Ask ASoIaF: Wedding Knight

[Varn Stone]

Varn was pleased with the turn of events. Even Daros agreed he couldn’t have the sellsword help if he stank, and Varn was allowed a nice, hot fancy bath. He smelled wonderful and his hair was even neatly placed. He wasn’t thrilled about the attire he was given, but he couldn’t exactly appear as a common thug at such a royal gathering. The half Dothraki’s gaze passed over the others that mingled about in the lower levels. Every now and then his mind wandered back to that bold huntress that was irritating him in the courtyard. A faint grin graced his face as he reached for his flask - only to be reminded that he had to leave it behind for now.

A lute played somewhere and was accompanied by a voice to provide background entertainment. As a servant walked by with a tray, Varn helped himself to an apple, snagging it to take a bite as his gaze flashed up towards where the nobles congregated. He could spot Daros there, standing stiff as if he had the highest peak of the Mountains of the Moon firmly up his ass. Next to him were two ladies all dolled up, their faces practically etched on. The smell of food was intoxicating, and he despised the reality that he would sample very little of the meats.

He kept to himself for now, looking around for a way to grab himself a drink to make the evening remotely tolerable.

 

[Emphyria Thornclair]

Emphyria had spent the days leading up to the wedding buried in the preparations - dedicating herself entirely to the task and painstakingly overseeing things down to the minute detail. Much to her surprise and something she’d sooner fling herself off the castle walls rather than admit, Ayva had actually proved to be helpful in making sure that things went swimmingly. This event was far too important for anything less.

She came to stand beside Daros as their guests began to arrive, icy blue eyes fixed out to the gates ahead. Emphyria had donned her finest attire for the occasion, wearing a low-cut dress of deep blue silk trimmed in gold that hugged her figure. A shawl of rich ermine wrapped around her collar, while her attire was accessorized with a sapphire jewels that adored her neck and hung as earrings from her ears.

As she waited for their guests to pass through the gates, Emphyria briefly allowed her eyes to wander the courtyard - icy gaze flicking across the smallfolk that lingered on the edge of the yard. It didn’t take the noblewoman long to pick out Varn from the crowd, her gaze lingering on the half-Dothraki for a moment or two longer then the others. It took her a moment to realize it was the same lowborn thug who had been sitting on a barrel some days ago, with his new attire and neatly styled hair.

There was bit a hint of a grin that traced her lips, though it was faint and brief enough to leave Varn wondering if it was ever there at all. Her gaze lingered long enough to briefly meet the half-Dothraki’s gaze, arching a single brow in her direction before promptly turning back to the gate ahead - just in time to see their first guests arriving..

The Dannets.

Emphyria forced a smile to tug at her lips, swallowing down the sudden desire to bash her skull against a castle wall. While the noblewoman had thoroughly reviewed the guest list, Emphyria had tried very hard to simply block that name out of her field of vision. She hoped Lord Dannet would do them the service of keeling over before arrival, and kill any prospects of his progeny attending.

Alas, her prayers had gone unanswered.

She silently glanced towards Daros, smiling towards the group as her husband handled their initial pleasantries. Of course, it didn’t take the heir of Dragonsbane long to gravitate towards another warrior and graciously leave herself and Ayva to handle the shit-end of the situation.

Which was wholly unsurprising.

Putting on her best face possible, Emphyria took a step forward - her attention fixed onto Lord Alfric himself. The noblewoman dipped into a curtsy, her lips curling upwards into an exceedingly warm - albeit entirely fake - smile. “Welcome to Dragonsbane, My Lord. I do hope your journey was not too arduous.” She turned to the side, gesturing ahead towards the Great Hall of the castle. “Please, if you would follow me inside. I am quite sure you would all love to be out of the cold as quickly as possible.” With that, Emphyria began to slowly gravitate towards the castle - staying close enough to converse with Lord Alfric.

Subtly as she walked, her eyes briefly flicked back over to Varn before turning back ahead.

@Sreeya @Orbit @Phoenix @Loco

 

[Chella]

A Wedding.

The Raven's dark wings had brought dark words indeed... more Andals were getting married in some vein attempt to stop some kind of a feud. Kitchen staff had been chatting about what it meant to host both houses as if they had any kind of idea how the world was run away from the bread flower and wandering hands of lesser nobles. Chella would be the first to admit that she, also, didn't have a good idea how the world of Nobles was run but she knew that it contained a fair sight fewer dances and romance than the maids seemed to think.

Gods-in-the-Woods but they were insufferably dull company... she waited until the hosts were focused on their new arrivals before making her way up into the hall. Dressed like a maid for the time being, she probably looked like she belonged right up until people started to notice that she refused to serve anyone the wine was was carrying in a pitcher.

Instead she did her best to act like she didn't hear them before finding a patch of wall to glue herself to until such a time as the Thornclairs looked like they needed wine. She wasn't much for all this nice-stuff but she could pour wine and she wanted to hear what all the fuss was about. And for someone on the outside looking in...?

