Hella-Cute, Lightning Fast, and Ruby
Clop, clop, clop.
The hooves of four strong steeds beat against the stonework avenues of Highgarden. Their meticulously brushed coats were hidden beneath regal green caparisons; the golden rose of Tyrell checkered across the cloth. Polished steel armor covered their heads and their chests and peeked out from under the coverings near the horses’ rumps. Their barding shimmered in early morning’s light. No less shining were the four horses’ riders; they wore polished steel suits of armor and none covered his head. Like their steeds, they bore the heraldry of House Tyrell on their shields and on their tabards and one wielded the golden rose on a pennant at the end of his lance. They rode in a square formation, one man to each corner.
Wooden wheels groaned and solid oaken chests rattled as they passed over the uneven cobbled streets. The cart was laden with rich-looking totes, but to the outsider it was simply a well-crafted wagon covered with taut leather. At its helm, an adolescent squire boy wearing a padded green surcoat took the reins of its two mules.
Two noble white horses ambled along in front of the cart, their backs carried the noble ladies of Highgarden: Desmera of Tyrell and Leontte of Redwyne. They wore bodices made of silken sea green cloth, embroidered with gold thread like vines and having rigid sleeves that cover the shoulders, well-fitting leather riding breeches, and dark leather riding boots that lace up the calf. Their hair was braided around the front and done up in the back, held in place by gold cords.
The procession continued in relative silence, save the occasional clank from the knights’ armor or the constant moaning and rattling of the cart, as they neared on the outermost gatehouse. Eight men-at-arms met them there, clad in green surcoats, polished cuirasses with roses emblazoned in their centers, bracers and greaves and kettle helmets. They wore swords at their sides but had no shields. Their horses were not covered in barding or caparisons and were neither as well-bred as the knights' or the ladies’ nor were they as large. But they were still plenty hardy.
The procession continued through the bright white stone gates of Highgarden, followed by the eight men-at-arms, four abreast and stopped just hardly outside the gate as they waited on their riding companions and loyal bannermen: Lord Redwyne of the Arbor and Lord Hightower of Oldtown.
Lord Ruben Blacktower of all people was the first of their bannermen to be seen from Highgarden. He had been riding slightly ahead in the hopes of escaping his brother and cousin’s banter about how to conduct themselves in court. Though the other Hightowers wore their finest vestements, Ruben was content in his black cowl and hard leather armour which bore his personal sigil, a red and black variant of his house's, on the left breast. Funny that though no one was more experienced in these dull courtly niceties than Lord Blacktower, and yet no one dreaded them half as much as he. The moment Highgarden game into view, he felt an immense wave of relief that the trip was finally over, slowing down to allow his lordly and knightly companions to catch up. The Hightower party rode eagerly forward to meet the Tyrells, with Otto being the first to speak. As he stopped, his brown mare gave an aggitated whinny.
"Lady Leontte and Lady Desmera, my beloved cousins!" The young lordling wore a simple white shirt under an equisite black and gold vest, as well as a thin set of chainmail over his arms and chest for protection. "It is wonderful to finally see you again. This is the first time you are greeting me as Lord of the Hightower, is it not?"
Leonette chuckled, "Yes, first time greeting you as a man too, isn't it?"
She lingered on a smile, but it faded soon after, "I do wish it were under better circumstances, though."
"I suppose it is, yes. Another king dead, and so soon after the war..." Otto shook his head. "I hope our new king is merciful. I don't doubt there are lords in King's Landing who still resent our house after the Dance."
"Some even in the Reach, I'd wager. Lord Tarly put in for the blacks last I heard. I hope you'll be able to overlook this. The last thing we need is the Reach divided over the loyalties of our fathers," Desmera interjected.
"It is not Tarly I am worried about," Otto replied, meeting Desmera's gaze directly, "This was a war waged by my house against the king's mother, one that would have seen Aegon the Third deprived of his throne."
"Yes, and now a Hightower sits in the Black Cells on charges of treason. The crown will expect you to answer for her crimes. There will most definitely be a trial and I would ask that you keep yourself removed from it," Lady Leonette replied.
"Lady Alicent is my sister," Tobias interjected, "Pardon me, milady; Ser Tobias Hightower. I do not know if we have met, but if Lady Alicent that I fight on her behalf in a trial by combat, I am bound my honour to comply. And yet, to do so would make me an accomplice to a traitor, supportive of a war against the crown I never wished for."
"And it will reflect on your house. And your house reflects on me," she said coldly. "Although- it will be for the gods to decide then. Are you prepared to die for this? To bring the crown down on the Reach? Because win or die, that is the result."
Tobias sighed. "I would be ready to wager my own life, but mine alone. To fight on Alicent's behalf may threaten the well-being of other Reachmen, milady, perhaps even yours or that of my dear lord cousin. My sister acted without considering the consequences, and may soon pay with her life." He did not seem pleased by the thought of abstaining from Alicent's trial, but kept his further obejctions to himself.
