[h1][b][color=FFD700][center]Jadefyre Island[/center][/color][/b][/h1]

The ship had headed away from home, and the fleets felt distant, albeit the cover that Garland and Alerie wished to keep of this particular voyage had worked well. Garland was looking better by the morn of the next day, and whilst many would still say he wasn't fighting fit, he was beginning to look less and less pale, and even to himself, consider a bit of wine to just ease his mind. His curls of hair blew in the breeze, as the sight of the keep that was visible from the waters a little less impressive than that of the keep on Queenstone, where Rhaenyra's sovereign power base had appeared to establish itself, lest the fact that she was ill and the surrounds were still not entirely secure for a man of Garland's statute. The Reach Lord appeared to take in the sights of the isle, and the distant smoke that seemed to pour from the seas, dim, yet eerie in what Garland could only assume was the work of Jadefyre.

Meanwhile, below deck, Alerie continued, and was still sowing away. Through the thin port glass, she could see the isle, yet stopped for only a second, continuing on. She didn't seem particularly interested in this, not right now. Garland had things to sort, and she wanted to let her mind slip for a moment, knowing that perhaps he would get what he needed. She would only intervene where she had to....and she knew it all too well. A man would do anything for the touch of love that was promised, and Garland did require a woman that would offer him a strong tie to the ruling family, that much was agreeable. A woman like Baela would at least quell him, she thought to herself, Baela Targaryen was not a quiet candle, she was a roaring bonfire in the world of love. Alerie could only guess that the politics that would play from this would be rather interesting, given her last conversations with Garland. They knew what to do.

The ship began to sail into the port, the sky covered in a patching of clouds, the wooden galley once again clanking with the wood, Garland hearing the sailors throw ropes over, and the other groups of mercenaries and Crownlander soldiers . She really had taken her people to here, to this promised land that she had given them. Filled with crooks and criminals no more, it was filled with people who had no longer any land, any opportunities. The piracy had come to a stop, but Garland knew that even the great Damon Targaryen did not fully achieve his goal, and he was one very great man indeed. Two sisters may have begun the process, but Garland didn't know them well enough to judge if they would keep their efforts up. And if Baela was to follow him, if Rhaenyra would be able to deal with it alone. Such a worry did fill Garland, and in such, worried him that he would not be able to convince Baela of the importance of their betrothal. But he had thought a little bit more about the Crown, about his duties, and where the Reach played it's role. The Ravens had been sent home, and would soon enough arrive, with his sigil, the singular golden Rose on a golden-green background would make it's way to the court in Highgarden. No sensitive information indeed, not entirely pertaining to where they were, what they were doing, or what was going to be done. This was a detour that wasn't known.

Stepping off the ship, the Crownlanders looked on at the Reach Lord, a white and green robe over his green and gold tunic, the sight of a longsword with it's Rose at his side, as well as his charming expression rounding his appearance out. He seemed to have a whiff of Roses, and ilk of the poppy, a drink he was only recently recovering from. His guard kept close to him, around eight or so men, wearing full plate, at least half wearing helms that obscured their faces, the others wearing chain mail hoods, all of whom appeared to be wielding longswords. It was not a Kingsguard, but for a personal guard, these were men who would hold their own, most certainly.

He did have much to say to Baela, and as he looked through the crowd of men and sailors getting off, waiting for Garland to get his answer first, he found a senior looking soldier, far better eqipped than the other Crownlander soldiers, potentially a Knight of some kind...yet Garland couldn't seem to be able to identify if it was just a Hedge Knight, or an actual titled Ser.

"I wish to find an audience with Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. I was told I would find her here, on Red Mast Island." Lord Garland Tyrell said to the guardsman, the soldier looking stern, a little unsuprised, aware of who this was he was looking at, a name that had not been exactly incognito in the past few weeks to any of these men.

The grizzled Sergeant stood up from the barrel he'd been sitting on. His half-breastplate had a crack in it, and some dried blood upon it. He beckoned the other gaurds with him to help tie Lord Garland's ship safely to the docks. The ship was definitely not one of theirs, or rather, belonged to the rag tag Targaryen fleet. It was too nice, too well kept. He would personaly help lash the gang plank to the docks, as the crew aboard the ship began to deplane. He smiled at them, showing what was probably either a lord or a dignitary the respect that was due to them. He nodded his head, listening to the man speak, who he would now come to know as Lord by the way he spoke and carried himself. The sergeant bowed his head quickly, before speaking to the lord.

"Aye your lordship, she is at the main hall of the keep. Enjoying her victory. Damn hard fought battle it was. Can you believe it, she defeated the pirate lord here in single combat... single combat I tell you." He smiled widely, clearly proud of his Targaryen Princess. "Come, follow me, I'll take you there meself. Careful though, road is in poor condition... you know how these damned pirate rabble can be, spending all their money on women and booze. Silly fools." The Sergeant set off, making his way past the throng of men and women on the docks, pushing past them along with two other guards.

