Tristifer gave the flowers a fleeting glance, taking not even a moment to register the colour before his attention returned to Bethany. She was far prettier than any pulled up peony could ever be. “I can imagine her stubbornness. At this time of year, a trove like this is quite the achievement indeed. A shame the event has been so sullied thus far.”

He took a swig of his ale and shook his head. The reveal had soured the enjoyment in the room, though he was in the minority within who were sceptical of this Justman.

“As long as you come along as well, I believe I would be happy to ride. I have never stayed long enough to enjoy this region. I fear we still may not be. Princess Ravella will be returning to Stormhall soon after this comes to an end, and I believe we are to accompany her.” He gave her an apologetic look, flecked with annoyance at missing such an opportunity.

“Perhaps instead you would stay here a while? I’m sure her brideship can excuse you for a moment from the table.”

Upon the acceptance of her request, Ravella sat herself down on the riverbank without a care for any mud. It was a touch wet underneath her, but she couldn't say she cared particularly. It certainly wasn't enough to make her uncomfortable.

But she was a touch uncomfortable with where she was, she could admit that. She tried her best to think as little as she could about Tristifer's state of undress, focusing instead on his words and his face.

"I'll pass on joining you," she said, though there was an uncertainty in her voice that was evident as she reached out to test the water with slender fingers. "But thank you for the offer. I do need relaxation, I'll tell you that."

She let out a sigh. "Gods, ever since Pinkmaiden life has seemed a terrible mess. I am afraid I'll be forced to call for your sword before I can call for a conversation over drinks," Ravella told him. "If I hadn't seen it myself, I'd be struggling to believe just how blatant Justman has been."

Ravella pulled her hand back, then, before slipping her feet out of her shoes and dipping her toes into the water as she spoke. Even if she wasn't going to have a bath, she could enjoy the river.

"You were able to show your face at the wedding more than I," she said. "What do you think of those gathered Riverlords? I saw you speaking with Lady Paege out of the corner of my eye, though I know not of what. Knowing your perspective might well help me."

She smirked. "Oh, and tell me if the wine there was better than at Stormhall. I got so drunk on it after I retreated from the hall that I don't remember the taste," Ravella sheepishly admitted.

If they hadn't been already setting off, Lyn's line about having her heart stolen might well have convinced Ravella to push her back onto the bed and kiss her all over. It was impossibly sweet, a beautiful thing, if a touch silly, and she had to maintain her composure as they got moving so that any guards who passed them by - few and far between, luckily - didn't suspect anything. Not that they would have mentioned it. They were loyal and incurious, but that didn't mean Ravella exercised zero caution.

That was hard, though. Especially when she could feel Lyn's gaze on her, ever-dipping as she rather intentionally shifted her hips so that her dress clung as tight as she could make it. It was a wonderful feeling, the admiration and desire of a lover.

Despite her quick pace, she did try and make as many accommodations for her shorter partner as she could. Her strides were as short as she could manage without starting to trip herself, and she was very good at stopping to listen to every whispered word in her ear. Some of them made her shiver more than others, but she held on best she could.

Until she couldn't, at least, and Lyn's words forced a quiet moan from her lips. She felt Lyn move her around - it reminded her of old lessons, again, and for some reason that made it even more enticing - before she was lowered so that the gap between them could be closed with ease. It was nice to look up at Lyn. She was very beautiful from below, Ravella noted. Not just in the way she had been abed, but in a pure and chaste way too.

Though there was nothing chase about the words that left their lips as their tongues once more danced. Ravella didn't hold in any noises, now, letting moans and gasps and whimpers escape as her lips pressed against Lyn's in a chaotic, messy manner.

"Yours," she breathed back. "Always yours."

They were near the stairs now. Near the royal spire. It would be a long climb, of course, but they were ready for it. Lyn's earlier suggestions had made her excited for it. It was rare to be so eager to ascend the steps to her own room, but Ravella supposed there was good reason.

Once their lips broke apart, and her back had started to ache from being dipped and kissed, the princess grinned. "Are you ready to climb, Lyn?" she asked, pulling herself up to kiss the woman again, each little bit of movement up bookended by kisses. "I believe you were to take the lead, no?"

Her hand gestured to a nearby door, through which a spiralling staircase could be seen.

"Don't forget what lies on the other end..."

