always with a kind and wise word for her when she visited Sunspear or the Water Gardens. He was frightfully old, yet remained diligent in preparing her for her duties as Lady of House Dayne, despite the occasional lapse of memory. It behooved her to be as diligent in learning the lessons he taught. She would not let possibly his last student be a failure.

With a deep breath and restored resolve, Allyria opened the first book, detailing the arrival of the Andals and the Seven to Westeros.

"Court was dreadfully dull today, Maester Lorian," Allyria answered with forced nonchalance. Mentioning that Aerys had been dead for nearly a year would only embarrass the Maester. "No burnings at all, you will be glad to hear. The knights were quite impressive, in their own way, though none could hold a candle to Arthur, of course. The Queen has asked us to dinner tonight, isn't that grand?"

When I am Lady of House Dayne, I will see that you get a comfortable retirement in Old Town, High Maester Lorian. It is justly and richly deserved.

By the time she had learned the history in the books to Maester Lorian's satisfaction, Allyria had no time to dally in preparing for the Queen's dinner. Her bath was unpleasantly short, and she cursed her maids as they squeezed her into the tight corset of the samite gown laid out for her, though they took no offense. Though she insisted on looking the part of the Lady that she was, Allyria despised the pains it took. Her hair was styled in a mass of braids and artful tumbles of loose tresses, studded with begemmed pins, a tasteful amount of silver and jewels about her throat and wrists and fingers completing the ensemble.

Hastily, Allyria left her quarters, seeking Nym and Morgaine, hoping that she had not delayed their departure, over long.

[Bannon]

Bannon dropped his bundle onto the bed and frowned at it. The small bedchamber they had given him was certainly finer than any he had slept in before, but the bed was, as predicted, too small. He'd be sleeping on blankets on the floor again.

"Bugger." he swore softly, then grinned at himself in the polished metal mirror above the washstand. "Stop complaining, Bannon the Bastard, and clean your hairy self up." Long weeks on the road through hill and forest hadn't done much for his appearance. His hair and beard were matted and tangled, and the bear fur cloak around his shoulders was greasy. It was a wonder the ladies had even taken to him, looking and... he sniffed... and yes, smelling the way he did. Ahh, well, that was in the open air. He'd better take care of this now before he stank up Princess Nymeria's mansion.

He stripped off his cloak, his leather gauntlets, and his huge ring-mail jerkin and dropped them onto the bed, scratching absently under the thick woollen tunic he wore for travelling. He was engaged in pulling the itchy, dirty tunic off when there was a knock at the door and a maid peeked in, blue eyes widening and a squeak escaping her lips as she saw the huge guest in the process of disrobing. Bannon turned towards the sound and the girl froze, staring as if hypnotised at the huge, corded muscles of his arms and torso before a slight cough from Bannon resounded through the room.

"Ohmigosh-I'm-so-sorry-Messer!" she blurted before closing the door again. Bannon blinked as the maid, her blush audible in the faint breathlessness of her voice, said through the door "I've been sent to tell you the bathhouse is towards the back of the house, near the kitchens." She started and leapt away as the door opened behind her back. Bannon stood there, his spare travelling tunic pulled on. The maid stared at him. She'd heard that a giant warrior had come back from the keep with the Princess, had poohed and thought that it was simply a very tall man. Seeing him, all the old stories of man-eating giants came back on memories of her grandmother's voice. Resisting the urge to look up into Bannon's face, the maid took heart that the Princess Nymeria, as good and kind a mistress as could be found, certainly wouldn't introduce into the house anyone who'd eat, say, a chambermaid. Emboldened by this thought, and by the fact he hadn't roared, growled or broken anything yet, she looked up. Bannon was smiling at her. She blushed a little, more from embarrassment than anything else.

"Dreadful sorry about that-" she began, but Bannon shrugged and cut her off.

"No offence taken, lass. I'm used to being gawked at." he said easily. "Could I ask you to see to my travelling gear being laundered while I go and wash the rest of me?" The maid nodded and bobbed a curtsey. "No, no need for that. Between us, I'm just Bannon, lass. How're you called?" She glanced up at him, growing a little bolder and studying his features. He had a prizefighter's face, that's what her father would say. All solid planes and heavy brows, forbidding as a granite keep. His smile, though, was handsome enough to make a woman look twice. Or at least, it would be if he'd tidy himself up some.

"Mae is how I'm called." she told him, tilting one hip unconsciously as she regarded him. "'Ere, are you a for-real giant?" Bannon chuckled, a rumble of thunder.

"If I am, I promise I won't be carrying off women into the woods with me, so don't fear." he winked. Mae blushed a little, but laughed.

"Go on with you, Messer Bannon, or I'll think you a rogue." she flapped a hand at him.

"Can't have that, now." he grinned, and stepped out into the passage, ducking slightly to get through the doorway. Mae pointed down the corridor.

"Bathhouse is that way. There's linen towels and soap on the shelves as you go in, and there's already lots of hot water in there for you." She looked at him a little more critically. "You could do with combing that beard, you know. It makes you look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards. I'll leave some shears and a comb in your room."