"Make way you sodding fools... official business, get out of the damned way you louts." He sighed, pushing past a rabble of prisoners that were being loaded onto a barge. He made sure that they were parted before allowing the Lord to pass through. Wouldn't do much good to have this dignitary being accosted. "This way your lordship... prisoners of war. May make good soldiers, or if they are stubborn enough, well, the mines can always use more bodies... eh?" The Sergeant laughed happily. He was a talkative and happy man, no doubt due to the recent victory.

Garland shook his head, chuckling not heartily, but almost a little shocked, looking around at the bodies, the prisoners, the anarchy that was unfolding. Even Queenstone from afar had better paths than this, the cobbles falling apart from the tracks, the hovels and housing looking wretched, and the prisoners and other pirate folk that looked equally as bad. Garland was a pretty face normally, but here, it was like a lion amongst sloths. He didn't even know what to make of it, knowing that it was almost an irony that it had come to this. Rhaenyra and Baela had uprooted a whole people's way of living off of others, by systematically destroying it. It was the only way the Targaryens could do it, he reminded himself. This was the price that was paid. Baela seemed to be rather impressive, as it turned out...how much was a rumor, would be found out shortly.

"Maybe. But until there is more that unites the people than divides them, they won't serve. Not when all they know is rum, Arbor, whores and loot. To be honest....I don't blame them, I like all those things too. Don't tell your Lady about the third one. I'm trying to give that one up." Garland said, quipping a little, looking at the soldier.
"Alas, the world has order for a reason, doesn't it? We serve, we bring order, and that is who we are." He added quietly, knowing the soldier wouldn't make much of it, but wanting to just say it none the less.

The Sergeant nodded, continuing onward. The lord was a nice one to be sure, not the usual stern stodgy type. He made his path along the old worn out road, making sure to carefully point out and step around certain hazards. He even laughed a bit at the lords quips. He was sharp as he was well off. It was refreshing to talk to someone who wasn't all business all the damned time. But alas, with all things, the trip soon came to an end. 

There the small party stood, before the relatively unscathed, if not unkempt and in disrepair keep. The Sergeant smiled, bowing before the Lord. "Well, here we are your lordship. It was a nice distraction to escort you here. The higher ups will see to you, and make sure that you get to meet the Princess." He turned, hollering up to the gate guards. 

"Hey, you lazy whoresons... we got a delegate here to see the princess. Get off your damned asses and open the gates. Wouldn't be proper to keep the lord waiting, now lets get moving." The Sergeant smiled once more, and then said his goodbyes. "You have fun, the Princess, she is like fire in a human form. Your lordship." With that the Sergeant bowed again, and turned to head back to the docks and his post.

"Well, I tend to find that when you're in this part of the world, you don't have to try so hard to be political. Thank you, soldier." Garland said, knowing full well that he had been a little less high and mighty ever since he had arrived here, yet the fact he had practically charged through the town and up to the keep did still sit in his head.

The gate guards hurried down, yelling back at the sergeant. Clearly they new eachother, and traded a few more insults to one another. With a few grunting noises, straining of some chains, the gates swung open, revealing a much more ordered world. The keep was old, worn out, but was definitely far nice than the dockside town below.

"Hello your lordship... how can we help you?" The guard asked politely.

"I'm told that Princess Baela Targaryen is here, if it is to be believed. I am Lord Garland Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach....and I believe I have a gift to bring to the Princess." Garland said, smirking at the end of his sentence, knowing it was not in a malicious intent whatsoever, but that after much thought, he knew a nice little gift to bring her. The keep was indeed a little nicer than the town, but it was made of but the most basic stone, and was not sizable indeed. Enough for a dragon, just...Garland pondered in his head that it had to be kept somewhere.

The guard nodded, listening carefully to make sure he had it all. High above, a dragon preened in the sun, stretching its wings before fall back to sleep. It had cast a shadow across the courtyard, before letting sunlight beam back down. "Sorry about that, Jadefyre is enjoying her time relaxing. War tires us all out it'd seem." He beckoned Lord Garland into the courtyard, beyond the gates so they could be closed once more. 

"So, Lord Garland Tyrell... was it? No, that's right, Lord Tyrell, right this way, the Princess is in the main hall, enjoying her victory. Can you believe it, cut down the pirate lord all by herself. Damned fine woman, a natural born leader. Well, it won't do much to doddle here. I wonder what she has in store for us, hopefully some shore leave and a break." He chuckled, and led Lord Tyrell's party from the courtyard into the keep. 

"I expected nothing less of the Princess. Remarkable." Garland quipped, a smirk on his face, the sight of the dragon, the Targaryen sigils in the courtyard all but suggesting what this was indeed. The men perhaps did not entirely understand the strategy, but they knew the tactics, and they knew what had happened here, and who they were being led by. 

Like the rest of the island, it was old, weatherworn, but surprisingly cozy. The halls were well stocked with stolen plunder and other things that decades worth of piracy had collected. There was even an old suit of armor that stood before a faded Tyrell banner, along with two other similar effigies, a Lannister Banner, and a Baratheon banner. Perhaps they'd belonged to long dead lords who had been cut down by the pirates who once called this place home. The guard led the party to a set of double doors, guarded by much better equiped men. Royal guards no less, faithfully guarding their Dragon Princess. 

