Soon enough, he, Robyn and Morgan were accompanied by others in the dining hall: the brutish Baratheon who called himself Bear, the Tully girl, Alianne, and, Toran realized with a groan, the Lannister fellow Willam.

He truly didn’t know what to make of the Lannister. He wasn’t an inherently unpleasant bloke, though a lot more frugally minded than Toran. Though, even though it was against his friendly nature, he had a hard time bringing himself to give Willam a chance. What was it the Northerners said? ‘The North Remembers?’ Well, the Dornish remembered too. And Toran found it hard to forget what the Lannisters and their dogs had to his great aunt Elia, or his great uncle Oberyn (even though he knew that that had been a fair trial by combat, the Dornish were renowned sore losers). Even Toruk bristled at his presence, staring as he walked in. He sped to the end of Toran’s arm, extending himself as close to the Lannister as possible, and hissed. This time, Toran didn’t scold him.

Turning to the Tully girl, and Robyn making her way toward her, he gave a sweeping, exaggerated bow. “Good morning my ladies! How are you finding King’s Landing?” His smile was bright, lighting up his rust-red eyes, and his accent bled into every syllable. Of all the time he’d spent in Westerns, he’d never really tried to drop his Dornish accent. He preferred his language to the common tongue, and was somewhat miffed at the fact that the only one he could speak it to was the queen and therefore often busy.

His show of chivalry done with, Toran approached the table but did not sit, instead pouring himself some wine and leaning one elbow on the back of the large chairs surrounding the table. He also grabbed a soft piece of warm bread, tearing smaller pieces off with his fingers. Toruk twined himself around Toran’s neck, trying to get his attention. Toran acted as if he wasn’t there, trying to get into his line of sight.

In reply to Alianne’s question, Toran grinned and shifted his weight, a certain swagger about him. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” His eyes twinkled. “I’ll be competing in the duels, myself.” As he spoke, his free hand wandered to his chest, fingering a pendant that lay there on a long leather cord. It was his own little sigil, of sorts: A snake coiled around a golden flame. The snake angrily bore dragonglass fangs that were sharp to the touch, a staring profile with shining ruby eyes, glossy amber scales glinting along the black steel of its body. It hung nearly under his shirt, not obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. “I’m looking for opponents, if anyone’s interested.” His eyes glinted, and Toruk coiled around his shoulder.

Clearing his throat, he turned to Morgan. "So, where is that sister of yours? It's rare I see the one of you without the other."

Manasa Stark

The young lady had been sitting in the plush windowseat of her room, silent as she watched the world on the other side of the glass window beside her. The raven had followed her here, but with his eyes she had been able to locate the majority of the structures within the Red Keep and memorize the layout though it was difficult to look at the inside when the bird was not admitted entrance to the buildings. There was good reasoning behind why the raven couldn't enter anyways, and the outcome did not bother Manasa much at all; every castle had mice and cats she could use if she had need of them, perhaps even the Dornish boys snake would do with its scales that easily blend into the stone floors and walls. Other than that she could find the Prince and ask him for a tour of the castle, perhaps she'll find an ally in the King's son or one of his daughters though the boy will have to realize quickly he'll be marrying one of his sisters or a cousin instead of the Tully she had seen him with the day before. It was clear to the logical mind that the Tully girl had been sent here to try to influence the next royal marriage in the favour of the Riverlords instead of allowing the boy's father chose his bride as it always has been. Manasa was honestly surprised that Daerys himself had been able to marry the Martel woman instead of his cousin, though one girl had been born of full Targaryen blood and as far as the skinchanger could tell she was not mad as her ancestors had often been. What was they said? 'Every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin'?

In the last several days Manasa had managed to speak with a handful of the wards that currently stayed with the king, having spent the vast majority of her time close to her brother though at times she was cornered alone with the other girls. Her new handmaid was a spiteful little thing with little skill in anything but resentment, but the young lady was educating the girl so she would be more useful to her in the future; the girl was raised in the South, away from the true North cold and couldn't tell the difference between her summer and winter clothes yet or tie her hair the way she liked it. Today she would have to call for the girl again though she didn't quite enjoy the possibility of having to show the girl how to braid her hair. She was going to participate in the tournament this afternoon and would need to get some last minute practice in before the show began. She remembered talking with her brother the day after they found out about the tournament from the Daerys, and practicing with him afterward though she was hesitant to really join in since she was nowhere near as effective in battle as her twin without Echo or Shiva. Though, being one of the few females who could fight here, she should participate - her mother would be disappointed otherwise.

She did not wait for the girl to come fetch her to get dressed this morning, as she heard the others stir around the other rooms and slowly leave to find something to eat in the dining hall beneath their bedrooms and many of them were gone before she ever moved from her seat at the window. Her steps were slow and deliberate, uncaring as to who was waiting for her since Morgan would be socializing while she was away from them regardless of how close the two of them were; Father had sent the two of them here to make friends and he was better at that then her. In the last few days she had managed a single true smile that was not aimed at her brother. In her time here she had come to realize that the friendly were not entirely what they wanted to appear as for them and others seemed not to care how the rest of the wards saw them, such as the case of the red haired Tully girl.

Manasa, now standing in the pale white nightgown she had worn to bed the night before, though the fabric soon fell to the floor where she stepped from the pool of soft fabric and walked over to where she had a pair of pants and a dark grey leather jerkin sat folded neatly on a chair while the long sleeve black shift was messily thrown overtop of them. She planned to dress in clothes she would rarely wear otherwise today, and would. She dressed alone in her bedroom, carefully tying her silk belt around her waist to cinch the fabric together and still show that she had the curves of a budding woman. She was fairly well developed for a girl of her age, and would likely be married to one of the young men here with her by the time she was eighteen, depending on her letters home and how the future visits from the lords and ladies goes. She brushed her hair back, leaving the dark locks to hang in waves down to the center of her back, where they curled softly. It wasn't often that she didn't wear dresses, apart from her training sessions with her brother and the occasional tournament though it wasn't often that the Stark's would attend such an event. The Northern people frowned upon frivolous wastes of time and money; they may show off their skills but it gave away what strength was hidden in such spaces, as the North hides gems in coal.

Manasa threw her cloak around her shoulders and touched the vine marking on her face, the soft green nearly matching her eyes and when asked she would betray it as a tattoo not the birthmark that it really was. She whistled and opened the door, walking from the bedroom to where Shiva was waiting for her in the common room just outside of her door, Echo following her from the room. It wasn't long before she found her way to the dining hall, and dressed in pants and boots instead of soft velvet and furs, with the wolf walking happily next to her for the first time since coming to King's Landing she felt somewhat comfortable. "Morgan! Toran!" Of the others there, Artoran was the one she had spoken to on and off in the last few days and spent the time to learn his name. She'd met the bastard dragon the day before while finding her way to the Godswood of the Red Keep with Echo while Shiva kept her room safe from intruders. Manasa smiled as she lifted a hand and waved across the room toward the two males; a smile that was not that of a polite and obedient lady, or one of a woman looking for friends. She looked happy as she had ever been here and she jogged over with her wolf companion in tow to where her brother was standing. "I trust you're looking forward to the tournament today?"