"My thanks." he nodded, then strode off down the passageway. Mae watched him go speculatively, then shook her head, her thoughts her own.

* * * * * * *

An hour had passed. Bannon had scrubbed himself clean from head to toe then soaked in the largest tub in the bathhouse until the water had started to get cold. Returning to his room, he sat in front of the mirror and combed his hair and beard, wincing as he tugged out the many tangles in both. His beard had definitely grown like wild brush in the last two months. He grunted. The hair on his face had been the last hair to arrive, but when it had come it had arrived with a vengeance. He set himself to trimming it back, shaping the beard as his grandfather had taught him. On the road, it hadn't mattered. But here... well, if noble ladies were to adopt him into their houses, he should at least not disgrace them with his appearance.

Finishing to his satisfaction, he tied his long hair back with a leather thong and stood, sweeping up the beard trimmings and dumping them into the chamberpot. Then he dressed in his best clothing, clothing he'd had specially made from his winnings in the last bareknuckle tourney he'd taken part in. A white linen shirt with a rich brown leather vest over it. Fine brown woollen trousers, the same rich mahogany as his vest, tucked into long black boots of soft but hard-wearing leather that he'd waited a month for the cobbler to make. He examined himself in the mirror again. Much better. The black of his travelling garb, he fur cloak and armour darkened his eyes, giving him a more forbidding, dangerous air. The browns, on the other hand, lightened his eyes, and his hair being tied back softened the default brooding mien of his face.

A faint growl came from his stomach, and Bannon decided to have a wander around, maybe find some food. Leaving his room, he wandered in the direction of the kitchens.

[z-Galiana]

Galiana was silent on the walk to her cousin’s rented house. Stormy blue-and-brown eyes watched with bitter resignation as the man she saved gave her his thanks, and then talked only to her cousin or the prettier women. She tore her eyes away and looked to the splendor of the King’s Landing, but looking away didn’t shut out the words.

At the manor, she watched as Nymeria and the rest of the princess’ retinue was whisked to lessons or beautification or whatever else occupied high ladies. There was no envy in her eyes this time; she didn’t mind being left out of this. Instead, she found two more copper pieces for the lads who had carried her trunks and, once they were gone, she selected dry clothes out of her bag. After changing, she took the salt-encrusted clothes – even the hated ones from her trunk – down to the horse trough and rinsed them clean. After tipped the trough and refilling it with fresh water, she lugged the ‘clean’ clothes up to her room and hung them to dry.

Several times, servants tried to stop her, but she barked at them irritably, sending them away. She was no Sevens-damned noble, to need someone else to do good, honest work for her. She did it all herself, then went down to the yards, her bow in hand. In one of the smaller ones, someone had sent up an archery range, and she was eager to practice on solid land rather than the brisk heave of a boat.

The soldiers made room for her. It was less respect and more a simple understanding of who she was rumored to be and who favored her. Also, her reputation as being as hot-tempered as Oberyon was well-spread, and none wished to cross her. She might be a slim girl-child, but her words, repeated into the right ears, could make trouble no man wished to tangle with.

Dinnertime found her standing short and straight, meticulously putting arrows into targets.

[Davenrell]

As evening fell on King's Landing the Dornish party returned to the Red Keep. They were lead to the Queen's hall where several other noble women had already gathered. As they entered they were lead to the head of the table. Princess Nymeria was seated to the right of the Queen while the Lady Dayne and Darry were seated to her left. The fool Moonboy danced around the chamber doing flips and tumbles and receiving giggles from the near by nobles. The only guard in the room was Jaime Lannister. As the first course was served Cersei leaned in close. "It is truly wonderful to have you all here. I know currently the relationship between the crown and Dorne are strained but surely we can work to fix that."

[Bannon]

A plate in each hand, Bannon wandered around the corner into the yards, pausing to watch as Galiana drew and released arrows with deadly intentness at the targets. He regarded the girl in man's garb, wondering how he'd missed some of the cues. Well, he had been busy at the time, but still...

"You shoot well, 'young master'." the bearlike rumble of his voice echoed of the walls surrounding the archery yard as he detached himself from the wall and moved towards her, offering a plate of bread and stewed meat in rich gravy. "I asked where you were and a couple of the guards said you were here shooting. Thought you could do with a meal."

[z007]

Nym took her appointed seat, sparing the fool's entertainment about as much attention as she had the court deliberations. Far more interesting, and more dangerous, were the murmurs and machinations occuring between the ladies of the realm in the room. She greeted those that caught her eye with charm and just the right deference to Cersei; to Jamie she offered another smile, wondering if he was as bored here as he had been in court.

The Princess nodded graciously at the Queen's words. "That is ever why I am here, your Majesty. Times have been...difficult, but my brother values peace in Westeros very highly." She left it at that to see if the Queen had any specific ideas on how to acheive her crown's detente with the taciturn desert nation.

