Tournament of King Daemon Blackfyre (Non-Tourney RP Thread)

[Adamat]

- "I'll allow it, but in return i must insist on visiting the Eyrie on my way back once this Tournament is over. I have heard great things of it."

They looked at the final two rounds of the Jousts, Tyrene murmuring comments such as 'Father could have beaten him', usually when a tilt had missed entirely. Overall though, she appeared genuinely interested in the contests -- both of them -- though Ser Preston already knew why. When the time came for a Queen of Love and Beauty to be selected, it was Aiyana that perked up and Tyrene that slumped back in her seat, until a slight tap against her spine from her father reminded her of her lessons to keep her back up.

Ser Preston had gotten less interested in the jousts and more in the girls, as soon as Marq had been beaten. He ha already gotten to know Tyrene's interests, but Aiyana's were more of a secret to the Valesman. She seemed to be the 'standard' type of lady, the type that knew how to please her parents and husband. Tyrene was more of a loose cannon.
He got back to the jousts when Darry came crashing down, that Westerman placing a near-perfect hit. He saw both the girls react.

Lord Ilyn Kenning had to select a queen of beauty, he knew that. And he couldn't choose his wife. It had to be a lady of the realm, a pretty lady, but not so pretty that his wife would get jealous. He rode past the Voskari's once, twice, and then stopped. He looked at Aiyana for a moment, and then spurred his horse on to the other side of the stands. He had chosen Lady Valena Gargalen.

[Zethira]

Aiyana had been watching Lord Kenning ride back anbd forth to select a Queen of Love and Beauty. She passed her once, twice... Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed him looking at her, hoping... but then he rode on to select another. She felt disappointed though did her best not to show it, in much the same way someone that reached second place in a contest upon defeat by a hair's breath would look upon receiving their prize. And going by what she had seen she had won second place, she was certain of it. Tyrene smiled at her sister, a look of 'better look next time' conveyed between close siblings. As far apart as they were in character, appearance and personality, they were still family. A grin appeared on Tyrene's face though.

- "Don't worry Ai, when i win the Jousts i'll be sure to pick you."

Picking up on the joke, Simeon sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically, making both girls giggle in amusement. Okay, maybe they weren't that different after all.

[Ozy]

Eon quickly glanced at his feet. Think, goddamnit. Say something, for the gods' sakes...

"True as that might be, My Lady, have you ever seen a falcon riding a horse? Perhaps I chose the wrong words, for the right thing to say would be, 'I'll do better when I'm not on a thrice-damned stallion with too much energy'! He tried his most disarming smile.

She smiled back.

"Mayhaps a better horse is all your Highness needs, then," she said.

Or the horse needs a better, rider, of course, thought Lord Mallister.

"Then again, they say it is the difficult horses that have the most to give to their owner," she continued.

[Adamat]

Preston stood up with a sigh. The day had tired him, but it wasn't over yet. He laughedmalong with the Northmen, and then said, "Can I offer my Lord and Ladies a drink? I do believe that the festivities are commencing over there." He pointed to a few large tents. He could use something tomwet his throat himself.


Prince Eon laughed again. "Horses do not do well in the mountains of the Vale, My Lady." He waved away the subject. "Have you been watching the jousts?" Eon inquired. It seems like you have arrived quite late, or am I mistaken?"

[Zethira]

- "Well, you won't hear any objections from me, as long as i can repay the favor."

He stood up as well, followed by his daughters, and looked at him to choose whom to escort to the tents. After all, if Ser Preston would walk alone while he himself would be flanked by two ladies, even if they were his daughters, it would simply be showing bad form. Besides, he believed Ser Preston to be a man of honor and -- as their bout in the melee had proven -- quite the able combatant. He wondered, if they hadn't faced one another, what their chances would have been in the Melee... But he quickly dismissed such thoughts. Speculating on what could not be changed was for bards, not warriors. He would offer his arm to who Ser Preston did not pick, and walk to the tents together to buy one another a round of drinks.

[Ozy]

Preston stood up with a sigh. The day had tired him, but it wasn't over yet. He laughedmalong with the Northmen, and then said, "Can I offer my Lord and Ladies a drink? I do believe that the festivities are commencing over there." He pointed to a few large tents. He could use something tomwet his throat himself.