With a glance to the side she saw that the Baratheon two were present in the room as well, and William Lannister was not too far off and had been speaking with them as well though she had not wanted to interact with him either even if it was expected of her. The North remembers as it always had and there was little to be done about the frozen reaches hold on the memories of what his predecessors had done to hers. She smiled faltered for a moment, though it picked up again when she heard Artoran ask Morgan about her just as she was approaching them and laughed slightly, quietly in her northern way. Her green eyes lifted from the direwolf at her side to pass to her brother where they gave him her silent message not to mention that she had been in his room the night before. At times the young lady would experience horrible nightmares of things that couldn't possibly be happening now and she'd come to realize that they were things come to pass but nonetheless there was little that could stop her panic when one of these episodes did so occur; one of them was to be near the male she'd shared a womb with. On the other hand her deep emerald gaze passed over to the Dornish boy though she was careful not to stand too close for her own personal comforts and Echo sat down next to her. The animals head reached the bottom of the girls breasts, grey and white with red shading along the she-wolfs back and eyes as green as Manasa's. "You should take place in the melee as well. I'm sure a Dornish man can cooperate with a partner well enough."

Tayila burst into the common room. Dawn had long since passed, and Tayila had only just remembered while dancing through the kitchens as pies were baked and meals were prepared that the morn's feast was for the wards. One of whom Tayila was handmaiden to, and would have to apologise to - again - for having forgotten. It was not that she despised Manasa Stark - they had had too few days upon meeting for Tayila to truly form an opinion of the Northern lady - but she had no idea of what to think of her.

But she came to a sudden stop, slippered feet sliding against carpet in an effort to catch herself. There, before Manasa's door, was the Stark girl's lynx, standing sentry to her mistress' room. Tayila made to creep forward, but thought better of it as the lynx's watchful eyes weighed heavily on her approach. With a frustrated sound, Tayila ran back into the bellies of the common room, only to pass by a window and spy a familiar figure already halfway in the direction of the dining hall. "Seven hells," Tayila huffed under her breath. "Of course." With a sigh of growing irritation, Tayila weightlessly skipped a few steps before launching herself into the corridors again.

It took barrelling down several lesser-known passages and hallways before Tayila came to the dining hall. While her veins thrummed with rushing adrenaline, her breaths came easily and her forehead was free of perspiration. Running through throngs of peasants in Flea Bottom as one herself from angry merchants to avoid shaking fists gave one incredible stamina and calloused feet. Slowing her steps, Tayila walked into the hall, collecting her skirts so as to lengthen her strides. She could see the direwolf Echo among the wards, and right beside it sat Manasa.

She approached the wards at their table, and curtsied, feeling foolish as she did. "Milords and ladies," she greeted, a lowborn's cadence catching her words. She would strike casual conversation with someone, but she wagered lords and ladies did not find handmaidens very welcomed conversationalists.

Tayila turned to Manasa. "Lady Manasa." Her gaze flickered over Manasa's face, the markings drawing her eyes, before it skittered over her attire for the day. "I trust your sleep was restful. Will you be participating in the tourney today?" How odd for a lady. Most preferred to sit with their skirts about them and clap and gasp as lances clashed, and swoon and giggle as singers sang of victorious champions and fair maidens.

Morgan Stark

"Good morning Lady Robyn. And it does appear to be rather early doesn't it. I guess the tourney has me rather excited," he said, smiling. He popped a grape into his mouth as Toran walked in, and greeted them. "Prince Artoran, good morning," he said with an ever present smirk on his face. The next to arrive was Lady Alianne, a nice enough girl, though she didn't seem entirely social. He'd only really seen her around Lady Alerie, although Morgan had to admit, he didn't pay a whole lot of attention. Over the past few days he'd been training quite a lot. If you asked him, he'd say it was because he wanted to prepare for the melee, as well as the duels. However, the real reason he'd been training so much was to distract him from thinking of home. He wouldn't ever admit that, he was too arrogant, however it was true.

"So will ether of you boys be joining the tournament today?"

Morgan smiled at the girl. "I will be taking part in the melee as well as the duels. The melee is chaos, much like the North. But I'd be remiss if I missed out on a chance to have a friendly little fight with Toran here," he said, popping another grape in his mouth. He looked up as Beregard and and his sister, Belinda, entered the dining room. He had spent a little bit of time with Beregard, enough to get the sense that he didn't quite enjoy his company. Morgan wasn't surprised. They came from very different walks of life and a little animosity never bothered him. He listened as Beregard mentioned that he'd be partaking in archery, and grinned at the jape his sister threw at him.

When Willam Lannister walked in, Morgan's demeanor changed, though one would have to be paying close attention if they were to notice. His smirk fell somewhat and he tensed up. Whenever Morgan saw the lion he couldn't help but get slightly tense. His families had not developed any close ties in the past century, and he'd heard all too much of the tragedy of Eddard Stark. So he was cautious. He figured that wasn't a bad thing in a place like King's Landing.

He heard Toran ask him about his sister, right as she entered the dining room. "Well here she is," he said as she came to stand next to him. In truth he had seen his sister last night, after one of her nightmares awoke her, but he couldn't tell the others that. Better they know nothing about Manasa's dreams. Who knew how they'd react. Manasa was followed by her handmaiden, who burst into the dining hall, greeting the wards. Morgan felt bad for the poor girl. His sister could be quite demanding. "So where is our feathered friend, might I ask?" Morgan said, referring to the Arryn girl.

Alerie Tyrell

Alerie smiled as Robyn Greyjoy entered. "Hello my lady," she said, smiling. Alerie hadn't gotten to talk much with Robyn, although she had deduced that she was a tough girl, one who could probably go toe to toe in a battle of wits with Alerie herself. The next to walk in was Prince Toran. Alerie would be a liar if she said she wasn't attracted to the Dornishman but she really found most of the male wards quite attractive. Toran just more than most. She turned away to hide the crimson color that was creeping up her cheeks, and when it had faded, she turned to face the others again.

Alerie smiled as Alianne entered. She and Alerie had gotten on fine the past few days, and Alerie could see them being good friends later on in their time at King's Landing. Alerie watched as more people filed into the room. Beregard and his sister Belinda. The girl was rather brutish, and Morgan had made a passing comment about how odd it was that a wildling had gotten this far south. As the boys talked about what they'd be competing in, Alerie turned to the conversation of Robyn and Alianne. Robyn had asked Alianne if she could escort her around the tourney. Alerie was forced to reflect on who her companions would be. The boys would all be competing and it appeared that Manasa and Alyssa would be as well. Belinda scared her more than she would care to admit, and anyways, she got the sense that the Baratheon bastard didn't like her. Maybe this would be a perfect time to cement some friendships. Alerie knew that in the games that were played here in King's Landing, a friend would be good to have. She turned to face the other girls, smiling. "I hope you ladies wouldn't mind if I joined you two today. I fear that as of right now I'll be rather alone at this tourney, save my handmaiden."