The guard saluted the royal guards, and moving out of the way. "Lord Garland of House Tyrell, here to see the princess. I leave him with you lieutenant." The guard bowed, and then made his way back to his post. The royal guards looked at Lord Garland and his party, curious to the nature of their visit. "Well then, your lordship, how can we help you?"

Garland felt a little sick, it was getting bloody difficult to talk to Baela, at this rate that it was going. But needs did must,and it added legitimacy, in these particularly troubled times on these isles. The guards were dressed well, the Royal guards a step above the Sergeant, leaps and bounds further, the Targaryen royal guards as splendid as any Knight of the Reach could look. The banners, the suit of armour were a strange a sight as any, but a stark reminder that the spoils of wars sometimes ended up here, as a crude mantlepiece item for some pirates to have, in their keep to stare at. And now, it reminded who ruled this Keep of it's previous inhabitants, who stole all they had.

"I have a gift for Princess Baela. That, and I wish to speak with her." His own guards began to fan a little from formation, Garland still holding his cane and gently leaning against it, the wound not visible yet the weakness that just lingered still visible, even if the sword in it's hilt said otherwise. Garland appeared to have a pouch around his side, elegantly out of the way from a first glance over the Lord Paramount. He knew this was a shock to some of these men, and indeed, it was. It wasn't announced, nor was it particularly expected. That was something that was relied upon, in these times, nothing could be called to be that exactly. And whilst some would expect Garland to search for Baela, he knew that beyond Alerie and barely a couple of others that knew of his desire, there was little to truly make of it. 
"I'd rather disclose it with the Princess privately." 

The two royal guards nodded, talking to eachother, before one of them turned to slip into the main hall/throne room of sorts. "It'll be but a moment your lordship. Princess Baela will no doubt see you soon enough. She is convening with her officers right now." He shifted his footing, moving the helmet he wore a bit. Lord Garland Tyrell was standing before him, his luck, right? This powerful lord from the main lands had come all the way here to speak with his Princess, bringing her a gift no less as well. Whatever it was, it was no doubt important for him to come all the way out here.

A short time would pass before the other guard reamerged. He spoke softly to his counterpart, laughing softly at perhaps a joke, before the two bowed before Lord Garland and his retinue, and turning to open the doors that lead into this main hall/throne room of sorts, revealing a very well maintained and appointed living space. All sorts of trophies and other items decorated the room, the center piece being the royal red sail of a stag and lion on their hind legs. Perhaps it was the very sails of a long lost Lannister Royal Capital ship, from many years ago. Sitting at the head of the table, was the Dragon Princess herself, Baela Targaryen.

Her long white hair was braided into a intricate ponytail, held back with a deep purple braid. Her left arm was bandaged, the white linen stained from both poultric and blood. The chest piece from her armor sat at the foot of the table, a stab wound evident on it, and dried blood splattered across it. Her rich purple shirt was stained at her right shoulder, linen bandages showing throw the torn silk. She was sipping on a cup of wine with three of her lords, listening to them as the talked about the new state of affairs for not only this island, but the other sorrounding ones as well. 

The royal guards cleared their throats, and spoke out with a commanding voice. "I present you Lord Garland of House Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, here to treat with you, Princess Baela. He says he bears a gift for you." The guards bowed, and closed the doors, standing guard once more outside. Inside were six other guards, each as well equipped as their counterparts. They all looked at Lord Garland, his party, and then back to Princess Baela. She smiled, setting her glass down, and looked at Lord Garland.

Her voice was like firey honey, sweet and warm, as she called out to Lord Garland. "Well, don't stand there gawking my sweet rose. Surely you have something to say for yourself."

"I do." Garland said, as he let up his stance on his cane a little, the guards looking on at the Lord Tyrell, as he took in Baela once again. Her honeyed voice, the bloodied breastplate, the state of affairs clear here. She did not even try to hide what had happened, and Garland did know indeed, he had a gift. He seemed to speak softly, and while his language was never perfectly to that of a Lord's, it was as charming as he looked. And while he was not in his usual shape, he seemed far better than bedridden.
"It is remarkable, how quickly you seized these islands. Two dragons, and barely one and a half thousand men, and you ended centuries of piracy, perhaps even beyond the legacy of Daemon Targaryen." He said, smiling at her, Baela clearly looking like she truly did sit in this seat of power comfortably, and not without question.

"The armies of House Tarly, Tyrell and Oakheart couldn't even do that, the navies of House Redwyne or Hightower either to help enforce it. We can at least hold the throne, yet never this. I promised you a rose I remember, my dear Princess. A gift. Yet more than that." Garland said, as he smiled, walking forwards up to where she sat, kneeling before her, drawing the rose from the pouch, the white rose tinged with gold on it's petals. It was difficult to tell what hell it was, it did not look like a variety you would find anywhere in a commoner's field, lest in a Lord's plantation. It looked remarkable, even if it was just a mere flower, the golden lining to the petals a real detail, and whilst it was not real gold, it was clear to see that this was not an ornament. This was truly a grown plant, and in whatever variety it existed, it had to be expensive.
"I didn't just come here to give you a flower. Look inside." He added to her, passing the rose to her hand, the petals containing some sort of note, around the size of which a Raven would carry.