Prince Eon laughed again. "Horses do not do well in the mountains of the Vale, My Lady." He waved away the subject. "Have you been watching the jousts?" Eon inquired. It seems like you have arrived quite late, or am I mistaken?"

"I'm afraid you are correct. Punctuality is seldom observed, and I enjoy being noticed," she joked.

"I heard a Lord of the Iron Islands won, though. Did you break your lance against him, Prince?"

[Axis Sunsoar]

Duncan Tarly walked up behind Preston Arryn. "I see that the Blackfyre was able to bring you down, although he needed the help of that other knight to do so." He said, then flashed a grin. "I guess we can't win them all" He said.

Duncan slapped the Arryn lightly on the back, "Still, I well fought match, Ser. I'm afraid I didn't get your name. Likely slipped your mind while you were beating me into the ground with that greatsword of yours." Another small smile followed this statement.

[Adamat]

Duncan Tarly walked up behind Preston Arryn. "I see that the Blackfyre was able to bring you down, although he needed the help of that other knight to do so." He said, then flashed a grin. "I guess we can't win them all" He said.

Duncan slapped the Arryn lightly on the back, "Still, I well fought match, Ser. I'm afraid I didn't get your name. Likely slipped your mind while you were beating me into the ground with that greatsword of yours." Another small smile followed this statement.

Ser Preston smiled. "Ah, I guess the gods don't favour cravens who jump on a man with two at a time. I got repaid in kind, and deserved it. I did get a few good hits on that Mystery Knight though. It's like a mirror of you fighting off Eon, I suppose." He scratched the back of his head. "I am Ser Preston Arryn, formerly of the Kingsguard, nephew to Prince Garrett Arryn. And you are Ser Duncan Tarly, I've been told," he said, pointing to some herald in the vicinity. "We must do battle again soon, a fair one this time around!" A grin came onto his face.

"I'm afraid you are correct. Punctuality is seldom observed, and I enjoy being noticed," she joked.

"I heard a Lord of the Iron Islands won, though. Did you break your lance against him, Prince?"

"I did not, My Lady," Eon said. "But I am afraid that you have the two Houses Kenning mixed up. The gentleman that won the jousts," he said with a slight smile at the word 'gentleman', "is the Lord of Kayce, in the Westerlands. He is a ferocious warrior, I'd say. His ways do resemble the ways of the Ironborn, such a brute."

- "Well, you won't hear any objections from me, as long as i can repay the favor."

He stood up as well, followed by his daughters, and looked at him to choose whom to escort to the tents. After all, if Ser Preston would walk alone while he himself would be flanked by two ladies, even if they were his daughters, it would simply be showing bad form. Besides, he believed Ser Preston to be a man of honor and -- as their bout in the melee had proven -- quite the able combatant. He wondered, if they hadn't faced one another, what their chances would have been in the Melee... But he quickly dismissed such thoughts. Speculating on what could not be changed was for bards, not warriors. He would offer his arm to who Ser Preston did not pick, and walk to the tents together to buy one another a round of drinks.

Ser Preston chose Aiyana's arm. He might have enjoyed his conversation with the blonde girl quite a lot more, but the redhead was much more a proper lady, who would enjoy being taken by the arm by a knight. Tyrene would enjoy it much less, he estimated. They walked to the tents, and soon Ser Preston found himself walking around with four cups of wine, taking them back to the Northerners. "To King Daemon Blackfyre and his tourney!" Ser Preston said, raising his cup.

[Jokern]

He shrugged.
"Apart from things out the tourney, not really, to be honest", he sighed, "You know me and my attitude to politics all too well, my dear."

"I do, I guess we would have skipped this if it wasn't because of how big this was, and for the children of course. I hope both of them grow up to be as strong and intelligent as we are, so they should learn what it means to be a lord. To see this is the best thing for them at this age, I think."

[Zethira]

Ser Preston chose Aiyana's arm. He might have enjoyed his conversation with the blonde girl quite a lot more, but the redhead was much more a proper lady, who would enjoy being taken by the arm by a knight. Tyrene would enjoy it much less, he estimated. They walked to the tents, and soon Ser Preston found himself walking around with four cups of wine, taking them back to the Northerners. "To King Daemon Blackfyre and his tourney!" Ser Preston said, raising his cup.