The cold winds cut into her, their edges sharp enough to slice past all her furs. A blizzard raged around her and although she was partially blinded by it, she was sure that she was climbing the steps of the Eyrie, heading towards the main keep. She was a child born into the long summer so she had only ever heard of winter but she was certain this was it. A mother's gentle whimper somehow carried itself above the harsh whistling of the wind around her. Looking around, she couldn't see anything so simply continued with her endeavour as she continued upwards.

Finally, she reached the foot of the steps up to her father's seat. For some reason, the blizzard raged on despite her apparently being inside. Looking around, she found the walls destroyed with rubble littering the ground all around her. It was only when she looked back that she was greeted with three men at the top of the steps with another figure knelt before them.

"Have you come to die, little Falcon?" A voice called out, seemingly dancing upon the wind itself. "Worry not, we will bless this land with the blood of your fathers. But you, little Falcon; what shall we do with you?" Reaching to his waist, the strange figure drew a curved blade that resembled a sickle. Placing its curved edge against the next of the man knelt in front of him, he looked up and despite her blindness, she could see his smirk perfectly. Another step forward and she suddenly realised who it was that was at his feet. Her eyes went wide and although she tried to run, her feet failed her. Her lungs kicked up a fierce resistance, attempting a scream but she barely even accomplished a whisper. Helpless, she could only watch as the condemned man raised a gentle smile to her.

"Run, Alyssa. Run."

---

She darted awake, sitting upright in her bed in one rapid movement. Her breaths were heavy and the sheets which she had kicked off sometime in the night were soaked with sweat. Sighing, she eventually regained control of her breathing before running a gentle hand through her tresses of copper. With a yawn and an arch of her back, she kicked her feet out of the large bed that adorned her quarters and stepped out. She was born and raised in the Eyrie, on top of a mountain, and thus, she didn't particularly enjoy the dead heat of King's Landing so she had mostly abandoned her sleepwear in return for... Well, nothing.

Wrapping a sheet around her body, she peeked outside of her window. The blue horizon was beginning to give way to the overbearing gold of the dawn so she reckoned it to be early enough. Alyssa had more than a few hours to kill so she decided to explore again. Once she was dressed, she climbed from her window and instantly headed upwards. There was nowhere Alyssa couldn't climb and within minutes, she had reached the steeple of their tower.

There, she casted her eyes out and watched the sun make its slow trek above the horizon, using the time to think. She had been having dreams like that a lot more recently and usually it wouldn't have bothered her if it wasn't for the rather large shadow of death hanging above her. Plus her father's rather staunch warning that she was not to enter the tourney that would undoubtedly be held. Nevertheless, Alyssa had no intentions of giving way to the fear of the Knights of the Moon and fully intended to enter the tourney. What sort of name was Knights of the Moon anyway? They couldn't have chose a worse name, even if they tried! Scoffing, she very nearly slipped so she quickly made her mind up to slip back down into her room.

Somehow, she had fallen asleep again and enjoying the small window of nightmare-free sleep, she slept on well into breakfast. When the gentle knock of her handmaiden(whom she had quickly dismissed on the first day) came to the door, Alyssa was up in a flash and ready to go in a few seconds. She didn't want to have to rely on the young girl, or more pointedly, she didn't want to admit that she was relying on her so she stayed silent as she was guided to the dining room.

Still saying silent, the young Arryn once again explored her thoughts on the same recurring nightmare and her father's warning. Although she knew she shouldn't, she desperately wanted to ignore both signs and continue on with the tourney. The decision seemed to weigh on her as she stayed strangely silent, pushing her food about her plate. She didn't like this.

Alianne peeled an apple as she listened to Lord Beregard’s answer. She didn’t fully agree with Beregard statement about how jousting wasn’t really used in warfare. Jousting was just a flashy game version of using a lance on horseback, as the entire tournament was just that, a game. It was all just an entertaining way to prove ones skill, and bring prestige to one’s name. She had always loved tournaments. They were always a sight to see, festive, and a lovely break from the every day. There was no reason to state her opinion out loud, and so she just listened on looking attentive as everyone discussed what they were signing up for. It seemed that all the boys were entering in one contest or another. Even some of the girls were joining in, which was rather unconventional. Alianne could beat her brother in archery, but that wasn’t saying much as his aim had always been awful.

She liked how Willam Lannister displayed himself as an admirable gentleman, whether that was the true him or not, only time would tell, but she suspected it was. And from the handful of Lannister pointed insults, and passive aggressive remarks jabbed towards him, he seemed to be taking the high road, which was refreshing. Out of all the men at the table, she found him to be the most pleasing to the eye. Though her bodyguard Aeryn had them all beat in terms of looks.

Lady Robyn was not what she expected as a daughter of house Greyjoy. She was overall very pleasant and not at all barbarous like she had assumed all Greyjoy were. The pillaging as raping was a problem all year around thanks to the Greyjoy primitive and cruel ways, and Alianne wondered if Robyn would try and change things if she took over as head of house one day. It was doubtful that changing the Iron Isles beastly traditions was even a possibility, but it was nice to know Robyn was not some harsh dirty ironborn. Helping her get to know the ins and outs of the tournament sounded interesting, and with the lovely Lady Alerie joining them, they could make a good time of it.

“Of course Lady Robyn, it would be my pleasure. And please call me by my first name, Alianne. Lady Tully is my mother.” She said kindly. It was becoming apparent that proper etiquette was not taught in the iron Isles. Though Robyn's lack of understanding was in a way endearing. Alianne's mother on the other hand was a stickler for proper etiquette, and so she had been taught from the cradle how to go about it.

Beregard’s sister was strange to have around, from the information Alianne had gathered, Belinda was his illegitimate older sister, and nothing like any woman she had ever met. She wondered why the woman had even come to kings landing, as it was obvious she had not been invited by the king, nor was she a ward or heir of anything. Her statues was basically the same as a random low-born wondering around the castle. The fact of the matter was that she had no title, position, or reason to be here, except to accompany her brother, and even that was strange. At home Corrick was not allowed to eat with the family when they had guests of any importance, and that was the rule in his own house. It was not a happy thing, but it was how things were done. So It was strange to see Belinda in the house of the king, without an official purpose, or at least not one Alianne could think of. Why the head of house Baratheon saw it as an appropriate idea to send their baseborn daughter to live in the royal castle, was beyond Alianne. She didn’t know Belinda well enough to like or dislike her, but her presence was an enigma. She also wondered why there were two Starks here, as the King only asked for the Heirs of each house to be ward...

Of course it was different when it came to the Martells natural children. Dorne had its own ideas and rules. Everyone had just come to accept it from them, and the Queen herself was from there. Prince Toran was delightfully charming and he knew it. His accent was always fun to hear, and she actually smiled at his cheery greeting. “King Landing is quite different then Riverrun. I still do not know what to think of it. What about yourself?” She asked him, and then took a bite of her sliced apple. For breakfast today she chose to try a bit of each thing. Except for the olives which she loathed. A handful of berries & almonds, a sliced apple, some salmon, and honey dipped bread. The food here was always enjoyable, but there was always to much of it.