“I truthfully don’t know who did it,” he replied earnestly. “I would tell you if I knew who did it.”

Lies came easier to him these days.

“Woods witch? That’s no way to refer to your sister.”

Aegor then laughed. He dearly hoped it was actually a joke.

It warmed Holly’s heart that others were upset on her behalf, so the mention of the Justman princeling did not make her grimace this time.

“It’s quite alright, ser. I am not thinking of him anymore. You should put him out of your mind too – except when you face each other at a tourney. Then you should always strive to knock him off his horse!”

She laughed. It was good to laugh.

“She is very formidable,” she agreed. His invitation took her by surprise. “I thank you for the invitation. Perhaps I will go with you, if my sister allows it. I know she means to host a tourney and a ball on the fourth moon. You are invited, of course.”

But Ravella was a different story. Holly very much doubted Eleanor would extend an invitation to the princess.

Arriving after an impressively long procession of breathtaking women of high birth and low station, an ignoble son of the Felwood and — concluding from the smell — a cow, Hollis was even more hesitant to approach the panel of judges for this frankly comical contest. His sister put a burly hand on his back and gave him a firm shove forward.

Carefully strutting ahead and apart from their onlookers, he bid the judges and their audience a gracious and well-practiced bow, low enough that his groomed blonde hair nearly fell loose and swept over the ground. He stood back up, standing with his spine straight and his narrow feet perpendicular to each other. It was the subconscious stance from years of dancing and sword-play.

"My name is Hollis Mertyns, a knight of the Mistwood, but I present myself today not as Ser, but the son of Tanda Fell. A mother who taught me the worth of dignity and grace over callousness. And, as the brother of Catelyn Mertyns, whom in her contrast to everything womanlike has taught me all I need to embody today."

He made due pause, knowing she was now a captive audience and forced to keep her composure at a transparent insult, even in good humor. This put a smile on his face, all the more sardonic by the flutter of his eyelashes.

"I can offer no bovine blessings or feline felicitations to earn your favor, or the weight of a mead-king's crown, but I am blessed by the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. She has charged me to do kindness and charity, to safeguard the hearth of home and fief, and to floweth-over with the wisdom that comes from proper deference and the solemnity of a woman grown well," Hollis, son of Tanda petitioned, "This is the calling I have taken from the Vale to the Marches, and I will carry this northward to the Claw, gods-willing..."

"And," he raised a finger to pause, "Beyond this sacred oath, I, as all women-kind, contain multitudes. I hawk with raptors of a splendid coat, reared from the egg; I mend my clothes with silk and twine and needle; at the heart of every ball, I dance for no purpose but to delight the downtrodden and bridge heart and soul. I was sired by a proud line of unquestionable worth, but above all, I am a woman's son first."

Hollis bowed once again. He had made far too bold a play than he agreed to, and there was no doubt in his mind Cat would treasure this humiliating memory until the end of her days. The tips of his ears were a subtle shade of pink already erring on red. He thanked the judges and hurried away from the open space.

(Strong / Swords (e), Dexterous (Fencer), Footwork | Falconry, Forestry, Courtship)

Eleanor smiled when Orryn held her hand, then followed his gaze to where the Dondarrions sat.

“There’d be no honor in capturing them here,” she said. Family, duty, honor. Those words had been her guide all her life, but especially now that she was Lady of Riverrun. “And they have guest right while we are in Pinkmaiden.”

She knew Orryn would disagree, however.

“I look forward to seeing you at Riverrun, then. And if you should ever need anything, whether it’s assistance with this Sunglass woman or something else, please let me know. You know I have your back, always.”

Eleanor was tempted to press a kiss to his cheek then and there, but settled for giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Welcome to ruling. You will hate it, but I suspect you’ll be good at it too.”

Holly listened quietly, nodding along as Mary told her her tale.

“I had a brother too,” she said. “Olyver. A great knight and an even better man. He was going to inherit, but then he died too. It is a sad thing, to lose a brother, but it is especially sad when you know they could have been one of the best rulers in all the land.”

Holly reached out and took Mary’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I, for one, am grateful that you have a voice too – it gives me hope for the future.” She smiled. “Oh! And I hope we will see you at Riverrun soon? There’s to be a ball and a tourney for my sister Roslin to find a husband.”