[Kakita Zoyu]

As they left for the Queen's dinner, Allyria's lips curved into an envious smile as she caught sight of 'Lia practicing in the yard. Truthfully, she would have much preferred to have had her blade in hand than to be going to the Queen's dinner herself, but such was life for those of rank. Sigh.

The event was much as she expected it to be, the Ladies whispered gossip frivolous or viperous, and unable to be fought with a sword. Despite herself, Allyria found herself listening to the gossip with more than half an ear. Moonboy drew her attention, if only for the sight of a man of such girth tumbling with such grace.

She acknowledged the Ladies she passed with a precise, yet vibrant, decorum, as befitted her station and theirs. Still, there was a shadow cast to her features, as if the Maiden of Starfall wore an ephemeral veil of her sister's deathly sorrow. That veil was dropped however, as throughout dinner, her eyes were drawn to the young knight in white, her two-toned gaze blazing.

Arthur had taught her that a knight may swear many vows, but it lay in the heart of each man to say which vows he would hold most dear. What vow, if any, did this callow youth esteem, that he would profane his sword with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend, his life before his? To her, it seemed nothing more than a slap in the face and spit on the honour of her beloved brother. Arthur had trained Jaime Lannister in the militant arts, and knighted him himself. He had guested at Starfall more than once - Arthur had been more of a brother and father to the boy than Jaime's own family. And kingslaying was the gift with which he had repaid the Sword of the Morning?

Pulling her flashing eyes once more from Jaime Lannister, Allyria added her own greetings for his twin, Queen Cersei, to those of Princess Nymeria. "Your Grace is kind to confer with us. I'm sure reconciliation can be reached, if those of the interested parties are willing to make the proper... amends."

[Morgaine Darry]

Morgaine had spent the lead up to dinner watching the antics of both fools and noblemen with a curious but somewhat detached gaze. Inwardly she was doing her best (as usual) to absorb everything that was going on around them, but it was never good to look too interested.

Once the queen began to speak, however, her attention shifted to the conversation at hand. She nodded with agreement at Nymeria' statement, but as Allyria spoke the Lady Darry tried but failed to conceal a slight flinch at the social faux pas the other young noble had committed. Her eyes flickered briefly to Cercei and Nymeria to see both how the Queen would react and if the Princess would be able to stave off Cercei's inevitable anger.

[z007]

"Mended fences always begin with kind words on both sides of the divide," Nym added smoothly, hoping to remove any implication of slight or blame of the Queen from Lyri's words. The Maiden of Starfell was well beyond the Princess of Dorne in many ways, but in the matter of minding words it seemed she was still a little rough at the edges. "Wars bereave all women in some way, after all. Men play games with kingdoms and we lose fathers and brothers and husbands and sons in the blink of an eye." Her words were somber and she purposefully left out that in the game of thrones, not even their fair gender was safe - or blameless.

Several of the other tables broke out into cheers and catcalls for some outrageous antic of Moonboy's that the Queen's company had missed. Nym used the interruption to taste a bit of dinner and encourage the conversation to move on with a marginally forced smile. "But you are about to be a mother, Your Majesty, it is the future we ladies must look to."

[Morgaine Darry]

Morgaine nodded firmly, choosing now as one of her more rare occasions to speak up, though it might draw the Queen's attention to her. As the daughter of a man ill-favored by the current court, Morgaine made it a habit to choose her words with great deliberation, a fact known only to a select few. Most people assumed merely that the young woman was shy and embarrassed about her father's loyalty to a conquered king - at least, that was the impression she worked to foster.

"Most certainly. Tell us, my lady queen - do you wish for a noble young son first, so that the king is provided an heir straight away? Or perhaps for a young Princess first, so that you can indulge in the pleasures of having a girl-child to dress up and raise to assist you with your future children? Mayhap your Majesty will be fortunate with twins, since they seem to run in your family line."

The question was poised with a casualness that gave no indication of the noblewoman's real desire - to know what kind of a queen Cercei was, whether she prized her own desires over that of the king's, or if she was one of those women who's desires mirrored her husband's. Morgaine knew enough of Cercei to suspect the former over the latter, but if anything the impression that she gave with her question was that she too was trying to cover for the Lady Allyria's rudeness by changing the subject.

[Kakita Zoyu]

Allyria suppressed a fit of pique behind slightly tightened lips and a rising heat to her gaze, as first Nym, then Morgaine, blunted her first thrust at Queen Cersei. She may have found herself with a bigger role in the Game that she had ever wanted, but that did not mean she had to play it the same way as they. One could learn more from another's attack than from her defense, and this had been her first attempt at drawing the Queen out. Perhaps she will take my expression for contriteness, and if not, what of it? My words were ambiguous enough that she could not be certain I was referring to the Rebels or the Loyalists.

As the conversation was turned to Queen Cersei's impending child, Allyria concealed her disinterest to the subject behind a sip of summerwine, a fine golden vintage from the Arbor. She half believed Nymeria had chosen to mention the Queen's gravidity just to keep her quiet - she already had more than enough people trying to foist a husband upon her and her marital reluctance was well known to her fellow Ladies of the Dornish entourage.