Alianne had been doing her best to stay out of Alyssa Arryns way. That girl seemed full of anger, and the treason laced remark for the first day still rang through Alianne’s mind. And for the longest time it seemed like Lady Arryn was not coming from breakfast. She felt slightly relived, but then Alyssa entered the dining room, looking a tad worn out, and Alianne felt guilty for not giving her a chance. Everyone here had basically just left their family for the first time, who was Alianne to judge.

“Lady Alyssa, would you like to join Lady Robyn, Lady Aleire, and myself today to watch the tournament? Well, that is if you’re not joining Lady Manasa and the boys in competing.”

Aeryn Sand yawned loudly, the comfort of the sheets of the bed’s in King’s Landing being much more than what the Dornish Sellsword was used to. Every bit as opulent as his old home in Sunspear...except this time he was no servant boy. Three kinds of warmth kept him from attempting to extricate himself from the bed he had been given as the guard of the heir apparent to House Tully. One was a set of feminine arms wrapped around his waist. The second was of course the the sheets that had kept the man and his bed partners warm last night after they had been keeping each other warm. The third was a pair of lips. On his...spear. The sun blinded the man as the curtains were thrown open.

“What on earth are you doing woman?” Aeryn slurred, his speech not up to his usual coherence due to this being the first time he had slept comfortable during the entire ride to King's Landing and also the sudden burst of awareness the man had. The pointed question was at both the women in his bed and the woman that had blinded him with the sun. The woman, a servant woman simply stared daggers at the man before storming out “Ohhhh... out out out” Aeryn said lazily, moving around quickly in an attempt to get off the bed “that was most likely…” he spun and pointed at the twins he had in his bed, servant girls charmed by The Dog of Dorne’s appearance and reputation “your mother” he grinned a little as the girls scampered away, giggling. The Dornishman allowed himself a few moments of stretching and reflection upon the previous days events. All to calm himself down in preparation of being on ceremony today. Aeryn looked at his spear and bastard sword, the smile on his lips growing ever so slightly.

----A few moments later----

The Dog of Dorne’s dress sense seemed noticeable in the court of King’s Landing. The light armour made of metal disks, all polished and gleaming, and the flowing robes of yellow and black allowed him to cut an out of the ordinary figure with his paler skin. The long spear and bastard sword he also carried made him slightly more intimidating. The man made his way to the dining hall, the place he figured was most likely the place he would find his contracted girl. they got along well enough, though he never really had a chance to introduce himself to the other wards of the king. He heard voices coming from down the hall and distinctly heard Alianne’s voice asking if the other wards were going to compete. Aeryn strode in to the Dining hall, his walk and smile full of self assured confidence. He stood behind Lady Tully and smiled at the wards gathered in the hall “Good morning Lady Tully” he said before grinning “if the boys here won’t...I will” he gave a short laugh before bowing slightly “My apologies” he placed a hand over his chest and once again gave a cocksure grin “Lords and Ladies, a pleasure to make your acquaintance...My name is Aeryn Sand, Lady Tully’s bodyguard” he bowed deeper. The Dornish born bastard was unsure if the wards would know of him. He wished to see any of the reactions this pampered pups would give if they recognized the name of The Dog of Dorne.

Willam ate little, some bread and apples, a bit of fish and that was about it. His appetite, meager as it was to begin with was pretty well tarnished as soon as he felt the tension that accompanied him into the room. For all his faults Willam was remarkably perceptive, he saw the change in the Stark boy's demeanor the moment he entered the room. Same as the Dornish prince. The Stark girl didn't even spare a glance towards him.

So Willam kept silent through the rest of the conversation, that is until a certain Dornish mercenary introduced himself.
"Ah, you're Talhor Clegane's bastard, your father speaks very highly of your skills. I'm glad Lady Tully has such a capable man protecting her." He'd spoken to Talhor Clegane on a number of occasions, still he didn't expect someone like that to show up here. It was remarkably interesting.

Willam pushed his food around a bit more, taking a bite or two before retrieving his napkin from his lap. Cleaning his mouth and hands he stood, depositing the napkin on the table. "If you all will excuse me I have....Business to attend to, I trust I'll see you all at the tournament." With that he walked out, slowly a first, a controlled stride until he was out of sight then closer to a run.

It was a lie. He didn't really have anything to do he just couldn't stand being there any longer. It felt like half the room wanted him dead and he had no inkling as to why. No matter how hard he thought about it or why he simply couldn't come up with a good explanation. He recalled everything he knew about his fellow wards and yet still, nothing.

Eventually he made his way to the aviary where his Falcon Medea was being kept. Willam tried to make it out to see her at least once a day. He needed to clear his head and calm down, Medea has always been a calming influence. So he pulled on his falconry glove sitting by the bird's cage and set her free. Immediately she flew off, circling the room until Willam let out a whistle calling her to him. She landed lightly on his gloved arm giving him that fierce stare of hers. "Yes, I know you don't like it in there. But they're not going to let you roam as you please." He started stroking her plumage as he recalled the rest of the wards. "If this is how it's going to be life here is going to be a lot harder then I thought."

Robyn smiled gratefully at Alianne, even though she knew she made a social blunder but Alianne had been polite. It wasn't something Robyn was used too, and it gave her some hope. Robyn listened into other conversations, smiling at the Dornish Prince and his theatrics. She personally agreed with Beregard but didn't comment, since it would only be furthering a futile argument, and she didn't know any of them well enough to want to spark a debate, even though it would be less likely to end in a physical fight compared to if it should occur among Iron born.

When they basically forced Willam Lannister to flee, however, Robyn couldn't sit and watch. She stood up and glared between the Stark children and Artoran Sand.

"You know I truly expected better from the children of the High Lords. Willam Lannister has been nothing but civil but you act like he personally murdered your mothers. He had nothing to do with the actions of generations past and blaming him for those actions is nothing but cruel. I would think that you especially, Artoran Sand, would be able to understand how birth circumstance does not define who you are as a person." Robyn glared at the Dornish Prince before turning to the Stark children.

"As for you two, growing up a synonym for justice was the Stark name. Is it just for him to punish him for having a name? You treat me fairly and yet my family's betrayal is considered so much worse to some. If this is what civilized means, than I think I want no part of it. If you'll excuse me." Robyn didn't even give an excuse before she stormed off. She managed to find Willam, asking servants until she found herself at the Aviary. She stood near the entrance but so they could see each other.

"I've been to Casterly Rock once. Before now it was the only place on the Greenland I'd ever been too. I don't remember you but I remember your mother. I was six and she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Nothing on the Isles is pretty, living or not, but she was extra radiant. I grew up surrounded by silence but your mother could talk enough to fill a room. It made me happy, I had never felt happy before." Robyn was rambling and took a deep breath before she continued on with her point.