Leonette sighed and nodded, "Right then."
"My cousin speaks truly, milady," added Otto, "I only hope my own advisors and vassals will not take this as a sign of weakness."
"If they do, I trust you to remind them who their liege lord is, Lord Hightower."
"... Yes, milady." There was little that Otto or Tobias could say in their position. "They are sworn to me as I am sworn to you. Now on to less grim matters: will Lord Redwyne be accompanying us on this trip?"
"I believe so. But you know how he can be."
"I don't think I've ever met him, actually," Otto replied, giving a light chuckle to break the tension, "I've mostly just heard humours from my master of ships."
Desmera raised her eyebrows, "I'm surprised he hasn't visited with you yet. Or that you two haven't even met. What about the tourney at Bitterbridge?"
"Well... I haven't personally met him, anyways."
They had arrived later than hoped, well past the midnight hour when the Highgarden men-at-arms opened the outergates for Joss of the Jade Sea, Lord of the Arbor. He and his small band of companions did little more than get a bite to eat, a quick washing, and a short nap before they were being roused by the Understeward, warning them that the hour of departure neared. Joss rose first, and hurried each of his fellow travellers by tapping at them with the toe of his boot until each started to stir and stretch.
Breaking their fast was a matter of hot tea and sausages grilled by the Highgarden kitchen, though Joss settled for tea only. Witnessing the sea bubble and boil as he'd passed the remains of Valyria had unnerved him, a bit. Fighting slavers off the coast of Sothoryos had unsettled him. Both prospects seemed far easier to his system, in the current morning moment, than the idea that Leonette Tyrell was waiting for him. Luckily for him, none knew it, and none suspected it; but nothing made Joss Redwyne more nervous. Leonette was a girl...or she had been.
Before she left the Arbor. Before she became the Lady of Highgarden.
"Let's get this journey started," was all Joss said as he noticed his four fellows nearly finished with their morning meal. All grunted and went about getting outside and on their horses. Joss wore wine colored riding leathers, the two Sers with him chainmail and boiled leather, the two archers simply boiled leather. The two Knights were young men, the oldest barely halfway to thirty years. Ser Raymund Redwyne, a cousin, and Ser Anders Ball, a Knight his elder brother hired into the Redwyne household. The two archers were a touch older; both tall and lean, Lock with skin a shade darker than most men and almond colored eyes, Sonny dirty blonde, blue eyed, and pale.
They were baseborn, the both of them, but they had something the Knights did not--they had been with Joss when he left for the Jade Sea, and both had made it back with him.
Quickly enough they were all ahorse, and meeting with the rest of their waiting party. "Morning, Lords of the Hightower..." Joss nodded to the men, before quickly giving a half nod to Leonette and that other girl, "Ladies. Apologies for our tardiness. Are we all ready?" The big man smiled from his saddle...even if it was the kind of smile and friendly tone he'd give a Braavosi dock official.
"Lord Redwyne, I presume?" Otto smiled, reaching out to shake Joss' hand, "I remember you now."
"Ay, that's me," The only salty Redwyne bastard fool enough to jump on a horse and ride to King's Landing. A thought that nearly made Joss snicker under his breath, had it not been overshadowed by the Hightower Lord's words of recalling him. "Hard to miss us Redwynes, true enough, though I can't say I recall you...very few I recall first hand after my long journeys across the Narrow Sea and beyond."
Joss did his best to not look right at Leonette as he said it, but he failed. "Some I remember just fine how they were when I left, but of course, precious few of them remained the same between my leaving, and my returning. Some I hardly even know, anymore." He shrugged, quickly, and turned his attention to the four men with him, starting with the Knights: "The Redwyne knight is my cousin's boy, Ser Raymund. The other is Ser Anders Ball. The two archers...the darker is Lock, the lighter one Sonny. Both of 'em made it back from the Jade Sea with me. Good men, better archers."
Something about the way Joss spoke put the young lord at ease. "Ser Tobias Silvershield, and Ruben Blacktower," Otto said, introducing his own kin and companions, "The former a brave yet cautious commander, the latter one of the smartest men in the Seven Kingdoms."
Lady Leonette motioned to her riding partner, "And this is Lady Desmera Tyrell, my stepdaughter. You met briefly last night, I believe."
Joss gave a nod and a glance to Lady Desmera; both quicker than a grasshopper as his eyes hopped to the horizon, though Ser Raymund gave a slight stare, a big smile, and a much friendlier welcome.
Ser Anders and the Bowmen just stared that-a-way.
"Shall we then? A messenger caught us in the night on our way to Highgarden, it delayed us but did inform us the Starks will probably hold King's Landing when we arrive. Our small escort is a protection on that front, at least."
Then Joss' sea green flecked brown eyes twitched--to the Hightowers. To that sigil. "...though our company makes this a dangerous enough trip, no matter how we cut it. No offense, my Lords; just dangerously unpopular at the moment. Could be worse. Could be wanted."