"Your people are thankful for what you did, your sister, I didn't see but I know she has her power consolidated, like you have. But you won't rule these islands for long without a presence that protects you from the interests of Myr, Lys, or Tyrosh. They would offer to turn these isles back to the way they were for their interests, as their own little colony for their merchant traders, or worse still, to enslave the Westerosi that ran from the continent. That cannot happen. So I'm offering you that security. 10,000 men, half the Yunkish mercenaries, are about to sail to Storm's End. To put aside the Stormlander revolt. The other half, if you choose to reply to this, sail to Queenstone, and to Red Mast. Or as I am told...Jadefyre Island. A beautiful name, if I must say. It honours your steed well." Garland said to her, his voice sometimes a little simpler than most Lords would have it, but indeed, as it had to be. Of course, he did want something in exchange, but it was an honorable action, given the fact that he knew what he was saying was very possible, and indeed, could occur immediately given the circumstances.

"That, and the fact there is much to talk on regarding King Aerys, Third of his Name. Things that concern us both." Garland added, nodding to her, looking into her purple-coloured eyes, matching to her purple-coloured band around her pony-tailed hair, as suitable as it was in the winds above on a dragon's back, as they were to her pretty nature right here, in her silk garnments.

She smiled, looking at Lord Garland with her deeply purple eyes. He had recoved quite well, not as haggard looking as he was when bedridden. She leaned back in her chair, listening to all that he had to say, his tone, inflection, and so on. He had a melodic and beautiful voice, backed with true power and leadership. She'd cross her legs, softly massaging her right shoulder for a moment while Lord Garland spoke. His first gift was beautiful beyond measure, a gilded rose of sorts, though just as real as her and Lord Garland. She took it ever so gingerly, almost afraid that she might break it. Funny, she faced vile warriors and pirate lords, but it was a rose, and the prospect of dropping or breaking it that scared her most.

She looked up, eyes full of life, fire, and more, staring at Lord Garland as he spoke. He also had far more than this rose, and the underlying meaning within it. She set those thoughts aside, they were set aside for a time being. The next part of Lord Garland's gift began to reveal itself, showing the true extent of perhaps how far Lord Garland was willing to go for Baela. She smiled softly, looking back down at her rose as she listened to him. 

He had spoke of their conquest, of the islands, and what that conquest also meant for the state of affairs for the greater world. She moved in her seat, settling to a more comfortable position. It was true, as Garland had said. With the deposing of all the various pirate factions for the most part, the powers that be across the narrow sea would no doubt set their greedy little eyes upon the islands. Nothing would ever be so easy, would it. Time could only tell how long it'd be before their first scouting ships would probably come forward to begin spying and relaying information back to their masters. It was now the true scope of things came to view for Baela.

Garland offered 10,000 soldiers, Yunkish mercenaries, or rather, slave soldiers, to help prop up the fledgling kingdom of the Stepstones that the two Targaryen sisters had recently forged. She pondered this deeply, the thought of invasion ever present, along with other things that floated about in her head. These slaves, the trained soldiers of Slaver's Bay would no doubt serve as a greatly needed boon, one that could bolster greatly the power of for all intents and purposes, the Targaryen Separtists. She rested her right hand across her lap, holding the rose. But all the same, these levy's would be slaves, and not truly beholden to anyone but their true master.

The last bit of Garland's words peaked her interest the second most, behind his rose of course. He spoke of "King" Aerys the III, that little sodding brat monster, who now held the throne in King's Landing. She still could not figure out how the son of a disenherited prince could ascend, let alone one from a monster like his father. The momentary thoughts of hate were quickly pushed aside, her focus shifting back to the rose she held. 'I will not think of such trivial matters for right now.' She thought, focusing back to Garland again. He was so kind and nice, suave to say it nicely. A real lady killer. She smiled, and spoke out in a commanding tone.

"Leave us. All of you. I wish to speak to Lord Garland alone. Go and enjoy some of the food and wine stores in the adjoining dining room. It is the least I can do for our honored guests, and my loyal guards. Lord Buckwell, Lord Hardy, Lord Cave, see to it that they are well entertained." She looked back at Lord Garland, and smiled deeply at him. Without arguement, her lords and guards all bowed, and made their way to the adjoining dining room. Two of the guards waited for Garland's men to follow, while Baela looked at Garland the way a dragon would perhaps look at either prey, or something it deeply valued.