"They have no right to judge you by the actions from a century ago. That was not you, and I don't know you very well but in a few days your mother influenced me to be better than my father. I have no doubt she raised you to be kinder then generations past." Robyn finished before wincing and realizing she might have overstepped.

"I'll leave you then, and I hope to see you at the tournament." Robyn said, before turning to leave.

Morgan Stark

Morgan watched as Willam Lannister left, feeling a sliver of guilt pierce him, a sliver that was quickly brushed away. He wasn't surprised by the Lannister boy's lack of friends. It was widely known that the Lannisters had plunged the land into war. A war that had very nearly starved the peasants. Many of the great houses had no love for the lion although, the Starks and Martells, well they had a special kind of hatred. Morgan however was surprised by Robyn Greyjoy's scolding of him, his sister, and Toran. His face grew hard as she shouted, anger overtaking him. He stayed quiet even after the girl left, contributing to the awkward silence that had settled over the room. "I think that I shall go ready myself for the tournament," he said, before bowing and leaving the dining room.

He strode quickly through the castle, anger hastening his steps. He was going through a rarely used hallway, a shortcut that Morgan had discovered the previous day, when he heard voices from around the corner. "I assure you my friend. I have found someone to deal with the Arryn's Last Whore," one man said, his voice softer than silk. It was a voice that could lure you into a false comfort, a voice that makes promises of gold and glory, before stabbing you in the back. The next voice was rougher, that of someone who had grown up in a castle and was prepared at any minute to cut you down. "I hope you're right. Or else our lord will have your head. And if you show up dead and someone traces it back to the Knights, well there might be some questioning about how well I knew you," Morgan moved behind a tapestry as the voices came closer, trying to steady his breathing so as not to be found. The Arryn's Last Whore? That's rather rude. Alyssa is rather unconventional but a whore? Well that's a stretch. "Just tell them that I fucked you. I am rather known for getting around and I doubt anyone would care to question you further," the first voice said, a much lighter tone in his voice. "It will all go off without a hitch. The assassin will kill the girl today at the tourney, her father will declare war on the Iron Throne, enraged by his daughter's death while under the protection of the king, and the Knights will then take the Vale. Having effectively ended the rebellion, the king grants them pardon. It is rather foolproof. [color=gold]"Unless of course, there is no rebellion. Or the king takes his dragon to the Knights," the second voice said, although the men quickly got out of earshot, and Morgan was in no state of mind to follow them.

I need to warn Alyssa, tell her to stay out of the tourney. She's probably left by now, I'll have to find her before the tourney starts Morgan thought, trying to keep a calm pace as he exited the Red Keep. It was no secret that the Knights of the Moon were getting stronger, they had been for years. But to have friends inside the castle, as well as be planning an assassination attempt? No one expected them to be that strong, ever. As Morgan quickly made his way to his tent, barely noticing as the workers made the final preparations for the days events, he chewed his lips, nervous about what the day would bring.

The small dragon perched on the young woman's shoulder as she stood atop the battlements of the castle, watching as the kings wards arrived one by one with their accompanying knights and followers. The first had been the Stark twins, since their elder brother was soon to marry one of the Karstark daughters and the boy was apparently very cold toward those outside of the North. He would make a good King in the North if there was ever a war inspired over it again, though that would not be for many years now that the young Manasa and Morgan had arrived in King's Landing, first of the many to come. The boy was excited, she could see from the pace that which he drove his horse ahead of the wagon behind him where his younger twin was riding upon the back of a direwolf. The girl would be someone she should befriend, or at the very least, find a common enemy with as the girl was sure to have some talents born within the North.

The next she'd seen was a girl, blonde and riding a horse though she seemed rather awkward this far from the sea though the greys she wore couldn't have been more obvious of the ironborn. This one would be Robyn Greyjoy, a girl who would know little of Westeros as those born upon the Iron Islands rarely learn the customs and culture of Westeros. She did not have a large caravan with her, which spoke of where she lacked though the people of the Iron Islands had always avoided Westeros, or the Greenland as they called it.

After the light haired Greyjoy passed through the gates beneath her she saw a pair she did not recognize, two of dark hair though they wore armor and carried weapons. They were not dressed as she had expected, though these people all came from different walks of life, none as free as her own. The two were speaking, though she could not hear what it was they said to each other but from the way they moved there was a certain familiarity that came only with family. After then there seemed a constant wave of caravans, large parties and pompous idiots coming to court because their parents cannot simply say 'no' to the king.

She turned away from the displays of power that were all too showy to actually mean anything; many of them were just over compensating anyway since they all knew there was little to be done when fury would rain fire from above; a full grown dragon was very hard to defeat. The girl walked the hallways that day, avoiding the wards while she went to find her brother and possible marriage partner in the future considering he was one of the few ways she was ever going to sit upon the throne without an utter take over. Of course, there was always the option to kill him and his siblings though there were few in the world she could and would breed with to produce her own heirs after her ascension to the throne.

---


She stirred when someone next to her moved, waking and sitting on the soft linen sheets, the male standing to pull his pants up though when the white haired girl stirred he looked back at her naked form laying on the pearl white sheets. It was his room, far from the tower that which the wards slept in and where the red haired girl had been attempting to seduce the male and convince their parents to marry them though Illysia would never allow that to happen. The blonde looked down at her as she blinked open her eyes, the deep violet looking up at the male who's bed he had shared with her. He smiled, surprisingly, as just the night before he had been yelling about how much he hated her and how she would never be a dragon; how he had ended up fucking her that night would remain a mystery to everyone since as far as they were aware it didn't happen. "Good morning brother." She greeted him and lifted herself off of the bed, leaning up to kiss him where he stood and the fifteen year old boy blushed in embarrassment even though she knew she hadn't been her first fuck though he hadn't one of his sisters before.

She disliked the boy, very much because of his mixed blood though even she understood the meaning of powerful allies and fixing the blood on the slight occasion. She had no desire to bare the boy children, though she knew of no other male born only of the Valyrian blood, and thus she must become the heir to prevent further impurity and weakness where their greatest strength is the fire in their blood. He hummed while she stood, stretching the stiffness from her naked body while he looked on appreciatively toward her. "I will see you at the tournament, no?" Her half brother nodded and she kissed him again with a smile, pressing her body against him while she slipped four gold coins from his pocket where he knew they would not be. Very few men were ever able to resist the Valyrian exotic and erotic beauty that is never seen anymore. She pulled on her dress and left, her handmaiden helping brush her hair before she left to join the others in the dining hall of the Ward's Tower.

---

The young woman had been walking toward the dining hall when a Greyjoy pushed passed her on her way to the aviary - the Lannister was weak willed if he must run from his reputation - and her soft shoes brushed against the cobblestone flooring. [color=darkorchid]"Lady Robyn." Illysia greeted her as she rushed by though she did not stop to look at the young woman, nor spoke to her again when she rounded a corner to see her two men talking down the hallway. A soft shuffling of boots and a swish of a curtain where the window was not open, and the content of the conversation that had been taking place between them and she knew they were being listened too long after the males had passed by and she stood silently just out of the intruders sight range. After working for Davos for such a long time the young woman had become very skilled at hiding or remaining silent and as the male rushed from his hiding spot away from her she saw the young Morgan run back toward the dining hall, though from the way he was going it would take him longer to run then it would for her to run. Illysia turned and walked back toward the Ward's Tower.