Aiyana curtsied, and placed her hand on Ser Preston's lower arm as a sign that she would allow him to lead her to the tents. Not with looped arms, as that would imply that they were a lot closer than they actually would, and it would not be proper if Ser Preston was married or betrothed to another. Behind them, Tyrene and Simeon walked side by side, Tyrene talking to her father about something she had seen, and Ser Preston would be able to catch some words, 'Clegane' among them. She had been amazed at the size of both the man and the weapon he so effortlessly wielded. Her enthusiasm could be explained however by this being the very first time she had seen him, while his deeds remained unknown to her. It would likely change her opinion if she heard, or saw how he composed himself, but such was the strength of first impressions. Once at the tents with drinks in their hands he raised his cup in response.

- "To King Daemon Blackfyre and his tourney!"

While the North and the Iron Throne may have had their differences, this Tourney was objectively to celebrate a marriage, and any bad blood the guests would have had between one another would not be put on display anywhere other than the Melee ring or the Jousting field as far as he was concerned. Thus, he did not hesitate to repeat Ser Preston's toast. He took a good long drink, which Tyrene promptly attempted to mimic, causing a fit of barely restrained coughing on her behalf. Aiyana just smiled into her own cup, having taken a much more moderated sip, deciding against commenting on what Tyrene had just found out on her own. There would be no need to rub it in.

Aiyana did take her sips more frequently however, and tried to finish at the same time the others had finished theirs, after which Simeon announced it was his turn to get wine, and returned with four cups of his own. He did take a moment to think of what to toast on, but eventually decided.

- "To honor... and to a good fight!"

While he didn't think it was the best of toasts, he did hold honor in high esteem, and had added the second part since it had been the good fight between the two of them in the Melee that had started them talking. Despite Tournaments of this scale being a rare event -- most were local or regional -- he found himself looking forward to having a rematch someday. Maybe he could get Ser Preston to go for a couple of rounds in the training ring when he would be visiting the Eyrie.

[Alexandrine]

Precisely, mi'lady. Gotta look at the positives of your sigil and what it may represent.

Orys looks around the crowd, wondering how his brother was doing in the tournament.

======

Meldred listens quietly to Lady Lothson, stroking his beard calmly. Once she had finished, he spoke up.

Galladon has the brawn and Orys has the brains of the Baratheon bloodline. Orys Baratheon, our founder, was both an intellectual and a noble warrior. My sons are both sides of that same coin. Orys knows how to wield a blade and defend himself, but has no interest further than that it seems.

Lord Baratheon was intrigued by her last statement, a question about Orys' marital status.

He was once engaged to a lady of House Connington who has since not spoken to him in years. Other than that, Orys is a free man, ready to marry and looking for the right woman himself or a reasonable bride that I may find him.

Lord Stafford replied,

"My grandson indeed," he replied. "Only good one I've got, at least."

The Dondarrion boys approached Lady Danelle, ignoring his rant, and kissed her hand, one after the other.

"We're Duram and Duncan Dondarrion, my Lady. A pleasure."

A warrior and a ineffectual he might be, but noble he most certainly was not. This Orys, brother to Aegon. "Sadly, lord Hand, my sister has experienced a similar fate. She was once courted by Robb Reyne, we where sure that he would come back to marry her at Castamere. He did not, however. He did marry some western girl instead. It broke her heart."

Danelle laughed when the two boys came in. "The pleasure is all mine, boys. Are these you sons then, lord Lefford? For they seem fine enough to me."

Then she turned back to lord Baratheon. "My sister told me that your son was very nice to her in the castle gardens. Would you consider them to be a match? I am married into house Tully, if my sister would marry into house Baratheon, it would be great honour to us. And make our houses dear cousins." she thought a while. "As the couple would consent to it.. of course.." a little smile. Her sister had no choice, she would not see her with that Blackfyre boy.

