(
@MrDidact@NecroKnight collabs included)
Willas nodded, agreeably.
"I would imagine it would do well for our Houses. Though there are plenty of Westermen and Reachmen we are to appease, of course." The Tyrell replied, as he mused over Tyrion's response to his thoughts.
"I'd suppose that war cannot be avoided, then. But it will yield a great cost to our Kingdoms, Tyrion. Say what you will of the greater good, but in my experience, the greater good usually means someone has to die. The numbers tend to vary....and I know that whilst we are willing to commit our resources, the time will come when our houses will need to make sure the limits of power are kept in check and balance, so too will our sons and daughters have to make sure no more Mad Kings come to rule. Not yet...but I know that for our commitment to the realm, the realm commits unto us. With all this....sorcery, the world has changed greater than when you and I saw eye to eye in the War of the Five Kings. I suppose we are old men, in a new world." He added, a wry smile coming out, chuckling as he finished the cup again. Any man would have been tipsy. Willas was strong-livered, weak legged. Like his friend, really.
Speaking with Mychael, the conversation ebbed and flowed, and it recapped much of the wine, song and tales that they had to share, less politics and more politeness. Willas thought well of Mychael, though something did seem queer about the lad, something like what he knew of Ellion's bisexuality, in addition to the stories he'd heard with Ser Royce. Alas, he didn't judge, nor care, it was merely an observation, not a criticism. He knew his brother had been gay after all, and was more than happy with his brother's choice, despite what the rest of the realm would ever dare consider. Homosexuality was relatively liberal in the lands of the Reach, traditionally chivalric and adhering to the Faith of the Seven, yes, but under Willas, he hadn't chased it or chastised it heavily, which starkly did divide opinion amongst peasantry and the nobles alike. A forward thinking idea, yes, but Willas knew whilst it was a moral good, it wasn't for some, and had Ellion have been born elsewhere, chances were he may have found himself the subject of rumours and punishments far, far greater than that of which the Reach usually enforced. Mychael was an heir, and yet that queerness did strike Willas on another topic...he'd have to birth an heir, somehow. And in his experience, Margaery told him that was rather difficult with Renly Baratheon, given his brother had to be there to stimulate the Rainbow-guarded King to help him out. The whole topic was a maze, a minefield.
A bit of a side-note for Willas, as he quipped and spoke with a certain kind of wisdom, whilst not as deep as Tyrion's, still being sound and learned. In particular, Willas admired the falcon on Mychael's shoulder, looking at it closely, the conversation slowly creeping back to it.
"That is a fine specimen. Passion, you call her?" Willas said, nodding to the Peregrine. It looked straight at Willas, and almost connected. Willas was a master falconer, and no doubt, Mychael would have heard of his name. He'd been breeding hunting dogs, lynxes and birds of prey, from buzzards to kites to peregrines, for almost two and a half decades, a speciality in the latter for hunting that he had being famed. The bird almost seemed to be at ease with that, in some strange way, as Willas put out his hand. He knew Mychael wouldn't be terribly happy, but Passion gently slipped off his shoulder, and onto Willas's arm, latching it's talons around his arm, not even putting a sharp cut or stab into his forearm.
"A Peregrine of the Vale, your house's sigil, a fine hunting bird. The easiest to train, the second fastest breed, third best in hunting for rats, mice and other vermin, not so well at larger tracks." He reeled it off like it was fact, though it seemed like a deep bank of information. He gently looked into the bird's eyes, before stroking it's blueish-black back, and gently along it's upper left wing.
"This is a special bird, I can already tell. A certain kind of power in it's wings, it's body. It's very good at what it does. Well fed, perfectly built. Fast, sleek, and I haven't even seen it fly." He knew this must have seemed strange to Mychael, but Willas did know his stuff, and almost seemed to connect with it on the spot.
"I adore the Peregrine. A bird that is not the largest, not the best of all birds of prey. Eagles are far more impressive to the size, Red Kites far more burning, like a Phoenix rising from an ash. But they are the fastest, and the most sleek, most adapted, and most wonderful birds that I adore. A timeless predator, that would go on long after the Kingdoms of any would last, outflying anything that dare chase it." Willas spoke with a certain kind of charm and impressiveness, hearing Passion coo.
"That's quite alright. You really are loyal to your holder, after all. Go back to him. I'm afraid I didn't bring any friends today, otherwise I suppose you'd have had a merry old time." He chuckled heartily, as Passion stepped off his arm and caught flight, landing straight back onto Mychael, looking straight back at Willas.
"We shall have to go falconing at home, Mychael. Come to the Reach, to the woods of my lands, and I shall show you a hunt one day, and you can see what these magnificent birds can do to even stags and foxes. Those who can fly are untouchable by those below. Unless you are a good archer...but I would suppose Passion and his breed are too fast to even dare consider our futile yew sticks to dare stop them." Willas mused, guessing Mychael would be interested in this detail.
He knew that soon the melee and other events would come to a close, and only the feast would be left to attend...as well as another Small Council meeting. The events of the day had been plentiful, after all.
(gonna probably leave Willas/Tyrion here, and focus on the forward stuff).
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Alerie could only giggle in joy. Oh, this was insane. From the moment she sat behind Jahaerys, speaking his his High Valyrian, the beast taking flight, it only filled her with wonder. The world below seemed weird, she felt almost sick, the motion of it all hard to deal with. But they flew, like the birds. She was astounded. This wasn't possible, surely. Yet it was. Jahaerys did have a trick up his sleeve, after all. And she didn't want to think about any more intrigue or politics.
She was riding on the back of a dragon.