It didn't take her long to reach the dining hall were all of the wards were, a pleasant to look at young knight opening to door for her as her hand lingered on his arm just a moment too long for formality. He had been one of her customers the year before when she had been living at the Velvet Rose, and had come to her even when his parents had been looking for a suitable girl for him to marry - they had yet to succeed in their attempts. She walked into the room with all the grace of a Queen and all the confidence of Dorne, the fabric of her dress clinging to her sides where the black set off her rather pale pallor. The black was lined with red as deep as Dornish wine or dragons blood, as thick as the bonds between northern men and striking as her stark white features. There was no one else within Redkeep with the same paleness, with her pure white hair, alabaster skin and vibrant violet eyes that such a sight was something many often stared at; it was part the reason she had been desired in Dorne and most of the reason why men wanted to fuck her here in King's Landing.

She walked with purpose, the fabric that followed every sway of her hips, the slit up the left side of her dress showing off one of her long legs while her gaze trailed over those in the room, a smile displayed upon perfectly red, plump and lewdly moist to the observant onlooker. She was here, with the wards for the first time since their arrival and it was clear she thought herself higher than them, though not with such pompous attitude of past Lannisters, or with coins, but with a strength that had yet to find its bounds. "Good morning, children of nobles past." Illysia carefully nodded to the room full of nobles children, carefully noting where each of them were while the small reptile on her should belched a puff of black smoke. The dragon hatchling was red as the embroidery of her dress - that which she had done all by herself - and had clearly hatched less than a fortnight ago. Along with the small dragon, a viper from Dorne was wrapped around her opposite forearm and lazily resting it's head upon her shoulder; she was not afraid of the animals, nor would she ever be. The direwolves not too far from here seemed to stare, though with a glance they returned to sitting with their master - one of which was sorely missing then - Manasa Stark and continued eating what they were allowed. Like her dragon they would need to hunt for food soon enough.

Between the many young nobles assembled in the room there were a few she recognized and a couple that she knew from her years in Dorne; one was Atoran, the son of her foster fathers cousin and related to the current Queen - who, admittedly, would have made a good wife to one o the Princes of Dorne, being Queen of Westeros was just unfortunate. The boy was the second cousin of the father of her child as well and she gaze him a glance and friendly smile, a small wave to say that she remembered him though there would have been plenty to remember from their childhood. He was a pretty boy, a flirt and notorious for having a different woman in his bed every night; not that something like that would bother her, he was Dornish after all and of all those here, she would understand best the allure of passion and warmth. He wasn't the only dornishman in the room though and her gaze skittered over to where several of the young ladies were sitting and talking together, one of which a miss Tully, though she couldn't say she was a fan of how the girl seemed so critical of everything. Beside her was a man, not some boy barely growing into his manhood, but a full grown man standing not too far away from her. She raised her eyebrow in question, wondering what he would want with such a boring girl when there were plenty others much more exciting in King's Landing - Illysia could personally point him toward a few - and shrugged lightly, causing the snake on her shoulder to stir slightly. She was never subtle about how she looked at those around her, especially when there was something to appreciate, though she never touched when first seeing someone. He was tall and clearly of the Dornish bloodlines, but she knew he was really just a dog. She caught his gaze for a moment and just for a fraction of a second her sweet smile turned to a coy smirk, but quickly it shifted back as she continued looking for the girl she wanted to see.

Soon enough she's seen what it was she was looking for; a small and obviously frail young woman, the young Alyssa Arryn. She approached without fear, passing the two Dornish men where her elbows - raised from lifting the hem of her dress off of the ground - brushed against either of them as she weaved through the crowd. Her gaze landing upon the back of the small child's head while she carefully picked away at her food and decided that this one would be the worst of betrayals - but without the Arryn on the playing field there was a chance to dispose of her three royal siblings. "I bet your parents never told you that they knew my mother." Illysia was never one to introduce herself, as her appearance betrayed her for who she was and her name for what she was; her touch and the sway in which she walked gave away her past. She looked kind enough to her, as she sat down in the seat next to her, a plate before her empty for the time being though without thinking she reached out to find a small bowl of raw meat was sitting for the young dragon. She had informed the servants that her and Raena would be attending and they had left for her a small bowl of raw board for the small dragon to burn herself.

"I hope you have slept well since your arrival; King's Landing is sorely lacking in allies for any one of us."

Toran had been more or less ignorant to his situation as the room filled, whistling quietly and sitting down. Toruk raced onto the arm of his chair as he drew the burlap sack he’d discarded from beneath his chair. Opening the sack, Toran pulled out (likely to the shock of a few in the room) a small rat, very much alive and struggling to release itself from his grip around its tail. Toran held a hand out to stall his pet as Toruk grew anxious. After a moment, he waved the snake forward, and within the space of a blink the rat was dead and halfway down the snake’s throat.

He repeated the process once more, before a now-sated Toruk coiled himself happily around his master’s forearm. Toran stroked the creature’s scales, admiring the spiny growths until his pleasant reverie was interrupted by an irate Ironborn girl.

"You know I truly expected better from the children of the High Lords. Willam Lannister has been nothing but civil but you act like he personally murdered your mothers. He had nothing to do with the actions of generations past and blaming him for those actions is nothing but cruel. I would think that you especially, Artoran Sand, would be able to understand how birth circumstance does not define who you are as a person.”

Robyn went on to scold the Stark siblings, leaving Toran with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t even noticed the lion’s departure. A wave of anger swept over him, tightening his gut and sending a jolt through his muscles. For a moment, he nearly acted on it, but thought better of it. Of course, the girl was right. A little bluntly spoken, but the had a definite point.

Oh, how he hated when other people were right.

Still, how would she react if some Bolton boy waltzed into the dining hall? Surely the Ironborn, of all people, would resent the descendant of the man who tortured Theon Greyjoy out of his mind and his manhood, and into fearful submission. Toran knew, as she said, that birth was no indication of who a person was and would become, but couldn’t the girl understand that a river of your ancestors’ blood was hard to cross just to shake a man’s hand?

Soon enough, Robyn and Morgan Stark had left the dining hall, leaving a tense atmosphere in their wake. Though, not before a newcomer arrived.

Morgan introduced him as Aeryn Sand, and both Toran and the viper on his wrist bristled. What Dornishman didn’t know the Dog of Dorne? And why, why did the gods torment him with ancient enemies all at once?

Toran decided against souring his day further and simply turned away from the sellsword, casting a glance to Alyssa Arryn. Well well, she’d certainly lost some vigour. She was the one who perhaps hated Toran the most, not that it bothered him; in fact, it was rather fun to cast a sultry gaze to the girl every now and then, and even now he treated her to a sideways smirk and a wink.