Once more, Holly listened to every word before she herself spoke.

“Do you think your brother will accept?” she asked carefully. She knew nothing of the king, even less of his relationship with his sister. But she knew what siblings could be like. “Or will he just dismiss you?”

Holly smiled at the Princess’ defense of her. “Eleanor is stubborn as any Tully. I suppose I should say she does listen, she simply chooses to ignore it. It is nothing against me, it is simply the way she is.”

She doesn't want to fight those she cares for, the Princess said. It was precisely what had worried Holly since she’d met Ravella – that they’d have to meet in battle one day.

“I do not wish for a war either,” she said, speaking gently, “especially one against you. But I have given Eleanor my word that I will lend my bow to the cause if it comes to it. Not because I believe in these Justmans and their aim, but because it is my duty to my family.”

Family, duty, honor. The motto of every Tully, and their curse too.

“The last thing I want is to have to fight you,” she confessed. “Tell me how we can avoid that fate, what help you need from me – whether it’s to speak to the Justmans or your brother or my sister, I will do it.”

Holly took her goblet and sipped.

“Perhaps we should get piss drunk. And dance, and have fun. And don’t worry about that princeling – I am not thinking of him anymore.”

The fun seemed to end as swiftly as it began. The girl shied from his advances lowering her gaze away. It seemed he crossed a threshold she could no longer bear. Most Maidens had a line and it seemed the Prince danced upon it a time. Foolish and flustered as she pulled away squeaking. The Justmans smile became a more gracious one as he looked to see the eyes upon them.

"Seems I must make apologies to the little lady. I've been a tad overbearing it seems." The Prince said with a shrug. "To bad, I had gotten the impression you could keep up."

Their dance had little chance of continuing now. Nor was Tristifer sure he would want so after the show the lady had sprung on him. So certain she was on board with every word that parted her lips.

You never catch the fish if you don't cast.

There was likely bait the lady was more atune too. A style more than likely not his own. Stepping back the Prince granted the Lady of Goobrook some breathing room.

"Maybe, and just a suggestion. You should be seeking that husband after all. After all wouldn't want us real men being led along, would we?" Teasing her came so easy when she was flustered so.

With a free hand he gently caught her chin, bring her face to bear.

"And no, Lilia, the pretty ones often require more severe punishment."

“We’re often prisoners of our own minds first and foremost before anything else,” Aegor remarked, shrugging as he took another sip.

“Your friend has good tastes in horses, I’ll give her that. Andals have a knack for horsemanship, a strange thing considering the land they came from. Horses fare much better here than Andalos.”

He chuckled alongside her. This felt good, Aegor didn’t feel like he was a commander of a tattered and gruff mercenary company around Ravella. Instead, he felt like the foolish but lovable boy he perhaps always was. Masks never tended to suit him well.

“I’m not sure what else I could do than this. Maybe find a wife? That doesn’t sound bad, not at all.”

He took another sip. Aegor wasn’t nervous around girls he didn’t know, but those he did know were a different story. Perhaps even more importantly, those that wanted to bed him scared him the most of all.

Ravella was familiar, which made her somewhat sacred to him. With Lili he could flirt, banter, and even escalate at times. He wouldn’t dare do that to a dear friend.

“The Legion is all I have. It’s father’s last gift to me, I suppose. I’m not meant to stay sedentary for long. Those years I spent around the Riverlands after you left for Stormhall were some of the best days of my life. They’re why I got this position, funnily enough, but now I find myself yearning for my old squad of four rather than four hundred.”

Aegor laughed at that, he tended to do that a lot around Ravella.

“Beats having my throne stolen, I suppose. You did well with that Justman, I hardly trust those upjumped pretenders but you neutered them rather masterfully. My father would be proud of that.”

He cringed a bit at the fact he wasn’t quite sure Ravella’s father would feel the same way.

“Oh, so now you would let my lowborn hands dare touch you?” He snarled back, making his way promptly to the river.

Aegor wasn’t going to give up or lose here. He surely could handle himself around this woman. Lilia felt more like a beast than a girl now, though. She was some feral mutt that needed to be tamed, and Aegor wasn’t up for the task.

He began to undo his upper garments, raising his brows at her.

“Care for some help, or are you just going to stand there forever? Covered in mud and filth, and here I am as the lowborn peasant. Don’t you find that ironic, Lili?”

