#hellbcunds

ysara sat with her hands folded loosely in her lap, watching her son attempt to wage war against an entirely uncooperative tree with a wooden sword. his small face was drawn in fierce concentration, as though sheer determination might eventually persuade bark to yield. somewhere beyond the courtyard, attendants were already setting up the targets for the archery tournament later in the day. the thought drew a quiet, private sort of pleasure to her expression. it had been some time since she had been allowed anything resembling competition that did not involve courtly survival. her attention drifted as a familiar figure crossed the yard, moving with the slightly uncertain air of someone still learning where they were meant to stand in a place like this. rhaella’s baratheon lady. ysara observed her for a moment longer before speaking, her voice carrying just enough to be heard without disturbing the surrounding bustle. “lady catelyn.” she waited until the girl drew nearer, then offered a small, composed smile; neither overly warm nor distant, but deliberate in its ease. “you look as though you’ve misplaced yourself for the moment,” she said gently. “come sit with me. i believe the princess is occupied visiting with her father for the moment.” @hellbcunds

like every arryn in attendance, petyr had spent the first portion of the feast searching the hall for any sign that queen alys had been permitted to leave her gilded prison. as expected, she was nowhere to be found. the omission soured his mood more than the wine improved it. it did not help that the vale had been seated so far from the center of the festivities that one might have thought maelor feared they carried some contagious illness. tucked away in the furthest reaches of the hall, the arrangement felt less like an oversight and more like a deliberate reminder of their standing at court these days. petyr had long since mastered the art of smiling through insults, but that did not mean he failed to notice them. it was only later in the evening, while idly surveying the crowd over the rim of his goblet, that he caught sight of a familiar figure making her way from the northern tables that had been assigned, it seemed to some complex chagrin and visible anger, at the front very near the king. for a fleeting moment, he considered looking elsewhere. he was already in a poor mood, and his good-sister had a remarkable talent for making even the simplest conversation feel like a contest neither of them intended to lose. for alayne's sake, however, he behaved himself. mostly. a wolfish smile spread across his face as lysara approached. "lysara," he greeted easily, leaning back in his chair with all the casual confidence of a man unconcerned with who might be watching. given where they had been seated, there was precious little risk of attracting anyone important's attention anyway. he raised his cup in greeting before motioning toward the empty seat across from him. "come, sit. alayne stepped away a short while ago, but she'll return soon enough." his smile widened slightly. "unless, of course, you've come specifically to see me. in which case i fear you're setting a dangerous precedent." @hellbcunds