"I hate to admit that you may be right..." Tobias replied. He turned to his knights and ordered their banners be taken down and shoved back into their saddlebags. "At the very least, bandits will not be a problem given our numbers. Hopefully any allogations of high treason will be cleared up once Otto reaffirms our loyalty to the crown."
"I'll make it clear you weren't involved with House Hightower's actions during the Dance beyond the measures you took to defend your own territory," Otto added, "Best not to bring your reputations down with ours. We're ready to depart when you are, Lady Leonette."
"Right. Let's get going then, its five and twenty days to King's Landing."
Leonette patted the neck of her steed and jerked forward, the rest of her companions followed along with her, keeping their formation. Lord Hightower and Lord Redwyne rode abreast to the ladies of Tyrell. Their respective hosts followed along behind.
...
The Reachmen rode six and twenty days on the Roseroad before the Red Keep rolled over the horizon. The city sprawled out from the sea and along the banks of the Blackwater Rush. Its massive walls towered over surrounding farmlands and the violent rapids of the river's mouth. The buildings were so tightly packed such that only the septs and the Red Keep were discernable from the mass of brown and grey that made up the rest of the city.
"There it is," Desmera noted, "Kings Landing. It's quite impressive, isn't it?"
"It is, milady," agreed Ser Tobias, "Though no doubt the Northmen have arrived by now... Be on your guard, Otto."
"You worry too much, coz," Otto had tried to keep his childish complaints to a minimum on the way there, though it was easy to tell that he was fed up with his traveling by his looks of discomfort and passing comments about the soreness in his thighs and groin. "If I never have to ride another horse, it'll be too soon..."
King's Landing was a town, not a city, by any standard outside Westeros. It was smaller than all the Free Cities, even Lorath and Norvos. It was smaller than nearly every 'town' in Essos, at that, such as Mantarys. And it's small size made Qarth look like the center of all known Creation from what he remembered of it.
"Gates aren't closed," was how Joss finally responded, his eyes scanning all he could see before him, even noting what river traffic he could spot, as well as a large group of men around the Tourney grounds just outside the city, working. "Starks must not be expecting a fight. Men working on the Tourney grounds...Coronation tourney already being planned? Odd...shall we go say hello?"
"I'd imagine the Starks were fairly well-recieved," Ruben mused, "They did side with the blacks, and new Aegon is Queen Rhaenyra's son."
"The sooner we can get inside the better. I'd hate to not have any accomadations waiting in the Red Keep," Lady Leonette jested. "Though, worst comes to worst we can hole up in a brothel, hm?"
Ruben chuckled. "And throw the poor whores out on the street? Shame on you!"
Desmera rolled her eyes and Lady Leonette patted her horse's neck again, steering the party further down the Kingsroad. Within the evening they had crossed the Blackwater Rush and approached the monsterous walls of Kings Landing. The tumultous sounds of the Blackwater roared in the background and the party came to a halt. The cart gave a final groan and the chests inside rattled.
The gate was closed and Stark bannermen stood on either side of the gate. They held their banners tall and stood side-by-side with members of the war-torn City Watch. The captain of the gate stepped forward, his glistening gold cape waved out behind him as he approached the party.
"Who approaches the River Gate?" he bellowed.
"Lady Tyrell and her daughter Lady Desmera and her loyal bannermen, Lords Redwyne and Hightower," Lady Leonette replied to them.
The Stark men narrowed their eyes and murmured amongst themselves at the mention of Hightower. The gate captain turned around looking at them and back to the party, "What is the purpose of your visit, my lords?"
"To swear fealty to our king, His Grace Aegon of the House Targaryen, Third of his Name."
The Northmen scoffed amongst themselves and cast sideways glances at Tyrell and company. The gate captain turned his head to look over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at them. Before readdressing the group, "Very well then, welcome to King's Landing, my lords."
The unmistakable scent of raw fish hung in the air just beyond the River Gate. Salmon and river trout flew between hands and stacks of the creatures lined wooden stalls. Fishmongers dug knives into the flesh of the catch and innards fell out onto the distressed cobble streets. Gulls flew overhead in the hundreds, swooping down and picking the scraps off of the ground and flying away in satisfaction.
Desmera pulled a scarf over her nose, it was heavily perfumed and masked the scent of Westeros' premier fish market. Somewhat.
"I'm glad we don't have fishmongers in Highgarden," she thought aloud.
"You should visit Oldtown, milady, or take in the smells of Braavos," Ruben proclaimed, "I've seen the sheer stench of a Braavosi port knock a lesser man clean out," Ruben's taunts and jests made it clear that he was nowhere near as consistent in his courtesy as his brother, or even the young Lord Hightower.
Joss said nothing when Leonette aimed them away from the outer city and away from the open King's Gate. Not openly, at least. He did immediately put the back of heels into the ass end of his horse, causing the animal mild discomfort and making it clear Joss wanted it to move and move quickly--only slowing when Joss' horse was as so close to Leonette's as it could have gotten, matching pace as it's rider leaned into the other horse, and it's younger woman rider.