Well nobody really noticed the servers did they?

She, on the other hand, noticed the man from Essos she had spoken to in the courtyard but, again, she held back with the wine for now and just waited.

 

[The Storyteller]

“No more than might be expected in Thornclair Lands…” Lord Dannet’s replied, his expression never shifting from his perpetual glower as he dismounted and handed off the reigns off to the nearest retainer. The glower followed Daros as he greeted Iris, though if one were watching closely they might have seen a spark of annoyance in his eyes, and a furtive glance to someone in his traveling party.

“Thank you Mi’lord,” Iris replied to Daros with a smile and a small curtsy before she turned to Ayva and Emphyria, “The journey was well enough, and short, thank the seven.” She appeared much more cheery than her father- probably just glad to be out of the gloomy old fort they called home.

“I’d thank the Seven for some wine…” Lord Dannet muttered as Emphyria led him inside, his daughter in tow.

The rest of the Dannet party were in various stages of dismounting or tending the Lords horses or the Ladies carriage. Adham Dennet and his Knight both had their boots on the ground, and the lordling made to follow his father and sister. With speed that seemed to belie his apparent age, the knights gloved hand clocked the boy across the back of the head.

“You’re here as a squire, not a Lordling. You’ll tend my horse and saddlebags, and you’ll eat outside with the rest of the squires.”

“But…” The knights hand twitched faster than the blink of the eye, cutting off the boy’s protestation with another knock upside the head- not hard enough to outright abuse, but hard enough to be felt.

“Butts are for riding, and you’ve not earned your spurs yet little Dannet. Git.”

The young Dannet did as he was told, moving the horses to the stables before he could return to the tables full of bread and ale in the yard. The Knight moved off towards the lower hall, probably in search of a drink… In fact, he spied a servant girl with a jug of wine just there…

As Lord Mallory and his entourage approached, their details only became stranger. In addition to a pair of knights- one who’s shield bore a pattern of stars on purple similar to the Lord Mallory, and the other a dark green oak tree on a field of grey- Lord Mallory was flanked by an… odd pairing. Clearly not knights, anyone could see. One was short, slender, and dark featured. He wore no armor, but there was a slender sword hanging from his hip, and he was clothed head to toe in flowing purple and blue silks over black trousers, and had on tall boots of fine leather. The other was taller, heavily built, and his station was clear. He wore the scarlet robes of a Red Priest, but they were bordered in patches of cloth made out to look like flames, in various hues of orange and yellow so bright they bordered on garish. His hair and beard, likewise, were died brilliant red, with streaks of yellow and orange folded in. On his back he carried a wavy bladed greatsword, and there was red enameled ring mail under his robes.

“I’m happy I could make it as well,” Lord Mallory greeted Daros warmly in return, “I couldn’t bear it waiting back home to hear whether my neighbors had gone through with the wedding or finally done each other in.” He laughed, before introducing his companions. “I give you my companions, gracious host- Ser Bryce, my second cousin” he started, gesturing to the young Knight bearing his houses colors, “Ser Gwayne of the Mistwood, one of my most stalwart sworn swords, and” he said with a smile, “May I present my newest companions, Tytus of Tyrosh, and Xhorandor of Bravos. A priest of the flame, and a water dancer of Bravos, their stories will entertain us well into the night, I assure you.”

Lord Mallory’s entourage all made gracious bows.

@Orbit @Sreeya @Phoenix @Altaris @Nefieslab @Exhilian

 

[Daros Thornclair]

The last time that Daros had laid eyes upon Lord Mallory, his typical party had never been so... cultured before. The first that drew his interest was the Bravos man, his attire familiar with that of the people. The heir always had a keen interest in the skill of the blade and the warriors of Bravos were renowned for it. There certainly must have been stories that the man could share of his culture, one vastly different from Westeros.

While at first, the Bravosi man claimed his attention, it would quickly be seized by the priest dressed in red. The man was hulking and he seemed to be the type that barely spoke a word. Daros' collected and calm visage didn't crack but he was put on edge by the presence of the priest. Stories had circulated across the continent about what the priests in red did in their own time and he was worried that one found their way into Mallory's ear.

Still, Daros had been raised well with manners and etiquette instilled within him. "I don't blame you. You've done well with boredom, Lord Mallory." A soft but genuine chuckle was released from him, the man more warrior than noble. But after he had introduced his party, the heir returned the same respects as he gave a bow back to them.

When he returned to his full stature, he caught the mumblings from the Knight about the squire and his gaze would drift over there. He would spectate the interaction for a moment before he looked over to Varn. If the sellsword stared his way, he would find Daros staring back at him before he motioned with his head to the lower halls, specifically the knight and group of them about to make it down there.

After that, if Varn paid attention, Daros would bring his piercing gaze upon the priest, "So, tell me, when did you find yourself in the presence of Lord Mallory?" In order to hide the notion of him prodding, he jokingly added to the word, "Never figured you would be the religious type." Despite the levity in his words, he was curious about the answer.