His hair blowing into her face, she had to look down, as Voscharis rose, the world visible, the very distance and sight of it all, before the dragon dove, Alerie hanging onto Jahaerys as he swooped the sea, speechless. This was wonderful
"This is incredible!" She only exclaimed, short of words, her face etched into a grin rather than frightened, even though they flew along the coast close, ships in sight, as the dragon carried them over the Keep and back towards the Pavillion. The flames roaring, watching it all filled her with awe. Her heart was alight, not from Jahaerys, but from this experience altogether. A wonderful thing, and she wouldn't forget it. No Rose had flown before, not that she knew of. It was a magnificent experience, and it felt burnt into her memory, the sights, sounds and the smells, the wind blowing her fine hair and past her skin, it felt surreal. Magical, even.
Setting down, Alerie did not hide her pleasure from it all.
"No doubt...that was fantastic, Jahaerys!" She exclaimed, hugging him, kissing him closely, as she giggled.
"You Targaryens are so lucky. To think I'm only greenhanded. I suppose you dragons wouldn't last long in a rosebush." She giggled, the warmth that came off his body close, as she took his hand.
"I'll be with my father at the feast, to keep him company, I don't ever see him of late. But I shall visit you later. Stop by, if you will. Maybe spend some time together, intimately?" Alerie held his warm hand close in hers, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek, wrapping her form around him, before looking across at the sights of the other dragons.
"I should really get a better dress."
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The Small Council meeting had been a strenous, and difficult one. Decisions had to be made, and Willas Tyrell knew that not all of them were ones he personally would agree with. He did not have much to say, he had stated his position and the realm's coffers, brought up to date the numbers of golden dragons that the realm had distributed to the coffers of the Iron Throne, and the armies that they in turn paid for, as well as the festivities. A relative side note, given talks of war. And that wasn't so much his concern, Gendry Baratheon dealt with that, as did everyone else.
But the Reach had 80,000 men. In this room, Willas Tyrell commanded the largest force of soldiers that were staunchly accessible and loyal to the realm. A significant number could sail on the ships of the Redwyne Navy, or walk the Roseroad into King's Landing, to wherever they dare pleased. House Tyrell was the second largest army in Westeros, and given how distant and isolating the North could feel times, a month's ride away, Willas understood that outside of pure dragonfire, thorns in the form of steel were what he sharply provided.
"Understood, my King. Though may I ask, one thing. You're asking me to raise a lot of banners to march into the Dornish Marches, under the flags of Reachman Houses. The same with that of the Stormlanders, of whom we share the Dornish Marches rather finely, if I must say so. If they feel that they are under attack from a foreign force, rather than that of the Dornish spears themselves, will they not rally more to their cause?" Willas asked, knowing he got on with Jon rather well- despite thinking little of the lad at first, he had earned his admiration and respect, despite the fact that he sometimes acted recklessly and without overwhelming thought, he was naiive at times, though the sign of the Stark and Targaryen blood brooding in the King was clear to see that he had developed a strong sense of honour and duty, and more so, prior loyalty to his own vassals and people. He did not betray with his words, he spoke commandingly.
Willas knew that where he came from, they didn't have to do the former to achieve the latter, with far less strings attached sometimes. He was kind, chivalrous, honorable, but he knew the reality of the world, and the Northman justice that came wasn't sometimes easily meshable with that of what worked in the Reach, for example. Sometimes, you played the game rather than being played by it. If it wasn't for some of his siblings, he knew that even someone such as Jon would have felt like they were in a very different place to that of what they expected.
"Your will is what we folow, Jon. But we need to be weary of these wars, not be tempted out of our peace and tranquility, our lull, to any great extent beyond this. You've seen what it does. I suggest we tread carefully, and to stamp out that insergency in the Stepstones will be an undertaking we cannot take any half measures with in which case, if we wish to avoid being embroiled in a far larger conflict. A show of soft and hard force...if we wish to commit to these people, then so be it. I may add, experience teaches us that it is not always clear who these rebels are. Pirate lords seeking money? Or something more, hmm?" Willas notioned, as he sighed.
"The navies of the Redwyne fleet are at the Realm's disposal, if they so need it."
Jon nodded at Willas, "I understand your reservations my lord. We've been at peace for twenty-five years now. The Iron Throne has not mobilized its banners in such a manner since the War for the Dawn. I wish it didn't have to come to this, but wishes do not make reality. And the reality is that we cannot allow the Vultures to remain in the Red Mountains. Travellers are being murdered by the score, trade is being disrupted, and tensions among Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Reach are rising. The Vulture King presents too big a threat to our unity to allow his pestilence to further fester."
He gestured to Sam, who unrolled an intricately detailed map onto the table of the three Southern Kingdoms and the Stepstones. Jon pointed to the location of Hellgate Hall, in an inhopistable stretch of the barren Red Mountains, "From here, the Vultures can raid all three kingdoms. The Stepstone rebels have a clear shot at Dorne as well. I can't ask the Dornish to deal with the Vultures themselves and leave their coasts unprotected. And we can't allow these rebels to grow unchecked. As such I will have the Dornishmen approach from one side while the Reachman and the Stormlanders approach from the other. We will surround the Vultures on all sides and put an end to them."
The King shared gazes with Gendry and Willas, "Gendry, tell your brother to assemble his best commanders for the Storm Knights. Willas, your brother is one of the realm's most gifted soldiers. Sam's brother Dickon is as well. I will also send a raven to Brightwater Keep. I want the Tarlys and the Florents present among the Marcher lords to help keep the peace between the Stormlanders and the Reachman. Gendry, you will have the High Command of the entire army, including the Dornishman, as the Lord Marshall. My cousin Aegon will support the army with Viserion and other Martell levies. The combined armies shall blockade the Red Mountains and once that is done, the commanders will rendezvous with each other at Blackhaven once the situation on the ground is properly assessed to formulate further plans."
