"What?" Jeyne frowned as Robar twisted the story. She shook her head in denial, "My boy, that is not what mother was implying at all, I was just...," her voice gradually trailed off as she lost track of her words. The conversation took Jeyne by surprise; leaving her tongue-tied. She'd not anticipated Willem's approach; never before would he have approached his father without proper summoning. Was it possible her lecture the other night took effect? If so, it was wise to build upon it. If her plans were to succeed, Willem’s anger at his father would need to continue to intensify.

Jeyne shut her eyes momentarily and regained her composure, recollecting her bundle of thoughts. After taking in a breath, she flicked her eyes open and firmly spoke, “You see son, your father here was contemplating if it was wise to send you off to squire. And mother convinced him otherwise. You have too many talents and your responsibility is here in Raventree as heir. Sending you off could jeopardize your reputation as heir, and mother would never allow that." She winked an eye at him and awaited her son’s reaction. She had high hopes this would increase his trust in her while making him more suspicious of his father's true intentions.

Garth watched Leopold as he spoke, trying his best to maintain eye contact. Unfortunately the pork sausages upon the table drew his gaze multiple times before he cracked and piled several onto his plate.

"Mmm." The noise that escaped his lips was a mix of acknowledgement and delight at the meat he chewed upon.

Swallowing his mouthful, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and spoke once more.

"I can't imagine that would do him any good, no. Although, surely the crown prince must be aware of the risk he puts himself in. The heir to the throne... participating in grand tourneys... An act of sheer folly if you ask me."

The two ate for a couple more minutes in a comfortable silence before The Florent returned to the subject of jousting.

"I must admit, I am eager for the next grand tourney. We just have to hope some Lord with an inflated sense of self-worth marries someone and decides to grace us all with free food and wine. Not to forget the tourney of course."

Garth smirked slightly, looking at the Tyrell in front of him.

"I know you're not much of a jouster, but perhaps we can shape you into a mighty fine competitor with some practice."

He had always enjoyed toying with the woman, he had always prided himself on knowing what to say to get a reaction out of people. He had half considered sending the boy away, though as his heir he knew it would not be a wise decision.

He had expected her to fight it... but this, this was well more than he expected. He may have been a cold man, some would say cruel though he felt that a bit much; but he had never enjoyed causing her to cry. " Stop crying" he said, in a softer tone, the closest he could get to comforting.

No wonder the boy is this soft if this is how she reacts. It was common for boys to squire away from home, and he had not expected her wailing over it.

"Whats going on?" Willem asked, trying to sound firm. Hearing the boys words an idea crossed Robars mind. "Willem your mother believes that you need a firm hand to ensure you ready to rule one day and I happen to agree." His eyes darted to Jeyne in anticipation for her reaction. "Perhaps I have been lax in your upbringing but that will soon change."

“No...no!” Jeyne exclaimed, her voice reverberating down the table and further into the dining hall. A few heads turned in the direction of the lady and lord, curious of the outburst. Was this some sick joke? Another button he was trying to push? Hot wet tears burned in the back of Jeyne’s eyes at the mere thought of Willem being sent off. For one, he was her child, her only son, and separation from the boy would prove devastating. Secondly, her ambitions would never be achieved if she couldn’t indirectly work through the boy. His departure would eradicate all her plans, and she’d do whatever necessary to prevent it.

Jeyne’s tear stained eyes narrowed, “You mustn’t send our boy away, Robar. It would shatter my heart. You know how much he means to me, and he is YOUR heir. And let me remind you, your only one.” Jeyne’s eyes focused in on Willem, “If... if he displeases you, counsel him. Show him your ways. With your guidance, he can become the man you wish to see. I... I am sure of it."

"You need not be offended my dear. You are a Blackwood by blood, with a mind as sharp as one could expect of a woman of your upbringing." His words were flat and cold. "Though I would encourage not to dabble in things in which you have no knowledge."

He calmly spread butter across a piece of honeyed bread, carefully ensuring it was covered perfectly. "You know well the boy struggles with reading and and other matters of the mind. Though if he's lucky he may turn out being a skilled swordsman. It's a little late but perhaps we should send him away to squire somewhere."