Garland noted his agreement to Baela's words, nodding to the guards to leave the room, as they walked out, following behind the Targaryen guards. The large room was emptied out of everyone apart from Lord Garland Tyrell and Princess Baela Targaryen, as Garland looked back at Baela's eyes. Taking a seat at the side of the table, he sat down, his body creaking a little, as he put the cane against the table edge, the eyes that he stared into knowing their message.
"I've considered my position...and this is something that only you, and Rhaenyra can know of now, on what we are to do. Events occured in King's Landing after you left that nobody could have expected. The King took a blow to the head, and lays unconcious in the Red Keep. Wheather he will wake from his sleep, or not, is any Maester's best guess." He said to her, knowing it was cutting to the point, clear and thin, and while his charisma held well when he was indeed, trying to be charming, right now it had a very different purpose indeed.

"I left a relatively minor Reachman as the Hand of the King in my stead, to quell the capital, and nothing more. The Crakehalls are beaten back entirely, to Harrenhal and to their homes, and it is only a matter of time before they try something desperate, like attacking the Reach or buying back their army with more gold." Garland added, as he brushed hair aside from his side, past his beard, as he looked back into Baela's eyes, his hand on the table, resting down flat against it's semi-smoothed surface.

"You asked me for guidance. Now, I'm asking you, with what I have told you. The King lays asleep with no current sign of wanting to wake up, yet his people know he is still alive, and it keeps the realm from entirely disintergrating. Willas Tyrell is the only Kingsguard member left, and a raven away. We have served as the most loyal House to the Targaryen family in it's history, in it's civil wars, we have opted to stay neutral, madness or none, for the sake of our own realm and it's food. We are stewards....not the destroyers of realms, like the fooking Lannisters or Crakehalls, or the bloody Martells." He gulped, as he shook his head.

"My sweet fire....I suppose this is a matter we don't like to think about at all. I understand you left the Realm to at least provide safety for your people. But I remember what you said about Aerys. A boy cannot rule what a fine Princess such as Rhaenyra has already carved out herself. Not when none of the Houses will listen to Aerys, and one already openly defies anyone, anyway. What would it be, that you want?" Garland sounded sweet in a strangely identifiable manner, yet analytical, and from the face of it, he appeared to really show that he was throwing the option to her, the information as loyal as it would be, and that this was not a change of heart that came without some worries. 

Perhaps he'd know a little better what Baela would want, not because he wanted his tongue around hers, but because he knew that ultimately, from what he remembered, from what he heard, saw, and felt right now, with a world on fire like this, it had to have a moment of change, not continuity. And the more Aerys sat in his mind, as a boy with a power he could not control in the form of the enormous dragon he had, a mind he could not retain plausibly suitable for rulership or greatness, nor his frail body, at the Stranger's door, Garland could guess that the picture was becoming more and more complete. From a man who appeared to look like he wouldn't have dared known, it seemed remarkbly clear in places, yet a decision to make that was ultimately not his.

Baela watched Garland closely, listening to his each and every word, watching his movements as he spoke and sat there. His poor body was still recovering, the wounds no longer as bad as they had once been, but he still needed to use a cane to move about with any true mobility. The next few moments were filled with terse information being passed along. Lord Garland spoke in a way few ever could. Baela smiled at him, letting him finish all he had to say before she'd respond. The end result of all he said painted a very dire situation back in Westeros. "King" Aerys III was in a coma, from wounds sustained during the battle of King's Landing. A major region of the seven kingdoms was in open rebellion, along with who knew how many others that plotted to rebel, seeing the weakness of their central government. Furthermore, Garland spoke of his own loyalty, of his house's loyalty to the throne, no matter what situations had arisen in the past. 

Yet, this was far different than perhaps anything before, at least for many, many decades. Baela knew first and foremost, that no gift given such as this was free. Garland was playing for something, or that he wished for something that only Baela could grant in return. She would take a moment for herself though, before any and all other matters. Perhaps it was foolish curiosity, or perhaps it was something else, but either way, she'd have a little taste of certain things she'd gone without for some time. Baela would smile softly, leaning in close to Garland, and pressed her lips against his, letting them rest there for a long, lingering kiss, before pulling away. Amused with herself, she smiled, and stood up, walking across the room to a large map that hung on the opposite wall. 

"So, before anything else is said, you taste of sweet roses, my pale rose." She winked at him, and then leaned over, looking closely at the map. "Tell me, Lord Tyrell, and speak honestly, how many houses have risen up in rebellion? How many have chosen to follow their own interests, based off of your choice to support Aerys, rather than my sister? How many do you think have died, have lost everything, because you and other men believed that only another male could rule Westeros? The offspring of a mad man, a disinherited prince, whose own legitamacy was completely and wholely revoked? Tell me, what say you now about your own actions?"

She'd point to the Iron Islands now, "Rhaenyra told me that the Iron Islanders were in full rebellion. The Crakehalls in full rebellion, the Stormlands, and the list goes on. And now, you come here, to my home, to my island, my sisters's hard earned kingdom, and ask me what I want?" She smiles, laughing softly, as she saunted back over to Garland. Upon her hip hung one of the ancestral Targaryen blades. Even in its scabbard, the blade was as beautiful as its master. She patted it, before settling herself down upon Garland's lap, her face mere inches from his. Her breath smelled of cinnamon and honey, sweet and aluring. Baela ran her left hand through Garland's beautiful hair, smiling at him with her caring smile, and with eyes that burned deeply with fire at him. "Tell me my lovely rose, what do you want? What is it that you hope to get out of helping my sister and me, when you rebuffed us before?" She moved her hips back and forth, before awaiting Garland's response.