"Smart girl."
At first, it was all Joss said, his eyes scanning the Fishmarkets and their alleys. It wasn't the curious gaze of a traveller, either; Joss was looking for something. WAITING for something.
"The Mud Gate gets us in close to the Red Keep, without having to parade Hightowers through the streets of a city probably tired of seeing that bloody tower sigil. Seven help us, you're still a Redwyne afterall, aren't you?"
Leonette smirked and shot him a glance, "Perhaps."
"JOSS."
The way his name had been spoken was that of a warning. A warning that came from the Knight of the Arbor, Ser Raymund. When Joss turned his head to see where the lad was staring, it didn't take long to spot the woman coming down River Row, the street that hugged the walls of King's Landing along the Blackrush, the street that started at the foot of Aegon's High Hill.
And it took even less time for Joss to spot the beast padding along quietly behind the woman.
"...don't let the size of it scare you."
Ser Raymund snorted. "Pretend as if it doesn't scare me, like you're doing?"
"Aye." That was exactly what he meant. A man would be mad not to feel the icy fingers of fear scratch at him upon the sight of that beast, even if it's attention was on all the fishmongers and their waste, not the small Southron party.
"Greetings, Reachman. I am Sela Stark, this is my companion, Snow."
The wolf raised it's honey-gold eyes to the Reachman, and quickly returned to the fish, and the smells of the Fish Market.
Otto gulped, as if to physically swallow his fear, glancing down from his horse at the wolf... though didn't have to look down nearly as much as he would have liked. "A... a direwolf, yes?" He'd heard about the wargs and giant wolves of the North many times, though had assumed most of them to be myths.
Joss remained steel, unmoving and unsmiling. "Do you mean to intimidate us, Lady Stark?"
"No," the woman with black hair and dark brown eyes said, before laughing...as if Joss had suggested Winter was warm, and filled with fun. Otto uneasily joined in on the laughter, but quickly quieted down when Sela began to speak again. "If I meant to intimidate you, Lord Joss, I would have meet you at the Red Keep. As it happens, I was on my way out with Snow here."
"Out for a walk, then?"
The young Stark woman shrugged. "You don't want this direwolf missing it's stroll through the Kingswood when it wants it."
"Oh?" Joss scratched at the stubble upon his chin, though his eyes never left the woman. Or rather, the direwolf. "Why is that Lady Stark?"
A smile as pretty and filled with laughter as ever had been came from the Stark girl, and nearly put a new sort of fear in Joss Redwyne. "Because, Lord Joss, you're in these city walls now."
Stuck in these city walls, with that direwolf. "Seven help us, Lady Stark."
"Wrong Gods, Lord Joss." A reminder given with a smirk.
"Let's keep things civil, please," Otto said uneasily, "We have come to reaffirm our fealty to the crown, and to be accepted back into the King's Peace." His words were that of a lord, though his voice was shaking like a small boy's.
Sela snorted back a bark of bitter laughter. "Rich to hear someone with your sigil saying let's keep things civil."
Otto looked down at his breast, realizing he'd forgotten to remove it before entering King's Landing, then back to Sela. Summoning up what little courage he had, he spoke again: "Yes, Lady Stark. I am Lord Otto Hightower, Second of My Name. My father and brother both died at Tumbleton, along with many of the greens' most ardent supporters. If the gods are good, be they yours or mine, the hostilities will have been allowed to die with them."
Sela Stark just stared. With the sun over head and causing her to wince just so, it could have been difficult to see just how hard a look she might have given. Then her head went this way and that--taking full measure of the growing crowd of smallfolk all about them. Even several groups of patroling Goldcloaks had stopped, nervous.
Eventually Sela's eyes returned; not to Joss, but to Otto. A softness rarely seen that in her look, and her sound.
"I'm very sorry for your losses, Lord Otto. House Stark is here to ensure justice is done and peace restored to the Realm. No more, no less. You've no reason to worry about your safety around us.........that is, unless Snow here gets delayed much longer."
It might have been a joke. Joss, at least, prayed it was.
For it's part, the direwolf had rested itself upon it's hind legs...and began to look at Sela as if the beast were begging for something. It's honey-gold eyes had grown the size of saucers, taking in every movement of Sela, and those ahorse to which she spoke.
When Sela did not immediately motion for Snow to follow, for them to carry on past these strangers on horseback...the direwolf gave only a tiny groan, and turned it's head to it's hind section, teeth nibbling on it's backside to scratch some irritant itch.
"I didn't know you were afraid of wolves, milord," Ruben mused.
Otto waited until Sela was out of earshot to speak again. "Only the wolves who walk on two legs, cousin. The ones who can swing an excecutioners' sword, and whose harsh justice may be the downfall of our house."
The late Lord Hightower, a sheep amongst wolves. Leonette humored the thought with silent laughter before leading the parade through the Fishmonger's Square and around the Hook and into the shadow of Aegon's High Hill and the Red Keep that sat atop it.