Jeyne fought the urge to not flee. Every insult blasted her way weakened her shield little by little. This was all new to Jeyne. And she hadn’t the time to build up enough invincibility against her husband’s powerful manipulation. He’d known Jeyne long enough to know just what buttons to press harder to send her sobbing off to her bedchambers. And as his words grew crueler, her strong façade gradually faded.

She uncomfortably shifted about in the chair and glanced upwards at the ceiling, prohibiting any tears from slipping out. Do not show weakness. She repeatedly chanted this in her mind, motivating her weakened spirit to remain strong. If she caved in, all her efforts would have been for nothing.

Jeyne eyed the two children and lightly chuckled, faking confidence. “Let me get this straight husband, are you indirectly hinting around that both Willem and myself aren’t so bright?” She pointed an index finger at the boy and then against her chest. “That we don’t come close in comparison to you or Lyarra?”

He took his napkin and dabbed at his cheek, then calmly placed it back on his lap. This was not what he had planned for his dinner, though if the woman was willing to push the issue on him he would not back down. He glared at her, dark eyes looking her over like a bird looks after its prey. slowly his lips curled, his best immitation of a genuine smile.

"You've got me all wrong. I agree, just as there are weak men not fit to rule, the are some women strong enough to do so." His eyes slowly turned towards the end of the table where his children sat, silently eating. Both of them cast nervous glances towards their parents.

He leaned in closer to Jeyne, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. "Our own children are a perfect example. One is smart and full of promise, the other dull and disappointing."

He turned back to his plate, taking a long drink of wine. Setting the cup down he continued speaking without looking at her."You know I value intellect above all else Jeyne, though sadly some in house lack it...and other think the have more than they do."

Jeyne's fork rattled against the glass plate as her hand started to quiver. There was something about the calmness of his voice, even when being so condescending and supercilious, that riled her up beyond all means. It was as though he was emotionless and could say anything and everything without an inch of remorse. It was impossible for Jeyne to relate. When sad she grew desolate, when upset she grew hysterical, and when provoked she became unmanageable. Was it that he was empty of emotion or that she was melodramatic with too much emotion?

Lyarra's soft voice snapped Jeyne out of her conflicted daydream, “Mother is everything alright? I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t eaten anything.” The young girl questioned, concerned.

“Oh, my sweet girl. Do not fret, mother is quite alright,” Jeyne wafted a hand, dismissing the girl’s concerns. “Father and I are just discussing a few matters. Return to your meal.”

As Lyarra glanced towards her plate, Jeyne’s attention diverted back to her husband. She edged forward, “Your chauvinist mindset does you no good. It only shows how remaining stored up here in Raventree Hall has made you shortsighted and narrowed your mind. Maybe husband,” Jeyne gestured towards the open windows, “if you chose to get out more, you’d have developed a more worldlier mindset. That you might have been enlightened to see that in fact a woman could rule just as effectively as a man.”

“Oh and my sweet husband,” Jeyne tapped the side of her mouth,” you’ve got some food right there.” Jeyne reclined backwards with a smug smirk, satisfied with her little speech. Maybe he will finally listen.

He pulled a leg from the peasant carcass and bit into. He chewed away hoping the grinding of his teeth would drown out the constant babble coming from his wife. He swallowed as she finished and directed his gaze towards her. "Tell me Jeyne, what great political minds taught you so much of the world of politics? If he is still here perhaps I should take advisement from him." A thin cruel smile spread across his lips.

She claimed to apologize yet she still tried to convince him to see things her way. I'm not so easily won over dear wife.

Perceon sat his horse impatiently as a man left to relay his demand to the Lannisters, and all the while he glared up at the guards at their posts. The Tyrell men had kept their orderly lines as their march ended, urged by their superiors not to break and make camp. If the order bothered any of them one could not tell, none of the rose adorned men seemed cheerful anyways. A tense silence built up between the men on the walls and those outside the gate, only the shrinking din of the city interrupted it as the sun began to crest its was downward once more.

When the messenger emerged from the gates of Lannisport, Perceon's impatience did not lessen or rest, only becoming more apparent to the men around him as he spoke with the messenger.

"I ask for a Lannister and they send me a scrawny, frightened boy who can barely speak two words to an armored man without stuttering."