Garland shook his head, smirking however, knowing how close she was, knowing full well it was a worrying statement indeed. Yet she was right. He had wanted Aerys to rule, and yet, the more and more it seemed to appear to him that it wasn't right, he didn't know. And perhaps her asking the question now, it felt visceral. The blade shone bright, reflecting the candle light upwards, as Garland wrapped his arm around Baela, smiling, inhaling her breath, almost afraid that what he was going to say next was going to be something he was going to hate with his head, but only accept in his heart. He had planned for this, and could guess that he was going to have to explain himself, if she was going to understand why he thought it now.

"I want you and me....and someone who knows what they're doing. Not an unconcious boy. That is what I worry about.....I'm a fool to beleive that it is what is best for us now. It bought us time. Time to escape, to think. I only asked for that, and when the time come, we do this right." He said, his face close against hers, his beard gently rubbing against her cheek, letting her lie her head against his neck and shoulder, as she looked into her eyes. He let his hair brush against hers, and while he knew she was using him, in some ways, Garland felt a little obliged by it all. Perhaps she was letting go, letting herself into this, and what they'd do.

"It was time...to do right. To win the war, but to have the Queen we deserve now we have this mess of Aerys, and the Princess, the husband she deserves to have.....you, or Rhaenyra, don't deserve Aerys. Not after....not after what I've seen what he looks like now, or what will be left. The Crakehalls are at war with us, the Baratheons face revolt, and the Iron Islanders will want bloody revenge, they will reave and reave until they are happy. The others are indifferent to the Iron Throne because they are scared of losing....to the Crakehalls no less. Everyone is scared. I'd say you're pretty good at being fearless...given these times." Garland rubbed his hand up to her shoulders, gently caressing her close, knowing she felt so soft, so warm in his touch, far more so than any woman he'd ever met.

"I'd want you and your sister to be safe, for my people to be safe...the wars to end...and honestly, because I think House Tyrell ought to be by your family's side, be it you by mine or mine by Rhaenyra's as Hand....and if Aerys is no longer fit, then Lady Protector, or Queen it must be. I erred caution....and you have an opportunity because we did. That boy I gambled on...even if he returned, he'd never be a good King. It took me a lot to realize that, but our sacrafices were not in vain, I promise you. Those houses, those men that did what they did....we did it for our realm, King or not. Take my word for it this time around...maybe I should have taken yours. But we have time." He said, gently, as he kissed her on the shoulder, Baela's hips moving against his, as he gave a light giggle, knowing she liked it as much as he did, in some particular way. 
"Hmmm....you are wonderful, Baela. "

"So much wonder, yet perhaps not nearly as wonderful as you, Lord of Pale Roses." She smiled, pressing her lips softly against his, before extracting herself from his warm embrace, from his lap and chair. She'd slyly smile at him, looking down at his lap, before stalking over to her own chair. Baela slowly eased herself down, taking her glass of spiced wine into her hands, and taking a long draught of it. She stared at Garland as she drank, looking deeply into his eyes. This man was absolutely intoxicating, but the simple fact remained, he came here because he hedged his bets in the wrong pot. Aerys had fallen through, the truth of his blood and nature finally coming apparent to Garland, when Baela herself had told him long ago. But, such things could not be helped, that was the past, and they were dealing with the repercussions of his and others actions.

Baela set her glass down, crossing her legs while she pondered what to do not only with her own percarious situation, but with Lord Garland as well. She began to play with her hair, unbraiding it to let it fall freely about her shoulders. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the ceiling as she closed her eyes and thought. Garland was a relatively simple man. He wanted a powerful woman to help carry on his legacy, what man didn't? He'd want to have children, for those children to carry the Tyrell name. Nothing that she could object to, but, it was other things beyond the simplistic things that caused caution with Baela.

Her eyes would open after a few moments had passed, raising her head to look at Garland. "Tell me, Lord Hand, the other houses, Stark, Arryn, Tully, Martell... what has caused them to not answer their King's summons, other than they know he is no king." She pulled her hair back into a long elegant ponytail, sitting up straight. "These great houses, put into power by my great family, what would it take to get them to swear fealty to my sister? For these malingering sidelinners to actaully join the fight, and declare for Rhaenyra as Queen. Not regent, protector... no, as Queen, completely and wholey undisputed. Its more than a matter of money, I can put that much together. So, what is it they are waiting for?" She smiled slyly once more, before rising up, lithe like a dragon, and untying the top few strands of her shirt.

"I know what you want, what you desire. I would accept such a union without contestment, but it is not for me to so freely offer myself up. You will have to speak to Rhaenyra, Queen of the Stepstones, and ask her permission to marry me, infront of her." She moved over to Garland once more, standing behind him now as she massaged his shoulders, gently laying kisses atop his head. "Baela Tyrell, the Dragon Rose. We would forever unite our two houses... but you must play your role in all this. My pale rose, my Lord Garland, you are an honorable man, who perhaps did what he thought was best, but it is now for you to convince my sister, the Queen, why she should not banish you from her realm, never to return." She pulled away, letting one last kiss to peck Garland's right cheek, before she walked back over to her chair.