It would be a massive operation, tens of thousands of men committed to it, not to mention a dragon, Jon could tell many of the small councillors were astonished by the forces he was comitting to one counter-insurgency campaign, Davos even spoke up, "Your grace? A dragon rider? So many men? For one raider king? We'll outnumber the enemy several times over? Might not these men be better commited to the Stepstone campaign?"
Arya shook her head, "It is not. Reports indicate that the Vulture King commands foul sorcery on his side. We may have the numbers, but the victims of his attacks report demons in his armies and all manner of horrors. I have been supressing these reports in order to stop a panic."
Jon nodded grimly, "Indeed. That is why Aegon and Viserion will be present. As well as other assets. Arianne assures me that some of her Greenblood Orphans have an arsenal that can counter-act the Vulture King, and the Lord of Blackhaven reports that one of his nephews has demonstrated his own potent powers. Daenyra will be occupied in the capital, and she will not be able to assist."
Jorah was pertubed, "Sorcerers? In a military operation? Your grace, this would be unprecedented. Even back in the War of Ten Crowns, the Red Woman was not in the thick of things. How can we rely on such a dangerous force in direct contact with our men? And with untested sorcerers at that?"
Jon replied, "I understand your concerns ser. But the more experienced Hightower and Crane practicioners will be busy tangling with Lord Pyke and the Reavers. The Greenblood Orphans and the Lightning Knight are the only ones that can be approached on short notice. And Aegon is battle-hardened. With a dragon and an army supporting them, there inexperience will be mitigated greatly."
Sansa was unconvinced, "It was by unanimous consensus that this council determined that the return of magic be kept a well-guarded secret. Deploying a whole gaggle of sorcerers with such a large army will guarantee word spreads across the nation."
Jon nodded, "It is true. But perhaps it is time for at least our vassals to know the truth. Now the world can know exactly what kind of power Westeros can wield. In fact I am half-tempted to have a demonstration at the wedding feast. But regardless, that is my strategy for dealing with this Vulture King. If anyone else wishes to speak further on this, speak. Otherwise we shall move onto Lord Pyke."
"It's a dangerous thing to control. We don't know what it could do. I've only heard reports, and what I have heard isn't pleasant. I will notify Garlan to rally his men, alongside Dickon." Willas merely said, as he looked on at Jon, nodding.
"When the men come back they'll know what they saw. They're going to see things more horrible than just an ordinary war, more ruthless. It'll shake the very faith in the ability of the populace to be protected from such evils, lest they spread." He mused, sighing.
"We will commit what we can, to corner them. Those mountains cannot harbour them for long, they will have to come into the open and face the music. I am no man of war, but if it is known the Vulture King has something far more demented on his side, we will need more than numbers.." Willas added, knowing it was an astonishing amount, but he needed to sound it off of Jon to make him think.
Tyrion finally put in his thoughts, "Have no illusions. This will not be a short, bloodless campaign. The Vultures know those mountains and will make the army bleed for every step we take. The expertise of the Stony Dornish and the Marchers who live in those mountains may prove to be the difference between victory and defeat, not just our arcane forces. But once the Vulture is defeated, it is paramount we study the forces he controls and the powers he wields so we can be better prepared in the future. As such if he can be taken alive, we must try."
Jon nodded, "I agree. But we've laid our plans as best as we can for the moment. The future of the campaign rests on you Gendry along with Garlan, Dickon, and the other commanders. Now onto Lord Pyke." Jon gestured to Sam once more and once more a map was spread out, this time showing the Iron Islands and the Western Coasts, "We know that Lord Pyke has fled Westeros. He's commanding his Reavers from somewhere east, either in league with the Stepstoners or the Basilisk Isles. If true, our Stepstone force will put an end to him there, but we can't send a fleet to the Basilisk Isles without provoking the Corsairs."
"But his rogue Reavers are raiding in the night, attacking loyal Ironborn, Northern fishing villages, Riverlanders, Westerlanders, Reachman; the entire western coast is being hit. The enemy has great mobility and always manages to evade naval patrols, hitting us where defenses are weak. But I have an idea, we need to draw the Reavers in. Present them a target they can't refuse and trap them."
Tyrion grimaced, "Surely you aren't asking Willas or I to present Casterly Rock or Highgarden as targets? It's much too risky and the same goes for any of our Bannerman's holdings. We fail and we give the Reavers a castle from which they can further harass us."
"I agree, which is why I won't ask any of the coast lords to do so. Asha?" The Lady Reaper of the Iron Islands grinned and said, "I will offer them Pyke. I'll take the main part of my fleets, take my kin, and we'll sail in the direction of the Stepstones. My dear cousin won't be able to resist. He will have his forces commit themselves to Pyke so he can steal my seat and claim the Seastone chair."
Jon nodded, "To further intince him, Arya will spread word of discontent among the Iron Islanders. Make it seem as if they're ready for a change. Lord Pyke will send his men to capture Pyke and we will have them. Trident, Northerner, Westerland, and Reach Fleets will surround the Island along with other Ironborn and we will smash the main part of the rebel strength. We will interrogate their captives and learn the location of Lord Pyke. Then we will send ravens to Asha and her fleet can put her cousin to paid. Willas, the Redwynes will be a massive part of this operation. Along with the Hightowers, who will give us ships and sorcerers to fight the Ironborn. The Cranes and their Skinchangers will be a huge asset as well. Do you believe we can rely on them all? Asha and Davos will be unavailable to lead, and as such we need to find other capable admirals. Tyrion, your cousins in Lannisport will be a cornerstone of the operation as well. Once the Reavers are destroyed, we can send these fleets to the Stepstones to aid the campaign there or to help Asha destroy her cousin."