Clop, clop, clop.
The hooves of four strong steeds beat against the stonework avenues of Highgarden. Their meticulously brushed coats were hidden beneath regal green caparisons; the golden rose of Tyrell checkered across the cloth. Polished steel armor covered their heads and their chests and peeked out from under the coverings near the horses’ rumps. Their barding shimmered in early morning’s light. No less shining were the four horses’ riders; they wore polished steel suits of armor and none covered his head. Like their steeds, they bore the heraldry of House Tyrell on their shields and on their tabards and one wielded the golden rose on a pennant at the end of his lance. They rode in a square formation, one man to each corner.
Wooden wheels groaned and solid oaken chests rattled as they passed over the uneven cobbled streets. The cart was laden with rich-looking totes, but to the outsider it was simply a well-crafted wagon covered with taut leather. At its helm, an adolescent squire boy wearing a padded green surcoat took the reins of its two mules.
Two noble white horses ambled along in front of the cart, their backs carried the noble ladies of Highgarden: Desmera of Tyrell and Leontte of Redwyne. They wore bodices made of silken sea green cloth, embroidered with gold thread like vines and having rigid sleeves that cover the shoulders, well-fitting leather riding breeches, and dark leather riding boots that lace up the calf. Their hair was braided around the front and done up in the back, held in place by gold cords.
The procession continued in relative silence, save the occasional clank from the knights’ armor or the constant moaning and rattling of the cart, as they neared on the outermost gatehouse. Eight men-at-arms met them there, clad in green surcoats, polished cuirasses with roses emblazoned in their centers, bracers and greaves and kettle helmets. They wore swords at their sides but had no shields. Their horses were not covered in barding or caparisons and were neither as well-bred as the knights' or the ladies’ nor were they as large. But they were still plenty hardy.
The procession continued through the bright white stone gates of Highgarden, followed by the eight men-at-arms, four abreast and stopped just hardly outside the gate as they waited on their riding companions and loyal bannermen: Lord Redwyne of the Arbor and Lord Hightower of Oldtown.
Lord Ruben Blacktower of all people was the first of their bannermen to be seen from Highgarden. He had been riding slightly ahead in the hopes of escaping his brother and cousin’s banter about how to conduct themselves in court. Though the other Hightowers wore their finest vestements, Ruben was content in his black cowl and hard leather armour which bore his personal sigil, a red and black variant of his house's, on the left breast. Funny that though no one was more experienced in these dull courtly niceties than Lord Blacktower, and yet no one dreaded them half as much as he. The moment Highgarden game into view, he felt an immense wave of relief that the trip was finally over, slowing down to allow his lordly and knightly companions to catch up. The Hightower party rode eagerly forward to meet the Tyrells, with Otto being the first to speak. As he stopped, his brown mare gave an aggitated whinny.
"Lady Leontte and Lady Desmera, my beloved cousins!" The young lordling wore a simple white shirt under an equisite black and gold vest, as well as a thin set of chainmail over his arms and chest for protection. "It is wonderful to finally see you again. This is the first time you are greeting me as Lord of the Hightower, is it not?"
Leonette chuckled, "Yes, first time greeting you as a man too, isn't it?"
She lingered on a smile, but it faded soon after, "I do wish it were under better circumstances, though."
"I suppose it is, yes. Another king dead, and so soon after the war..." Otto shook his head. "I hope our new king is merciful. I don't doubt there are lords in King's Landing who still resent our house after the Dance."
"Some even in the Reach, I'd wager. Lord Tarly put in for the blacks last I heard. I hope you'll be able to overlook this. The last thing we need is the Reach divided over the loyalties of our fathers," Desmera interjected.
"It is not Tarly I am worried about," Otto replied, meeting Desmera's gaze directly, "This was a war waged by my house against the king's mother, one that would have seen Aegon the Third deprived of his throne."
"Yes, and now a Hightower sits in the Black Cells on charges of treason. The crown will expect you to answer for her crimes. There will most definitely be a trial and I would ask that you keep yourself removed from it," Lady Leonette replied.
"Lady Alicent is my sister," Tobias interjected, "Pardon me, milady; Ser Tobias Hightower. I do not know if we have met, but if Lady Alicent that I fight on her behalf in a trial by combat, I am bound my honour to comply. And yet, to do so would make me an accomplice to a traitor, supportive of a war against the crown I never wished for."
"And it will reflect on your house. And your house reflects on me," she said coldly. "Although- it will be for the gods to decide then. Are you prepared to die for this? To bring the crown down on the Reach? Because win or die, that is the result."
Tobias sighed. "I would be ready to wager my own life, but mine alone. To fight on Alicent's behalf may threaten the well-being of other Reachmen, milady, perhaps even yours or that of my dear lord cousin. My sister acted without considering the consequences, and may soon pay with her life." He did not seem pleased by the thought of abstaining from Alicent's trial, but kept his further obejctions to himself.
Leonette sighed and nodded, "Right then."