"She trusted that you'd do the right thing, to install a ruler who would set things right, one that was not of blackend vile blood. Instead, you and your compatriots foolishly sought to install Aerys the III to the throne. Instead, you let Aerys bring his mercenaries and thugs into the Red Keep. Instead of protecting people, you and your allies directly, or indirectly caused their deaths. How many people died in the siege? How many have starved to death? How many have been executed for treason, sedition, and the longer lists of reasons to kill." Baela revealed a dagger from her boot, just as beautiful as her, a small dragon its hilt. 

"Perhaps I should kill you, and forever wash our hands of the mainland. We could just as easily make peace with the powers in Essos. Perhaps work as sellswords for them. They'd pay handsomely for not one, but two dragon warriors. How many people have sought to ride the dragons, to seek scraps from my family? You Westerosi so quickly play against one another, using my family, our friends, your families, to further rise up the ladder of greatness. So tell me love, what would you have me do? What can you say to me that will make me choose you and the path you wish to walk, and not another one?" She set the dagger down on the table, playing with it, before picking up the rose he had first offered her once again. 

Baela inhaled deeply from the rose, wanting more than anything to forget about the world and its problems. It smelled so lovely, so very sweet and pure. It was beautiful beyond comparison. She held it in her hands, and then cupped against her left breast, looking up at Garland, and waiting for him to respond. "Go on, speak my pale rose... let me hear your melodic voice once more."

Garland didn't know what to entirely say. It was indifference, he thought to himself, shaking his head. It was true, and in all the wars of the Kingdoms past, they always took a side. Perhaps it was so confusing, so nihlistic, that they wanted no more part? They wanted to revert to a days gone past that the Kingdoms of the Seven Kingdoms were independent, and loosely associate, perhaps. They stopped caring, their families paying no mind to the Targaryen Kings and Queens that no less, had dragons at their disposal. Garland did not know.

But all he did know, was that venom in her voice was changing, fluctuating. She seemed positive at first, and before Garland was fully aware of what she was doing, the dagger was tight in her hands, then on the table, clearly there. Garland wouldn't be fast enough. He'd be certainly dead. Not the first time in a long time. He knew what to say, however, and his voice held, held well enough.

"Because you're not the first Targaryen that would have put a knife to my throat.....and if you want that future, I can't stop you. I've almost died too many times of late.....so it would be easy to do it, certainly. You're a fighter. You would be a woman without comparison. They'd compare you to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the wife of Aegon the Conqueror in terms of martial skill if you become a sellsword. You could create and destroy the cities at will. You would be ommnipotent to do someone else's bidding, and remembered greatly for it. King's Landing would pale in comparison." Garland said, his voice picking up, as he looked back at her, sighing.

"If you leave, all these dead men, women ,children, from the sieges, from the war, from famine....it will only become worse. And that isn't even it." Garland added, shaking his head, looking at the dagger, then at the rose once more, exhaling.

"Before the Targaryen Invasion, the King of the Reach was Mern Gardener, Ninth of his Name. The Reach was it's own Kingdom, a microcosm of it's own affairs and matters. We ruled ourselves, like all the Kingdoms did. A story we all know, you know this one, but it's worth thinking about. The squabbles and problems, the issues and worries between House and House, unbroken since the fucking Andals arrived, with wars, conflicts over the Rose Throne in Highgarden. That wheel stopped, and you gave us what we have. From mere stewards of the Reach to stewards of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Through generation, after generation, you brought fire, and burned anyone that disagreed with you, for your right to rule, and we accepted it because it was for the common good of everyone. And once fire begins to burn, it takes a lot to put it out. If no Targaryen, Aerys, Rhaenyra or yourself lays claim, it returns to that state. If you think that's better...then I accept your choice. I don't want to be King of the Reach, Baela. I just want to have love that matters, Arbor, tourneys, and a Kingdom that doesn't disintergrate, internally or out. I'm not the fool who will fight dragons again. Not unless they're with me." He sighed, breathing out, looking at the rose, a lot on his mind. He didn't know what to entirely make from this, but he had to put that point across, at the least. 

"If you are asking me for councel, and what you should do...what you should do then, is consult Rhaenyra. She was ill, a couple of days ago, when we visited, but I would no doubt imagine she is feeling a little less poorly now. Put her in front of me, and if you're going to kill me on her word, I'd rather you did the honours, or we wed when we can. The Dragon's Rose. There isn't any middle ground, not when I know we both feel like this....because it'll hurt us both. I'd prefer to die in your arms if I'm not going to die impaled on some bloody battlefield. We agree to put the Princess back on the Iron Throne, and Willas will do the honours in King's Landing...which will be the only way it can happen if you want to be Queen. The other houses will bend the knee once the Crakehalls fall. If not....you know the answer, and my councel goes so far."