It was a daring strategy, innovative and risky, but if they succeeded it would be a masterstroke.
Willas only knew the inherrent risk that presented. The Reavers were better on water, and were underdogs when against the larger navies. Pushed against the wall, the Kraken spread it's tentacles, it compressed, even Willas knew that of the beast's squishy form. And that idea was an interesting one...though it meant stretching a lot of naval assets. The Redwynes already provided the Iron Throne's navy with it's largest contingent, secondary to the personal fleets of the Targaryens themselves, and the fact that a naval assault could follow in the Stepstones, and possibly more to Slaver's Bay, it felt like Jon was being pushed, rather than pushing his repsonse. Willas was not a strong military mind, but even he knew Garlan would see that whilst bold, it had room for error.
"So long as they are commanded properly. I see too many enemies, and too many attempts to try and take them on. We need to single our problems out, one by one. Lord Pyke would not be stupid, either. Presented with an opportunity, he may see it for the trap it is. And set one for us in turn." Willas seemed to understand it, because traps set for his family had happened once, with dire concequences. The plan seemed spread thin, and asked for a lot to go right, not wrong. Many wrongs adding up...would lead to a lot of wasted money on retinues, thousands of dead men, and insergents reinforced by victory. Willas felt weary of it all.
"The Reach's western coastline has been hammered, and trading with Qarth has been protected by much of this naval presence, reacting in turn. You are also asking my realm to sacrafice it's economic protection for this. I understand the greater benefit. But I ask that you do this with care, and do not spread too thin. Deal with the realm's enemies, sweep and eradicate the disease at it's source." Willas added, looking particularly to Jon.
Daenerys, who had been keeping her peace, spoke, "Willas is right. We have much to gain with this strategy. But also much to lose. We can't throw all of the west navies at this threat and leave our homes exposed. I recommend you shepherd the Redwyne and Lannisport navies close to protect the coast in case the worst happens. Rivermen and Northerner fleets with Ironborn support should be enough. And I'll have Jahaerys fly over as well."
Tyrion arched an eyebrow, "I appreciate the thought of protecting our flanks, but Jahaerys? He's not Aemon or Viserys. He's never been in battle."
Daenerys replied, "He's a skilled rider with a powerful mount. Hightower Sorcerers and Crane Skinchangers will be with him. One dragon is worth almost an entire fleet by itself. With a dragon supporting them, we can keep the Redwyne and Lannisport fleets close to hand in reserve. Once Pyke is defeated and the west is safe, we can prepare. I'll send word to Missandei and Grey Worm in Dragon's Bay, I will ask them to send ships to the Stepstones as well. That will make up for fleets we lose rerouting the westerner fleets."
Sansa said, "What of the New Masters? They're a growing faction in the Ghiscari cities."
"They're an insurgency, not a government. Fleets will be useless fighting them anyway, and the Valyrian Empire is too busy with the Three Daughters to pay any attention. We've built friendships across the world, now is the time to use them."
Jon nodded in agreement, "Very well. The basic outline of the strategy will go forward, but now we will be covering all possible outcomes. Does this alleviate your concerns Willas? Tyrion?"
Tyrion smiled, "I didn't much like my cousin anyway, I wasn't adverse to sending him against the Reavers. But it will be a boon to keep his fleet close at hand to defend our shores. Once the Iron rebels are gone, then we can build our forces in case either of the Eastern Empires gets too bold."
Willas knew Jahaerys wasn't the best fighter, but Tyrion was right, worryingly. He had a dragon. He rode well. Willas's Knightly son on the other hand, did not have one, though he'd best him in a fight.
"Agreed. It would make sense to hold our grip in Dragon's Bay. It does wonders for trade and resources that Westeros would otherwise never see. Keeping that line open is important to us."
"I understand a lot of this is reliant upon the Hightowers. I do not personally know the extent of their understanding of the sourcery, nor the Maesters in the Oldtown. Archmaester Sam, could you clarify this a little?"
Sam nodded and cleared his throat, "So far no Maesters have demonstrated true sorcerous ability, such as being able to cast dramatic spells like a Red Priest or a Greenseer. But there have been a few talented individuals who have had luck with creating mystic artifices and using the dragonglass candles. In this way we can build a mystic arsenal of a kind, even though none of us can use offensive powers ourselves. As such I reccommend we have some of our artificers present in this fleet."
"As for the Hightowers, Lord Leyton and his daughter did manage to discover magical abilities. They taught them to many of their children. We don't know the true extent of their powers, but it is suggested that they will be able to conjure effective counter-measures to Ironborn ships. Primarily focused on the summoning of destructive mystical energies. Disastrous for the enemy, though of course they will need to be careful this does not affect our own forces. We've never attempted to use sorcery in a naval battle in this manner but we've seen the Hightowers do great things before. And they are your kin after all my lord. They can be trusted I believe."
Willas nodded, looking across at Sam, knowing the Archmaester was incredibly knowledgable, and whilst he was still one of Jon's best aquaintances, he knew the reason for his presence was because the Maester did know far more than most on the very nature of the strange sourcery that had come across the land.
"I would imagine so. But such a great power needs it's limits. We know how to fight, how to entrap, how to deal the enemy a blow. But if this mysticism exists, then we must be ready to deal with it, and make sure it does not affect us. Thank you, Sam." He added, looking to the Archmaester, before looking back across at Tyrion.