He was about to make his leave to ready himself for the tournament when a newcomer, a sight for sore eyes, entered. She was a lovely thing, and more of a Targaryen than anyone sitting on the throne. She strode in with her silver hair and her deadly reptiles, and gave Toran a smile and a wave. Artoran Sand and Illysia Blackfyre had become fast friends during his earlier visits to King’s Landing, and it was good to see she still remembered him. She brushed past him and over to Alyssa, whispering something to her before addressing the room.

"I hope you have slept well since your arrival; King's Landing is sorely lacking in allies for any one of us.”

Toran simply laughed. “Illysia my dear, why so grim?” He smiled, a warm thing that was known to be contagious. She’d always been dramatic, fancying herself a wave of black smoke; there to make an enticing entrance and make her leave with onlookers wondering. Toran would have none of her dramatics; he knew her too well.

Still smiling, he sauntered over to his friend and moved to put an arm around her shoulder; the baby dragon perched there thought otherwise. It squeaked at him and fancied itself a threat. Horan backed away a step, but his grin never faltered. Instead, he brought his hand up in one smooth movement, snapping his fingers and blowing through his hand, in the direction of the dragon.

From his hand erupted a cloud of crackling fire, not unlike a miniature of the spectacular fireworks shows that often lit up the Red Keep and the Blackwater. It wasn’t fire that would burn, simply crackle and bounce harmlessly off anything it touched with no more than a warm tickling sensation. The dragon regarded him curiously, and Toran made an exaggerated bow to the thing, his message clear. See? His display said, I’m just like you.

Aeryn's eyes flicked between the wards discussion. It was of no consequence to him how and why nobles struggled. He nodded slightly at the Lannister child that had given him some kind words. The Clegane and the Lannister had held very close ties in the ages past. Though those ties had long since loosened after the abhorrent violation that had occurred to his ancestors corpse. But grudges of the old were not grudges of his. He was a Sand child, a man of Dorne. He smirked to himself. He really was a hypocrisy incarnate. Which was blatantly apparent when he noticed young Prince Artoran. Aeryn simply gave his cockiest grin to the prince. It was said that those two were so alike they could be brothers. Something Aeryn had no doubt royally annoyed the prince.

The morning meal continued, servants bustling about and around him. Servant girls trying to catch his eyes. Servant boys doing the same. Aeryn's simply changed his position every so often. Blue eyes flicking constantly to each person that would approach Lady Tully. He placed the shaft of his spear against the back of his neck, his arms wrapped around the smooth wood. He turned his body, sharp popping noises sounding out as he stretched in an unconventional manner. Standing at attention once more as the door to the dining hall opened, he saw a flash of white hair. An eyebrow raised, he looked at the newcomer. A Targaryen no doubt. The dragon was probably a bigger indicator than the white hair and stunning beauty but...Aeryn had his priorities in order. Appreciation of beauty came first. How to get a beauty to come came second. Then potentially life endangering fire breathing reptiles were a very far third. The red lips, violently violet eyes and slit that ran dangerously up the pale leg of the woman were all it took for the Dog to wake up. Their gaze met and the perfectly sweet smile the girl wore quickly flipped to a coy smirk. Aeryn returned it in kind, never one to turn down an advance.Then she spoke, her personality already showing through as haughty and above everyone. Ahh, such was the Targaryen way. Old Valyria and Fire in the blood and other nonsense that Aeryn didn't rightly care about. The Dog began to patrol slowly, moving around the table and constantly watching. He watched as the Targaryen sat next Lady Arryn, and as the Dornish Prince produce more theatrics. He merely smirked “Ahh Prince Artoran, how I forgot how lovely your fire is when it’s not burning you” he said with an almost sweet tone “you remember correct...oh high and powerful Scorched One” he bowed deeply, the motion highly sarcastic and his eyes firmly staring at the prince's lighter patches of skin “and who might these two be?” he had yet to meet all the words and looked at the white haired woman and Lady Arryn, feigning ignorance of who he was in company with.

“Lady Alyssa, would you like to join Lady Robyn, Lady Aleire, and myself today to watch the tournament? Well, that is if you’re not joining Lady Manasa and the boys in competing.”

Alyssa momentarily paused from batting her food around her plate to look up at the girl who had spoke to her. Almost immediately, her grip on the delicate fork tightened and the thing very nearly bent in her grasp as she looked over to the other girl, setting her jaw. She hated King's Landing with every fiber of her being; the only bloody person out of all of them who didn't seem to be a rotten snake was the bloody Martell boy - she disliked him but he seemed to be the only one who took her lightly which was both infuriating and strangely serene. Raising her eyes to the cascades of auburn hair much like her own, Alyssa shook her head. "I have other matters to attend to, unfortunately." Although her words were already dipped in venom, it took every part of her not to just throttle that sweet, innocent rat. Alyssa lived a rather sheltered life in the nests of the Eyrie but whispers of Lord Tully's involvement with the Knights of the Moon even reached her. This girl wasn't an idiot, she knew what her father had done.

With that, she pulled her eyes away from Alianne before continuing to press her food around the rims of her plate, rather interested in covering the red and black linings with the thick sauce. Most of the words of those around her passed over her head as she was already lost in her thoughts but a few reached her. Most notably was that of the Lannister boy leaving then the Greyjoy girl chastising those that didn't seem to favour him. She was a strong girl and would have made a decent ally if it wasn't for the fact that the Iron Islands were weaker that any individual Vale House. The Lannister boy was a different case, though - Alyssa didn't mistrust him because of his name and all that followed it but due to his petty ideas that the Seven Kingdoms could be purged of violence. He was a fool and she didn't particularly enjoy listening to his rants --especially that one on the first day-- but the others seemed to hate him simply because he was a Lannister which was plain foolish. They got on well enough with her even though her recent ancestors were naught but cravens and fools. In all honesty, she pitied the Lannister boy. He was having to atone for the sins of his forefathers even though he seemed to hold a direct opposite of the traditional Lannister values. He was a simple creature so she found it hard not to pity him and she wanted nothing more than to follow him and talk for a little while before attending the tourney - it was likely to be her last day and Alyssa found a strange homage in innocence. Mainly, she missed it.

The young Arryn would have certainly followed him if it wasn't for a sudden intruder. Keeping her eyes lowered to her plate, she used the heightened senses of a hunter to track the movement of the woman until she dipped down into a seat beside her. Making sure not to let up on her performance, Alyssa continued to let her fork drift around the edges of her plate until the woman spoke. She already knew who she was and Alyssa wouldn't fall into the trap of trusting her. One does not choose to abandon the typical bastard name of the Royal Family in favour of a name that was used to raise rebellion against the crown, after all. Jealousy of your legitimate siblings seemed to be a common theme between Daemon Blackfyre and Illysia Blackfyre but in truth, Alyssa didn't know much about her. She had heard whispers that the Targaryen bastard had already charmed the young prince and had enough connections in King's Landing to plot the downfall of just about anyone. This was no friend of hers. "I bet your parents never told you that they knew my mother."