"I can give you that, but you have to know, it's never the best option, but our only one. Even if you feel like that....there is no going back. You understand, if he is insane or not, if any trace goes back to you, no matter how good any spider is, you will be a Kinslayer.  That is the biggest risk we run, Baela. I am scared of little, but if that were to happen...I'd be worried." 

Baela smiled warmly at her pale rose. He spoke so passionately, with so much life and love, and far more than many men would speak in their entire lives. He was right to speak as he did, to lay all his cards down on the table, and trust in his princess, and her elder sister, the Queen. Baela set Garland's rose down on the table, and walked back over to him. She moved to sit atop his lap once more, looking him closely in the eye, and speaking softly to him, the way lovers exchange hushed promises in the dark. Her firey purple eyes glowed as she told Garland what she thought.

"My lovely rose, you quiver so quickly at the wrath of the dragon, and I am sorry. I forget my place at times, so my sister tells me. I know well enough that fire can both destroy, and create life... so I will pledge you this, I will champion your cause, your second chance. Garland, love, you have nothing to fear but my wrath at the birthing bed when that time comes. My sister values my counsel, and we will both be of great service to one another. I care not if they call me kinslayer. I too know history, and there have been many who have had to commit a supposed evil against the "gods" for a greater good." She moved her hips back and forth, pressing herself against Garland. 

"I find myself falling for you my lord, my sweet pale rose. Ever so enthralling are you, much like your rose you gifted to me, I gift unto you my heart. I will see to it that Queen Rhaenyra allows us to marry. Though, she may ask a boon from you, though, only she will know what she wants." She leaned in passionately kissing Garland for a long time, before pulling away, and smiling at him. She greatly like this man, loved him even. He was a good soul, even if he had a bit of rust here and there. Yet, who didn't? She layed her head on his shoulder, finding herself playing with his hair now.

"Whatever it may be, I wouldn't imagine it would be too tough a demand. I think we know what has to be done. For the greater good now. I'd that second chance I'd take without looking back." He added, kissing her as equally passionately as she did, Baela's body pressing against his on the chair, Baela's youth well formed, and elegant, and even with such a remarkable young age, she seemed to feel very powerful indeed. Not like a male fighter, but like something different, like her dragon was on it's hind legs and spoke the Common Tongue, that wielded steel and felt tough. As tough as, if not more than Garland if he was at his best. He was a good swordsman on a good day, but feeling her close, that fire felt altogether too different, it felt absolutely spellbinding.

The Reach Lord broke a wry smile, looking at her, a lock of his long hair still in her hand, knowing it had been terrifying to say what he had said. A little sweat did run down his back, his hairs were stood, but he knew that it was an intoxicating feeling. He thought to himself he was not prepared to die any longer, but he would have been for this, he said in his mind. Any woman he wanted, and for this love, he would have not been afraid to let her take him there and then. And he put his case well. He had come in after speaking to Alerie, knowing it was something that had to be talked about, the possibility. Yet in Garland's mind, he had began to resolve it, understand it, and see what had been true all along. He would keep his family safe, the realm safe, and for what in his heart he felt was right, he was doing what he finally wished to pursue.

"We can travel either by boat, or by dragon to see my sister... the choice is yours to make. Or... we can daly? For a time, a day or two, and let you see what the world can be... that much I know, from speaking with my sister." She sighed, inhaling deeply of Garland. "What will it be, my pale rose?"

"You can't be serious....." He looked into her eyes, and quickly realized, nope, this wasn't a joke, this was not a dream.
"Well.....I can't turn it down. One day I'll show you the Rosewood, the pines, conifers and berries of the forest, the roebucks you'd love to hunt all day long. But I think the skies seem more wonderful right now."

"Then we shall relax for a day, enjoying the time we have to spend with one another while can enjoy such carefree moments, between the daily grind of the world and duty. So come, let us have dinner, and enjoy the sunset. That is one thing that the pirates could never ever tarnish, is the beauty of the ocean, and they way the sun plays off its waves. Come love, my Pale Rose, and lets enjoy this respite, before the comming storm." Baela smiled, leaning in to kiss Garland passionately, before pulling away, standing up to smile at her Pale Rose, then turning to tie her shirt back up, grabbing her dagger and placing it back in her boot, and turning to offer her right hand to Garland... "Shall we?"

Garland chuckled, leaning in, kissing her passionately, the Reachman's kiss one that had the charm and luster of the chivalry that came with it, the Rose that smelled of flowers and Poppy flower, with the Dragon that could have easily snatched the life from his lungs yet was the only person he wanted to be with. He wiped his hair to the side, his long brown locks and brown eyes as different as anyone could imagine as they were to the white haired, purple-eyed Targaryen that he had fallen head-over-heels for.

Taking her hand, the Lord Tyrell knew that it sounded like the only way to spend an evening, and that Alerie would no doubt understand that there was more than just the politics to this, as he gently held his cane in his right, and began to accompany her out of the throne room, words no longer needed.

(If [@Abefroeman] did collabs, they'd be the best collabs in the world. See the above. :D )