Keeping enough of an ear on the conversation to smile and murmur responses as propriety dictated, Allyria watched and listened to the other ladies attending the dinner, trying to gather a sense for what they thought of the Queen. One thing Robert's Rebellion had shown, the monarchy survived only at the sufferance of the rest of the noble Houses. If one royal line could have enough good will turn against them, so could another.

[Davenrell]

Cersei's smile showed nothing but kindness and when the question of her child came about her hand ran over her belly. She nodded to what they all said. "In truth I could hope the seven grant me a strong heir to Robert. No kingdom is truly stable until the king has an heir and in this time we need stability over all. As to your words lady Dayne I agree that their are concessions that need to be made. No one is truly innocent in such an act as a rebellion I am afraid." She looked down the table at all the ladies gathered and motioned for the first course to be brought in. "Here in rooms like this I am hoping those of us with more sense can work to make things better for all. It is fine to let the men do as they please but when they get in to their petty jest of words and boast better to let cooler heads prevail."

[z-Galiana]

Galiana paused in her firing, then loosed her arrow anyway before turning and peering up at 'her' giant. Now that the pretties are gone, you can talk to me, she silently noted to him. "Thank you," she said, showing surprising - for those who knew her - manners. She took the plate and moved over to a stone step. She sat on the step, putting her right side against the wall, so that if Bannon sat, he'd be on her left. She began to scoop food into her mouth with a lack of manners that belied her earlier politeness.

"So," she said, barely clearing her mouth of food, "where are you from, Bannon? If I can ask. If not, forget I asked." She grinned at him sideways, and all Bannon could see was her profile - dusky Dornish skin with a soft brown eye. If a man beheld her on the left, she was a beauty.

[Kakita Zoyu]

"Your Grace is most sensible, as well as beautiful," Allyria said, turning her attention from the other gathered ladies to Cersei, her own soft smile concealing her disappointment with failing to get a rise from the Queen. "King Robert has more than found his match in you, I think."

Allyria sampled the first course, tiny quail in a savory wildberry sauce, before continuing. "It is as you say, during a rebellion, when brother raises arms against brother, honour often goes unchecked." Without turning her head, her two-toned gaze unwavering from the Queen, Lyri still couldn't help but almost giving the fleeting impression at staring directly at Jaime Lannister. "I truly hope we can help you ease the tension that still lingers under the purview of new King Robert."

[Davenrell]

Jaime standing to the side snorted. Looking at the four at the end of the table he spoke just high enough for them to hear.

"You think honor merely goes unchecked? There is no honor in a rebellion what so ever. If there was then there would never need to be rebellions. Even the stiffed necked Eddard Stark would have to admit to that."

[Bannon]

He took the step beside Galiana, his back turned mostly to the wall opposite hers so he could eat facing her, a bent knee providing a resting place for his plate as he ate no more delicately than she. As he sucked gravy off his fingers he shrugged in answer to her question.

"No great secret there. Bronzegate's my birthplace, in the Stormlands." He took a huge bite of bread, white teeth flashing. "'m a smith by trade, though my grandfather taught me to swing a waraxe as well as a hammer. There's no call for two smiths in Bronzegate, and I don't fancy toiling at a forge forever, so I decided to make my own way."

He studied what was visible of her face. "So what's your tale, miss?"

[z-Galiana]

Galiana grimaced a little, but she said, "Mother is in Dorne, but my father is on the Wall. He was went there after being unjustly accused of murder, which is why he didn't marry my mother. After I gave up on learning an 'honorable' trade, I've been making my own way in the world."

She glanced at him, not giving him enough of her face to see the scarring. "Have you been anywhere else besides your birthplace and here?" She seemed curious, a youth with a desire to see the parts of the world still unknown to her.

[Kakita Zoyu]

"Stark." Lyri's voice was a vehement hiss, which turned into a contemptuous sniff. "That one has little room to talk. He came to Starfall, Dawn in one hand and his infant bastard in the other, who was provided with a wetnurse at my sister's insistence, despite her feelings. Sigh, perhaps, even because of them. And then he left Starfall, and my sister..."

Allyria's hand tightened around her winecup, full lips pressed into a tight line, as once more, she saw her sister leap... She closed her eyes, holding back the tears - it just wouldn't do, to let them fall here. When she opened them again, they locked on Jaime's green eyes, her mismatched gaze hot and intent. Her lips curved in the barest hint of a smile.

"Despite the horrors of the Rebellion, Ser Jaime, yes, there were still the rare few who held to honour, unto their last. Which made it all that much more precious. My brother, and yours, Arthur, was one such. Or would you dare say otherwise?" Her tone dared him to say otherwise.

[Davenrell]

Jaime looked at her for a moment then reared back his head and laughed. "Yes your right my brothers did hold up their honor. Unlike me the poor Kingslayer. I swear not a single one of them were ever involved in the killing of innocent people. In fact now that I think about there is no way Ser Arthur could have assisted in the killing of more then one or two hundred innocent petitioners that just wanted Aerys to listen to them say how hungry and poor they were." His voice took on a more serious tone as he fixed the Lady Dayne with his gaze.