"I never knew my mother and my father doesn't manage to say much between lessons and sleep." She answered rather plainly, her sky blue eyes raising to meet the Targaryen violet in silent challenge. The Arryns were weak enough as it was and considering the veil of death surrounding them, it made very little sense for anyone with a half-functioning brain to ally themselves with her. Looking around, Alyssa took note of everyone - each last house present could crush the Vale under their foot so it made the young Arryn briefly wonder why Illysia Blackfyre sought her out.

Peeking around, she caught a sight of her dragon. Admittedly, Alyssa thought her to be a much stronger leader than anything the current king was offering up to them but there was something in Illysia's eyes that unsettled her. A sheer lust for power danced provocatively in her eyes and although it was intoxicating, it held a danger that scared the young falcon off. She was stunning in every aspect of the word but Alyssa knew better than to fly straight into a Dragon's Den. "I hope you have slept well since your arrival; King's Landing is sorely lacking in allies for any one of us." Alyssa's grip tightened once more as her eyes darted to the side, quietly peeking at the Targaryen bastard girl. It was almost like she knew about her sleepless nights spent enduring nightmare after nightmare - was someone watching her?

"I'm used to a more... cold climate but it's been a pleasant stay. The guards have kept me safe and King Daerys has been more than willing to help if help is needed!" Alyssa was suddenly charismatic, bright and picked up on an innocence that didn't deserve a place anywhere near her. It was almost like someone had flicked a switch and undoubtedly, it would come as a surprise to the others who were used to seeing her being a less than kind bitch. Briefly, she remembered one of her father's lessons. "If you come up against an enemy you don't know, it's unwise to rush into battle. Meet them with two contrasting forces and see how they react. Study them. Then destroy them."

Regarding the Blackfyre girl, Alyssa cocked her head to the side, meeting her gaze with a curious smirk. "But enough about me, my lady; I trust you've been sleeping well too? I must say, being a girl from a colder climate, the spiders have been less than amusing! You know your way around here well enough though, so I suppose you must be well used to them now?"

Tayila watched mute as the dining hall filled slowly with wards and then some, and then was emptied with the altercation with the Lannister child. To be true, the boy came from blood even the bastard handmaiden would not go near; what good was it to come from a name that was as bitterly hated in memory, as in life? No, Waters seemed safer than the title of those who always paid their debts.

Her dark green eyes trailed over one man clad in armour, who had introduced himself as Aeryn Sand and was making a round around the table. Aeryn Sand...a bastard of Dorne then, sworn to the services of a Tully from the riverlands? How strange to be employed from halfway across the world, for a lady's stay in the Red Keep. Tayila might not have lived in the castle for long, might be stranger to the customs and politics of the highborn who had never once soiled their feet but seemed all too comfortable ripping asunder the lives of others, but she had two ears, and she heard occasional whispers from the corners.

As Aeryn Sand passed nearby, tails of his robe fluttering subduedly behind him, Tayila stretched a hand, pale from being kept indoors for a close to a year, but several shades from the milky white of noble women's flesh. Her fingers ghosted lightly over the crook of his elbow, the chink in his lobstered armour, to graze warm skin rather than cold metal. "One hears of a Dog of Dorne, come with tongue lolling and sand-burnt paws from the land of venom and snakes." Tayila's eyes flickered momentarily to the Dornish prince, who persisted in bringing around his pet serpent, before they found Aeryn's once more, and she gave a winsome smile. "But he comes having sworn his sword to a fish instead."

Tayila laughed to make light of the jest, and she plucked up one end of her dress in a sweeping motion that was almost like a curtsy, except she did not bend. "My name is Tayila. It is my pleasure to make the acquaintance of Aeryn Sand," she said, white teeth beaming up at him. How does he like his women? she mused to herself. Innocents submissive and demure, or fiesty hellions? Tayila had not come across many Dornishmen in her term of servitude, but she had yet to meet one from the markets who did not enjoy assaulting his appetite for pig and mutton with inordinate amounts of chillies and peppers. The tastes of Sunspear were strangely spicy and flavourful.

Asha Harlaw didn't quite know what to think of King's Landing yet. The drastic difference in class between what's seen the Red Keep and Flea Bottom was unlike anything she'd seen before. In the Iron Islands, there's some class distinction but not much. There was also a distinct gender inequality, which Asha encountered on her second day within the Keep. She had been walking to the Ward's tower and Robyn's room when she was cornered by three men. They weren't wearing any armor so she didn't know if they were from one of the Ward's or from the Red Keep but that was their first mistake. Asha's armor was light so she almost always kept it on.
"Well look at this boys, we've got ourself a little girl playing dress up." The middle one sneered and Asha rolled her eyes. She leaned against the wall, taking in the scene to see if she could make a painless and quick escape. Unfortunately she couldn't so she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Where? All I see is three boys trying to face off against a knight. Trust me boys, this isn't going to be a successful endeavor. If you back off now, you won't get your asses handed to you." Asha smiled at them, but they just laughed at her.
Their second mistake was that one of them leaned in towards her, and she decided that it had gone far enough.
She quickly kneed the one coming closer and used his surprise to slam his head against the wall. She threw him into the other one before shoving her elbow back, catching the last one in the stomach. While they were all recovering she ran, knowing that if she was caught it wouldn't be good for her.
Now she was walking throught the Keep looking for Robyn. Dalaria had said Robyn went down to breakfast, but when Asha strolled through, Robyn wasn't there. Asha sighed and walked over to the handmaiden of the Stark girl and the dog of Dorne.
"His sword is sworn to nothing but gold." Asha said coldly, overhearing the last part of their conversation. She angled away from the Dog of Dorne and towards Tayila.
"Has Lady Greyjoy passed through here?" Asha asked her, steadily ignoring the Dog of Dorne.

"His sword is sworn to nothing but gold." Tayila turned suddenly at the voice, frigid as winter was rumoured to be North of the Wall, to see a woman clad in armour, with black hair. She quickly took in her attire of steel mirror. In King's Landing, if ladies did not wear dresses of finery and gold thread, they wore rags and roughspun cloths salvaged from Flea Bottom. But the Wards and their keepers seemed not to hold to such customs. Tayila imagined wearing her street-clothes in the castle, but such a vision was laughable.

"Has Lady Greyjoy passed through here?" she asked, and at once Tayila remembered that this was Asha Harlaw, whose charge was the Greyjoy ward. "Yes...milady," she said, pausing mid-sentence to contemplate the propriety of calling Asha Harlaw ser in armour. Tayila's eyes glanced over to the doors of the hall. "She left, after Lord William." She looked between Asha and Aeryn Sand, whom the former seemed to be keen not to keep in her sights, like a vile slug that had been squashed under the roll of a wagon-wheel. "Forgive a handmaid's curiosity," she said, keeping her tone polite, and unassuming lest a temper flare before she scavenged an answer, "but would chance have you both know each other?" Asha Harlaw despises the Dog of Dorne like a sister would her youngers. But without the playful affection behind her chidings.