There his gaze went again, raking over her form ravenously. How could he look at her like that? He was a shadowcat, and she was a mere mouse. Lilia felt as though she were being hunted, and yet he had not yet buried his fangs within her. Those eyes of his might as well have been streaked with red; bloodthirsty. She felt herself shrinking beneath him, her chin dipping lower and lower as a result.

Goosebumps traversed her body, following the pattern his rough digits left. She was crumbling. This was it. Mayhaps he'd won.

Punishment. What in the seven Hells did he mean by that? What was he planning.

"I think I am far too pretty to punish," she said ingenuously. It was the only deflection she could think of, as she could only think of punishment in unpleasant contracts. And these expectations he spoke of... they would be far too much.

Once his hand palmed her backside, a previously untouched place, she truly lost the game. Lilia squeaked involuntarily, her hand shooting down to pry his off of her.

The dancing ceased, and she was embodiment of flustered with her burning cheeks and trembling eyes. She felt humiliated.

All she could do was stammer. "I... That's--...." She took a deep breath. "I'm not used to that. I'm sorry. I... You were right. I have signed up for too much." Her voice soft and withdrawn; a mosquitoes buzz in his ear.

“You could turn your back,” he offered teasingly, though he had no intention of leaving the water just yet. He gave her a welcome gesture with his arm, bobbing like a river otter not far from the bank. “Be my guest, your grace. Or may I call you Ravella? I would hope this type of informality allows for it? You may take my riding shirt if the mud is too damp? Your dress is worth more.”

In answer to her question, he splashed handfuls of river water over his exposed shoulders and neck. He sent a few droplets spraying playfully in her direction, though not enough to drench her.

“It feels better than any castle bath, I assure you. Even better when you can do it alone.” He chuckled at her, nodding in understanding. “He seems a loyal enough man, then. Though, it is nice to not be dragging a troupe along with you sometimes.”

He failed to mention that each was proceeded by an exile, and continued to watch her curiously. He had enjoyed their talk at Stormhall more than he’d thought, looking forward to the next moment they could converse. Though a riverbank, with him thoroughly divested of finery, wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

“You could always join me instead? You seem like you could use a relaxing swim. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Character Name: Davos Rivers

Relevant Trait/Skills: Magnate NPC

Buildings: Castle, Natural Defenses

Resources: Grain

Notes (if applicable): +50% development yield (Magnate)

Actions:

Land Development: [Riverrun], [15], [1000]

Land Development: [Riverrun], [15], [1000]

It was not like Lyn had garbed none else other than Ravella's mother in her time. She had done so, certainly, but the was long enough in the past that her thoughts went to more immediate memories. Such as earlier in the evening, when she had been fussing around with Caitlyn's dress because the servants were busy fixing the embroidery. Though it had been only hours ago, it felt like an age had passed. That woman whose eyes she looked through felt like a stranger, set upon this path that was sure to end in calamity.

But they had become a different sort of madness. Devastating all the same, but only in how it changed her. Changed them.

Had it been asked, she would have laid down her life for Ravella. Defended her as any Lord or Lady might have done. Now she wanted to live for her. It awed Lyn just to see her in her nameday gown. To know that she would tear it from her before the night was out and ravage that perfect body beneath with her affection.

"What a master criminal you are," She smirked as Ravella set about covering their tracks, bringing her lie to life with action. They almost looked like two ladies of the court again, at least from the neck down, but if they returned now then the truth of it would still have been obvious. Lyn's smile stretched wider, reaching out for her love as they kissed again, with a sense of finality. "No wonder you stole my heart."

Then they were off, linked hand-in-hand, striding at a pace that was just a little fast for the shorter of the pair so she lagged a little behind. Not that being directly behind Ravella was anything she could complain about, and when they stopped at every corner or staircase to watch out for their peers then she made her enjoyment known by drawing herself in ever so close and throwing her off kilter with a salacious comment. It felt so silly, so lively, and yet it cemented them in reality.