"I will say this my lady, Arthur Dayne was possibly the greatest man to ever put on a white cloak. The brotherhood is just a shadow without him and the white bull to also stand guard. But do not think him perfect. None of us are and in some ways his cloak is far more stained then mine." Cersei cast a look to Jaime and the knight apologized and dismissed him self.

"You will have to forgive my brother. Like the king he is a man of battle and not of diplomacy."

[Morgaine Darry]

Morgaine caught Allyria's mismatched eyes, her own icy blue gaze as cool as Lady Dayne's temper was hot. She laid a hand gently over Allyria's, and her words in response to Cercei's comment were smooth and gentle and addressed to the queen, though her gaze never broke away from the silver-haired noblewoman's.

"I am sure the queen's brother has his reasons for his beliefs, Lady Dayne. After all there are many perspectives in the world and no two of them alike. We all see things from our own unique point of view. But we are here to discuss the future relations between Dorne and the Iron Throne at the moment, not to discuss philosophy or honor."

Her eyes flicked to Nymeria briefly, and the two women shared a glance, as if they were communicating somehow through the expressions on their faces. Then she turned back to Allyria, and tilted her head slightly.

"Perhaps if your grief is too fresh for such a conversation, her Majesty would be willing to excuse you for the evening so that you may continue to grieve for your brother privately."

Morgaine watched the young woman carefully, hopeful that she knew herself well enough to know whether she could behave in front of the Queen, or if she needed to leave before she caused an incident between Robert's court and the entire Dornish entourage. Better that she offered her friend a way out if she wanted to take it, than wait until she said something foolish enough that the Dornish princess would be forced to order her out in order to keep the peace. Things said in private between Allyria and the Lannisters were a far cry from things said during a formal dinner between the Queen's company and that of the Dornish princess.

[Kakita Zoyu]

Bright spots of colour bloomed in Allyria's cheeks at the sound of Ser Jaime's laughter, then drained away into a coldly furious pallor when the Kingslayer had the audacity to allege the Sword of the Morning's cloak could be darker than his own. Nymeria and Morgaine noticed the uncommon frosty anger on their normally tempestuous companion and were perturbed that it portended something disastrous - she looked ready to leap across the table and stab the soiled knight with her table knife.

Morgaine laid her hand on Lyri's, and could feel the tenseness in it, her thumb pressed tightly against the hilt of her table knife. Morgaine made her proposition and received an almost imperceptible nod from the younger woman, grateful for the excuse, though the heat did not leave her eyes.

"There is no need for forgiveness, your brother has his truths, as I have mine." Allyria got up and curtsied deeply to the Queen, her words well and politely said, even if the tone was not precisely apologetic, "Your Grace, I beg your leave to withdraw. It is as Lady Darry said - the wound of losing my brother and sister is just beginning to heal, and bleeds anew with the slightest prick. I would not want any ill-spoken words of my to ruin your dinner."

[Bannon]

"No." Bannon shrugged, dipping his bread in the gravy before taking another large bite. "All I've seen of the world is what's between Bronzegate and here. Went to Storm's End once a few months past at a market day for a bareknuckle tourney. Won myself some silver. And that's about all I've travelled." He grinned cheerfully.

"It's not all I want to travel, though. I want to see the Free Cities, and the Wall in the north, and Dorne too, someday." His sable-brown eyes grew distant. "There's a lot of sights to see that I'll never spy out being tied to an anvil night and day."

[Davenrell]

Cersei gave Allyria leave and watched as she left the room. "The wounds are still fresh for many. We must find some way to bring everyone back together."

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Jaime stood outside the keep on the path to the gate. As Allyria approached he called out. "You really have a problem with me, don't you? Care to settle it?" He held up a braavosi blade in his left hand and a practice sword in his right. "No one will see us in the godswood if you would like my lady."

[Kakita Zoyu]

Lyri stalked out of Maegor's Holdfast, kicking at her skirts, wishing she had a blade in hand to slash her sorrows and angers to ribbons. She had taken a single step on the bridge to the rest of the Red Keep, before she stopped suddenly in shock. There, as if in answer to her prayers, stood Jaime Lannister, armoured in white and beautiful, a slender blade in one hand, a wooden training sword in the other.

Her hand snatched for the braavosi blade before she had a chance to reconsider, the young Kingslayer offering it hilt first with a courtly bow and a mocking curve to his lips. She felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her - the blade was not as fine as the one her brother had gifted her, but it felt good in her hand just the same, the worn grip sure in her fingers. She tried a few cuts, getting a feel for the blades length and balance, as she eyed the knight before her. He was armoured in enameled scales, with a well deserved reputation for being a skilled warrior, but his head was bare. And perhaps, he will underestimate a young noblewoman. A few bruises is worth a chance at the Kingslayer.