[Adamat]

"To the honor I've wasted today," Preston said, raising his cup, "and to a good fight!" He drank of the wine. Probably one from the Summer Isles, he thought as he tasted the fruity flavour. He certainly looked forward to getting properly smashed tonight, to be honest. Therefor, when the four were done with their wine, Ser Preston said the next round would be on him again. Instead of wine, he returned with something he classified as 'a tad stronger'. It was a skin filled with a clear fluid, like water, but it reeked of alcohol, and lots of it. "Just two fingers, M'Lady," he said, filling Tyrene's cup for about a quarter. He wanted to have a bit of fun, and he had certainly seen Tyrene's reaction to the swig of wine. He raised his cup. "This one's to a good harvest!" He told Simeon before he put the glass to his mouth, and drained it in one swig. The burning sensation in his throat, he relished it. But for Tyrene? He watched what she would do, trying to conceal his amusement.

[Zethira]

Tyrene watched the liquid being poured into the cup, her pride taking over again. Her sense of reason reminded her that the wine hadn't exactly been a success, and if this was stronger, then this would be even less of a success, but her pride did not allow her to back down. As she knocked the cup back, the full sensation hard liquor could have on the throat of someone not familiar with anything stronger than light wine smashed into her senses. She slammed the now empty cup down, eyes wide as she tensed up every muscle in her body. Ser Preston would see that her arms were starting to develop into those of a warrior, assuming he had watched young warriors train, though it had not reached the point that it would become obvious yet. She leaned forward over the table, her tensed up abdomen and held breath the only things in the way between her and a shout that would have been heard as far as Dorne. Enduring it out of sheer willpower, she started to softly hit the table with a fist a number of times, before straightening her back again, and wiping the tears from her eyes as the brunt of it had passed.

- "H-how can you drink this stuff..."

Her voice sounded hoarse and strained, her pride satisfied with having risen to the challenge and endured it, though the rest of her wasn't looking forward to a second round. She glanced at him, or more precisely at the skin he had poured the drink from. Just how much was in that thing anyway? Her throat had felt like... No, it still felt like it was on fire!

[Victorius]

Lord Adryan Sarsfield and his 16 years old son Melwyn Sarsfield arrive at the Royal Tournament
"My Lords, My Ladys! Im glad to be part of this great event." says Adryan
His servants establish Lord Sarsfield's tent, polish his armour and hone his sword
Lord Adryan Sarsfield watches at his son Melwyn
"My Son, you will be my squire.I expect your best"

[Lucius Malfoy]

A warrior and a ineffectual he might be, but noble he most certainly was not. This Orys, brother to Aegon. "Sadly, lord Hand, my sister has experienced a similar fate. She was once courted by Robb Reyne, we where sure that he would come back to marry her at Castamere. He did not, however. He did marry some western girl instead. It broke her heart."

Danelle laughed when the two boys came in. "The pleasure is all mine, boys. Are these you sons then, lord Lefford? For they seem fine enough to me."

Then she turned back to lord Baratheon. "My sister told me that your son was very nice to her in the castle gardens. Would you consider them to be a match? I am married into house Tully, if my sister would marry into house Baratheon, it would be great honour to us. And make our houses dear cousins." she thought a while. "As the couple would consent to it.. of course.." a little smile. Her sister had no choice, she would not see her with that Blackfyre boy.

Meldred calmly stands there, listening quietly to Lady Lothson. After Danelle gave the offer, his eyes glanced at his wife, Ravella, who smiled at her husband. Meldred then turns, looking once more at Danelle.

From the sounds of it, it seems those two are fated to be. I believe it would be an honor to have such a lovely woman be the wife of my son, Orys. And I suspect your house would be honored with a Baratheon marriage.

[Axis Sunsoar]

Ser Preston smiled. "Ah, I guess the gods don't favour cravens who jump on a man with two at a time. I got repaid in kind, and deserved it. I did get a few good hits on that Mystery Knight though. It's like a mirror of you fighting off Eon, I suppose." He scratched the back of his head. "I am Ser Preston Arryn, formerly of the Kingsguard, nephew to Prince Garrett Arryn. And you are Ser Duncan Tarly, I've been told," he said, pointing to some herald in the vicinity. "We must do battle again soon, a fair one this time around!" A grin came onto his face.

Duncan grinned back. "Another fight would be very enjoyable, I think, for the both of us, although the way you handle that blade, I'm not sure I'd have much hope. It was good to meet you, Ser Preston, and the herald spoke truly, I am indeed Duncan Tarly."