"I'll imagine it'll stop the Ironborn knocking on the doors of Lannisport, then?"
Tyrion raised a goblet in affirmation, "I believe we've spent enough time planning my lords. They're as good as they're going to get. If this offensive doesn't pan out entirely, my fleets and Willas' can still take on the Reavers. I daresay it's time to join our guests in the throne room."
Jon nodded, standing, "Thank you for your time my lords, my ladies. Let us join my son and his bride."
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Merebelle was currently getting dressed in her - finishing up and trying to determine whether or not she should wear the small bronze crown that was made to go with the dress.
She eventually decided against it, since namely she wasn't a Queen nor a high enough lady to wear such fancy jewelry. She was currently waiting for Ellion to arrive back - she hoped it would be enough. She didn't have much practice like the other female nobles - well in truth, since she practiced chivalry, or rather a more female version of it. Then that meant also learning how to dress properly - it just meant replacing the more male aspects with female ones. Plus she had learned to dress fancy, when she was younger and learning to sing and dance.
It had been a long day for all of House Tyrell in King's Landing, and given that Willas had attended the Small Council meeting, Alerie had gone to fetch a more pretty gown, and her handmaidens had gone off to help make their rooms, Ellion himself had found himself back in his tent, his armour strapped onto a metal pole, hung up, with Duncan allowed leave.
Ellion looked into the mirror, the light fading and dimming, the young Tyrell looking a little more...well, formal than before. He wore a predominantly dark green garb, with golden-coloured buttons and intricate patterning on his costume, of dark gold roses and thorns interlinking. His hair seemed a little more carefully washed and finer, his beard gently hair-by-hair shortened, so that it sharply sat wrapping to his ears and lower cheeks, a fine shave indeed. He had no particular jewellery, though the claps and buttons that lined his forearms and chest were clearly expensive. The Knight smelled of roses, it was almost overpoweringly pleasant, as he knew that with Merebelle, he had a lady to impress. More than usual, even though the rose oil he'd taken from home was normally a charm with most ladies. And some men. Sometimes.
Sighing, he left the tourney tent, a nodding to a couple of guards, heading for the feast. It would be a long night indeed. And hopefully, it'd end well. He'd have to find Mychael, even after meeting Cat, he felt...well, Merebelle was a woman worth chasing, but something still lingered in his head. He seemed rather polyamorous, he knew no Lady would ever respect that, but he didn't really see the problem in having sex with who he'd like....so long as they well, weren't sleeping with lots of people. Virgins, or something better than a wench. Was the cleanest way to be....he hadn't gotten a lump on his bollocks yet, he didn't want to from a bad fuck.
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The feast had come underway, as Ellion entered, a pair of guards flanking him, the table of House Tyrell clear to see, marked with an enormous rose-covered banner at the table, various Lords and Ladies of the Reach like petals around it. But the closest table was that of House Lannister, and a house that Ellion didn't really like. Lions were scary, untamed beasts, not like direwolves or dragons. And whilst the rumours did exist, that in a certain dungeon of Casterly Rock, prisoners were fed to the lions, it was not because they were tame, it was because they were vicious, pack-led, and hungry.
Ellion always knew that House Lannister had it's cubs, then it had it's lions of it's own. Bold, and uncomprimising of it's standing. For the greater good? For their good. If his dad trusted them, Ellion always remained wary, due to uncle Garlan, he thought to himself. He wish he'd have gotten a chance to meet Margaery, or Loras, they sounded like lovely people...but alas, they became victims of a war that perhaps his House entered without a single thought on.
Finding the table, he took a seat, sitting across from Willas, who was at the helm of the table, the Targaryens close by, the bride and groom visible from their postiion. The courses were already underway, as he awaited Merebelle, looking across at his father and sister. Alerie had changed dresses, and found herself wearing a more gown-like dress, with more gold in it than her other green and golden garb. She looked very pretty indeed, her hair arranged carefully with a little stroke of her burgandy almost hanging past her left eye, her face gently brushed with a fine powder, as was haute fashion in court.
"You did nicely done in the tourney today, son. Did our House proud. A real Leo Longthorn...I'm proud of you." Willas looked positive, as he looked across, sighing.
"Aye...I guess so. Thank you. I'm bringing a Lady to the table, if you do not mind?" Ellion replied, as Willas chuckled, nodding.
"Of course....she isn't some commoner, is she?" He asked, chuckling, knowing he wouldn't really mind, well, to an extent. There was a level to uphold, and he knew his son was better than that, even though he went about things the way he did.
"No, father. She's a Knight, took part in the melee. Took down some of our Knights, Green Hand no less."
"Crikey. Aren't you meant to be fetching her then?"
"Bollocks." With that, Ellion realized he'd forgotten, and he'd actually had a drop or two of Arbor by this point. He ran out of the hall, and headed to where Merebelle had told him to go to, knowing she might be waiting.
Willas looked on, chuckling, looking at Alerie.
"Remind me again, my son's a bloody womanizer and he hasn't got basic manners?"
"She's pretty, but demanding. I think.....he's trying to make the Eight with her. It's what he'd do."
"You think so, Alerie?" Talking about Ellion's sex life, father and daughter talk was not often like this, but in regards to Ellion, it seemed to stick sometimes. What could they say...they were remarkably transparent about it, when you had enough wine and pretty people, Willas knew it was a curiosity between them, rather than a total taboo. They were both acutely aware of it, though Willas didn't really want to involve himself in such affairs too deeply.