"My cousin speaks truly, milady," added Otto, "I only hope my own advisors and vassals will not take this as a sign of weakness."
"If they do, I trust you to remind them who their liege lord is, Lord Hightower."
"... Yes, milady." There was little that Otto or Tobias could say in their position. "They are sworn to me as I am sworn to you. Now on to less grim matters: will Lord Redwyne be accompanying us on this trip?"
"I believe so. But you know how he can be."
"I don't think I've ever met him, actually," Otto replied, giving a light chuckle to break the tension, "I've mostly just heard humours from my master of ships."
Desmera raised her eyebrows, "I'm surprised he hasn't visited with you yet. Or that you two haven't even met. What about the tourney at Bitterbridge?"
"Well... I haven't personally met him, anyways."
They had arrived later than hoped, well past the midnight hour when the Highgarden men-at-arms opened the outergates for Joss of the Jade Sea, Lord of the Arbor. He and his small band of companions did little more than get a bite to eat, a quick washing, and a short nap before they were being roused by the Understeward, warning them that the hour of departure neared. Joss rose first, and hurried each of his fellow travellers by tapping at them with the toe of his boot until each started to stir and stretch.
Breaking their fast was a matter of hot tea and sausages grilled by the Highgarden kitchen, though Joss settled for tea only. Witnessing the sea bubble and boil as he'd passed the remains of Valyria had unnerved him, a bit. Fighting slavers off the coast of Sothoryos had unsettled him. Both prospects seemed far easier to his system, in the current morning moment, than the idea that Leonette Tyrell was waiting for him. Luckily for him, none knew it, and none suspected it; but nothing made Joss Redwyne more nervous. Leonette was a girl...or she had been.
Before she left the Arbor. Before she became the Lady of Highgarden.
"Let's get this journey started," was all Joss said as he noticed his four fellows nearly finished with their morning meal. All grunted and went about getting outside and on their horses. Joss wore wine colored riding leathers, the two Sers with him chainmail and boiled leather, the two archers simply boiled leather. The two Knights were young men, the oldest barely halfway to thirty years. Ser Raymund Redwyne, a cousin, and Ser Anders Ball, a Knight his elder brother hired into the Redwyne household. The two archers were a touch older; both tall and lean, Lock with skin a shade darker than most men and almond colored eyes, Sonny dirty blonde, blue eyed, and pale.
They were baseborn, the both of them, but they had something the Knights did not--they had been with Joss when he left for the Jade Sea, and both had made it back with him.
Quickly enough they were all ahorse, and meeting with the rest of their waiting party. "Morning, Lords of the Hightower..." Joss nodded to the men, before quickly giving a half nod to Leonette and that other girl, "Ladies. Apologies for our tardiness. Are we all ready?" The big man smiled from his saddle...even if it was the kind of smile and friendly tone he'd give a Braavosi dock official.
"Lord Redwyne, I presume?" Otto smiled, reaching out to shake Joss' hand, "I remember you now."
"Ay, that's me," The only salty Redwyne bastard fool enough to jump on a horse and ride to King's Landing. A thought that nearly made Joss snicker under his breath, had it not been overshadowed by the Hightower Lord's words of recalling him. "Hard to miss us Redwynes, true enough, though I can't say I recall you...very few I recall first hand after my long journeys across the Narrow Sea and beyond."
Joss did his best to not look right at Leonette as he said it, but he failed. "Some I remember just fine how they were when I left, but of course, precious few of them remained the same between my leaving, and my returning. Some I hardly even know, anymore." He shrugged, quickly, and turned his attention to the four men with him, starting with the Knights: "The Redwyne knight is my cousin's boy, Ser Raymund. The other is Ser Anders Ball. The two archers...the darker is Lock, the lighter one Sonny. Both of 'em made it back from the Jade Sea with me. Good men, better archers."
Something about the way Joss spoke put the young lord at ease. "Ser Tobias Silvershield, and Ruben Blacktower," Otto said, introducing his own kin and companions, "The former a brave yet cautious commander, the latter one of the smartest men in the Seven Kingdoms."
Lady Leonette motioned to her riding partner, "And this is Lady Desmera Tyrell, my stepdaughter. You met briefly last night, I believe."
Joss gave a nod and a glance to Lady Desmera; both quicker than a grasshopper as his eyes hopped to the horizon, though Ser Raymund gave a slight stare, a big smile, and a much friendlier welcome.
Ser Anders and the Bowmen just stared that-a-way.
"Shall we then? A messenger caught us in the night on our way to Highgarden, it delayed us but did inform us the Starks will probably hold King's Landing when we arrive. Our small escort is a protection on that front, at least."
Then Joss' sea green flecked brown eyes twitched--to the Hightowers. To that sigil. "...though our company makes this a dangerous enough trip, no matter how we cut it. No offense, my Lords; just dangerously unpopular at the moment. Could be worse. Could be wanted."
