Perfection

“What– Lord Redfort, have you just assaulted a stranger with cookware?” The absurdity of the situation settled over her. Then, a laugh escaped. Soft at first, then stronger, half relief, half disbelief. “I do not know whether to thank you or apologize on your behalf.”

"I'd fetched him some water after the dragon pepper he just had, and I don't remember what happened after that unfortunately, and what with the fight right after."

"I believe nobody else was behind it besides that.....that horrible child!" Rhaena never wanted children of any sorts, but if she did she knew that she would sure do a better job of raising them then Visenya! "He needs to be put somewhere far from civilization. Far from any innocent creature" It was unusual for Rhaena to act so sternly and angry. Usually, she would avoid conflict and politics at all means possible.

“He’s breathing,” was all Rhogar could say. They had found a second home in the stables, as usual, and this crowd was far too much. It was never enough for Menyce, who wanted all the attention towards her. Yet, even she was freaked out. She didn’t want to venture out, wide-eyed at those that came towards her unless they had food. What all had she seen?

He had been avoiding this particular person at all costs. He’d hide in corridors or turn the other way if he even got a hint that she was nearby. This was no way to treat a sibling, but Gyles had been taken in by Torrhen and he had not looked back. At least, not publicly.

But now, they were both being roped into the same conversation circle. Gyles simply smiles, appearing polite in public, while a whirlwind of terror reigns underneath.

While it’s just them now, there were still others close enough to them. His eyes trail along the others around them, hands clasped tightly in front of him.

I missed you.

Of course he doesn’t say that. Instead of walking away, he says one single sentence.

She was unsure of if she was truly mad or more hurt by her brother's lack of response with her, having sent a letter once during her journey's but receiving nothing in response - not even a invitation to their wedding.

Was she truly willing to break off all communication with him at this point? Was it warranted? Or was she being a horrible sister to him? All these thoughts terrorized her and somehow she ended up in front of the one person she dreaded being in front of the most.

"Lord Bolton," she quietly said, nothing but sadness written in her eyes as she tried to avoid theirs as well. "I'm here so it seems I've done something right," she said, normally that would be a joke but she didn't feel at all in a jovial mood right about now.

"I guess congratulations are in order for your wedding? I wasn't invited so I didn't have a chance to see you" she said, knowing she dug the knife in deeper but she needed her moment to fight back - even if brief

Ronnel shook his head as he buried his hands into his palms. How could things have gone so terribly wrong?? For the past hour, in the presence of no one else but his personal guard, he had raged and rained curses upon Cassian, blaming the knight for everything that had transpired. And then he had dreamed up of possible scenarios in which he could annul the marriage and punish the Dornishman for what he had done. And then how to punish Aemma. Next came the memory of Rhaenys death and that made him cry quietly for awhile as grief returned momentarily and overwhelmed him.

Eventually, sadness and even more troubling thoughts invaded his mind. How could his cherished daughter, his bright-eyed princess do this to him?? To their family? Was it partly his fault? Had he made too many grave mistakes in his role as a father this past several years that Aemma turned out this way?

Hearing someone cough quietly behind him, he instantly assumed it his valet finally coming to aid him. "Arnolf, could you possibly please find some ice in this god-forsaken place? I think I may have a black eye courtesy of that damn Dayne."

Still, even years later, he felt that he had not truly grappled with the fact he was to rule the Arbor one day when his father passed. And if word got out about how he struggled to hear? It would ruin everything his father worked hard to build.

He didn't fully catch everything but the name 'Arnolf' was definitely heard along with 'Dayne' so he had to assume this was the ruling Arryn lord in front of him. "I regret to inform you, my lord, but I'm not Arnolf, but I think I may be able to get some ice if you'd still like it" he offered

The heat had a way of pressing everything flat. Thoughts. Breath. Even time itself seemed to stretch thin beneath the weight of the sun, until the world became nothing more than light and sand and the slow rhythm of her own steps. There had been too much noise these past months, the desert, at least, was honest. Rosalyn had wandered farther than she likely should have, alone save for the dunes and the fragile peace she had been trying to recover. It should have been soothing. It usually was.

Then she realized she was no longer alone.

At first, she said nothing, did nothing, but her fingers had already begun to tremble. She reached back, her hand finding the gold stick that held her hair in place. She turned then, looking for the other, the gold pin lifted in her hand, its narrow end pointed outward.

“I would advise you not to take another step.” Her voice did not shake. That, at least, she managed. The wind moved around her, through her loosened hair, through the thin fabric at her sleeves, but she held her ground. Even as her pulse betrayed her, even as the reality of it pressed in – She could not defend herself. Not truly, not here, not with this.

Still, she held the pin as though she knew exactly where to place it, how to strike, how to follow through. As though she had ever been taught such things. Her fingers tightened around the gold, small and elegant and entirely unsuited to the role she had forced upon it.

Sighing, he grabbed a pan and walked up behind the masked figure, slamming it into the back of their head. "Since no one was doing anything I thought I'd join the party"

Poor Gwin had to restrain herself during these festivities

A turn into the clearing was met with a sword at her neck. Instead of being terrified like any sane person should be, Gwin just giggled .

"I've sneaked on many, yet for some reason they're the ones missing heads" Gwin said this as innocently as she could manage.

"I would start looking at the reason for that, my lady," he said as he slowly lowered his weapon, not wanting to be seen as being openly hostile towards a lady - unnerving or not. "You shouldn't be out here so early in the morning, I'll ask for someone to help you back to your room"

"I would say otherwise, Lord Tyron. If not an ale, what else?" He gestured Tyron to the seat next to him. "How do you fare? I thought I'd see you at your brother's wedding."

"Please," he snorted, "lord torrhen would rather see me dead then show up at his wedding, my lord, I fear you haven't heard of our relationship have you?" he asked with a raised brow, amusement in his eyes