"Maybe. I don't know my brother in that regard. He does as he pleases. But he was attracted to her, certainly more than just a pretty face. A feisty one at that. So maybe he wants something more." She added, chuckling as she ate a little more, the boar that had come through particularly tasty, a few other Reachman lords scattered around and talking.
Meanwhile, Ellion had come to the room, and already peeked his head in.
It had been nearly ten minutes passed in her room - upon when Ellion arrived, with her standing in the balcony - singing a melody to herself. Namely it wasn't customary or traditional to keep a lady waiting. Such an action wasn't polite nor was it customary to nobility - and one could easily take offense to it. Namely a Lady from a Great House would assume, that waiting at all - was a sign, that one wasn't interested in her. And well...ten minutes over, even for a Minor House lady was enough to make one simply guess - that he wasn't coming.
Instead of drowning her bitterness with wine, or sword-sharpening - instead she fell back on her childhood memories. And sang. It was one good thing, that their House was famous for - atleast in the Riverlands. Her voice...compared to her previous times when she used it - this time around, it sang like an angel on the balcony - it was an old song at that; one that wasn't even written in basic Westerosi. It sang of an ancient battle - defiance in the face of hopelessness. For a lack of a better word - it was beautiful in her own way - mixed with some undertones of bitterness. And the way she dressed - well...it was also unique in her own way. Beautiful failed the appearance of her.
Her voice was incredible to him,as he stepped into the room, a distinct smile on his face, hearing her wonderful singing echo off the stone, words choral and above that of what he'd ever heard Alerie or Alys ever sing, when they were little girls. This felt fully like it set his heart into a pound, and he only found that when he was on a horse, at full pelt, lance in hand. He smiled, leaning against the wall, watching, waiting for her to turn from the balcony. When she did, he smiled, nodding and dropping on one knee.
"Apologies for my latness, my lady. Your voice...it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard." He simply said, a distinct smile that wasn't a grin, it was a pure mark of absolute awe, just happniess. Merebelle looked wonderful, and he knew it, as did he, the sheer presence of Ellion dashing in it's sight.
"You look splendid, Merebelle. More than fitting to sit at the table of House Tyrell. You'll upset my sister. Which is good." He said, cracking into a trademark grin, as he kissed her hand, before standing once more, knowing she wasn't like most ladies. Well....at least she had a little humour, and was serious. But sometimes the show would even get through to the most defiant of ladies, and perhaps Merebelle was like that. A Lady truly beneath her armour and fighting spirit.
Her ice was a little harder to melt - as she withdrew her hand. The sound of a nearby bell ringing in the distance - he had royally screwed up this time. He had been late, and judging by the bell ring - atleast a good ten, maybe worst fifteen minutes.
"It's said, one can tell the time by the plucking of the pedals of a rose. One rose - and the young maiden keeps hoping. A second rose - and her hopes start to fade. Five more later, and her heart slowly withers. Ten - gone is the vase and herself in the nearest carriage," she spoke. "Were I a Lady from a Great House - I would take offense to such? Wasn't I promised - a welcome? A young man to make-up for missing once? And now again a missing a second time? Should I reserve him a third attempt? Or should I save it for myself and save myself another bitter disappoitment?"
She turned around - her mood a mix of slight irridation, apathy and simple disappointment. Merebelle was starting to believe that Ellion had not an interest in her. One mistake, a Lady could forgive. A second time, and it was pushing the boundary. If it happened a third time - then the person, only a slap for their 'effort'.
Ellion looked straight into her brown eyes, his voice holding, as he knew he had to make this right.
"But the petals always regrow. You are like no other, Merebelle. Perhaps the Gods seek to make me unable to find you, to see you when other matters come and other things happen to us. But I will be here." He said, his voice stern and caring, as he kept looking.
"You're the Knight that took on the men from the Order of the Green Hand. I've seen the world, and nothing like that. So believe me. I wish I could make up for my mistake. I hope I can now." He said, standing, as he offered his hand.
"Reserve him a third attempt. I promise, the sweetest rose isn't the one with all it's petals intact. It's the one that grows to be the most beautiful one you can pick in the field." Ellion knew he seemed dramatic, but it seemed genuine, far more so.
Her mouth stayed the same, before it gently rose - a tiny bit, but it was better than her previous dull line. From afar it's still looked that, but closer-by it was a somewhat...attempt to try and give him a third chance. "If that is the case...then I have one request - as you take my hand. For tonight, only I and I alone - shall be the object of your interest. Nothing else, no matter the reason nor importance. You wish, to show your forgiveness? Then prove it..." she spoke, taking his hand and allowing him to rise.
In essence, it basically meant - the only attention he had to focus on was her. Namely nobody else, including like those of his House. A steep request - namely, if there was a call-out from his House or if his father might require him elsewhere. A deep one - yet not unheard of, compared to some of the other ladies through history.
Ellion took her hand, nodding.
"Certainly, my lady. Thank you." He seemed a little more humble, close by her side, the Golden Rose and the lady he'd become somehow closely attracted to, more than he thought to himself, he should have been. He didn't understand it entirely, but he felt something around her, a certain kind of beauty, a certain chase. Leading her through the door, they headed away from the room, and back toward the Great Hall.
--------------
Coming back to the table, Ellion found his seat once more, the feast still in full flow, as he took a seat and found a few looks from across the table. He cleared his throat, as he knew he had to introduce Merebelle.
"Lords and Ladies, this is Merebelle of House Grey. A fine Knight, she bested several Tyrell men today in the melee." He said, as Willas nodded, Ellion taking a seat as the hubub continued, looking on. Willas looked on particularly at Merebelle, as he clapped his hands, for a course of food to come.