"I hate to admit that you may be right..." Tobias replied. He turned to his knights and ordered their banners be taken down and shoved back into their saddlebags. "At the very least, bandits will not be a problem given our numbers. Hopefully any allogations of high treason will be cleared up once Otto reaffirms our loyalty to the crown."
"I'll make it clear you weren't involved with House Hightower's actions during the Dance beyond the measures you took to defend your own territory," Otto added, "Best not to bring your reputations down with ours. We're ready to depart when you are, Lady Leonette."
"Right. Let's get going then, its five and twenty days to King's Landing."
Leonette patted the neck of her steed and jerked forward, the rest of her companions followed along with her, keeping their formation. Lord Hightower and Lord Redwyne rode abreast to the ladies of Tyrell. Their respective hosts followed along behind.
...
The Reachmen rode six and twenty days on the Roseroad before the Red Keep rolled over the horizon. The city sprawled out from the sea and along the banks of the Blackwater Rush. Its massive walls towered over surrounding farmlands and the violent rapids of the river's mouth. The buildings were so tightly packed such that only the septs and the Red Keep were discernable from the mass of brown and grey that made up the rest of the city.
"There it is," Desmera noted, "Kings Landing. It's quite impressive, isn't it?"
"It is, milady," agreed Ser Tobias, "Though no doubt the Northmen have arrived by now... Be on your guard, Otto."
"You worry too much, coz," Otto had tried to keep his childish complaints to a minimum on the way there, though it was easy to tell that he was fed up with his traveling by his looks of discomfort and passing comments about the soreness in his thighs and groin. "If I never have to ride another horse, it'll be too soon..."
King's Landing was a town, not a city, by any standard outside Westeros. It was smaller than all the Free Cities, even Lorath and Norvos. It was smaller than nearly every 'town' in Essos, at that, such as Mantarys. And it's small size made Qarth look like the center of all known Creation from what he remembered of it.
"Gates aren't closed," was how Joss finally responded, his eyes scanning all he could see before him, even noting what river traffic he could spot, as well as a large group of men around the Tourney grounds just outside the city, working. "Starks must not be expecting a fight. Men working on the Tourney grounds...Coronation tourney already being planned? Odd...shall we go say hello?"
"I'd imagine the Starks were fairly well-recieved," Ruben mused, "They did side with the blacks, and new Aegon is Queen Rhaenyra's son."
"The sooner we can get inside the better. I'd hate to not have any accomadations waiting in the Red Keep," Lady Leonette jested. "Though, worst comes to worst we can hole up in a brothel, hm?"
Ruben chuckled. "And throw the poor whores out on the street? Shame on you!"
Desmera rolled her eyes and Lady Leonette patted her horse's neck again, steering the party further down the Kingsroad. Within the evening they had crossed the Blackwater Rush and approached the monsterous walls of Kings Landing. The tumultous sounds of the Blackwater roared in the background and the party came to a halt. The cart gave a final groan and the chests inside rattled.
The gate was closed and Stark bannermen stood on either side of the gate. They held their banners tall and stood side-by-side with members of the war-torn City Watch. The captain of the gate stepped forward, his glistening gold cape waved out behind him as he approached the party.
"Who approaches the River Gate?" he bellowed.
"Lady Tyrell and her daughter Lady Desmera and her loyal bannermen, Lords Redwyne and Hightower," Lady Leonette replied to them.
The Stark men narrowed their eyes and murmured amongst themselves at the mention of Hightower. The gate captain turned around looking at them and back to the party, "What is the purpose of your visit, my lords?"
"To swear fealty to our king, His Grace Aegon of the House Targaryen, Third of his Name."
The Northmen scoffed amongst themselves and cast sideways glances at Tyrell and company. The gate captain turned his head to look over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at them. Before readdressing the group, "Very well then, welcome to King's Landing, my lords."
The unmistakable scent of raw fish hung in the air just beyond the River Gate. Salmon and river trout flew between hands and stacks of the creatures lined wooden stalls. Fishmongers dug knives into the flesh of the catch and innards fell out onto the distressed cobble streets. Gulls flew overhead in the hundreds, swooping down and picking the scraps off of the ground and flying away in satisfaction.
Desmera pulled a scarf over her nose, it was heavily perfumed and masked the scent of Westeros' premier fish market. Somewhat.
"I'm glad we don't have fishmongers in Highgarden," she thought aloud.
"You should visit Oldtown, milady, or take in the smells of Braavos," Ruben proclaimed, "I've seen the sheer stench of a Braavosi port knock a lesser man clean out," Ruben's taunts and jests made it clear that he was nowhere near as consistent in his courtesy as his brother, or even the young Lord Hightower.
Joss said nothing when Leonette aimed them away from the outer city and away from the open King's Gate. Not openly, at least. He did immediately put the back of heels into the ass end of his horse, causing the animal mild discomfort and making it clear Joss wanted it to move and move quickly--only slowing when Joss' horse was as so close to Leonette's as it could have gotten, matching pace as it's rider leaned into the other horse, and it's younger woman rider.