"The godswood will suit me fine, Ser Jaime," Allyria accepted, unable to keep the fierceness out of her voice. They walked side-by-side to the godswood, the illusion of a knight escorting his lady. She glared up at him as he held the gate for her. "It is not you I have a problem with, it is what you wear. Something needed to be done about Aerys, I'll not deny it, but it should never have been by you, and you should never have been allowed to retain the white. Black is the best you deserve."

In the godswood, she tried to get a good footing, but her courtly shoes offered no purchase on the soft loam. She cursed. "A moment, if you would." She removed her shoes, then slashed at her skirts with the knife most Rhoynar carried, cutting them off above her knees. With a little more struggling, she managed to cut the laces on her corset, allowing her a greater freedom of movement. It felt like her heart was going to burst through her chest, limbs trembling with excitement.

She took a deep breath, then turned, her slim, yet curvaceous, profile facing Jaime Lannister. Calm as still water, swift as a deer. "There, now I am ready."

Jaime, still with that mocking smile and holding his wooden sword by his side in a negligent pose, had barely nodded before the noblewoman with silver hair and mismatched eyes extended her blade in a lunge, going for his throat.

[Davenrell]

With ease the practice sword swung up and parried the thrust. As soon as she could bring the sword around for another attack all she heard was the sound of metal hitting wood. Jaime's smile never wavered but she could see his eyes had changed. He no longer saw her. He watched her movements, even her muscles. For a few minutes all he did was defend. His first attack came suddenly. As he moved to parry suddenly he turned his sword and let hers hit right in to his armor. His flew through the air and at the last second slowed to deliver only a mild hit to her side. Then with that he started his own assault.

"So you think it is the black I have earned? Let me ask you a question. What if Aerys had ordered me to kill your brother. Not because of anything he did. Simply Aerys was having one of his paranoid episodes and ordered me to slay him while he was unarmed? Would you truly not hate me? I was only following my sworn duty right?"

[Kakita Zoyu]

Allyria's lips curved up as the dance of blades began, though she seemed unaware of it. Say what you would about the Kingslayer, he knew how to fight. She didn't understand how someone in heavy armour could be so graceful. so quick. As Jaime turned her offense aside to begin his own, she was forced to parry desperately. Attempting to interrupt his assault, she thrust at a perceived opening, earning a painful rap on the hand, nearly causing her to drop her borrowed blade. She hissed and returned to her defense.

"If you managed to slay Arthur under orders, I'm sure I would still hate you, but at least, I would understand why you did it." An attempt at a knee was countered by a blow to her shoulder, only her training allowing her to retain her balance. "I would prefer that you guarded the King though, including from himself. If his faculties are impaired, perhaps a little judgement could be used."

There was another flurry of clashing blades, as they circled the pond at the heart of the godswood. Feigning a slip earned her nothing but a strike across the thigh.

"You have a duty to honour your vow to the king, yes, but he also has a duty to you as well, to not forcing you to dishonour yourself in his service." She glided back, limping slightly, withdrawing a small distance to collect her breath and gather her resolve for another attack. The was a stubborn glint in her eyes and a gritted smile on her lips. By the Seven, can he fight!

"A question for you - why do you still wear the white?"

[Davenrell]

The question took him by surprise. As quickly as he had started he stopped and stepped back. He looked almost confused by what she had said.

"I suppose, because I still felt I had a duty. Once you don the white cloak you serve for life no matter what. Never in all of history has a brother of the kings guard been released from his watch by anything but death. Yes I killed the king I swore to protect and everyone seems to think that gives me shit for honor. But that does not release me from my duty to the next king. Should I outlive Robert my duty will be to the king after him."

He resumed again although this time his attacks were not as fierce.

"Do you know what Barristan the Bold said to me on his return to King's Landing? Not a damn word. The old man simply came back and the first thing he said to me was I had the watch. They would never admit it but each and every one of my brothers since that day has asked themselves if they would do the same thing I did. As to the king's duty. Aerys did not know the first thing about duty or honor. He had me anointed to keep my father in line. He kept me close and didn't send me to fight so that Casterly Rock would not join in the fight. If he had sent me to the trident instead of Rhaeger then this war would have ended in a different way. And my brothers would still live. As would yours."

She realized now he was angry. Was it because he felt the others were dead because he was not allowed to fight? Or was he truly sorrowful at what he had decided to do.

"I was a better sword than any of them, except for Arthur."

[Kakita Zoyu]

For a time, the only words they exchanged were said with their swords, steel and wood. Allyria's arm was growing numb, parrying Jaime's strong blows was taking a toll, and that was not counting the ones she failed to deflect. Still, if she was nowhere near his match, she believed she was not embarrassing herself either. She had managed a few scars to his scale armour, though she desired blood on her blade.

"Aerys... Arthur never spoke of him, but I saw his face when his name was spoken." There was a fierce melancholy to her tone, expressing what she had seen, the toll taken on an honourable man sworn to a dishnourable lord.

To whom does the duty fall to protect the king from himself, to protect him his madness, even if there is only the one way to do so?