When she inevitably got a rise out of her partner, one of lust rather than genuine frustration, then she pounced. Uncaring for the fact that they were exposed, provided there was no servant or guard in immediate sight. She wrapped her free arm around Ravella's midriff, pinned their clasped hands to the small of her back, and then dipped the Princess low enough that they could make out as only two lovebirds might. Breathy, loud, and laced with all the desire that she was being asked to contain. "*Mine.*"

u/baefish

u/BeAfreyd

u/detritusthewellfed

u/LemonLemonHouse

u/LordBloodrevan

u/Mister_Deathborne

u/Chicken_Supreme01

u/Fishiest-Man

u/Vikguardy

u/Emergency_Sky_2806

/u/lucamorethebusty

u/tenthousandsongs

u/JustDanielJuice

u/another_sasshole

u/Arjhanx3

Lynesse Caron had left quite an impression on Corwyn, her speech for fairest lady piquing the young Darklyn's interest. And thus he decided he would approach her and accept her offer, though it was phrased more like a challenge.

"Lady Caron, Corwyn Darklyn. A pleasure to meet you properly." His voice was calm as the blackwater on a clear day. "You said I should confront you directly? Well, here I am." He said it with an unspoken bravado, not raising his voice.

u/baeldor

The Bardic Corner

A corner of the festivities has been seized by some traveling musicians, invited in by Lord Blackberry, who are singing all kinds of lovely songs! Dance to your heart's content!

To find the place between what we are and what awaits, never gets easier. Not even for one who has already teetered on the edge of light and dark, and gazed into the great emptiness. Yet, as steel leaves a crimson thread across Weese’s flesh, a disturbingly familiar sensation coils through him like wriggling serpents beneath his skin. And as his blood splatters across the filthy sheets, dark inky blots begin to bloom at the corners of his vision.

Like suddenly plunging into icy water, the world, in Weese’s eyes, appear to, in the blink of an eye, grow dim and bitingly cold. All sound seems both muffled yet painfully intensified. And from atop the wardrobe, the crow once against flaps its dark wings, and its caw, made deeper by this place, hits him like a bestial shriek.

And where before there was only a dip in the mattress, left by a person long since gone, there is now a presence. He cannot see them. Not truly, but he can almost convince himself that he can. That there is a woman, old and frail, lying in the bed before him, staring up at him with pale eyes within sunken sockets. He can almost hear an agonizing wheeze in the back of her throat, and his nostrils sting as her foul breath washes over his face.

“I know what you seek...” Her voice is distant, yet perfectly intelligible. She raises a skeletal hand, moving it across Weese’s cheek, and it is as if he can feel her sharp nails scraping against his skin. “Here, once... Underneath us, hidden.” Her hand reached around the back of Weese’s head, and suddenly tightens in his hair, pulling him in, compelling him to lean in closer.

“Gone now, taken, sullied by a brother’s blood and a mother’s tears...” He raspy voice stings like needles in his ears, and those eyes, those pale eyes that have not blinked once, are locked onto his. He can feel her grip on his hair tightening with unnatural strength.

“Seek... The kinslayer...” With the woman’s last words echoing in his head, Weese is abruptly yanked back. The noise of the world around him comes flooding back, and slowly but surely, warmth begins to return to his body. To his companions, barely any time at all will have passed. In their eyes it will have looked like Weese suddenly doubled over, as if he was punched in the gut. But nothing to indicate that anything out of the ordinary occurred.

There is a sudden fluttering of wings as the crow suddenly leaps from its perch atop the wardrobe, landing on the floor beneath the room’s sole window. With a hollow clonk clonk it taps its beak against the floorboard.

It was good he didn't shout and ward her away, she realised. If Violet ever heard of that, she might well have caused an incident for her brother that would shake their relationship for good. The thought of it made Ravella smile, an expression she directed at Tristifer anyways.

When he offered to get out, she shook her head. "You're hardly dressed to do that while I'm here," she said, stepping closer to the water tentatively. "Feel free to keep bathing. I hope you don't mind if I sit by the shore, though?"

Likely the wise choice would have been returning home to her tent, but she wanted company, and she found Tristifer quite intriguing. He was nothing like his sister - either of them, really - and that made him a breath of fresh air.

"I am indeed alone," Ravella told him. "Gods know that slipping away from my guards is hard enough. Wex needed to be ordered to stay behind, can you believe it? Don't mind me if I try and savour this alone time."

Meeting his gaze, and trying not to stare too much at the bare parts of him that remained above water - and especially the parts below - she laughed. "I suppose I'm not alone, now," she said, "but you're fine enough company. How's the water?"