"Smart girl."
At first, it was all Joss said, his eyes scanning the Fishmarkets and their alleys. It wasn't the curious gaze of a traveller, either; Joss was looking for something. WAITING for something.
"The Mud Gate gets us in close to the Red Keep, without having to parade Hightowers through the streets of a city probably tired of seeing that bloody tower sigil. Seven help us, you're still a Redwyne afterall, aren't you?"
Leonette smirked and shot him a glance, "Perhaps."
"JOSS."
The way his name had been spoken was that of a warning. A warning that came from the Knight of the Arbor, Ser Raymund. When Joss turned his head to see where the lad was staring, it didn't take long to spot the woman coming down River Row, the street that hugged the walls of King's Landing along the Blackrush, the street that started at the foot of Aegon's High Hill.
And it took even less time for Joss to spot the beast padding along quietly behind the woman.
"...don't let the size of it scare you."
Ser Raymund snorted. "Pretend as if it doesn't scare me, like you're doing?"
"Aye." That was exactly what he meant. A man would be mad not to feel the icy fingers of fear scratch at him upon the sight of that beast, even if it's attention was on all the fishmongers and their waste, not the small Southron party.
"Greetings, Reachman. I am Sela Stark, this is my companion, Snow."
The wolf raised it's honey-gold eyes to the Reachman, and quickly returned to the fish, and the smells of the Fish Market.
Otto gulped, as if to physically swallow his fear, glancing down from his horse at the wolf... though didn't have to look down nearly as much as he would have liked. "A... a direwolf, yes?" He'd heard about the wargs and giant wolves of the North many times, though had assumed most of them to be myths.
Joss remained steel, unmoving and unsmiling. "Do you mean to intimidate us, Lady Stark?"
"No," the woman with black hair and dark brown eyes said, before laughing...as if Joss had suggested Winter was warm, and filled with fun. Otto uneasily joined in on the laughter, but quickly quieted down when Sela began to speak again. "If I meant to intimidate you, Lord Joss, I would have meet you at the Red Keep. As it happens, I was on my way out with Snow here."
"Out for a walk, then?"
The young Stark woman shrugged. "You don't want this direwolf missing it's stroll through the Kingswood when it wants it."
"Oh?" Joss scratched at the stubble upon his chin, though his eyes never left the woman. Or rather, the direwolf. "Why is that Lady Stark?"
A smile as pretty and filled with laughter as ever had been came from the Stark girl, and nearly put a new sort of fear in Joss Redwyne. "Because, Lord Joss, you're in these city walls now."
Stuck in these city walls, with that direwolf. "Seven help us, Lady Stark."
"Wrong Gods, Lord Joss." A reminder given with a smirk.
"Let's keep things civil, please," Otto said uneasily, "We have come to reaffirm our fealty to the crown, and to be accepted back into the King's Peace." His words were that of a lord, though his voice was shaking like a small boy's.
Sela snorted back a bark of bitter laughter. "Rich to hear someone with your sigil saying let's keep things civil."
Otto looked down at his breast, realizing he'd forgotten to remove it before entering King's Landing, then back to Sela. Summoning up what little courage he had, he spoke again: "Yes, Lady Stark. I am Lord Otto Hightower, Second of My Name. My father and brother both died at Tumbleton, along with many of the greens' most ardent supporters. If the gods are good, be they yours or mine, the hostilities will have been allowed to die with them."
Sela Stark just stared. With the sun over head and causing her to wince just so, it could have been difficult to see just how hard a look she might have given. Then her head went this way and that--taking full measure of the growing crowd of smallfolk all about them. Even several groups of patroling Goldcloaks had stopped, nervous.
Eventually Sela's eyes returned; not to Joss, but to Otto. A softness rarely seen that in her look, and her sound.
"I'm very sorry for your losses, Lord Otto. House Stark is here to ensure justice is done and peace restored to the Realm. No more, no less. You've no reason to worry about your safety around us.........that is, unless Snow here gets delayed much longer."
It might have been a joke. Joss, at least, prayed it was.
For it's part, the direwolf had rested itself upon it's hind legs...and began to look at Sela as if the beast were begging for something. It's honey-gold eyes had grown the size of saucers, taking in every movement of Sela, and those ahorse to which she spoke.
When Sela did not immediately motion for Snow to follow, for them to carry on past these strangers on horseback...the direwolf gave only a tiny groan, and turned it's head to it's hind section, teeth nibbling on it's backside to scratch some irritant itch.
"I didn't know you were afraid of wolves, milord," Ruben mused.
Otto waited until Sela was out of earshot to speak again. "Only the wolves who walk on two legs, cousin. The ones who can swing an excecutioners' sword, and whose harsh justice may be the downfall of our house."
The late Lord Hightower, a sheep amongst wolves. Leonette humored the thought with silent laughter before leading the parade through the Fishmonger's Square and around the Hook and into the shadow of Aegon's High Hill and the Red Keep that sat atop it.