She pondered Jaime's scenario, if he had been the one to ride to the Trident to face Robert, and her own fury grew, dulling her aches. To have Arthur back, Ashara back, Eddard Stark dead or on the Wall. She didn't know if she preferred Jaime slaying Robert, or being slain by Robert's monstrous warhammer.

"I think I wish you had had your chance at the Trident, Jaime."

Unnoticed, silver tears trailed down her cheeks, following the line of her jaw, to fall upon the loam, feeding the roots of the godswood.

[Davenrell]

Finally he stopped and held up his hand. Both of them were covered in sweat though he did not like quite as tired as she did.

"Just so you know Lady Dayne. It is pointless to blame people for what they do in a rebellion. You can place all the blame you want but the dead will remain dead. Live your life, and at least find some solace that the man who killed your brother most likely is haunted by the act every night of his life."

Jaime walked off with that. It had been over an hour since they had started their spar and already the effects of it were seeping in to her body.

[Kakita Zoyu]

Lyri bent over, breathing hard, blade stabbing the ground, one hand holding her pained shoulder. Moonlight falling on sweating skin painted her with a gleaming sheen. Mercutio worked her hard during her lessons, but his deft skill did not inflict so many bruises (not anymore, at any rate).

She watched Jaime Lannister leave behind a curtain of messy silver hair. Just as he reached the gate, she raised her voice, breathless with exertion. "Blaming the dead may be pointless, but the living can still be held accountable for their actions"

Jaime gave her a level-eyed stare, then turned away with another sardonic smile, disappearing into the gloom cast by the castle walls. Allyria knelt by the pond, cleaning her face, only now noticing the tears on her face. She wiped them away angrily and scrubbed at her arms and legs, but her attempts were mostly futile. Her maids were going to be most disappointed with the state of her dress and the number of jeweled pins she had lost from her hair.

Jaime Lannister is not quite what I expected. Well, somewhat not.

She was beginning to feel the chill of the evening, the sweat cooling on her flesh. She retrieved her shoes and lavender cloak, pulling up the deep hood. Not knowing where to return the blade, she kept it in hand, concealed in the folds of her cloak.

At the gate to the Red Keep, her disheveled appearance drew stares from the guards, but they showed rare good sense and said nothing. When she indicated she wished to leave however, they spoke up, not willing to let the young noblewoman leave unescorted.

One guard in the gold cloak of the city watch was deemed appropriate to escort the Lady Dayne. A man in his late twenties, with a knightly bearing and an iron hand, one Ser Jacelyn Bywater. Allyria was grateful, that after one long, dark-eyed look, Ser Jacelyn didn't seem inclined to break the silence, and the walk to the Dornish manse was made without a word exchanged, only hampered by her mild limp from a blow to the back of her knee.

By sheer chance, Captain Mercutio was the one to answer her call at the gate. With one seemingly lazy glance, he noted everything about her appearance.

"Milady Lyri, by the Titan's beard, what is it that you have been doing this night?" he said, his voice rich with amusement.

"I tried to kill Jaime Lannister."

[Davenrell]

Night passed and the day returned. Allyria had her lessons to attend. Nymeria went about reports sent to her that her brother insisted she give opinion on. Morgaine had her meetings and socials to see to. Galiana and her new friend Bannon trained and explored the city. The group would often meet for lunch or dinner. For four days the routine was unbroken. Court was attended by the nobles and jobs were handed to the two bastards. Court had been a little different as Robert had decided to go out hunting so Jon Arryn handled the petitioners. On the fifth day Robert returned with a wild hog to show for his efforts. He was so happy that at dinner he announced a tourney would be held. He ordered the small council prepare for two weeks from that day. Word quickly spread through the city.

Word reached the Dornish mansion the next morning while all were sitting down to breakfast.

[Morgaine Darry]

That morning before breakfast, Morgaine woke early and readied herself for the day. She waved her handmaiden Gwenda away for some extra sleep after having dragged the young woman up so much earlier than normal, and as Nymeria was rising and starting to dress herself for the day, she heard a sharp knock on the door. Her own maid went over and inquired loudly and cracked the door just slightly, enough to speak with whoever was on the other side without violating the Princess's privacy. But after a moment she closed the door and turned back to Nymeria.

"The Lady Darry wishes to speak with you, Princess.. shall I let her in?"

[z007]

Nym nodded, fingering the last of her hairpins into place herself. "Of course."

Gwenda ushered the lady in, quickly put away the morning wash supplies, and rang the kitchen for the pincess's breakfast tray plus one. After that, she wisely made herself scarce with gathering up the laundry from Nym's bedroom.

Nym smiled but watched her old friend carefully; she didn't usually bother her before she left her rooms for the morning unless she had news of some sort. Good news could usually wait.

"G'morning, Morgaine," her tone implied a question.

[Morgaine Darry]

"Greetings, Nymeria. Sorry to disturb you so early, but we've both been busy the last few days, and I haven't had the time to speak with you."