"An honour meet you, Lady Grey." Willas said, the Tyrell distinctive, notable to Merebelle, the Master of Coin at the head clearly looking as the helmsman of his family that anyone would expect.
"My son took to your charm, it seems."
Merebelle blushed when Ellion had made such an open opening of her. But well, douche - she had requested him to pay only HER attention. But that might have take the moment a bit too much. She luckily registered when the Lord of House Tyrell addressed her.
"You too Lord Willas," replied Merebelle, in her most respectful she could muster - which she hoped was free of any flustering. She gently blushed, when he said the last part. "Mhm. Looks like it..."
Merebelle slowly started also eating with Ellion - since she wasn't so sure, about her political skills in dealing with a Great House, without saying anything wrong or right or out-of-context. Luckily, by an hour later - she had relaxed more around the Ellion and Willas and the others. It helped ease her mind, when she realized - that she had gotten a personal request for this table. Which for a Minor House was big thing - and not that she had to rely on her patronage with Ellion. She read the letter, that was given to her for a moment - before pocketing it in her dress.
Her mood had become more chipper and happier - giving way to that Riverland' joy, that couldn't be crushed by centuries of war or hardship. Ellion had remained on his best behaviour for the time. "Ohhhh...Ellion," she said, in her melody' voice - she let his face come closer to her, before she stole a kiss from his lips. One after, he had partaken in some sweet Tyrell' wine - and she could feel the taste on her tongue.
"You have to ask, if you wish for more," she giggled.
Ellion had also recieved the note, a brief glance at it, and it had it away. And the scene had calmed itself, clearly. They had conversed for an hour, eaten several courses, and drunk a lot of Arbor. The wine was lovely to the taste, with the best left for this feast, to go with the food. No doubt Ellion knew he had taken a risk with Merebelle, but she was pretty, interesting and had talked to everyone at the table and kept them interested, whilst not having the prestige and pride of a higherborn, she seemed to have lived a life that many were intrigued and facscinated by, none the least Ellion was.
And she was loosening up. Her kind, gentle nature came out beyond her stone, steely, Knightly nature. Ellion had too, his charm consistent, Alerie ever endearing. and it had been a lovely night. Feeling Merebelle come closer, Ellion smirked, her sweet voice like nectar to a bee., as he leaned into the kiss, knowing she was fixated into his golden-brown eyes.
"Ohh.....I can hardly resist." He said, smriking and joining in with her giggling, as Willas and Alerie glanced, before turning back to their conversation.
"You have certainly made a mark, Merebelle.....you're so wonderful. By the Seven....you really are." He added, knowing she was getting past her anger, and settling into it all. He gently kissed her again, as the sound of King Jon's voice boomed. It was the bedding.
It was an awkward yet pleasant tradition as always, and there was no stopping Ellion, Alerie and Merebelle, as they did take part, Willas staying sat down, given his leg. The bride and groom being carried, the chanting, and stripping of both the Targaryen and the Lannister was lewd yet a laugh, a celebration for once in a man's, and a woman's life to have. The practice of First Night wasn't a thing any longer, so the buck stopped they were in their bed, and the doors shut. Oh...the handmaidens would have fun changing the sheets the next day, Ellion thought to himself.
His thoughts appropriately went back to Merebelle, the hour late in the night, as they held hand in hand, going back to their table.
"There's only the last courses to have. Shall we depart the table, my dear? I have a fine bed in my quarters....goose feather sheets and all....and I would dearly love to spend the night with you, my love." He said, his smile brilliant, as he felt slightly tipsy, like her, and confident. He nodded to his father, as he led her away from the table, and towards the exit of the Great Hall.
"We know, that food is common - if we ever hunger for it later," she replied, a warm smile on her face. An indication, that she was more interested in his quarters than the last meal - especially, that after that kind of feast - she was full. "Let's depart for your quarters. No doubt, many a young lord has snatched a lady or maid for themselves. Why should we be any different?"
Merebelle giggled at her own words, taking his hand and leading them away from the feast - giggling along the way like a bunch of young kids, out to create mischief. Merebelle had luckily, not gone overboard with her drinking. As they reached Ellion' room, she cupped his face and started kissing with very much passion. "Hmmhm!" she gasped, soon releasing his lips after that breath-taking kiss. "So tell me? You eager to bed any young maiden tonight?"
Ellion had sunk into the kiss, gently wrapping his warm arms around her, taller than her yet still feeling close, a few locks of his hair sitting against her head, giggling.
"Oooh, I might just know one that took me off my feet. Come 'ere." He said romantically, as he gently put his fingers through her dress, playing with the straps, and he knew what he was doing. He gently and romantically let them both fall onto his soft bed, as he let bits of his garb fall from his body, knowing she was following with his help, stripping them both. The large room in the corner of the large tent didn't have a lot of noise insulation, apart from the thick, thick cloth walls, but Ellion knew Alerie and Willas were elsewhere, in the Red Keep...as it suddenly amplified, the scene turning dark.
---------------
Merebelle was lying on Ellion' chest after their own - little bedding. She was humming against him - trying to catch some sleep after that intense afterglow; but something soon prevented her from falling asleep with him. Merebelle quickly shot up, when she heard the horn blown - that was strange, what force could have attacked.
She half-stumbled outside, having pulled on one of Ellion' shirts. It took her only a moment to glimpse at one creature on the walls - before she ran back inside the tent, quickly rousing and pulling Ellion from his warm position. "Ellion! Up-up! Sea! Kraken-monsters!" she wheezed, primal fear gripping her heart. Men and soldiers she could deal with - supernatural creatures, from a place, where such stories were as common as nursery rhymes and bedtime lullabies. "Several on the walls!"