[Adamat]

Tyrene watched the liquid being poured into the cup, her pride taking over again. Her sense of reason reminded her that the wine hadn't exactly been a success, and if this was stronger, then this would be even less of a success, but her pride did not allow her to back down. As she knocked the cup back, the full sensation hard liquor could have on the throat of someone not familiar with anything stronger than light wine smashed into her senses. She slammed the now empty cup down, eyes wide as she tensed up every muscle in her body. Ser Preston would see that her arms were starting to develop into those of a warrior, assuming he had watched young warriors train, though it had not reached the point that it would become obvious yet. She leaned forward over the table, her tensed up abdomen and held breath the only things in the way between her and a shout that would have been heard as far as Dorne. Enduring it out of sheer willpower, she started to softly hit the table with a fist a number of times, before straightening her back again, and wiping the tears from her eyes as the brunt of it had passed.

- "H-how can you drink this stuff..."

Her voice sounded hoarse and strained, her pride satisfied with having risen to the challenge and endured it, though the rest of her wasn't looking forward to a second round. She glanced at him, or more precisely at the skin he had poured the drink from. Just how much was in that thing anyway? Her throat had felt like... No, it still felt like it was on fire!

Ser Preston laughed for a moment as Tyrene tried to break the table. "You must excuse me, My Lady," he said, trying to straighten up his face. "This stuff is truly like wildfire in your throat. We used to drink it in the winter, to keep ourselves warm. I like it, but I do believe that I am one of the few." He poured another cup for himself, and raised an eyebrow to Tyrene with a smile. "I do believe you've had enough of this," he said. "Should I get you something a bit less strong, maybe some apple juice or the likes?"

Duncan grinned back. "Another fight would be very enjoyable, I think, for the both of us, although the way you handle that blade, I'm not sure I'd have much hope. It was good to meet you, Ser Preston, and the herald spoke truly, I am indeed Duncan Tarly."

"Ah, I am getting out of shape, I fear. I haven't had a real job in two years now," he said. "When Matarys fired his Kingsguard at Harrenhal. I'd have died for him, I would." He smiled. "I had been the only bloody Valesman casualty in the whole damned war."

[Zethira]

Tyrene paused for a moment, willing both her throat and vocal cords back into submission. Her throat still stung, but when she spoke, she actually did a good job of keeping her voice level and calm, though it was still softer than it had been before she had started drinking.

- "Some apple juice would be fine, thank you."

At this, Aiyana placed her own cup on the table before looking at those present.

- "I do believe it's my turn now. Would anyone else like something?"

She looked at Ser Preston and Simeon, though her father seemed content with the same clear liquid as Ser Preston had been drinking, and that skin still seemed to hold enough to last a few more cups. But still, it would be better to ask. If Ser Preston would offer to go in her stead, she would have none of it, something more common in the North where everyone was expected to an extent to pull their own weight. Simeon raised his cup again.

- "We actually have something like this up North. You take herbs and tree bark, then you pour some hard liquor in, and let it soak for a couple of weeks. It's a Wildling concoction, tastes incredibly bitter but it puts the fear of the Gods into sickness, and i've never seen a sick Wildling before. So i suppose it has some merit."

[Adamat]

Preston laughed. "I have never seen a sick Wildling either," he quipped, "but then again, I haven't seen any Wildlings at all!" He smiled, holding up his cup. "This will do it for me, My Lady." He looked interested enough in the Northern drink. "Now I don't want to look like an alcoholic or anything," he said, "but I'd love to come North some time to taste that!" He set his cup down on the table. He was starting to feel more confident, and yet his feet didn't feel so sure. He knew he was on the verge of getting drunk.

[Zethira]

Simeon grinned, motioning at his two daughters.

- "Well, now that you've seen two half ones, i can extend the invitation to visit Shadowmoor to repay the visit i'll be making to the Eyrie. A word of warning though, there isn't yet much in the way of construction, and Shadowmoor's right up against New Gift. Going from here in King's Landing to Shadowmoor, when you get to Moat Cailin... you'll be about halfway there, so bring warm clothing or we'd have to chisel your prick off the saddle."

In the meantime, Aiyana had returned with four new cups, and a skin filled with apple juice. Once at the table she poured each of them a cup -- regardless of whether or not they needed it, that clear liquid looked nasty enough -- before sliding the skin over to a grateful Tyrene, who began drinking rather hastily despite her best intentions to make it appear at least a little bit graceful.