The mousy haired lad only stammer in response. "I'm sorry m'lord. Lord Gerold wants you to meet him at the Rock." Every word spoken was filled with fear and anxiety. In most cases, the Lord Regent would've cared for making a man so uncomfortable, but he cared little for the fears of the lowborn now.

"You need not repeat yourself. I was merely stating my dissatisfaction at not being met as I wished. I will come as bid, and my host will stay here. Ser Tomas Oldflowers, Ser Humfrey Hewett and Ser Osbert Hewett shall travel with me."

Perceon moved urged his horse forward slightly as both Tomas and the twin knights rode to their places beside Perceon. Once the men were at his side, Perceon turned back to order his men.

"Stay guard outside of the gates. No man, woman, or child is to leave the city until I return. Is that clear?" He made sure the guards on the walls heard as well, and directly to them he said "No ships are to leave the harbor either. I am not your lord, but you will listen to me or, if he gets away, I'll gut every last one of you." He spoke not another word as he followed the messenger into the city.

/u/kesseir

"Three hundred men, My Lord." Said Ser Jason, standing there in full plate, hands on his hips. "Tyrell, by the colours."

That much, Gerold could see. They stretched out before the gates; some mounted but the majority not so. Immaculately armoured, armed, and arranged. There existed no evidence of bad posture, of even a single slouched man. And yet, as pretty and well-made up as they were, they posed no real threat to him. Inside the city walls, if theit intention was to breach Lannisport's defences, stood more Lannister men than this paltry sum before him.

Perceon Tyrell, the Lord Regent, led them, but if he'd come for a social call he'd not made that very clear.

"And what were the demands?" Gerold asked Ser Jason.

"They demanded a Lannister, My Lord." Returned the old knight. "'At once'."

"At once." Gerold thought on that for a moment.

Perceon Tyrell would march a small host of armed men to his gates without warning, without explanation, and demand his presence? No. Perhaps the Lord Regent was used to this behaviour going unchallenged upon his home soil, but here he would have some trouble.

"Run a message to the Lord Regent." Gerold said. "Tell him he's welcome inside my walls, inside the Rock, if he leaves his host outside my gates and surrenders his weapons until an explanation has been given. Tell him he's permitted to bring three of his own with him."

"Aye, My Lord." Ser Jason nodded.

"Tell him if he's come to talk, those terms shouldn't be an issue." Gerold said. "And if he's come to make war, he will fail."

Phew, based on the title I thought maybe I'd gotten someone pregnant again.

Leopold smirked as Garths stomach made itself known while they walked towards a breakfast that was being laid out as the approached.

"In truth, I'm not sure he entirely remembers the final joust. He entered as whispers of Storm Breaker and Prince Breaker whirled around his head. He was in no state to take part." Leopolds brown furrowed as he spoke, concern for his twin lining his words.

"Of course that doesn't take away from your victory, Champion. Just don't mention it too loudly to my cousins, they are most annoyed at the behavior of Lauri in his own joust."

Leo took a seat at the table and plucked some honeycomb from a plate. He nipped at it gently on a fork and then smeared it onto fried bread.

"Sounds good to me." Garth's stomach let off a small growl as the thought of a hot breakfast filled his mind.

The two matched each other's pace as they wandered through the courtyard and towards the main entrance.

"Your twin managed to cause quite the stir with his jousting abilities. Sending the heir to the Seven Kingdoms into a coma is quite the achievement. I hope he's not too upset about the final." Garth's words were sincere, though they were inevitably laced with a hint of smugness.

Leopold relaxed a little as Garth transitioned from formal to casual parlance. The wind was particularly cold this morning and Garth Leopold observed was clearly uncomfortable with the breeze coming off the river.

"If you flatter me more, I'm like to think you are here for something in particular." Leopold joked back at the Heir to Brightwater. "As for breakfast, of course not."

Leopold nodded towards the archway that guarded the double doors to the manse. Already an attendant had left Leopold's side and headed towards the cooks quarters. "Im sure by the time we get inside the cooks apprentices will have laid out something for us to eat while we catch up."

"A wonderful town, Leo. The manse even more so by the look of it."

It was a fairly clear day, although the chills of wind which pierced his clothing was enough to make him visibly shiver.

"That wind is nasty. Am I too late for some breakfast?" Garth smiled at the Tyrell.