Both of them soon heard the first screams as well.
Ellion didn't know what the fuck was going on. Ellion was hearing things, it sounded like she'd gone mad. And then he realized, it wasn't a joke. She was wheezing, she wasn't doing this like a joke. The horn was blaring. Shit. Shit, shit. He barely managed to get part of his garb on, by the time she ran in, as he cursed.
"Seven fucking hells...." He didn't seem happy, but he had to act. And Ellion knew the moment was flowing, he knew precisely what would happen. His mind set to defend, not to play around any more. Merebelle would fight, but he would make sure he protected her. After what had happened, he felt close. And he knew that his loved ones, that they would be at risk. Running to the oak mount on the wall, where his armour and a set of weapons lay, he dragged the longsword off the mount, flinging it around, turning the hilt of the sword to Merebelle.
"Take it, we need to respond, now!" The noise of the mob was inhuman, as he himself dragged a Polearm off the top, above his helm, knowing he wore no armour, or anything whatsoever. This had to be a response, as he saw the Tyrell guards awaken, Ellion knowing he had to be the first to rally them.
"Up, up!" He yelled, as the Knights and various guards were in various garbs, grabbing weapons, turning to Merebelle.
"Stay close, but don't risk yourself. We'll be cut to pieces without the retinue to help us hold the line...it sounds like a lot of them." Ellion said, as they gathered, looking to Ellion.
"Rally on me, lads!" He yelled loudly, his voice booming, as the men followed closely, looking to the Golden Rose for leadership, some entirely hungover, others more sober and others in guard dress right now.
"They're coming in through the fucking wall, they're making their way to the Keep!" One of the guards yelled, as Ellion stood at the helm, looking back.
"We hold that fucking keep, no matter the cost.....we go, now!" He said, sternly to his men, as he gave an arm, letting them flutter past, as they headed out. He could already see the first few being slain, but more were coming, overwhelming a set of guards, as Ellion followed, his polearm tight in his grip, as they ran across the yard, a charging stampede of colours and states, mostly Reachman, but joined by others. Ellion was not an ardent commander, but he knew drill, and how to lead soldiers. Whilst the soldiers knew their leader was not clad as well as some, he was brave, he was bold, and most of all, he seemed to have his head screwed on well enough when the moment came, that they did not argue when Ellion saw the distant beasts scarper the walls.
They were close to the Throne Room, and Ellion knew that they formed a thin line of defense, against the horrors that were coming. The archers of the retinue that had come had already found a few to take potshots against, as the Pikes and Spears, disorganized but forming a caldera about the path to the Great Hall from the breach that they had festered in, above the walls. Ellion was no expert commander, but he was a sound mind at tactics, and even when hungover, he knew that his men would hold. He looked to Merebelle, as they saw the beasts themselves. They were various, in different forms, and shape.
"Seven fucking hells. What in the name of the Stranger is that...." The men were quivering, scared, as Ellion stood among them, he stood at the front..
"We slay them, we stand here, we do not let them have at our King, our Lord, or the innocent souls in this hold! Our roots go deep!" Ellion yelled in response, the Tyrell line a far better war cry than "Growing Strong", because it infered one thing, and one thing only. They could not be uprooted, and his voice held strong, bounding off the walls, not soft, but hard like the stone they stood on.
"Our souls burn brighter than these creatures of the abyss! We fought the dead! WE fought against the Endless Winter that had once consumed Westeros for a thousand years. WE FEAR NOTHING BUT THE SEVEN! THEY SHALL BLEED, LIKE THE WALKERS AND MANY OTHERS BEFORE US! If they move, they can be stopped. IF they run, they can be stopped. IF THEY BLEED, THEY CAN BE KILLED!" she yelled. Her years of telling stories and songs - paying off.
Ellion dipped his polearm, the pikes and various swords disorganized, but slowly filtering, and preparing, as they were coming at them, fast and thick. Looking at Merebelle, he only gave a simple nod, a simple moment of calm, it was a look that unlike any of the other men, said one thing. And it was at that moment, that any living soul would understand, it was the warmest, most pleasant feeling that they could have in the very worst, most horrifying of times. It seemed like a certain calm in the storm, a certain kind of reassurance, the warm healing that it provided relief and clarity.
"We'll be okay."
Merebelle nodded in reply at that - she was likely the most funniest dressed here. Ellion' shirt, underwear and a pair of leather gloves and boots - that had an iron grip on the longsword. She gave a squeeze in reply - to one of his hand' holding the polearm. Indicating the he wasn't alone and she was there. No beast of the abyss was going to take him from her.
"I love you..." she whispered in reply, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek - before resuming a battle stance. Ready to chop some abominations to pieces.
The abonimations came closer, shields in the group forward between the pikes, as Ellion nodded, not really wanting to reply, not when she was dressed scantily, and so was he, and so were his men, and so was everything else. His mind was completely at task on hand, as a few of the mob were hit by the arrows, and they came charging in. Ellion held the Polearm tightly in his bare hands, yelling as he rose the polearm once up, to signify to brace forward. To hold and gently push it forward, so that it took the brunt, and resisted going backwards on itself. Pushing the polearm forward, he looked at the demented, twisted skull of the beast that came towad him, and seeing it's axe raised, he yelled, gently pushing forward as his men did, the melee that would be fought for the highest stakes, far more than in the tourneyground, began. Merebelle' voice joined the many other men in the roar for battle - they might have been males and females on the tournament - right now, they were all people fighting for their life.