She walked over to Nymeria, and motioned for her to sit. Morgaine had nimble fingers, and knew how to braid the Princess's hair in her favorite manner. It was an old habit for them, from when they were young girls and liked to whisper secrets to each other while they played with the other's hair. Except now the secrets Morgaine whispered to the Princess of Dorne were far more crucial ones that affected far more than just the idle curiosity of bored noble children. Her voice was a low murmur as she braided, for indeed the walls of noble homes always had sensitive ears.

"That new giant you've been sponsoring lately.. the Storm bastard. I have it on good authority that his grandfather was found murdered the day after he left his village. He is, of course, suspected of the deed. I have been trying to find out more for us, Nym.. but so far, nothing. That is all I have for you."

Calling Varys "good authority" might be a little bit of a stretch, but not much of one where knowledge was concerned. He might be a sneaky, manipulative bastard.. but he lived or died by the quality of his goods, and he certainly wasn't known to give out anything unreliable. It would destroy the spider's credibility if it got out that he was handing out false information.

[Kakita Zoyu]

Lyri was alone, sitting in the intimate solar the women of the Dornish entourage used to breakfast, munching on crisp capon and bacon, with fresh bread and bumbleberry preserves. She had gotten up early so she could spar with Mercutio before her lessons with Maester Lorian, and was still dressed in a boy's breeches, tunic, and jerkin, though they all sported a feminine cast, with embroidery and fine tooling on the leather. Her long silver hair was bound back in a tight braid and her fine Braavosi blade, a gift from her brother, sat next to her, leaning against her chair.

She still sported bruises, faded to yellow and brown, from her encounter with Jaime Lannister in the godswood, but she didn't let the slight twinges hinder her. She toyed with participating in the melee at the tourney, entering as a mystery entrant, but knew it was only an idle fancy. Her light blade was of little use in such a contest, and without chain and plate, she would be crushed by blunted morning stars and warhammers. Allyria blew a loose lock of hair from her face with a sharp sniff.

Still, Allyria was looking forward to watching the tourney - the last one she had attended was the Great Tourney at Harrenhal, where Jaime donned his Whitecloak and that Prince Rheagar won, crowning the wolf-girl the Queen of Love and Beauty, instead of his own wife, Nym's sister Elia. She hadn't decided who she would back, as yet, though. Naturally, she had always favoured Arthur before, but now she was at a lost. Oberyn was still in Dorne, Mercutio wasn't a tourney fighter, and they had no other noteworthy knight accompanying them. She was sure the knights they had that entered would make a good accounting of themselves, but they had no champion among them.

Peeling and parting an orange with deft strokes of her knife, Lyri considered. Bannon had shown himself to be a puissant warrior, he might do for the melee. She would have to find out if the melee was going to start mounted or not though - if so, Bannon would be at a severe disadvantage. Also, his sheer size would make him a target for the early alliances that inevitably formed.

Eating her orange, slice by quick slice, Allyria thought about the tourney, resolving to see the tourney-master to get a list of the participants. The official ones, at any rate, since there were always last minute withdrawals and replacements.

Jaime Lannister was trained by Arthur, and his reputation as a fighter is well earned, I know. Maybe...

[Bannon]

Bannon sat on the steps overlooking the rear gardens, one hand running a whetstone over the heavy steel blades of his double-headed greataxe. He'd been up before breakfast that day and had decided to practice in the yard for awhile. Life had been different these last few days, different and enjoyable, but Bannon was getting restless.

The news of the tourney that the servants had been whispering of this morning was welcome news indeed. The joust was something he had only a passing interest in watching, and no interest in taking part in. But the melee, now... Bannon wondered how he would do. He knew he was big and strong, for certain. He also practiced hard, training for hours every day in the yard. The captain of the Princess Nymeria's guards was impressed with his skill for one so young. But there was a hidden truth that Bannon had not revealed to his hosts, a secret that niggled and bit at his conscience.

Simply put, Bannon had never seen battle before. Oh, fist-fights and brawls, to be sure. But not real battle, with steel against steel. He felt nervous. Not afraid for himself, but nervous of doing poorly. He guarded that secret the way other young men might guard the knowledge of inexperience with women which Bannon, perversely enough, felt no shame about. It wasn't as though women would throw themselves at someone his size. Oh, doubtless some were curious about the 'big man', but curiousity only went so far. Not that Bannon blamed them for that, either.

So it was that his thoughts were heavy that morning, his eyes brooding as he stared out over the yard, the steely rustle of stone on blade his only company.

[z007]

Nym's lips thinned into a frown and she nodded just enough to let Morgaine know that she'd been listening. "Found out what you can. I want neither a spy nor an embarrasment to the Dorne name while we're here in King's Landing, especially after the incident with Lyri earlier this week. He seems an honest enough fellow, but he is a northman and what ever strength he could be to us isn't worth harboring a murderer for. And if we can determine that he is not responsible for his grandfather's death, we could more concretely secure his loyalty by discovering who did kill his grandfather and why."

She turned to look at her closest and oldest confidante once Morgaine was finished with the braid, "Is there anything you need from me to do this? Is this something you can do? It will mean reaching father to North than our influence naturally reaches."